I had to show up to their Airbnb for a 6pm dinner and to get ready to shoot at 8. Jack, the AD, called me anxiously at 2:30 while I was still en route to Barstow. Jack told me that they fucked up the call sheet. They need me to come asap to be picked up and taken to their Airbnb to get ready.
One hour later I am still at the hotel waiting to be picked up. I get another message from Jack that plans have changed again and now I am being shuttled straight to set by the crew to work on my makeup. I waited another hour for the shuttle to arrive, even though Jack told me they were 10 minutes away. The shuttle is a 2007 Ford with a broken transmission. It’s driven by the director's (Zayn’s) best friend and contains Jack's wife (for some unknown reason) and Kai. 10 minutes before they arrived Kai called me to ask if I have any body hair. I told her yes, but I shaved my chest as Zayn requested. She asked me if I’d be comfortable trimming the rest of my body hair when we get to set. I agreed happily.
The Ford’s broken transmission causes us to stall every other minute on the road. The driver is going from 40 to 10 mph and giving us all whiplash. Right before they arrived, Kai texted me to please not bring much because they already have a full car and can’t fit much more. I asked her if they’d have dinner for us on set to which she didn’t answer. When I got in the car Jack's wife asked me bitterly, “So you want something to eat?” Before I had a chance to reply, the car owner immediately interjected, “I have to pull over while he decides because my car isn’t working.” I felt none of them wanted to eat and all of them were in a rush so I asked if we could grab coffee on the way, thinking someone would say No! You need to eat something. No! It’s gonna be a long night. No one said that.
Arriving onto set was a challenge because the location was at the top of a rocky hill and Zayn’s friend’s Ford was crying out in pain.
When Zayn asked me if I have a hairy chest I should have figured my arms and legs were included in the subtext of his question. Because now I'm bent over in a bathroom of an air conditioned auto shop that hasn’t been cleaned for years, shaving my body with a beard trimmer.
Kai seems like she’s good at makeup. She told me my hair doesn’t need to be razor smooth in order to apply the prosthetics. She seems really grungy. She lives in Fort Lauderdale and she hates Miami. She’s covered in tattoos and scars that look like remnants of self harm from years ago. She seems very excited to be working on this production.
Kai is terrible at makeup. She uses about 10 percent make up and 90 percent mashed banana and red food dye to create my look for the night. I have never felt more disgusting. Wasps flew around me taking bites out of the rotten fruit stuck to my skin.
While I sat on set Kai would unexpectedly toss baby food and rotten banana at my face saying “Sorry” with each flick. I thought this production would be cool to work on. Indie and outsider. Now I see they are indie and outsider for a reason. I’ve never seen someone repeat sorry so many times while continuing to do the same thing. I felt like spitting in her face and saying Kai, you aren’t sorry.
The only clothing I wore was an adult diaper to which almost every older male crew member made a comment. To make themselves feel more comfortable. A suggestive “Is that crushing your balls?” Or “Have you worn a diaper another time recently?” Or just a look and snicker. Insecurity is rampant on film sets. To see anyone put themselves out there in a way they wouldn’t is confusing to the point one has to say something fucking stupid.
Zayn told me they’d get all my shots first so that I wouldn’t have to stay in the makeup for long. I was in it for 12 hours. My shots were spread out from the very first to the very last. Standing in the desert night being eaten by wasps. I think death would’ve been more pleasing. I wouldn’t wish that fate upon my worst enemy.
Everyone was asking me if I wanted water. I had five bottles floating around. No one wanted to ask me the real question, do you want help? They couldn’t help me.
Everyone was drunk and high. Zayn was pounding beers from the second we got there and so was the lead actor, among most crew as well. I guess it’s necessary in Barstow. A lovely place that’s 120 degrees by day and by night it’s crawling with spiders whose bites can kill you. God couldn’t create a better locale for a horror film.
The only pleasant part of the shoot was my actual acting. I looked like the perfect confused zombie, Zayn said so. I beat myself up knowing his validation mattered to me. Why would validity from a heavily tattooed man sweating coors light matter to me? I sat and rocked myself to tears. The tears were from feeling sorry for myself. Sorry that I took this opportunity. Sorry that there are more moments like this to come.
