In the early hours of Saturday morning, as the sun rose over the first day of September, a few very dedicated filmmakers, myself and other actor, Zachary White, echoed a cheer of victory (or a sigh of relief) as Brendan Prost called “Cut!” on our last shot of the film. After 15 days of working on Spaces and Reservations, we were finally wrapped, and off we were to Denny’s for celebratory cheap coffee and hash-browns, and then some tired, scattered goodbyes.
I’ve done all of the rudimentary, post-film, get-back-to-reality
tasks since those goodbyes. I ensured a goodnight’s sleep for myself
after that grueling schedule with a strong drink on Saturday night, and
didn’t start my day until late into the next morning. I got myself back
to the gym, something that had been neglected for a little more than two
weeks. Stopped by Brendan’s house to pick up the remainder of my
costume pieces, as well as to verbally fill out my comment card on how
the shoot went (A+’s all around). And then 3 loads of laundry done, and
my life should be back to normal.
But how odd is that? To walk into this sort of alter universe, where
we bare our souls and become our most vulnerable selves, and eat with
the same people every day and take very little part in the other aspects
of our lives. Everything is call times, and schedules, and light set
ups and 11th takes. How much time is allotted for sleep this day, and
when can we fit in dinner today, and how many scenes do I cry in today?
Bills and exercise and seeing family are all put on hold…we’re making a
I don’t think one can step into that world and exit again unchanged.
Life is back to normal for now, but not without a new perspective or
understanding of myself. I’ve learned a lot about my capacity and
capabilities as an actor, but also about myself as a colleague and as a
sensitive person. All my old diaries became character research and I
don’t think any of us could have gotten away without revisiting the most
vulnerable moments in our respective histories. And we’re lucky for it.
We don’t get many chances to do those things, to explore why we are the
way we are and what has happened to us that brought us here. It’s art.
And it’s important.
So, for now, until we get to see the film, this is how I leave behind
that experience…with a great deal of gratitude, humility, new found
confidence and a sense that I am the luckiest person alive to get to
call this my career.
(Me and Brendan Prost!)