Page 23 of The Actor: Harrison

“Are you lactose intolerant or something? Did you get diarrhea?” I know sometimes people get it really bad and have terrible cramps.

He sighs and shakes his head like he’s had this conversation too many times. “No, I’m not intolerant to milk proteins, I am allergic to milk. It’s so bad I have to walk around with an EpiPen in case I accidentally ingest some.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “Are you serious right now? Because if this is a joke it’s not funny. I’m not laughing.”

“The pasta wasn’t vegan. Someone just picked out the bigger chunk of mozzarella, thinking that was enough. But they obviously didn’t squeeze the pieces from inside the pasta, and when I came home and ate it, I start to swell up like a balloon, including my throat.”

I’m staring at him, baffled, unable to process that I almost killed him.

“Fortunately, my publicist was here and gave me the shot immediately before bringing me straight to the emergency room without calling an ambulance. I would have been all over the gossip magazines and their theories about a drug overdose or whatever.”

“Are you fucking serious? Why didn’t you tell me? I roasted your ass for the vegan food and then I gave you pasta and didn’t even bother to check if it was really vegan. I almost killed you! Isn’t that something you should tell people you work with?” I burst out indignantly.

He smiles and sips his coffee. “Yes and no. Sometimes it’s more dangerous if I tell people I’m allergic because they don’t understand the difference between allergic and intolerant and, like you said before, they think I’ll eventually just shit in my pants. When you tell someone you’re allergic to nuts, for example, they check a million times before giving you something because they know you’ll drop dead if they don’t pay attention. Milk allergy is quite rare in adults, usually you find it in kids but they outgrow it. It’s why nobody pays attention to it.”

I feel stupid. I thought he was throwing a tantrum and I preferred to listen to the rumors instead of asking him why he needs to eat vegan. Something sounded off when they told me he wanted something vegan but he ate chicken before. It didn’t fit with the perfect image Harrison is so careful to project on the outside. But I preferred the easy way, the rumors I needed to confirm my theory that he’s a difficult actor to work with.

“So you’d rather be considered a diva for your absurd requests than tell people the truth?”

He shrugs again and stares out the window toward the luscious garden behind it. “They think I’m some lightweight Hollywood star anyway, so why put so much effort into trying to contradict people if I can’t change their minds anyway?”

I think about all the movies he starred in. They all have the same characteristics: high budget, they want him naked, they break the record for higher grossing income every single time. They’re made to make money. Except one, the one that earned him the Oscar. It’s like there are two Harrisons. One before the Oscar and one after it.

“Why did you want to make this movie so badly? Why do you put so much effort into making it perfect? You’re starring in it, you’ll be successful no matter what.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He raises a challenging eyebrow.

“Because you want to break the cycle,” I murmur more for myself than answering him.

He nods. “I want to show people I’m the same actor that won that Oscar, that I didn’t disappear or change. I’m stuck in this cycle where they offer me only roles that make them money, and the more of those movie I make, the more I get offered the same old shit.”

I nod, seeing his point. The moment he succeeded they took away his ability to choose to showcase his skills. If he doesn’t stay in that cycle he’s stuck in making money, they forget about him, unless he shows them he’s capable of more. That he can make money with serious movies too. But nobody will offer him a chance because they forgot the guy that won the Oscar.

He has to remind them ofthat guyand this movie is his chance to shout out loud to everyone that he’s a damn good actor.

And to think I almost killed him.

I’m standing in in the middle of the set, trying to figure out how to approach this scene. It’s crucial for the movie that I get this right. This will set the credibility of the character. If I don’t win the hearts of the audience here, I won’t get another chance. They won’t trust me.

“Are you ready for this scene?” Sienna approaches me while people work around us to get the set ready.

I’m surprised by her approach as I was surprised this morning when she smiled and greeted me. It’s the first time since we started filming that has happened. Something shifted yesterday during our conversation at my house. She seems more willing to avoid a fight and I’m more relaxed around her too.

“I’m not sure,” I admit.

I take a look at the script in my hand as if it can give me some clue. Strangely, this is the page where I have the least notes of all. When I learn and rehearse a scene, I fill it with notes reminding me about ideas I had of how to approach it. Not this time.

“How are you thinking you’ll do it?” she asks and my head snaps toward her.

She has a relaxed face, not the usual scowl, and she actually seems to want to listen to what I have to say. It takes me a few seconds longer to give her an answer.

“I usually have a clear vision of how I want to do it. Ifeelhow I have to do it. But this time the only thing that comes to my mind is to shout and scream, and that doesn’t seem right to me.” I look at her and she’s frowning.

I can see she agrees with me that there is something not working with that, but she doesn’t point it out.

“What do you think. How would you approach it?” I ask her and she seems a bit surprised by my question, but she recovers immediately, pouting a bit like she does when she’s focused on something important.

“I think my first reaction would be a complete lack of reaction. I think I wouldn’t move, do anything, I don’t think I would even breath. My usual response would probably be to process the information, the reasoning, the why. I would have a million questions but I couldn’t voice them out loud. I don’t know if I would cry. I’m a person who cries when I get overly emotional, when I get angry, but in this case, I would probably be too numb to cry.”

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