And as The Universe tends toward
It’s (shall we say “unique”) sense of
humor, I had been hired as her Stand-In.
Quite frankly, in my underling role,
I couldn’t have been more thrilled that for a change I would be subbing for a
minor player. No stress! No drama!
And LOADS of time on my hands to Rip Van Winkle the days away if I so
chose!
Unfortunately, as the beautiful
Princess was equally comfortable playing the Court Jester -- regaling her loyal
subjects with whatever cock-eyed thought popped into her head at any given
moment –- I thought it best to stay alert and do my job to the best of my
abilities lest the King (aka the
Director) who was positively enchanted
by the ingénue, suddenly deem me an ugly duckling; too stupid and unworthy of
trying to stand in the Actress’s glass slippers.
“Are you comfortable crawling
through the tiny enclosed area, Pen?” my First AD kindly asked me the day prior
to pre-shooting, as my Actress was supposed to squiggle “underneath the house”
on a separate set specifically designed for filming.
“Umm... I think so...
yes, of course!” I nodded positively; secretly praying that my out-loud answer
might convince the ‘inner me’ too.
>>><<<
Zipping up my given Charlie Brown
‘Great Pumpkin’ orange protective jumpsuit the next day to cover my regular clothing, I stepped aside backstage for the
Special FX man who appeared to have one of his arms ‘disarmingly’ slung into a
sling with a plaster cast.
“Really?” I eyeballed him
skeptically, whole-heartedly hoping that he was just messing with my head
before I crawled into the creepy coffin box.
“It was just a minor pyrotechnic mishap” he winced with embarrassment. “I’d rather not get into the details...” he
added, clearly suffering from a post-traumatic flashback as he ‘sense-memoried’
the event. “But I’m only here to make the
tunnel seem all cob-webby” he recovered himself with a smile. “I promise I won’t set you on fire while
you’re trapped in there.”
(“Have a shiny red apple”, said the
wicked Queen innocently.)
>>><<<
Now, I truly believe that there occur
multitudes of moments in Life where we are all presented with opportunities to
rise above our fears. Why, we could be
eaten by a wolf on the way to Grandma’s!
Tossed into an oven as retribution for our gluttony! Discover a monster under the bed! (Oh,
the irony of the delayed realization that I named my new mattress which most literally
SUCKS the stress out of my body at night ala Dracula, “Vladimir”!)
But hey, nothing like a little blood-curdling terror during camera
blocking when you’re snow white in the face, yet still mining for comedy,
right?!?!
“Let’s load Penny into the chamber” our Director suggested. (What am I, buck-shot? Are we hunting wild game? Look out, Bambi!)
Unfortunately, standing deer-eyed wide in front of the cramped opening,
my hands sweating and my mouth disproportionately dry as dust (save for the inopportune occasional acid
reflux backwash of utter dread and claustrophobia), my feet remained firmly
planted immobile as if clad in cement boots.
“Everything OK there, Pen?” My AD
appeared by my side, acutely aware and rather concerned that my face had shifted
to a ghastly, ghostly pale and that I had apparently morphed into something
unrecognizably un-human. “Flag on the
play!” she shouted to the Director as she requested a Stand-In for the
Stand-In. “Let’s at least get you freed
from that jumpsuit!” she assisted me helpfully as I walked ‘Zombily’ out of my
clothing, OFF the set, and directly OUT the exit door until I could shake off
the creepy heebie-jeebies coursing through my veins.
(I do hope, kind readers, that
you weren’t expecting a true “Cinderella” story here from me. After all, that would be a much more Grimm
tale indeed.)
But I digress!
>>><<<
Smash cut to six years later:
“We should probably get you guys some knee pads if you don’t already have
them for when you’re doing the ‘army trenches crawl’ through the ‘air vent’
set”, our Second AD made a note to talk to our Stunt People. “I’m not sure how we’re gonna fit four adults
in the tiny space where four KIDS barely fit, but we’ll do our best!” he
smiled, ever the optimist.
And I had to admit, I was somewhat optimistic too!
After all, I’d crept through some seriously darkened tunnels in my
personal life over those six years; but with the help of family and friends I’d
managed to successfully Rapunzel my way out of captivity! (And if
worse came to worst, all I needed to do was let down my hair, form a red-headed
stair, and get myself the heck outta there!)
Granted the scene was a two-part bugaboo; the tight quarters would certainly
be unpleasantly uncomfortable too, and mostly I felt like Pinocchio as my legs
weren’t properly bendy to my will with the Velcro strappy knee pads over my
pants as I wobbled all ‘young Forrest Gump’ gimpy to the set.
