So, we're at the Heights, Rachel and I, for the premiere of It Came From Another World, and afterwards, we're all sitting around sipping champagne and congratulating ourselves on how absolutely hip we are, when some dude comes up and taps Rachel on the shoulder.
It's Matthew Feeney!
Former player with Monty Python, star and co-star of hundreds of independent works and the biggest name in Indie film in Minneap. Clad, as always, in a suit jacket, jeans and saddle shoes, and a big, ole Cheshire grin splattered cross his billboard of a phiz.
So I get to dropping anecdotes, as I am want to do when I don't know what to say, and he thinks I'm a giggle riot---"a smart ass with spunk". He especially loves the story about when Rachel and I are making out on the bus and this fat pig comes lumbering up to us and goes...
What's this? Lesbian lovin'! He checks himself. Oh, wait! You're a dude!
So, by night's end, I've been invited to my first ever audition---Health Freaks, this sort of pseudo-Troma film being cast through Matthew's agency, Walden Entertainment.
So Rachel and I go out there, each of us trying out for our prospective roles. It's a film about comic book geeks who turn into zombie freaks when they drink this energy drink. Typical Troma shit---B movie with a sprinkling of fine, ripe cheese.
So Rachel goes in first and I'm left out in the lobby with the guy who checks folks in---this black dude reading Wicked, and he leans over to me after a minute or so and goes...
So, it true you get, like, mistaken for a woman, like, all the time?
Yes, that is truly true, I say, slow, tentative, thinking, Okay, I've got a classic Star Wars bad feeling about this.
Rachel goes out and I go in.
There's Matthew sitting next to a couple of youngsters in Troma shirts. I go right in and it's just so natural. We're rapping about Swamp Thing and the (most likely transient) death of Captain America. I'm wearing my glow-in-the-dark Spider-Man 3 shirt and we're just having a glorified geek-out.
Then one of the dudes gets this grin and goes...
So, we're looking to get you to read for a number of the geek roles...and for a lesbian named Kelly.
And I round on Matthew and screech...
You told!
And he goes right to the floor. He's bawling with laughter.
And with that...we commence.
I do...passable, I feel. I mean, I have a very deadpan, lowkey acting style, dialed more toward Cronenberg or Shyamalan than Troma. I have the same feelings about feelings in film that Yeats has about striking imagery in poetry...you only roll out the Long Toms for the really, really big scenes. I'm not much for the impassioned histrionics of some of the bigger hams. You know, the William Shatner School of Scenery-chomping.
So we do that fist-knocking farewell the young kids do and they say how much they really enjoyed meeting me and they'll let me know before Sunday if they want me for a call back.
And I go out and Rachel and I go home and wait.
(and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait---and go to the bathroom a lot, 'cause we're so nervous---and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait...)
Then one fine day after much waiting, Rachel gets a call back and, O and alas, I don't.
And, of course, I do lots of rationalizing---I'm not an actor, this was my first audition---and Rachel comes back from her call back all jazzed, which only makes things worse.
Then I get this e-mail from Jack---nice portent---and he's like...
We want to give you the role of Kevin, this...uber-geek. It's only three scenes, but you get, like, 30 lines and a really cool death scene. Really, the goriest, and therefore, most memorable scene in the movie. Of course, it's a little...messy. That a problem?
And I write back going...
Hell, no! Douse me in caro syrup and light me on fire, baby...I'm in!
So I'm juking and jazzing on Cloud 109, when Rachel comes in and goes...
Guess what? I'm in!
So I figure we're about to be doing the Titillation Tango on Cloud 1-O-9, but, for some reason, she's looking mighty glum and she goes...
I have only one line. I'm hardly in it.
And this is a reallly harsh blow for Rachel, because she's been trying to get into a Troma film, or even a Troma-esque film for years and I breeze in, on my first audit, and snap up a choice secondary role.
Not that she's being a brat about it or anything. Quite to the contrary. She dials me up at work and tells me she's proud of me and all that.
Then Jack e-mails me again with some choice descriptives about my role...
Kevin is this wimpy comics obsessive who gets approached by the dudes hawking the energy drink as a possible poster boy. So I gulp it down and suddenly I'm He-Man: Master of the Universe and benching Hummers in the gym, while everyone stands around and basks in my brawniness.
