– There are three scenes I’m doing (and right about now, I’m really happy I’m off book on ‘em). The first one is pure wise-assery, so I fly through it. When I finish, I move on to the next scene. At second scene’s end, Susannah gives me a little direction, and I try the scene again, hoping to Christ I offer any difference in my performance. In my head, I’m thinking “It’s cool – you’ve been in auditions before. Asking an actor to do another reading doesn’t mean they’re not doing well.” I get the nod on scene two, and head into scene three – the weightiest of them all. At scene’s end, Susannah offers more direction, so I try the scene again. When I finish, Susannah offers more direction. In the split second between her counsel and my third take, this is my inner monologue…
The little voice in my head wrote:
“You blew it. You have zero instinct for material you don’t write myself (and very little instinct for your own shit, at that). You’re about to be rejected by not just one woman, but three women, as well as the chick running the camera you’re fucking up royally on. What are you even doing here, Jerk-Stain? You’re not an actor – you’re just a guy who bugs his eyes out when another guy says ‘Snoogans’ in some very small movies nobody’s ever heard of. You soared too close to the sun on wings of wax, asshole, and now you’re gonna plummet back to Earth. But don’t panic. Don’t let ‘em see you sweat. Wait, who’re you kidding? They can see your fat-ass sweat from space. Just hold it together long enough to get out of this office with a sliver of dignity intact. You’ve been rejected by plenty of chicks, so this should be easy for you.”
– I do the scene for the third time. When I’m done, the ladies and I chit-chat about “Evening with Kevin Smith” (the flick which is largely responsible for my being in that room in the first place) and “Evening with 2: Evening Harder.” I’m getting no read from the Women in Film beyond the “Arrested Development”-like “I’ve made a huge mistake…” expressions behind their smiles. All are kind enough to not mention the pooching of the part I just fumbled so massively, but I can feel it in the air. I’ve not only wasted their time and momentarily filled them with a false hope that I ultimately (and resoundingly) didn’t fulfill, now I’m wasting even more of the time they’re gonna need to go out and find their “Sam” by sitting here talking about my dopey Q&A’s. I do the only sensible thing I’ve done since I arrived by collecting my shades, sides, and scraps of pride, and bidding those standing in judgment of my feeble “performance” adieu.
– A block away from Fresh Paint, I call Jen to lament about my colossal failure. She’s at home in a meeting with Cookie about the food for the Poetry Event, but takes the time to listen to my sad tale of woe and responds by telling me I’m overreacting. “But you weren’t in the room like I just was,” I counter. “Trust me – I laid a big, fat egg.” I get a call waiting signal and put Jen on hold to answer it. It’s my agent, Phil, who wants to know how it went. I tell him “Badly…” and switch back to Jen to tell her I’m gonna debrief Phil. She tells me she loves me and that she’ll see me when I get home, kiss it (whatever “it” is), and make it all better.
– I switch back to Phil and fill in Phil with all the deets: I went to the wrong office, so I was half an hour late, and then I blew the audition I didn’t know I was gonna have. Phil says “Jenno just called.” I ask what she said, and Phil says “They’re gonna talk about it and get back to us,” which is code for “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.” I’m like, “I knew it. When I was on the third take of the big scene, I…”
Suddenly, I’m reminded of an April Fool’s joke from four or five years ago, when I called Phil and fired him, insisting he didn’t “get” me, and that I was going back to CAA. It was a call that went on for fifteen minutes before I hit him with “April Fool.” I’m reminded of this in the split second after Phil reveals “Jenno says you nailed it. You got the part.”
For the first time in, Christ, I don’t know how long, I scream. “WHAT?! YOU’RE FUCKING SHITTING ME!” No, Phil tells me, there’s no shitting involved: Susannah, Jenno and Deb were unanimous. They’d just called him right before he called me: essentially three minutes after I left their office. I’m the guy, they said. Inexplicably, the word “sexy” was used. Phil says they’ve still gotta make the deal (the money stuff), but the part’s officially mine.
I can’t tell you how unaccustomed to being “chosen” I am at this point in my career. I never have moments like this, because every script I’ve written to direct myself that I’ve turned in since “Clerks” has been greenlit, not selected. Granted, it’s validation; but it’s not the kind of validation you feel when someone says “I want you.” This was up there with Schwalbach letting me into her body seven years back; not as physically gratifying of course, but up there nonetheless. For ten years, I’ve been the guy telling actors and actresses “I want you”, and now, all the sudden, this person I have no connection to and have only met less than an hour before feels that a character she wrote without me in mind is me. It was one of the top ten best and most surprising moments of my life.
We’d like to send a very healthy, hearty congratulations our way to Kevin on this monumental moment in the history of View Askew. Sure, it’ll push Clerks 2 back a couple months to get this gig in. It’ll be well worth the wait. We’re looking forward to covering this exciting new chapter in Kev’s life, and of course will now have loads of the “Catch And Release” coverage for you, right here at News Askew.
