Getting a job is such a thrill when you’re an actor. It’s a relief when someone seems to believe in you, when the treadmill of auditioning stops momentarily and you can bask in some kind of validation for a precious short while. Suddenly, all of the hardship, the months of silence, the rejections, the pain of being pencilled and released over and over, all seems worth it.
When I got my first film job, I was really excited. Finally, I thought, it’s happening! All of those years spent reading and applying technique to script, mining away to find meaning in every word, creating characters, committing myself wholeheartedly to every little audition opportunity had paid off.
I made the somewhat amateurish mistake of telling my family and close friends about it, and the shooting schedules started to appear in my email. 7 years of work since training and it was all coming together.
Then, I went to the first day of shooting. I was taken to a room, and was left there, alone, for 3 hours. Which was strange, because I was supposed to have been shooting 2 hours after arrival. No makeup, no orientation, nothing. Then, suddenly, the 3rd AD burst in, flustered, and apologetically told me that I should have been in make up an hour before. I was taken to the makeup trailer; 10 minutes of frantic hair and make up later, I was taken to the set.
As an actor on their first feature job, this wasn’t the best start. Everything felt rushed, flustered, but I resolved to stay as calm as possible. My job was to get on set and PERFORM whatever the circumstances, and I was determined to do that. Naturally I was nervous, many of the cast and crew knew each other from previous projects, and it was halfway through the shoot – so I felt very new. Everyone was perfectly friendly, of course, but film sets are exhausting places, and it wasn’t anyone’s job to make me feel ingratiated. Again, it was my job to focus and find the right state of mind to perform.
2 hours later than scheduled, filming began. And it became clear, very quickly, that the role I was playing hadn’t been thought through. I got the sense that the director and main actor were unsure, and I was in turn unsure.
It was unsettling when I was taken to the green room, and left alone for 45 minutes, time ticking on. Questions began to run through my mind – had I cocked it up already? Was I really awful? Had they made a mistake casting me?
Then, the director came in. He asked me if I was OK. I replied that I was fine, that if he and the lead actor were happy, I was happy. He smiled politely and said that we would all work it out together. He then began to talk to me about other things, to put me at ease, I suspect, and I mentioned that it was my first feature. He replied that it was his first too. I said that I had seen a previous documentary of his which was great, and that I was sure he was doing a great job. He looked at me, eyes glazed over, and said ‘actors says the nicest things.’
I hadn’t allowed myself to get worked up until that point. But when he said that, it hurt. It made me feel that I had somehow been insincere. When I was called back to set, 30 minutes later, after being in that cold room with nothing to do except think, I was anxious.
The shoot then became very strange. The director and lead actor were both directing me, often giving me conflicting direction. There were shots taken with me standing on a crate, then not. With a clipboard, then not. There seemed to be no concern for continuity. And I realised that while the script had been written as though my face would be prominent in the scene, the team were now simply filming the lead actor and I was almost a stand in, feeding him lines. The atmosphere was stressed, unsure, and awkward. Perhaps that is all my own projection, but that’s how it felt. I determined that even if I wasn’t to be recognisable in the scene, it was my JOB to give the other actor all I could to make the scenes work for him. It was an incredible opportunity to work with a really good actor, there were so many lessons I could learn, and it was a JOB. It was my job to be a professional, whatever anxiety I was feeling.
When we had wrapped for the night, crew members came to say well done to me, and were all very pleasant. The lead actor, a well known actor, came to me, shook my hand and seemed positive. I appreciated that hugely; because he obviously didn’t have to, and was sensitive and decent enough to understand that a small gesture like that would have a big impact on a new, unknown actor working on his film.
I went home, and talked it through with my husband. I told him how strange it felt, how unsure I was that it went well. He agreed with me, that there simply hadn’t been enough time for me to have messed things up. I went to bed, confused, a bit dejected, but ultimately, keeping my head up that I had done my very best.
The next morning, my agent called. She gave me some delicate news; that they had decided to cut my character. I was devastated. Unsurprised, but devastated.
I knew, deep down, that I hadn’t done anything wrong – my agent reassured me that the team were happy with me, that they recognised that it was their error, that the character hadn’t been thought through properly, that they would pay me in full etc etc – but the feeling in my stomach, the knots, the nausea, the awful feeling that I was perhaps not good enough after all…. It stayed with me for MONTHS. And it was exhausting. It was made worse when I remained on the mailing list and saw that they hadn’t cut the character, they had RECAST it. That was the final blow to my self-confidence as an actor.
Stubbornly, I carried on auditioning. I told my friends and family the sorry tale, laughed about it, stood up for myself, tried to maintain a sense of self-esteem and belief. I was determined not to let it get me down. It was challenging, but I chose to share the story with other actors when it seemed appropriate, partly to reassure them when things weren’t going so well, and partly to open the door for them to reassure me. I really needed it.
Time marched on. I got pregnant with my second baby. I did a few interesting jobs. Then, my agent called me.
‘I just got a call from the team on the film – they are going to use your footage after all! They want to book you in for ADR. When are you free?’
It was odd, but my immediate reaction was like I’d been stabbed in the stomach. I had worked so hard to bury the experience, to put it away, that even getting positive news like this felt difficult to handle. I didn’t want to acknowledge that the film existed. I didn’t want to see the footage, the back of my head, a jumped up extra. I definitely didn’t want to go and do ADR and then find out I’d been cut from the film AGAIN.
Obviously I did go and do the ADR – twice – and was a consummate professional. It felt good, going in when pregnant, having other things visibly going on in my life. The director was nothing but kind about the situation, apologetic for not contacting me personally to reassure me about the initial decision to cut the character, and it was enjoyable getting more ADR experience. Gradually, I was able to truly come to terms with the situation. I left the sessions feeling as though I had closed a chapter; vindicated, because I knew that my acting wasn’t the reason for my being cut from the film. It was just the way that things go in this kind of work sometimes. It really wasn’t in my control.
The project was a typical film project, everyone flying by the seat of their pants type – thing – and there are always casualties. The difficulty for small time actors like me, is that while your confidence is possibly the most fragile, because you haven’t had the validation of doing a bigger project, you are the most expendable part of a production.
So when you do get cut, you don’t get explanations, or reassurance beyond what is simply housekeeping. You are left to question yourself, why the decision was made, and what you did wrong.
In the end, the back and sides of my head DID end up in the film. The film itself has been relatively successful, and I’m pleased to have been part of it. The REAL education and benefit of the experience, though, has been the painful process of developing a really strong hide. I am far more philosophical about getting work now, far less prone to allowing the Inner Critic to tear me apart and blame me every time something doesn’t go according to plan.
I’ve learned that actually, it is rarely your ACTING that dictates whether you make it to the casting room, get a role, or make it to the final cut. There are a million different variables and the best thing you can do is keep your own head up, trust yourself, and keep things in perspective. Acting is important, but YOU matter more. Always be kind to yourself, no matter what blows the world is dealing you – because YOU are the important factor in absolutely everything.
If you’ve ever been cut from a project, or lost out on a role at the last minute, I know how devastating it feels. I know how little effort can be made to reassure you (let’s be honest, absolutely every rejection hurts a little bit, and the more you invest, the more painful it is) – so I really want to say YOU ARE NOT ALONE. But you are amazing. The decision really has nothing to do with you or what you do, and if you are able to somehow accept that most of the factors in whether you get roles or make the final cut are completely beyond your control, you will be unstoppable.
To your freedom!
