when dolls kill

She came in like a cockroach, bold as hell, icky as a wad of somebody else’s gum on your theatre seat, unapologetic about trying to co-opt our movie and turn it into her movie.  And, like a roach, she was nearly impossible to kill. They called her…​

Bambolina!

A seemingly harmless porcelain doll that surely brought some little girl great joy back in the blessed pre-Barbie world.  Rescued from a bin of her mates in a provincial French charity shop. Chosen, like so many women, for her blonde hair and innocent blue eyes. She was meant to be a companion and a comfort to Lauren McQueen’s Sophie. Alas, Bambolina had other plans. 

Creepy doll plans.  In the two years that Bambolina lived with us, waiting for the cameras to roll, she got creepier and creepier. Her hair dreadlocked itself, like some tiny, freaky Rastagirl. Her hand broke off, leaving a sharp porcelain stump. She took to hiding in places where we’d least expect her. I’ll never forget the scream from the basement when someone opened a storage box of hats and mittens and found Bambolina lying on top, staring up with her cold dead eyes.
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Another bad hair day

Lurking in a smelly coat

She started to stink. Her other hand broke. Then her feet came off. But she still managed to get around.  When Sean accidentally kneeled on her head and broke it off, we thought it was over for Bambolina. The crew sent up a cheer. We all rejoiced. We shouldn’t have, but God help us, we did. And Bambolina came back to life. 

​Still, I had high hopes for her once we started filming. I thought the work would settle her down. I thought being in Lauren’s calm presence would inspire her to be a kind, gentle doll, like my Sleepy Baby when I was six. I was wrong. She got worse. She lurked in dark places, lying in wait to terrify the crew. 

Footless, yet ready to pounce on Jack

Not happy about that doll

She did the rest of the film with her head balanced revoltingly on her broken neck, attached only by a few threads of her disgusting hair, staring accusingly – unforgiving - at all of us. Lauren didn’t say it, because she’s a trooper, but I know she cringed every time she had to hug that smelly creepfest close. 

At least it was for a purpose. The Wasting isn’t a creepy doll movie, as much as Bambolina tried to make it one. But her role is important. Best Supporting Actress important. Not going to say more, because I want you to watch the movie.

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On November 14 we wrapped, and Bambolina’s reign of terror ended.  We threw her in the river Severn. We thought she’d float away. Or drown. Something. Anything. She didn’t.  She turned up at our wrap party that night, a sodden mess, her blue dress still dripping, river weeds entangled in her hair. Emboldened by beer, we attacked. We broke off her head for good, with plans to dispose of her body far away, so they could never be reunited to wreak further havoc. 

Look ma, no head!

We threw the body in a sack and left it in a field. Our gaffer, Bryan “McGyver” Gavigan, took her head as a trophy. Fool!

Bryan shows Anna his rash plan

The next day, everybody went home. I went to the crew house to see them off. Bryan had hung Bambolina’s head from his rearview mirror like a pair of fuzzy dice, or a pine tree air freshener. (She smelled as rank as those air fresheners.) We all questioned the wisdom of tempting doom this way, but Bryan laughed it off. Just like they do in scary movies right before the doll/clown/amusement park ride kills them. As he drove away, we noticed it, sitting in the boot of his car: Bambolina’s headless body. Waiting.
 
Nobody has seen Bryan since. If you find him, please let us know. But don’t touch the doll.