Page 26 of Marisol Acts the Part
Esther escorts me back to set before she can scare me off with any more horror stories from season one. Rune is clearly disgruntled by the time we return to set, and I tighten my grip on my script, hoping he won’t take any of his frustration out on Esther instead of me. Thankfully, he accepts the apple she brings him—apparently, he needs a snack every two hours or he goesreallyoff the rails—and calls everyone to attention for another set of takes.
For the second time that day, the room goes silent. But, this time, I know it’s not because everyone is watching in awe, hanging on to the edges of their seats to get a glimpse of a once-in-a-lifetime performance.
It’s because they want to see if I fail.
As we take our marks again, I close my eyes and inhale deeply, walking myself through one of the dozen guided-meditation ASMR videos I watch before bed. There’s the click of the clapboard, the hum of the lights coming to life, the whir of the camera, and when I open my eyes, I’m not me anymore.
I’m not scared and insecure and worried about what people think of me. I’m powerful, strong, and angry as hell.
We get through the first several pages of the scene flawlessly, my confidence slowly building back up with every line I don’t stumble on. Even my “mom” seems surprised by my performance, hints of it showing in the cracks in her own line readings.
“Just leave me alone!” I shout, my heart pounding wildly as we make it to the last moments of the scene, adrenaline pumping through me. “I don’t—”
“CUT!” Rune shouts midway through my line, and I stop like I’ve been unplugged.
“Wh-what?” I stammer out, still trapped somewhere between myself and my character as I whip around to face him. “That was the line, I—”
“You should be blond,” he interrupts, tapping his pen to his lower lip.
“What?” I say again, sounding like a broken record.
It’s a small comfort that the rest of the crew seems startled too, an unsettling air of discomfort closing in on us. This day has been exhausting for me on multiple levels, and probably twice as exhausting for the crew who had to be here even earlier than the cast.
“Your character. She should be blond,” Rune repeats, gesturing to my fictional mom’s platinum blond hair. “You two should be mirrors of each other.”
My scene partner and I exchange a confused look. Of course we don’t immediately pass as family, with my tan skin, brown hair, and brown eyes, and her pale skin, ice-white hair, and blue eyes. But she’s not that far off from Mom’s complexion, and people never doubt that we’re related. Plus, that’s the magic of television: you don’thaveto resemble anyone to make an audience buy into the fantasy.
“But—”
“Have hair and makeup reach out,” Rune interrupts again, speaking to Esther this time, and I have to bite down on my lip to not let my short temper take over. “Once that’s done, we’ll reshoot her scenes from today.”
Wait—what?
Esther nods, shooting me a sympathetic frown beforedisappearing—likely to go find the hairstylist in charge of transforming me into my fictional mom’s “mirror image.”
So, all of the work I did today was for nothing? I’m no stranger to reshoots, but usually I haven’t busted my ass this hard to get the scenes done in the first place. I grit my teeth hard enough for my jaw to ache, unclenching my fists only for the sake of not breaking off any of the acrylic French tips I spent an hour in the salon for.
“See you bright and early, people!” Rune addresses the rest of the crew, giving a hand signal for everyone to wrap up production for the day, leaving me gobsmacked and speechless without another word. No asking if I’d be okay with completely changing my appearance for the role or negotiating whether we can try a wig instead of bleaching my hair, or an apology for making me have to start over from scratch. Nothing.
I inhale sharply, the breath coming out as a shuddered exhale. No ASMR guided meditation can calm me down, but I have no choice except to put on a brave face.
Because this is pushing myself out of my comfort zone.
Thisis what I wanted.
Chapter 8
“You’re sure you’re feeling okay about this?” Delia asks for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Absolutely,” I reassure her yet again. “This show is really special, and the experience has been amazing so far.”
If byamazing,I mean forcing me to completely change my physical appearance and wardrobe, getting yelled at in front of the entire cast,andneeding actors to pay for their own car ride home to make room in the budget for Rune’s script changes, then yes. This has been an absolutelyamazingexperience.
My first week shootingThe Limithas been rough. It’s definitely more intense than what I’m used to—both the environment and the content of the show—but this is a learning experience on how to memorize lines on the fly, how to handle eccentric directors, and how to deal with production budget cuts.Avalon Grovewas my first real experience on a full-scale production. Most of the other projects I’ve worked on havebeen smaller-budget indie projects. I’ve had a handful of roles in bigger-budget stuff too, but those parts were so small I can barely even remember working on them. If this is the road I’m going to go down for the rest of my life, I’ll have to work through some rough patches here and there.
While I’ll miss the sweet driver I only got to know for two days, the ten-minute walk to the subway helps me clear my head. Plus, there probably aren’t any paparazzi trolling the New York subway system. Still, I adjust the brim of the ball cap holding my hair up and out of my face. Coupled with my oversized sunglasses, it’s my favorite disguise. It’s not foolproof, but no one’s actively seeking actors riding the subway in the middle of the day.
“I’ve got a few more leads on rom-com projects,” Delia continues. “There’s this HBO series that’s shooting in Paris that would love to get a self-tape from you. And a cable sitcom about a mom-and-daughter duo who rob men for a living.”
