Note to Self
Self:
Do not, NOT, show unfinished copy of movie to nervous star. NOT.
La International Star called me last week in the cutting room. Of course I could barely hear her over the voice that was yelling SHE IS CALLING ME! IN MY CUTTING ROOM! SHE OF WHOM I USED TO DREAM WHEN I WAS TWENTY! IS CALLING ME! IN MY CUTTING ROOM! Still, somehow, I did manage to hear that she was concerned about the southern accent she had adopted for the film, and was it sounding all right, and she didn't want people to see it and say "she can't do accents". My reassurances that it was all fabulous (said with my fingers slightly crossed, I'll admit) did no good, so then I, Mr. Genius, said "I'll show you a cut of the film!" Any thoughts that I might have made a mistake were swept away by her closing words: "I hope to see you soon. I don't want you going out of my life." Meltsville!
So I sent her the film.
Today she called. Using her full name to identify herself, when the other day she had used her popular affectionate nickname. She is disappointed in how I edited her performance. She feels I put 20% of what she gave me on the screen. There was no emotion, she felt. I had cut all of her closeups, she said. I had her standing there motionless, she lamented.
Oh what I wouldn't give for five minutes on the planet where it's always okay to say the truth no matter what. Here's what I would have said on that planet:
You weren't emotional in the takes and closeups I didn't use in the film: you were overwrought, melodramatic and forced. I didn't use the closeups because this just intensified the problem. And if you didn't want to be seen as motionless, why didn't you move around? I'll tell you why: you didn't move around because you didn't want to risk leaving the perfect star-close-up halo lighting you had asked for. In the one scene where you did suddenly start moving--wonderfully, I thought--you were still overwrought and melodramatic, which again limited my choices of takes.
But of course I don't live on that planet so I said "Oh, I'm so sorry you feel that way, I think you are so wonderful and strong and I see all the emotion in your eyes and I feel the character is stronger if she doesn't let everything show etc. etc. etc." She wasn't buying any of it. I told her I was heartbroken that she didn't like her work in the film (and I was, in a way: I want her blessings and approval!). I told her I would look at everything again and try to use more closeups. And I will look at all the takes again. Part of me wants to cut together a version of her scenes with all the worst over-acting in them and send them to her with a sweet little note saying "Is this more along the lines of what you were hoping for?"
But here's the truth about why this upsets me. I'm afraid I've lost that "I don't want you going out of my life." I'm afraid that I, the nerd, have lost my big shot at getting invited to sit at the popular kids' table.
I'm afraid that my chance to invite her to a dinner party and impress all my friends has just gone out the window.
And that's something I would only, ever, admit to you guys.
Do not, NOT, show unfinished copy of movie to nervous star. NOT.
La International Star called me last week in the cutting room. Of course I could barely hear her over the voice that was yelling SHE IS CALLING ME! IN MY CUTTING ROOM! SHE OF WHOM I USED TO DREAM WHEN I WAS TWENTY! IS CALLING ME! IN MY CUTTING ROOM! Still, somehow, I did manage to hear that she was concerned about the southern accent she had adopted for the film, and was it sounding all right, and she didn't want people to see it and say "she can't do accents". My reassurances that it was all fabulous (said with my fingers slightly crossed, I'll admit) did no good, so then I, Mr. Genius, said "I'll show you a cut of the film!" Any thoughts that I might have made a mistake were swept away by her closing words: "I hope to see you soon. I don't want you going out of my life." Meltsville!
So I sent her the film.
Today she called. Using her full name to identify herself, when the other day she had used her popular affectionate nickname. She is disappointed in how I edited her performance. She feels I put 20% of what she gave me on the screen. There was no emotion, she felt. I had cut all of her closeups, she said. I had her standing there motionless, she lamented.
Oh what I wouldn't give for five minutes on the planet where it's always okay to say the truth no matter what. Here's what I would have said on that planet:
You weren't emotional in the takes and closeups I didn't use in the film: you were overwrought, melodramatic and forced. I didn't use the closeups because this just intensified the problem. And if you didn't want to be seen as motionless, why didn't you move around? I'll tell you why: you didn't move around because you didn't want to risk leaving the perfect star-close-up halo lighting you had asked for. In the one scene where you did suddenly start moving--wonderfully, I thought--you were still overwrought and melodramatic, which again limited my choices of takes.
But of course I don't live on that planet so I said "Oh, I'm so sorry you feel that way, I think you are so wonderful and strong and I see all the emotion in your eyes and I feel the character is stronger if she doesn't let everything show etc. etc. etc." She wasn't buying any of it. I told her I was heartbroken that she didn't like her work in the film (and I was, in a way: I want her blessings and approval!). I told her I would look at everything again and try to use more closeups. And I will look at all the takes again. Part of me wants to cut together a version of her scenes with all the worst over-acting in them and send them to her with a sweet little note saying "Is this more along the lines of what you were hoping for?"
But here's the truth about why this upsets me. I'm afraid I've lost that "I don't want you going out of my life." I'm afraid that I, the nerd, have lost my big shot at getting invited to sit at the popular kids' table.
I'm afraid that my chance to invite her to a dinner party and impress all my friends has just gone out the window.
And that's something I would only, ever, admit to you guys.
posted by Tom at 11:46 PM
4 Comments:
To send her the actual performance she gave would be wonderful! But I understand why you won't.
I don't think that her approval is going to get you kicked off the big kid's table, so don't fret.
She's just pissed because what she saw on film was what the both of you already knew: that she didn't meet her potential. She'll be grateful you're so kind by cutting it, no matter if she's big enough of a person to tell you so or not.
You've probably already thought of this, but it's just as likely the "I don't want you going out of my life" was a deliberate attempt to soften you up so you'd do what she wanted. It sounds like you did your best for her and the film. If she can't appreciate that, being drawn into her circle would just cause you more harm than it's worth, anyhow. Which is cold comfort, I know.
Politics. It's all politics.
Lol I do not think I could be so diplomatic ....to have to coddle a grown professional would tax me to the limit. And I agree with Anna...she has been around the block a long time and she knows she didn't deliver like she should thus the worry. My money says YOU ARE the popular kid and the little bit of feminine manipulation she pulled was a cheap shot.
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