Los Angeles had a new serial killer in town, and his bodycount was higher than Bonnie Blue's. Known for breaking and entering suburban homes across the city, this killer specialised in murdering the parents in front of their children. He also dressed as a giant duck. The press had a literal arms race as journalists wrote headline after headline of the killer, with two names competing for his designation in the Serial Killer Hall Of Fame (located in West Hollywood). The killer, known The Orphaner or Duck Killer depending on where you got your news, had struck fear into the hearts of children across California, with a 75% increase in reported nightmares. The strangeness and profile of the killer had already started the film adaptation of the live case, and today I was on set to get the lowdown on the hottest new horror movie being developed by Netflix.
"Daenerys, go to your room." Pedro Pascal says. The child actor walks through the dark corridor and off the stage. The camera begins to move slowly towards Pascal.
"Bang." Says the director, drinking Feel Free and looking at his phone. Pascal flinches. He approaches a window, with the camera operators walking onto the set, closing in on the moustached actor. He begins to part the curtains.
"Prep Duck." Says the director. A stuntman in a duck costume is standing on top of some scaffolding, waiting until he sees Pedro Pascal through the window. The camera has stopped, waiting at a piece of masking tape on the carpet. Pascal yanks the curtain to one side, to be greeted by the man in the duck costume leaping through the glass. As Pascal dodges to one side, the camera flicks to the duck in the hallway, lying half in shadow. It slowly stands up.
"Cut. Next scene." The director says.
"Okay, reset everyone. Pedro, are you okay?"
"Yes." He says, smiling and looking down. A makeup artist walks over and wipes a piece of sugar glass off his nose.
"Where's Mia?" The director says, looking round. On the set the camera crew gets into another position whilst the sound people sort out the boom mic. From behind the stage Mia Goth arrives, walking over to the set and getting into position by the sofa.
"Duck, you ready?" The director shouts. The man in the yellow duck costume just nods. A door slams open behind the crew, letting the horrible sunlight in. A boy in grey dungarees and a cloth cap runs over.
"Extra, extra, read all about it! The Orphaner strikes again, this time in broad daylight!" He stands by the director, out of breath. The director flips him a quarter, grabbing the paper and roughly straightening it. Theres a photo of a crime scene, two headless bodies and a bloody lawnmower to one side.
"That sick son of a bitch." I say, looking over his shoulder and shaking my head, to show disapproval.
"We're going to need to get Props rig us up a couple more dummies." The director says, nodding over to the producer. The producer walks over to a chalkboard and writes 2xDummy, 1xLawnmower onto it, keeping track of the spiralling costs of the killing spree.
"They better catch him soon or we'll need to make this a goddamn trilogy."
"Or a ten episode limited series. Filmed across five years. Think about it. You could be the next Fincher." I say, winking at him. He pulls the ends of his mouth down and nods.
I felt I had enough material, so walked away as they filmed Pedro Pascal and Mia Goth being tied up and hoisted to the ceiling. As I made my way through the film lot, passing studios, trailers and groups of men smoking, I wondered to myself about the ethics of the true crime entertainment industry. If I was murdered, would I like someone to make fun of me and do an ad read for sex toys? That a YouTube podcast could be the way former friends and lovers find out I was dead? It was hard to say. But one thing was for sure, I was glad I wasn't being targeted by a serial killer in a duck costume.
Later that night I look at the cork board in my motel room. It was a prop I had stolen from the movie set, covered in black and white photos of victims, crime scenes, headlines torn from newspapers. Like Sartre's waiter, I wondered if this serial killer was operating in good faith - was he influenced by other serial killers, or were his actions authentic? Could a theoretical serial killer even be authentic in this world of Buzzfeed serial killer quizzes and merchandise saying that you were in the Ted Bundy fanclub, not to mention the slurry of mass murder media available on television and streaming services - not likely. This new serial killer did not exist within a bubble, but within the context of all that came before. Would he, in turn, find out about the film being made running parallel to his crimes, influencing potential murder scenes? The concept of himself would be passed back and forth between his body and the media circus like a tennis ball wet with human blood, no longer belonging to himself but occupying the purgatory between the self and the multimillion dollar entertainment industry.
"This guy's a bad actor." I say to myself, tracing my finger on a photo of the stuntman in the duck costume. I felt bad for him. He must have spent a lot of time obsessing over his crimes and now he couldn't even do it authentically. Internet pranksters were already buying yellow duck costumes and scaring the public by running after them with knives, some of them had even been shot by cops. The contemporary American serial killer needed at least a preliminary understanding of postmodern philosophy, media literacy and branding, otherwise were they even a serial killer? Or just a loser who killed a bunch of people?
