Page 7 of Hollywood Crush

“What the fuck is going on out here?” A door to one of the trailers had slammed open. “Oh for fuck’s sake, what’s the point of paying you if you can’t even do your fucking job?”

I turned to face the source of the voice and recognised him instantly. Roland Haggerty had been well known and revered for his direction on a big sci-fi show for one of the streamers years ago. He was equally famed for his temper and eccentricity and I could see that now.

“I told you we couldn’t fly in this kind of wind, but you insisted!” Will shouted back.

“Well I presumed you were the best at your job and you could fucking handle it!” Roland stormed over to us, making a beeline for Will like he was about to hit him. He was a middle aged man with a bald spot and about 5 and a half feet tall but still managed to make himself look somewhat intimidating. His neck bulged out of a shirt that had been done up just a bit too tight.

Just as he was within about a metre of us with his fists clenched and eyes fixed on Will, he seemed to notice me. His demeanour changed instantly and he deflated like a pufferfish letting out its air, even as he carried his momentum to right in front of us.

“Danny! I can call you Danny, right?” He grabbed my right hand and shook it before I could complain or respond in any way. “We’re so glad to have youon board! If there’s anything I can do for you please don’t hesitate to ask. We’re like a family here! You see, I want this show to be the best it can possibly be. And to do that we need location, location, location! Two months of shoots here and then just a couple of weeks on indoor sets in Cardiff.”

Roland grabbed my arm and wheeled me around to face one of the trailers. “There’s makeup, they’ll want to see you first.” He gave me a gentle shove toward the trailer. I walked the few steps there myself, but I could already hear him berating Will. His sudden changes in personality were frightening but nothing I hadn’t seen before with eccentric creatives. I didn’t like people who hero-worshipped actors and treated their staff like shit but it was an established part of the industry.

The makeup trailer was like a million I’d been in before except for the massive amount of prosthetics on show. There were full face masks and pointy ears, big brow bone additions and hundreds of fake cuts and scars pinned to boards around the room.

“Hi hun, I’ve been waiting for my Elf King to show up,” said the lone artist in there, a lady with peroxide blonde hair of about forty years old. “I’m Stacey. Why don’t you come and sit down and we can chat about where we want to go with the character.”

I sat down nervously in the chair, looking around and wondering which of the many prosthetics Iwould be forced into. It was never fun for me to be put in the makeup chair for hours and I tried to avoid jobs with prosthetics for that exact reason. I was struck again by just how quickly everything had fallen into place.

Thankfully the board that Stacey had brought over to the chair had only two elven ear tips and some long strips of silicon I couldn’t identify. “Cheekbone enhancers, love,” she said as she caught me looking.

Stacey got to work pretty quickly and the process to add the cheekbones on wasn’t half as invasive or annoying as I had feared. It took about half an hour to place, blend and colour the cheekbones and ears.

“Right, so in the books the elves have bright blonde hair and pale skin,” said Stacey as she showed me some concept art of exactly that. “But with so many extras I wanted to avoid that. So I’ve modelled them after you. I’ve been arguing with Roland about the eyes, as he thinks they should be practical whereas I’d rather shift it off to VFX to do. The one thing I’m asking of you is that you shave daily. I know being scruff is quite on-brand for you, but I’d rather limit the prosthetics.”

Stacey showed me further concept art of their eyes, which were a deep black. “We’re going to try the contacts, but if they’re too itchy talk to me and we’ll see what we can do.”

“Two secs,” I said. I took out my own contacts and the world got a little bit blurrier. “I’ll remembermy glasses next time.”

“These should be OK…” Stacey held my eyes open as she gently pressed the contacts in. “Ah, perfect. I have to admit that they do look good.”

I looked into the mirror and squinted slightly to bring myself into focus. With just the ears, cheekbones and contacts and a little pale makeup Stacey had transformed me into an otherworldly creature. I didn’t like not being able to see properly though and felt like my performance might be constrained by the cheekbone prosthetics.

“Are you comfortable with all that?” Stacey asked. Perhaps my concern had been clear on my face.

“Yeah. Sure.” Stacey had obviously done her best to make the application as simple as possible, and I couldn’t blame her for me signing on to a shoot that was always going to involve this kind of makeup.

“So,” I started, “what’s Roland’s thing? How come he’s…well…”

“Such a prick?” Stacey laughed and started to work on my eyes. “Eyes closed, please. Well you know his type. Men who were given their own TV show and total control way too early, with inflated egos and belief in their own ability. Make no mistake, he’ll work hard on this show. But I can’t see him being a kind man, except maybe to you and the other stars.”

“It’s all very quiet isn’t it? Why am I on set so much earlier than everyone else?”

“Oh, well, you know how it is when someone joins a production late. After the first couple of guys dropped out, and then Andrew Garfield ended up working on that new Tom Cruise film they had to get someone in quick, and it’s hard to find actors available at a few days notice. Wardrobe and Makeup finished with everyone else weeks ago.”

Oh. I had been second or third choice for parts before, but Sandra had sold me this show on how I was their choice, without audition. That they wanted me there. It felt a bit of a kick in the teeth to know I was a last minute replacement so far down the pecking order.

“I’m just going to…make a phone call, if that’s OK.”

“Of course. I’ll wait.”

I left the chair with what looked like one eye of makeup done and stepped out into the bracing wind. I called Sandra.

“I’m out,” I said before she could say anything.

“Now, don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty?”

“Nope. You told me they wanted me here. In the arse end of Wales. Now I’m finding out I was way down the list!”

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