That's it. Finished, done, I've had it. My resolution this year is: no more bloody show business. No films especially. I mean, it could have been--I mean, at the time it seemed like--well, it might have been an opening, a new avenue ahead, a sort of revolution. There was this advertisement in the Times that said American extras were wanted for Hellwoman, and I made inquiries. Then I went along to see, because I had this hunch that the audition was going to be different. In the first place, Jane and Vanessa were in the film. And when I walked into the auditorium at the American School in London, the director's assistant, Terry, was up there on the platform. He was saying that this was going to be done in the most democratic way possible. That was it! A democratic audition! So there would be none of that bad old stuff where a paunchy, middle-aged type, sucking lecherously on a big black cigar, wanders up the aisle in a loud Hawaiian shirt showing off his sunlamp tan and pausing now and then to mutter hoarsely at some attractive person: "Ya wanna be in show business?"
There were warning signs
Looking back on it, there were warning signs. This gray-haired person sitting next to me, for instance, thought it was going to be "a barrel of fun". Some friend of hers had been an extra in the Great Gatsby and that was "a barrel of fun." So when she got the work about Fred Zinnemann wanting real Americans for extras in Hellwoman, well, she thought--why not?
In the seats behind me, Christopher and Marcia were snickering and whispering to each other, and they obviously thought it was going to be a barrel of fun, even if they were too young to use such an outdated expression. On the other side of Marcia, Bob was hunched down in his seat, looking gloomy. But his foreboding passed me by, fool that I was. Some three hundred persons, relaxed, casual, cheerful, were sitting in the auditorium, all (except Bob) looking forward to a barrel of fun.
There was one little problem. The union clearance made room in the fun-barrel for no more than 150 persons. These were now going to be selected, as Terry said, in the most democratic way possible. Terry was also relaxed, cheerful, casual in his wide-belted jeans, open-necked shirt, and light-brown leather jacket. Having declared his commitment to democracy, he went on to explain about the scenes where real American extras were needed.
Jane and Vanessa, on their way to Germany on the brink of World War II, were to be seen in a variety of places: in the famous New York night club Sardi's, in a Harlem Speakeasy, in a hotel-cum-lounge-cum-cocktail-bar, and at the New York docks in 1923 and 1930. (According to Marcia, there was going to be a champagne party at the docks, or aboard ship, or something.) Terry explained why they wanted real Americans: Because, he said, Americans look like Americans.
Obviously we were going to decide, democratically, which of the persons present looked most like Americans in Sardi's, in a Harlem speakeasy, and so on. As I visualized it, we would begin with a defile across the platform so that everybody could see everybody else. Then Vanessa would come in and chair a debate on whether some Americans really looked more like Americans than other Americans--in Sardi's, a Harlem speakeasy, and so on--and whether this was a good thing for Equality. At the close of the debate
...
Read Full Article
|
