Frustrated by every circumstance, she stops at nothing to achieve her desire. A half-hour romantic comedy without much dialogue that could only happen in Athens.
A restaurant. No music, only the soft sound of
voices in conversation.
A business dinner with a younger couple, Philip and his wife. Her
husband presides with easy charm. Philip's eyes are toward the other two,
perhaps carefully so.
Michaela is absorbed in the general conversation but she too is
restraining her gaze. When it does rest on him it is with a gaiety that seems a
touch contrived.
As she gets up and walks away, pausing to greet friends at another
table, Philip permits himself a discreet but lingering glance at her. Suddenly, absurdly, she is naked. She stands there talking with
someone, in heels and necklace, tiny purse in hand, oblivious to her nudity, as are those around her. This is Philip's fantasy.
But now, even more absurdly, she does notice, and looks down
at herself, shocked. The others don't see.
She does not convulse and cover herself but stands her ground, purse
lifted in her hand, and glances at Philip who looks away mortified.
Instantly she is dressed again and, taking leave of her friends, proceeds to the bathroom.Michaela has reached a certain age, and worries about her beauty—but
Philip, her husband’s business associate, is mad about her. And she about him. Lightning has struck.
He's not a bad husband; she loves him. And his passion for
her is keen, so keen that he can tell something, or someone, is on her mind,
and watches even as the lovers try to elude his eye.So does Philip's wife. He's starting to disappear at odd times. In
fact she's sure there was a stranger in their bedroom while she was asleep. Did
someone reach the balcony from the street outside and—?
Frustrated by every circumstance,
she stops at nothing to
achieve her desire.
A half-hour romantic comedy without much dialogue that could only
happen in Athens.
A restaurant. No music, only the soft sound of
voices in conversation.
Michaela is absorbed in the general conversation but she too is
restraining her gaze. When it does rest on him it is with a gaiety that seems a
touch contrived.
As she gets up and walks away, pausing to greet friends at another
table, Philip permits himself a discreet but lingering glance at her. Suddenly, absurdly, she is naked. She stands there talking with
someone, in heels and necklace, tiny purse in hand, oblivious to her nudity, as are those around her. This is Philip's fantasy.
But now, even more absurdly, she does notice, and looks down
at herself, shocked. The others don't see.
She does not convulse and cover herself but stands her ground, purse
lifted in her hand, and glances at Philip who looks away mortified.
Instantly she is dressed again and, taking leave of her friends, proceeds to the bathroom.
Michaela has reached a certain age, and worries about her beauty—but
Philip, her husband’s business associate, is mad about her. And she about him. Lightning has struck.
He's not a bad husband; she loves him. And his passion for
her is keen, so keen that he can tell something, or someone, is on her mind,
and watches even as the lovers try to elude his eye.
So does Philip's wife. He's starting to disappear at odd times. In
fact she's sure there was a stranger in their bedroom while she was asleep. Did
someone reach the balcony from the street outside and—?
As Michaela climbs past Philip's apartment, where the
balconies hover near the steps, her friend hails her from up high, from where she
spies on the other couple. That night she steals down and steps over onto
the balcony—
As Michaela climbs past Philip's apartment, where the
balconies hover near the steps, her friend hails her from up high, from where she
spies on the other couple. That night she steals down and steps over onto
the balcony—
Always elegant, always in a little black dress and heels, she hangs
from balconies, climbs cliffs, crosses deserts, clings between moving taxis—but
her dignity prevails, and the sound of her steps as she threads the Athens
labyrinth is the music of the film.Based on the story.
Proposed cast:
Pretentious
Pictures Presents
My Husband Suspects
A half-hour romantic comedy without much dialogue.
Robert MacLean is a bad poet and an independent filmmaker. His The Light Touch is on Amazon Prime, Tubi and Scanbox, and his 7-minute comedy is an out-loud laugh. He is also a novelist, a playwright, a blogger, a YouTuber, a film reviewer, a literary critic, and a stand-up comic poet. Born Toronto, PhD McGill, taught at Canadian universities, too cold, live Greece, Irish citizen. Committed to making movies that don't matter. No brains, but an intellectual snob.

“The worst vice of the fanatic is his sincerity.”—Oscar Wilde
Always elegant, always in a little black dress and heels, she hangs
from balconies, climbs cliffs, crosses deserts, clings between moving taxis—but
her dignity prevails, and the sound of her steps as she threads the Athens
labyrinth is the music of the film.
Based on the story.
Proposed cast:
Pretentious
Pictures Presents
My Husband Suspects
A half-hour romantic comedy without much dialogue.
Robert MacLean is a bad poet and an independent filmmaker. His The Light Touch is on Amazon Prime, Tubi and Scanbox, and his 7-minute comedy is an out-loud laugh. He is also a novelist, a playwright, a blogger, a YouTuber, a film reviewer, a literary critic, and a stand-up comic poet. Born Toronto, PhD McGill, taught at Canadian universities, too cold, live Greece, Irish citizen. Committed to making movies that don't matter. No brains, but an intellectual snob.
“The worst vice of the fanatic is his sincerity.”—Oscar Wilde
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