Then, all of a sudden, I get a super-bad case of the runs. Imagine eating a hundred deviled eggs that've been left out during a heat wave and it's...
WORSE! MUCH, MUCH WORSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I'm in the loo when my, er, ass basicallly explodes and drenches the stall with my interior fluids.
To illustrate how graphic this scene will be, here's the video link Jack sent me showing a similar scene...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zklxclkyKDc&mode=related&search
So I look at this and I'm thinking, How face-meltingly, eyeball-poppingly, anal fluid-spewingly awesome!
And then I threw up.
And then I thought, God, there's no way I can do this.
I mean, I'm as desensitized as the next fella, but there's desensitization and Troma desensitization and that's a whole other ballpark of calloused indifference to the simulated suffering of others.
I mean, since I've come to Minneap, I've run around fully-frontally naked in front of the camera, posed (also naked) with venom-dribbling tarantulas, had 500-watt lightbulbs glued to my face and been strapped to a chair and slapped silly...but this...this is extreme, this is hard core, this is...much to much.
But then I thought of Rachel, of how one of her demi-dreams is to have her butt blown up in a Troma film, and how I (albeit unintentionally) stole said dream, so it was only right and proper that I follow through.
So, the 20th and 21st of this June, your Lantern Jack will be strapped up with squibs and exploded again and again and...well, hopefully we'll get the damn thing right after only two takes, because, well, loud noises really scare me.
I can't wait for the release of this film, though. Well, just after the premiere, really. When people are spilling out. Eyes still dancing with all the gory sights. Ears still ringing from the death keens. And everybody will be going...
Dude, my favorite part was when that LESBIAN GOT HER !!!ASS!!! EXPLODED!!!
P.S. Rachel recently got a shot of jubilation straight to the soul when she got Matthew to star in this Indie movie she's making, Why Am I In a Box? the first film generated by her brand-spanking-new production company, Silent But Deadly Productions.
P.P.S. My movie, The Spooner Sisters, starring four of the hottest models in Minneap (and scripted by me), just got a young hot shot director attached, $30,000 in film equipment, a farm to shoot on and we're a go in September. I can't wait! I'm positively pissing on myself with pleasure!!!
It's Matthew Feeney!
Former player with Monty Python, star and co-star of hundreds of independent works and the biggest name in Indie film in Minneap. Clad, as always, in a suit jacket, jeans and saddle shoes, and a big, ole Cheshire grin splattered cross his billboard of a phiz.
So I get to dropping anecdotes, as I am want to do when I don't know what to say, and he thinks I'm a giggle riot---"a smart ass with spunk". He especially loves the story about when Rachel and I are making out on the bus and this fat pig comes lumbering up to us and goes...
What's this? Lesbian lovin'! He checks himself. Oh, wait! You're a dude!
So, by night's end, I've been invited to my first ever audition---Health Freaks, this sort of pseudo-Troma film being cast through Matthew's agency, Walden Entertainment.
So Rachel and I go out there, each of us trying out for our prospective roles. It's a film about comic book geeks who turn into zombie freaks when they drink this energy drink. Typical Troma shit---B movie with a sprinkling of fine, ripe cheese.
So Rachel goes in first and I'm left out in the lobby with the guy who checks folks in---this black dude reading Wicked, and he leans over to me after a minute or so and goes...
So, it true you get, like, mistaken for a woman, like, all the time?
Yes, that is truly true, I say, slow, tentative, thinking, Okay, I've got a classic Star Wars bad feeling about this.
Rachel goes out and I go in.
There's Matthew sitting next to a couple of youngsters in Troma shirts. I go right in and it's just so natural. We're rapping about Swamp Thing and the (most likely transient) death of Captain America. I'm wearing my glow-in-the-dark Spider-Man 3 shirt and we're just having a glorified geek-out.
Then one of the dudes gets this grin and goes...
So, we're looking to get you to read for a number of the geek roles...and for a lesbian named Kelly.
And I round on Matthew and screech...
You told!
And he goes right to the floor. He's bawling with laughter.
And with that...we commence.
