casting for dummies
So, the script-reading last night was interesting. Through some miracle, I managed to arrive on time (despite being completely turned around in DC for fifteen minutes). I have no innate sense of direction (and here I am referring to driving, not life) and am prone to making occasionally completely irrational decisions when there are minor disparities between directions I have received and the real world. V. had to coach me in via my cellphone (which lost the connection three times) as one-way roads forced a spiralling approach (I felt like I was going down a drain).
Only one of the other cast members showed up (and she left after five minutes). Instead, I was stuck with a motley crew of socially inept wannabe film-makers (at least until M. arrived and subsequently dominated all conversation). I often make strangers uncomfortable; my comment regarding that recent series of quasi-erotic photographs involving a vacuum cleaner was met with dead silence. Of course, to top it all off, A., whom V. apparently cannot function without, was incredibly late.
We ran through my big scene with the Director of Photography reading the other male part, broke for pizza, then ran through the entire script. Everyone scattered to the winds at 9 PM, making the whole trip hardly worth the effort.
The charming thing is that I am already utilizing my pull with the writer, A., to co-opt casting decisions. The fellow who is supposed to play the role opposite me failed to show and the Director of Photography, who just so happens to act, was quite spectacular playing a hyperventilating little pissant. So, I told A. that the D.P. should get the role. A. told V. And now we need a new D.P. Along the same lines, I am terrified that the chick cast as the Goth will make it into the film. When she had to leave (after five minutes), M. took over and read the part to perfection. I think A. and I should be able to shuffle things around a bit more.
Probably the highlight of the evening, though, was the manner in which M., the Director's girlfriend, appeared to be wrestling control of the film away from J., the Assistant Director with an obvious crush on V. Even her compliment regarding J.'s outfit seemed just a little... catty.
Only one of the other cast members showed up (and she left after five minutes). Instead, I was stuck with a motley crew of socially inept wannabe film-makers (at least until M. arrived and subsequently dominated all conversation). I often make strangers uncomfortable; my comment regarding that recent series of quasi-erotic photographs involving a vacuum cleaner was met with dead silence. Of course, to top it all off, A., whom V. apparently cannot function without, was incredibly late.
We ran through my big scene with the Director of Photography reading the other male part, broke for pizza, then ran through the entire script. Everyone scattered to the winds at 9 PM, making the whole trip hardly worth the effort.
The charming thing is that I am already utilizing my pull with the writer, A., to co-opt casting decisions. The fellow who is supposed to play the role opposite me failed to show and the Director of Photography, who just so happens to act, was quite spectacular playing a hyperventilating little pissant. So, I told A. that the D.P. should get the role. A. told V. And now we need a new D.P. Along the same lines, I am terrified that the chick cast as the Goth will make it into the film. When she had to leave (after five minutes), M. took over and read the part to perfection. I think A. and I should be able to shuffle things around a bit more.
Probably the highlight of the evening, though, was the manner in which M., the Director's girlfriend, appeared to be wrestling control of the film away from J., the Assistant Director with an obvious crush on V. Even her compliment regarding J.'s outfit seemed just a little... catty.