Sassica Francis-Bruce regularly joined her father – a film editor – on set. As she grew older she loved working beside him in the cutting room
I
clearly remember the first time I had a soda because it was the same day Jack Nicholson threw up on me. Deliberately. He’d burst through the doors of a church and began a profanity-riddled tirade against God and women as he gesticulated madly and accosted churchgoers.
When he reached the front row where I sat and turned towards me, I froze. His eyes were abnormally alert, his hair wild and uncombed and saliva dripped from his mouth like a Neapolitan mastiff.
Suddenly, the director yelled “cut!” and Jack grinned at me before giving my nose what can only be described as a boop and walking back down the aisle and out of the church. The costume department immediately descended on the congregation, wiping the cherry pulp and juice “vomit” off our clothes to reset the scene.
