to cut her off.
“And the agency people have promised me they’ll do everything they can to provide me with a safe environment, so I can get in touch with my creativity. Besides, they explained how I can use my fear to tap into my inner realness.”
I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Was this my mother speaking? Safe environment? Creativity? Inner realness? I mean, sure, okay. The acting thing was a novelty for her, and it was only natural that she’d start parroting the way everyone in the business talked. But to not want me along on her very first shoot? Perhaps she didn’t understand how daunting it is to have a director fire commands at you—where you should stand and how you should move and, most crucially, how you should deliver your lines. Perhaps she didn’t understand that lecturing a bunch of suits in a conference room is a far cry from performing in front of a camera. Yes, I should insist that I go with her, I thought.
“I’ll ride in the car with you, Mom,” I said. “You’re new to the business and you don’t realize how brutal it can be.”
“I won’t hear another word about it, Stacey. You’ve been telling me for years how you’re too busy to take a whole day off to spend with me, and now I finally understand. So listen to your mother: Go to work at your store or run off to your auditions, and don’t worry about me. ”
Well, there was no point in arguing about it. “Fine, but I’ll have both my cell phone and my pager with me, so if you want some advice or words of encouragement, call me. Okay, Mom?”
“Yes, yes. I will,” she said. “And now I’d better go to bed. They told me to get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow is bound to be exhausting for me.”
“I was about to suggest the same thing,” I said. “Oh, and here’s a tip: you might want to lay off the dairy products in the morning. Skip the cereal and milk and have some toast and tea instead. Dairy can cause phlegm buildup in the throat, and your voice has to be perfectly clear tomorrow.”
“Actually, dear, the director already told me that. I haven’t had dairy for the past week.”
“I see. Did he tell you about the voice exercises? To limber up your vocal cords?”
“You mean, ‘ahhhh’ and ‘eeeee ’ and ‘ooooo’?”
“Yes.” Gee, I couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t know. “And be careful when you get into makeup. Sometimes they use the same brushes on everybody and you can pick up bacteria, especially when it comes to mascara. Maura is the expert in that area, so if you want, I can have her call you tonight and—”
“What I want is to hang up and go to sleep, dear,” said my mother, the person who never—I mean, never— used to let me off the phone. It was I who had to invent stories (the UPS man is at the door, the water on the stove is boiling, the police have to question me about the robbery down the street) to extricate myself from our conversations, and now she was in a hurry to get off with me?
“Okay. Sleep tight,” I said, trying to adjust to this role reversal. “I’ll be thinking about you all day tomorrow, wishing you good luck. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, Stacey. Nighty night.”
M y mother did not call me the day of the shoot, because she did not need advice or words of encouragement or anything of the sort. When I finally reached her later that night, she explained that the shoot went without a hitch and that everyone involved was pleased with her performance.
“ Tell me, tell me,” I said excitedly. “What did they have you do?”
“Basically, it was a problem-solution type of ad, just as they’d planned in the storyboard. I sat at a kitchen table wearing one of my nice dresses—the dark green one with the bow under the collar—and I looked straight into the camera and told the public what happened with the bone.”
“You’re kidding. I never thought they’d really go with that.”
“Oh, they went with
“And the agency people have promised me they’ll do everything they can to provide me with a safe environment, so I can get in touch with my creativity. Besides, they explained how I can use my fear to tap into my inner realness.”
I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Was this my mother speaking? Safe environment? Creativity? Inner realness? I mean, sure, okay. The acting thing was a novelty for her, and it was only natural that she’d start parroting the way everyone in the business talked. But to not want me along on her very first shoot? Perhaps she didn’t understand how daunting it is to have a director fire commands at you—where you should stand and how you should move and, most crucially, how you should deliver your lines. Perhaps she didn’t understand that lecturing a bunch of suits in a conference room is a far cry from performing in front of a camera. Yes, I should insist that I go with her, I thought.
“I’ll ride in the car with you, Mom,” I said. “You’re new to the business and you don’t realize how brutal it can be.”
“I won’t hear another word about it, Stacey. You’ve been telling me for years how you’re too busy to take a whole day off to spend with me, and now I finally understand. So listen to your mother: Go to work at your store or run off to your auditions, and don’t worry about me. ”
Well, there was no point in arguing about it. “Fine, but I’ll have both my cell phone and my pager with me, so if you want some advice or words of encouragement, call me. Okay, Mom?”
“Yes, yes. I will,” she said. “And now I’d better go to bed. They told me to get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow is bound to be exhausting for me.”
“I was about to suggest the same thing,” I said. “Oh, and here’s a tip: you might want to lay off the dairy products in the morning. Skip the cereal and milk and have some toast and tea instead. Dairy can cause phlegm buildup in the throat, and your voice has to be perfectly clear tomorrow.”
“Actually, dear, the director already told me that. I haven’t had dairy for the past week.”
“I see. Did he tell you about the voice exercises? To limber up your vocal cords?”
“You mean, ‘ahhhh’ and ‘eeeee ’ and ‘ooooo’?”
“Yes.” Gee, I couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t know. “And be careful when you get into makeup. Sometimes they use the same brushes on everybody and you can pick up bacteria, especially when it comes to mascara. Maura is the expert in that area, so if you want, I can have her call you tonight and—”
“What I want is to hang up and go to sleep, dear,” said my mother, the person who never—I mean, never— used to let me off the phone. It was I who had to invent stories (the UPS man is at the door, the water on the stove is boiling, the police have to question me about the robbery down the street) to extricate myself from our conversations, and now she was in a hurry to get off with me?
“Okay. Sleep tight,” I said, trying to adjust to this role reversal. “I’ll be thinking about you all day tomorrow, wishing you good luck. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, Stacey. Nighty night.”
M y mother did not call me the day of the shoot, because she did not need advice or words of encouragement or anything of the sort. When I finally reached her later that night, she explained that the shoot went without a hitch and that everyone involved was pleased with her performance.
“ Tell me, tell me,” I said excitedly. “What did they have you do?”
“Basically, it was a problem-solution type of ad, just as they’d planned in the storyboard. I sat at a kitchen table wearing one of my nice dresses—the dark green one with the bow under the collar—and I looked straight into the camera and told the public what happened with the bone.”
“You’re kidding. I never thought they’d really go with that.”
“Oh, they went with
Similar Books
