Saturday, July 30, 2011

Film School: Part Seven

By the end of their meeting, they had some semblance of a plan. They would hold auditions, for the thousands of people who would obviously be clamboring to star in a movie that was far to indie and far to mainstream to ever be well known in either group.
They were to post flyers on the bulletin boards all across campus stating the day (Sunday) and time (4:00) of the auditions. The auditions were to be held in the quad, since it was large and had no rules governing group meetings or the amount of noise created by such meetings.
The fluorescent paper was plastered throughout the school, which seemed as though it would draw a sufficient crowd. They gathered at the quad twenty minutes before the specified time, despite Vivian's constant worry that they weren't going to be there in time, that they were going to be late to their own auditions, and they were the only ones who seemed to be present for their event. As the time drew near, they all (excluding Grant, who was in one of his moods in which he was incapable of human emotion) got a little more excited.
"What is it?"
"What do you think they're going to be like?"
"I think they're going to be three-headed purple aliens, Vivian. I think they're going to be aliens."
"Mike, we need to be serious. This is serious. We're making a movie, and it's a really big deal. This is our first real, professional project. We need to act like adults."
"And what do adults act like?"
"Adults do not assume that the people who are going to show up for their auditions are blue aliens."
"You're right, Viv. I'm an adult because there's no way I would expect blue aliens. I, for one, am fairly certain that the aliens will be purple."
"Mike, there's really no reason to get mad at me."
"I'm not mad at you."
"You're acting like you're mad at me."
"Both of you, cut it out." Grant said, sternly.
They looked alarmed.
"Dude, since when do you actually care about this project?"
"Since you two fools roped me into it, that's when."
Mike and Vivian exchanged a look of befuddlement. "Well then, it's good that you finally see what it is that we care about so deeply."
"I saw it all along, I just haven't been putting a lot of effort into it."
"Is it going to change then?"
"Not in the near future, hun."
"I'm not hun." Vivian seemed a little irritated at the perceived patronization.
"Everyone can be hun. I'm Southern. I can do that."
"Grant, you're from Conneictiut."
"I'm Southern in spirit."
They stared off in different directions for a while, checking their phones and looking disinterested, each of them following passers-by with their eyes, hoping against hope that they would be the one. No one was the one. No one glanced their way with a kind of curiosity that screamed "Are you here for me? Are you my ticket to glory?"
Four o'clock became four thirty, which became five. Finally, at five twenty-one, someone gave them that look. She was skinny, wearing all black, with hair dyed a putrid shade of green. "Are you the ones holding auditions for that film?"
"Yes! Yes we are! Would you like to audition? Are you an actress?" Vivian seemed overeager, just a little.
"Uhhh, sure. I can audition. What do you want me to do?"
"You can perform your monologue for us whenever you're ready."
"My monologue?"
Grant rolled his eyes rather visibly while Mike explained "The piece you have memorized? To show us a bit of your acting?"
"I don't have one." Most people would be ashamed or embarrassed at this, but this girl seemed entirely blunt about her lack of preparation.
"Then you can't try out. And anyway, the part is for a male." Grant too, lacked subtlety.
"Grant, really?" Vivian looked displeased and turned to the stranger. "Would you care to improv something?"
"I can, I guess."
"Start whenever you like."
"Okay then. This is a story about my, um, best friend, growing up. We were walking around the town where my parents live, and her parents used to live there, but her dad moved away when her mom died. We were fourteen, and we haven't talked a lot since then. But that's a different story. We were walking down this street, and we pass the graveyard, which is kind of cool in the daytime, because you can look around at the old, worn out headstones, but at night it's just weird. There was this one bush, and in the dark it looked like a pile of dirt, like someone had been digging up a grave. Then, she thinks she sees this guy, or maybe she actually sees this guy, I'm not sure. And then we ran, as fast as we could and we got out of there." She paused to take a breath, which she hadn't done in quite some time.
"Is this a true story?"
"It's an improvisation."
"I see."
"We'll be back to you in a few days if you get the part, alright?"
"Sure. Thank you. Bye." She turned and scurried away.
Once she was out of earshot, Grant leaned foreword so that he could look Vivian in the eye. "Really, Viv? Really? Is that all that this stupid school has to offer?"
"You don't have to be so harsh, you know. She was obviously very nervous."
"No matter how nervous she was, she sucked." Mike interjected.
"Isn't there anyone else around here?"
"There are plenty of people around here. None of them want to be in our film."
"Why is that? What are we doing wrong?" Vivian was frustrated at the thought of there being people who didn't love and adore her.
"It's not what we're doing, it's who we are. We don't have anything that anyone wants in the filmmaking world."
"Gee Grant, aren't you a regular Debbie Downer?"
"I make a special effort, just for you."
"I'm honored."
"Stop it. Now. You're acting like idiots. We're going to break now, and regroup tomorrow. I don't want to see either of you for the rest of the day."
"Good idea. Bye." Vivian turned and left.
"I'm gonna head out, then."
"See you later."

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