I do...passable, I feel. I mean, I have a very deadpan, lowkey acting style, dialed more toward Cronenberg or Shyamalan than Troma. I have the same feelings about feelings in film that Yeats has about striking imagery in poetry...you only roll out the Long Toms for the really, really big scenes. I'm not much for the impassioned histrionics of some of the bigger hams. You know, the William Shatner School of Scenery-chomping.
So we do that fist-knocking farewell the young kids do and they say how much they really enjoyed meeting me and they'll let me know before Sunday if they want me for a call back.
And I go out and Rachel and I go home and wait.
(and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait---and go to the bathroom a lot, 'cause we're so nervous---and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait...)
Then one fine day after much waiting, Rachel gets a call back and, O and alas, I don't.
And, of course, I do lots of rationalizing---I'm not an actor, this was my first audition---and Rachel comes back from her call back all jazzed, which only makes things worse.
Then I get this e-mail from Jack---nice portent---and he's like...
We want to give you the role of Kevin, this...uber-geek. It's only three scenes, but you get, like, 30 lines and a really cool death scene. Really, the goriest, and therefore, most memorable scene in the movie. Of course, it's a little...messy. That a problem?
And I write back going...
Hell, no! Douse me in caro syrup and light me on fire, baby...I'm in!
So I'm juking and jazzing on Cloud 109, when Rachel comes in and goes...
Guess what? I'm in!
So I figure we're about to be doing the Titillation Tango on Cloud 1-O-9, but, for some reason, she's looking mighty glum and she goes...
I have only one line. I'm hardly in it.
And this is a reallly harsh blow for Rachel, because she's been trying to get into a Troma film, or even a Troma-esque film for years and I breeze in, on my first audit, and snap up a choice secondary role.
Not that she's being a brat about it or anything. Quite to the contrary. She dials me up at work and tells me she's proud of me and all that.
Then Jack e-mails me again with some choice descriptives about my role...
Kevin is this wimpy comics obsessive who gets approached by the dudes hawking the energy drink as a possible poster boy. So I gulp it down and suddenly I'm He-Man: Master of the Universe and benching Hummers in the gym, while everyone stands around and basks in my brawniness.
Then, all of a sudden, I get a super-bad case of the runs. Imagine eating a hundred deviled eggs that've been left out during a heat wave and it's...
WORSE! MUCH, MUCH WORSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I'm in the loo when my, er, ass basicallly explodes and drenches the stall with my interior fluids.
To illustrate how graphic this scene will be, here's the video link Jack sent me showing a similar scene...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zklxclkyKDc&mode=related&search
So I look at this and I'm thinking, How face-meltingly, eyeball-poppingly, anal fluid-spewingly awesome!
And then I threw up.
And then I thought, God, there's no way I can do this.
I mean, I'm as desensitized as the next fella, but there's desensitization and Troma desensitization and that's a whole other ballpark of calloused indifference to the simulated suffering of others.
I mean, since I've come to Minneap, I've run around fully-frontally naked in front of the camera, posed (also naked) with venom-dribbling tarantulas, had 500-watt lightbulbs glued to my face and been strapped to a chair and slapped silly...but this...this is extreme, this is hard core, this is...much to much.
But then I thought of Rachel, of how one of her demi-dreams is to have her butt blown up in a Troma film, and how I (albeit unintentionally) stole said dream, so it was only right and proper that I follow through.
So, the 20th and 21st of this June, your Lantern Jack will be strapped up with squibs and exploded again and again and...well, hopefully we'll get the damn thing right after only two takes, because, well, loud noises really scare me.
I can't wait for the release of this film, though. Well, just after the premiere, really. When people are spilling out. Eyes still dancing with all the gory sights. Ears still ringing from the death keens. And everybody will be going...
Dude, my favorite part was when that LESBIAN GOT HER !!!ASS!!! EXPLODED!!!
P.S. Rachel recently got a shot of jubilation straight to the soul when she got Matthew to star in this Indie movie she's making, Why Am I In a Box? the first film generated by her brand-spanking-new production company, Silent But Deadly Productions.
P.P.S. My movie, The Spooner Sisters, starring four of the hottest models in Minneap (and scripted by me), just got a young hot shot director attached, $30,000 in film equipment, a farm to shoot on and we're a go in September. I can't wait! I'm positively pissing on myself with pleasure!!!