The Called Part 6

March 25th, 2011 by Wordsman

Perhaps afraid that her brother might seize this opening to take the conversation off on a pointless philosophical tangent about the all-encompassing nature of the “mind,” she made a tiny concession.  “But we’ll worry about that in a bit.  Before we can work on how you say it, we need to take care of what you say.  Do you really think you’re here to read my musical résumé?”

Peter had very little idea why he was there at all, but admitting so would be showing a sign of weakness, so he fell back on the oldest weapon in the sibling warfare arsenal.  “I just read what Mom wrote.”

The girl was well on her way to becoming a great filmmaker, for it was clear she thought no better of screenwriters than she did of actors.  “There’s your problem.  Mom’s just playing the proud parent.  They don’t need to know that I won that award, or this trophy, or that I’ve been first chair since I was a freshman.  The music has to speak for itself.”

“So let it.”  Peter was new to the biz as well, but he still knew the first truth of the actor: always pretend you have something more important to do.  “Just say your name and start playing.  You don’t need me.”

“Okay, so it’s not just about the music.”  Then, because letting the talent think that they may have been right about something is often fatal, she added, “And thanks for reminding me that you got my name wrong.  This is for a jazz combo, not an orchestra.  I need to show them that I have character.  Give the genius talent a human side.”

Peter looked at his watch.  His interview wasn’t for a little while, but he didn’t want to have to dash over there because he had wasted time on this introduction.  He needed time to settle into the interview mood.  Ironically, it is this process of “getting in the mood” that causes many people to blow the interview, but Peter, like most people, did not know this.  “And Mom can’t do this because . . .?”

“You’ve already proven that Mom can’t do it by reading her script.  If I do it, it sounds unnatural, and if I get a friend, I’m trying too hard to seem cool.  Older brother is just about right.  A cousin might be better, but you’ve got to work with the tools you’re given.”

“This is the only tool I was given,” Peter said, raising the “script” unenergetically into the air.  He wondered if three barely legible sentences written on the back of a used envelope could really be called a script.

The director considered this.  She had not had time to vet the script; it had taken her most of the morning just to figure out how to get the camera to turn on.  As they say in the movie biz, and various other businesses, “You can’t get blood from a stone.”  You can, however, get blood with a stone, which is why the director must be prepared to play the role of peacemaker, especially when filming scenes on rocky seashores.

“Tell you what.  I’ll provide a sample, and then you can copy it.  But first you’ve got to do something for me.”

“And that is?”  Peter was the kind of guy who actually read the Terms and Conditions that popped up on his computer screen before clicking “I Agree.”

“Lose the suit.”

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Leave a Comment

Please note: Comment moderation is enabled and may delay your comment. There is no need to resubmit your comment.