On Acting
July 4, 2013It wasn’t quite the cliché of being discovered in a grocery store but almost. It was actually my friend Laura who was in the grocery store when a casting agent heard her speak French with a heavy English accent.
The casting agent, Julien Grossi, introduced himself and wondered whether she had any male English friends in Marseille because he needed to fill a small role in a major movie about to be filmed in Provence. Laura, the thoughtful friend that she is, immediately began to promote me as the ideal candidate. An email and a casting audition later and, boom!, I had my first paid acting gig.
The film is called Avis de Mistral by the intriguing French director Rose Bosch. It features a major French star named Jean Reno along with an assortment of other actors who would titillate French cinephiles but probably mean nothing to readers of this site. It’s a feel good summer movie about a bitter grandfather who tends an olive grove in the Alpilles and who has been estranged from his daughter and grandchildren for years. A family emergency means the grandchildren have to leave their beloved Paris and spend the summer with their bitter grandfather in what they consider the dull and backward southern countryside. After a few misadventures and Provençal exploits (think bull fights, Pastis, and an olive oil contest), bonds are struck, love is kindled, and the family is reborn.
My role is English Tourist and I appear early in the movie as a vehicle to show just how cantankerous the grandfather is. I drive up to the olive grove with my movie wife and wonder if this is the bed-and-breakfast I am seeking; the grandfather berates me for my idiocy and sends me away with a huge dose of bile. If you’re interested, this is my scene:
Now, that line may seem inconsequential but trust me it is not. My movie wife, played by the lovely Virginie whose last name I didn’t quite get, had no lines so she was only paid about 100 euros for the day’s shoot and won’t feature in the movie’s credits. But thanks to that line, I was paid 600 euros for the day’s shoot and will have my place in the credits. 600 euros! As I am sure you can imagine, the moment I learned of my salary I started dreaming of the riches I would amass from being a part-time movie actor in Provence …
Me and my movie wife Virginie.
Aside from the money, I was eager to play in the movie because I am becoming more and disenchanted with writing. I still savor the act and the result. It is only through writing that I am able to research and understand complex ideas or deeply explore my thoughts and feelings. But the truth is I am getting tired of sitting in front of the computer all by myself. It’s lonely and awful and bad for the eyes and as the years pass I yearn for more contact with people or more physical work: gardening, teaching, anything to get me away from the glare and back ache of the computer.
Until this serendipitous encounter with the casting agent, I had never considered acting as a source of income. I’d been in a few plays or short films that were produced by friends, mostly to do them a favor or be part of the fun. But that was amateur work. The idea of breaking into the coveted and closed world of cinema never crossed my mind.
So, I went off to the shoot with hopes of making a name for myself and a certain giddiness that I would earn 600 euros for doing something tremendously exciting and social. As it was my first time, the usual slogs of costumes and make-up were a thrill and I honestly didn’t mind the four-hour wait to film my scene. (Though, to be honest, I was a little rattled by the mustard tones of my costume; the costume assistants assured me it was a very chic look but my eyes told me otherwise.)
But here’s where things got complicated. My scene was shot in front of a team of about 25 people: five principal actors plus their doubles, and then two sound engineers, three cameramen, two lighting engineers, the director and her three assistant directors, etc. etc.. And what I hadn’t understood was that along with my line I had to perform an act of daunting dexterity: arrive in my red convertible Mini Cooper and stop at a precise unmarked spot on the gravel road in order to be in the proper frame of the shot. And while executing this stop I had to be looking at Jean Reno and waving out the window of the car. I was never worried about forgetting my lines. But hitting the mark? This was a challenge indeed.
I missed it the first time and everybody was patient and kind to me. The second time I missed it there was a small amount of frustration and two different assistant directors pointed to two different marks and said that was where I needed to stop. Head spinning, I missed the mark for a third time and now an assistant director stormed over and shouted that if I missed the mark one more time I was out of the movie. (And, yes, I wondered if I would still get my 600 euros). Sweaty and palpitating I lined up for my last chance. And, let’s cut the suspense: I made the mark. Then we shot the scene from the other camera angle and the entire crew thanked my movie wife and me with a round of applause and it was over.
Me feeling very anxious after missing my mark yet again
It was a magnificent day, my brush with extreme failure included. In my life, I mostly do things I am totally comfortable with: write, translate, teach, do crossword puzzles. It’s rare that I put myself in a position where I am vulnerable and nervous and it’s rarer still that I feel insecure and inadequate about my work. Yet that day on the movie set I was an open wound. Everything was challenging and exhausting and bewildering and anguishing. My routine-loving brain felt like an old dog forced to perform doing a dozen complex new tricks. It was breath-taking and I can say the old saw about forcing yourself outside your comfort zone is spot on. (And it’s all the better to do so when you earn 600 euros and get to take a small sip of glamorous movie life.)
So, what happens next? I am sort of hoping that the audio of the shoot is bad (it was really windy the day we shot) so I get to go up to Paris to record my lines again and get another taste of movie life. But, of course, that is incredibly selfish. Otherwise, I am certainly not going to quit my day job. (Not that I really have a day job.) But don’t totally discount my acting prospects: I am now up for a possible cameo as an English visitor on a French television series. As they say during at the end of those television cliffhangers, ‘To be continued …’
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Great story, thanks for sharing your experience. Can’t wait to see the movie!