Additionally, I wasn’t particularly
comforted by the fact that whilst the woodsmen Construction Crew had
thoughtfully built make-shift steps for my three amigos entering stage right, I
stood forlornly in the dark (stage left)
at the chest-high gaping dungeon, unable to load myself into the chamber (not
out of fear, mind you, but rather an
obvious inaccessibility into the mine shaft, FFS); until our Prop
Asst. (my very own Prince Charming!!!), heroically
knelt by my side with an apple box for my ladder; his sturdy shoulder at the
ready for my ascent; a sparkly twinkle in his valiant smile. (OK, perchance
I hallucinated-fabricated the “twinkle” since the painters had JUST turned off
the fans to dissipate the noxious fumes and maybe I was feeling kinda Dopey… But this is my story and I’m sticking to it!)
Now, having successfully camera-blocked ‘Part A’ of the claustrophobic
two-part scene (*WHEW!!!*) which was really
rather simple (all that was required were
four entrances of four people and setting focus shots for a page or so of
dialogue when the Actors hit their marks), I took great pride in the fact
that I’d managed to contain my Anxiety, was able to breathe through the
discomfort (and paint fumes), and had accomplished (in MY mind) a Herculean Feat from whence sonnets would be written and
ballads be sung of praise and courage!
“And let’s reset for ‘Part B’” the King (aka our Director) engaged the troops, as the cameras moved in
tightly towards my only open airway. “I
know it’s narrow in there Penny, but can you maybe lie on your left shoulder
and flatten yourself against the set a bit more so we can squeeze all four of
you in on one camera?” he asked politely as two more of our Second Team
awkwardly spooned their way behind me.
*thump thump*
Surreptitiously sneaking one hand out of the Death Chamber for
confirmation that Oxygen still actually existed on our planet, I tried ever so
hard to do my job to the best of my abilities...
“What page are we on?” a third co-worker asked out of the blue, wildly
oblivious to my debilitating discomfort as he piled into the tunnel on top of
us.
*thump thump thump*
“Oh bother...” I Winnie the Pooh poohed, as I tried to comfort myself;
imagining myself merely stuck with my head in a jar full of “Hunny”, splaying
face-down on my side from the invasive lenses of our High Def cameras as I buried
my head underneath my ponytail.
*thump thump thump thump thump*
“Can you squeeze in any closer?” the King casually wondered as I lost all
ability to breathe or speak, reduced to nothing more than a tell-tale-thumpy-heart
slash sobbing puddle of tears and Anxiety, weeping uncontrollably beneath my
helpless Rapunzel tresses.
“We have to get Penny out of there NOW!” were
probably the last words I heard that made any sense to me whatsoever as I found
myself relentlessly gripped by the menacing claws of a full-blown Panic Attack.
>>><<<
But a fairy tale (horrific as it may
be), does by the quasi definition, indeed require a happy ending, does it
not?
And thus I searched for mine.
“Don’t apologize” the King spoke quietly as he pulled me in to a
comforting Papa Bear hug. “I had the
EXACT same reaction when I had to get an MRI.
You freak out, but then you freak out even more that people are seeing
you freak out!”
I recall too, my dear friend Gilda helping me out of the claustrophobic
tunnel, her hands trembling whilst she attempted to placate her OWN Anxiety, offering
me tissues for all of the snot dripping down my face (yeah, that’s how we all wish to be viewed in High Def); a thoughtful
bottle of water from a Stage PA; a cup of orange juice, and the recommendation
that I ought to eat a banana as our Camera Coordinator ping-ponged me outside
of the stage to sit on the patio and breathe in the open space.
And after about twenty minutes, this little Red (writing) Hood was almost ready
to tackle the Big Bad Wolf!
Almost…
“They’re moving on to the Cold Open in the bedroom” my beloved friend and
co-worker April gave me a heads-up as I ever-so professionally tried painfully unsuccessfully
to thumb through my script, multi-tasking as I attempted to stand up on my Pinocchio-wobbly
legs. “I gotcha covered, Pen” April smiled
with a maternal flick of the wrist as I sat back down. “No worries!” she sailed off sunnily as she
grabbed my character’s signage and effortlessly took my place on-camera. (Was I
still hallucinating, or did she have a valiant “twinkle” in her teeth too?!)
Well, I suppose there’s never exactly the ‘happily ever after’ we all hoped for, but we can certainly make the most out of our story book endings if we try.
Yes, the ingénue went on to win an Academy Award, but even SHE had a
rough trip up the steps to accept it…
(Easy there, Princess!)
So suffice it to say, I do know now in my heart that I’m in a very safe
place (the UPM even gave us ‘hazard pay’!!!),
where despite all the huffing and puffing of Hollywood, no one has the power to
completely blow me down.
(Well… Except
for creepy dungeon-like tunnels… That’s
a fucking deal breaker!)
Continuing my pursuits of dreaming HUGE and wishing you a happily ever after,
~P 
