The script began by switching back and forth between the lives of two teenagers—one poor, one rich, but both causing havoc to the French colonial administration in Laos: a jeep disabled here, a phone line cut there. The military give chase but are always one step behind until they learn of the identity of the two boys. They torture the relatives who refuse to give them up. At last the boys meet for the first time at the port in Da Nang, about to stow away on a steamer to France. Both already heroes.

“Just out of interest,” said Bruce, “and it really doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, how much of this script is biographical?”

Siri and Civilai looked at each other and smiled.

“I’d say about . . .” Civilai began.

“At least . . .” said Siri.

They looked at Daeng, whose eyebrows were somewhere up by her hairline.

“A substantial amount,” said Civilai.

“Wow,” said Bruce. “So, the assassination of the French president in the thirties. . . ?”

The old boys laughed.

“Come on, Son,” said Siri. “Who’d be foolish enough to admit to something like that?”

“It would be madness,” said Civilai.

“Ridiculous,” Siri agreed.

“But that reminds me,” said Civilai, “I should take a look in the attic.”

“For the . . . ?” said Siri.

“We’ll need it for the assassination scene.”

“You still have it?”

“The gun?” said Bruce. “Wow!”

Daeng smiled and refilled the glasses. Nobody had an attic.

The group sat together for another seven hours: Siri and Civilai attempted to expand the scope and grandeur of their film, while Bruce attempted to bring them all down to earth. But talking about something they loved was one of the happiest nights Siri and Civilai had spent together for a long time. When the tragedies began, Siri wondered how different everything might have been if he’d taken the threat more seriously. But, as it was, that night, with the warm buzz of expensive Bordeaux in their veins, they stood at the end of the meeting and, inspired by their Aussie cinematographer, they hugged. It was un-Lao but surprisingly therapeutic. Siri could feel all the bones in Civilai’s chest and commented that it was like embracing a xylophone, but he didn’t let go and Civilai was in no hurry to get away. They all felt that they were about to embark on a long hike through beautiful scenery with Civilai stepping into the bushes to throw up from time to time. But that didn’t take away the magic. The completed film was in their heads. They’d started writing their Oscar acceptance speeches. This was a great moment and they all knew it.