If one more director tells me I have a suspicious face, I’m going back to flying planes. by James Stewart

James, your face entered the room already framed as guilty.

Henry, you smiled so hard the camera needed shades.

Alfred made eye contact feel like a misdemeanor.

Margaret, that is unfair to James, who could turn panic into box office.

I worked with both of you and somehow the least dramatic person in the room was me.

Alfred, you filmed me like I was hiding a body and called it romance.

You two are unbearable, one acts innocent, the other directs innocence like a crime scene.

Fine, Henry wins the face contest, Alfred wins the grudge contest, and I still win the close-up.