I was asked by the producer if I could attend a commentary on
a film I was in since it is getting attention by a distribution company. It was for a Friday night, and I actually was
available. I wrote back, “Yes, yes,
yes,” and I asked for the details. Nothing. Then as the evening was approaching, I
contacted him and said I never got the details – time, address, etc. He said, “I thought you couldn’t come.”
Now, I know when women say “NO” it is sometimes interpreted by
men as “Yes.” But here I said, “Yes,
yes, yes,” and he thought I said no. Go
figure. It made me wonder if maybe he
didn’t want me there for the commentary.
He sent me the details though never answered one of my questions. It was an important question. I went anyway.
I definitely didn’t allow myself enough time to get from the
Bronx to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. So I was
late.
When I arrived, the producer said he couldn’t believe we
were all there at the same time. It
wasn’t the whole cast, just a few of us.
He even asked me (and the others) what made me agree to come. I said that since I was in the film, I felt a
part of it and involved since then. I
came to the cast party too.
It is in the horror genre with a twist of comedy, and
definitely some originality. I don’t
watch horror films. I could appreciate
this one because I was in it, the producer and director treated us well, and
everything they said they’d do, they did.
I’m glad for them if they get some fame from this. They are pretty focused and passionate about
it.
I arrived a bit stressed from the trip, being late, etc., but
I was in a generally good mood though somewhat tired.
The others were males, and, within minutes, I felt like I was
on a very male planet like the one I’m actually on, and it felt awful. I wasn’t expecting this since my experiences with them had been good, so I was off
guard. They were talking about some other film
where someone put a charger or something in a woman’s vagina and charged their
phone. And I felt like I felt much of my
early life, speechless and horrified at how we are hated. The thought never occurred to me to do such a
thing to anyone including a rapist. I’d
rather a rapist just be shot dead. I’m
not a fan of torture.
Then later it seemed to get a little more comfortable. The producer shared stories with us about
different cast members. He had
frustrating experiences with some. One
woman apparently was supposed to get paid extra because she was supposed to
have a make-out scene with one of the actors.
But the day of the filming of that scene, the actor had a cold
sore. She refused to do it which was
understandable to all, but she insisted on the money for the make-out
scene. That was the point of contention. I admire that she did insist on the money,
but I know I wouldn’t have, unfortunately.
She was counting on the money, it wasn’t her who had the cold sore, so
good for her.
Now here is what took the whole thing back in a shitty
direction. Another actor said that she
still could have kissed him, just not on the lips. Then he went on to say that the producer
should’ve made it so every actress has to make-out, and then just tell them it
landed on the cutting room floor.
Just love that dehumanization.
It’s so heartwarming when a human is spoken of as a thing. At that point, I guess my spirit was sinking
and I was starting to wish I had stayed the fuck home. Almost a two-hour trip to feel invisible and
speechless. If we don’t keep consciously
addressing it, this shit just takes over again.
Generation after generation is always in danger of having any progress
reversed. Geeeez! (For those readers who are concerned about
“upsetting the guys,” I’d say they come that way. How else can they speak of us as containers
for their garbage?)
At that point, I wasn’t feeling very commentative. I suddenly had so little to say. As an actress, it had actually been a really
fun experience to do the film. And we
were paid. But when it came to the
commentary, I felt smothered by misogyny. It was a sense of the world being about
them while everyone else is just kinda there to serve and adorn.
