Bad Taste

It is one of the precious few sunny and warm days of the year – in stark contrast to the other April ’09 days so far – hasty wind with inconsiderate rain. I am happy to finally be free to walk around the city and enjoy my Sunday. It is 4:30pm and I’ve been on a film set for an independent horror film since 9:00am. I didn’t know how long the shoot would be, and I am happy to be done this early. I only had to shoot this one day. I played a quirky young woman who – due to circumstances beyond her control – turns into a vampire. I performed fight choreography where I got to throw men twice my size across the room. I had to wear demonic-looking contact lenses, which to everyone’s disappointment; I could not get inside my sensitive eyes. So we had to do without them. I spent 40 minutes with the makeup artist for her to expertly paint my face to create an “un-dead” look. I wore fanged teeth held into place by Fixodent denture paste. I had pretend blood, in the form of red corn syrup, poured into my oral cavity, so that it could ooze out and dribble down my lips (to look like I had satisfactorily snacked on my prey). I have never worked on a horror film like this before, and I have never had special effects makeup applied on me, nor have I ever taken part in a fight sequence. It was cool! I also got along great with the crew and the other actors on set. They were all friendly, kind, and good-humored. The director said he was happy with how the scenes today looked. I rehearsed with him and the lead actress yesterday and he told me he liked my character development. I heard more positive feedback today from the crew and other cast members. So why is there a nagging sadness inside of me? After my big vampire-on-the-loose scene, the director took some shots of me hissing into the camera lenses as I crouched on the floor. And then, he just started to pack up his camera and speak to his assistant about the next scene to shoot. He didn’t say anything to me. I was still on the floor as he was doing this. The special effects blood had dripped onto my torso and was causing my cotton shirt to stick uncomfortably to my skin. My vampire teeth were beginning to cause a dull pain pressing up against my human teeth and I could feel sores forming on my gums. Corn syrup was dribbling down my chin.

“Michael – did you get everything you need? Is it okay if I take out my teeth?”

He nodded. I went in the holding room to remove this uncomfortable mouth piece. Fixodent coated my real teeth like a blanket; it had a bitter, medicinal taste- like melted aspirin. My hair was matted to my forehead, drenched in sweat. I was a little confused at this point, because I knew that was my last scene to shoot, but he did not tell me I was wrapped. I went out to speak with him as he set up for the next scene:

“So…you said I could remove my teeth, and I know that was my last scene. Does that mean I’m wrapped? Am I free to go?”

“Yup,” he said. And that was it.

As I cleaned myself up and got changed, there was a sinking feeling in my stomach. I thanked, and said goodbye to the crew and actors who were not shooting at that moment. “Great job,” they enthusiastically said. I have worked on about 10 different films, and on every set there has always been the standard, “that’s a wrap- thank you!” from the director at the end of the shoot. To be dismissed from him like this has left me feeling deflated. As I walk into the outside sunlight, I still have some denture paste lingering on my gums, and I can now feel it on my tongue. The corn syrup blood that I tried so hard not to swallow permeates the inside of my mouth, and has crept its way to the back of my throat with sickening sweetness. Despite the day’s overall success, I am left with a bad taste in my mouth.

Two days later I received a gracious Facebook wall posting from the director, thanking me for my participation and complimenting my performance. The bad taste has dissipated. But because of the way I felt when I left the shoot, I am reminded that there are other ways an actor can feel the sting of rejection, in addition to not getting offered the role they auditioned for. Anytime my expectations of being treated a certain way are not met, I feel the same sinking disappointment And I have come to learn that in show business, there are many opportunities to feel this way.

When a friend or family member does not say anything positive – not even a simple “good job” - after seeing me perform onstage, especially when I am confident I did good work, it’s like: “hello?! Did you not just see me out there?!” It gets me so angry and frustrated. One time, a filmmaker friend cast me in his upcoming feature length dramatic thriller. He also offered me a position as script supervisor. I was excited! He told me it would be, “a lot of money.” That he had multiple investors linked to this project; that the script took the audience on a twisted, disturbing, yet absorbing journey. But I slowly became disillusioned with him. He refused to give anyone the full script (even me, the SCRIPT supervisor), for fear of it being “leaked.” He said that no one would get paid until the film was complete. He sent out strangely drafted “agreements” outlining all of the stipulations. He kept telling us that production was getting delayed because people weren’t returning their signed agreements to him. Oh is that the only reason? I kept thinking to myself sarcastically.

He strung me (and the rest of the actors) along for months of rehearsals and meetings only to send an abrupt email, informing us that one of the investors pulled out and he couldn’t make the film anymore. This did not surprise me. I suspected he was full of hot air. But I was pissed, and even felt used. Mostly though, I was annoyed at myself. How could I let him waste my time like that?

But I think the worst strain of rejection I experienced was when my boyfriend’s playwriting partner, and good friend, had his one-act play accepted to a prestigious festival. He cast another actress in the role I originally played, without giving me any sort of heads-up. I know that my boyfriend (a brilliant actor, director, playwright, and monologue coach – quadruple threat!!) was extremely disappointed as well - that a good friend and colleague could be so callous. Of course, it is his play and it is his right to cast whoever he wants. But because of the pre-existing relationship, I expected at least a phone call, or email from him. Admittedly, I’m sure I would have still been mildly disappointed to have not been asked to reprise the role I worked so hard on. But I would have understood, and respected his decision. At least I would have not felt so disrespected and disposable, like he could not give two shits about ever working with me again.