And I agree with you.
That is why one day I read about an audition in town for an independent film that would be shooting locally. I thought, “What the hell, might as well go check it out, I got nothin’ better to do.” So I went the audition, I gave it my all, I ripped my heart out and handed it to the director with a talent and passion that was reminiscent of a young Meryl Streep. (Except without the Polish/English/Australian accent.) A day later I (as expected) received a call from one of the producers of the film. He stated that he enjoyed my audition (Can one be nominated for any awards for an audition? I hope so.) and they had a part in the film that they thought was perfect for me. So here it was, my big break! (Someone call everyone I know and tell them not to talk to the tabloids, for surely they would be calling at any moment trying to get dirt on me.) The producer said he would send me a script via e-mail and that my part began on page 17. (A little late for the star to be making her appearance, but movies don’t get good until the second act anyway.)
I got the script, scanned down for my part, it should be easy to find, because it will probably be just pages and pages of monologues for me to inhabit…. Hmmm, there only seemed to be one female character on page 17 and she’s not even important enough to have a name beyond “Todd’s Wife”. Well I’m a thespian, I will make Todd’s Wife into a multi-dimensional, truly expansive character. I began highlighting my lines. Well, line. I turned the page and saw that my character was not meant to expand beyond two pages. I died. And I didn’t even get to haunt anyone afterwards.
But I was not going to let this temporary setback detour me from giving the best one-lined performance in the history of cinema. (Well, perhaps second to Rob Schnieder yelling, “YOU can DO it!” in every Adam Sandler movie.)
I arrived on the set ready to create art. The director said, “I want you in just a man’s shirt, no pants.” Okay, so his art was a little more free than most. So I took off my pants. (And replaced them with tiny spandex shorts.) Normally I would have a problem with someone blatantly wanting to show my legs. BUT this shoot was taking part while I was training for a marathon. I had run something ridiculous like 150 miles in the previous 6 weeks, if I were ever going to show my legs on film, this was definitely the time to do it.
So my big break went a little like this, “Honey, you almost done with the shower?” x 10. Big, large, scary, tall man dragging me down a hall by my hair x 35. Me being thrown on the ground by Big, large, scary, tall man x 20. Me being thrown into a pile of cardboard boxes and then falling to the ground x 42. Me yelling, “PLEEEEEAAAAASSSSEEE, NOOOOOOOO!!!!” and then getting shot x 15.
It was all quite exciting. My only real problem was that the director wanted me to get thrown on the ground and stay there while my husband is getting the poo kicked out of him. I didn’t think that was very realistic, cause you’d think I’d try to fight back a little. But they said no, so the last shot of my husband and I has him dead - beaten to a pulp, with blood and bruises everywhere. And there I am, laying beside him dead with my hand on his chest where I tried to stop the bullet that killed him. My only noticeable wound is the gunshot on my hand. So apparently I died from a shot to the hand. Outstanding.
BUT – although I was weak and sad, my calf muscles looked fantastic.