Maria.

Our first encounter with Maria occured the day after we arrived in Michigan. The Actor was dutifully in the dressing room, changing and trying on different period costume, whilst the L'il Man and I waited at a table nearby.

Maria sat at a sewing machine, her fingers guiding, then flying to tend a seam, then back to guiding again.

She was a cheerful sort, with raven black hair and the body of a glamour girl, despite her more elderly composition. Tasked, yet engaged with what was happening around her, Maria was immediately enamored with the baby.

She had come from a family of seven, Italian in descent, and had four children of her own. Complimenting me on my parenting style of allowing the babe to explore, she began to strike up a friendship with him. L'il Man took to her almost immediately.

The hours upon hours of clothing changes only served to bring about deepening conversation between The Seamstress and I. She had sewn for the industry many, many times ~ including broadway endeavors, and, as if that weren't enough, bridal gowns, christening garments, and more lined the verbal showcase of wares she presented to me.

Maria and I were chatting when we heard news of Michael Jackson's passing, straight from a phone call from Hollywood to the head of the Wardrobe Department. The somber news dampened everyone's spirits, and only served to add to my dismay that I'd likely not see the gregarious woman again after this.

Oh, how wrong I was! Cheers rang out among us as I discovered that Maria was on staff day after day after day - hemming, repairing, replacing fabrics and garments for the multitude of extras and cast members present for the production.

Our friendship continued. Each time location moved, Maria moved with us. A different locale, yet the same, her trusty sewing machine always present.

Our final week spent together gave her pause to finally utilize her handy-dandy lighter-fuse driven power cord . . . resulting in the most unique, yet enjoyable backdrops for creative handiwork yet!

We may never have Maria on board during any future films. However, rest assured ~ no other seamstress . . . regardless of how flambouyant they might be ~ can never erase the mark that Maria left on our hearts.

Maria, we love you!

The Phone Rang

[ . . . continuation of Intermission Ended . . .]

The phone rang, carrying a familiar voice across the miles to my ear. Delighted, I listened intently as the woman on the other end of the line, Ms. M, detailed for me the meandering way in which she discovered my son's involvement with the movie, and how she came to own my phone number once again.

Her son had met The Director in person, trying out for the lead role also ~ at The Director's request. As the cards landed, the lad was not chosen, yet he kept up with the details of the production via imdb.

It was there that Ms. M and her son found my son, listed as the Best Friend. Oh, how they wanted to send congratulations! Yet our contact information had been long lost under the weight of audition sheets and call backs.

Enter a Hollywood event, which Ms. M and her son attended last week Friday. They were delighted to run into old friends ~ only to discover that the young lady before them had just been on set with The Actor a week before! Requesting our information, and receiving it gladly, Ms. M followed through with her congratulatory call.

Congratulations soon fell to discussion of new projects on the horizon for each of our boys. Ms. M detailed her son's most recent accolades, and his newest exciting opportunities. As she did so, a vital piece of information came to light: her son was just slated for a network test for the same project my son was being considered for.

As soon as she spoke this, I knew we would be hearing very, very shortly, as information was being filtered out through agents and managers. I held my breath, and hung up the phone in anticipation.

For the project, of which we've all been on our toes about, The Actor did not receive audience for the network testing. Disappointment? Yes.

Yet, we know that the opportunities to speak with both a well-respected Casting Director and Director in the industry under such special circumstances is to be counted a great honor. All the effort. All the hoops. Was it worth it? Absolutely! No endeavor is without hard work - elbow grease, and it's ups and downs as one makes their way. Bottom line is, my son did his best, without regrets. Therefore, we move forward, knowing this is one of the greater of character qualities.

Today is the network test . . . and our prayers are lifted up on behalf of our friend.

Join us, won't you?

Intermission Ended Three Days Ago . . .

. . . and due to our travels I forget to keep y'all in the loop concerning My Son, The Actor, and his takes and retakes saga!

There is no rest for the weary, so they say, and in my son's case, this was a bonafide fact. His scheduled wrap day actually began with another conference call, with a different individual ~ *the* director of the project he was being considered for. Such a call was a tad unprecedented. Unique. To be valued.

Acting as his personal assistant, I, the mother, took avid notes, whilst my son spoke with the Hollywood Mogul, who was doing what he does best: directing the actor, and asking for some minor changes in his presentation.

And, oh. Could we have that by tomorrow, please?

Gulp.

It was a repeat of two days earlier, when the highly acclaimed Casting Director had asked the same thing. Of course, came the response, knowing then that the day was going to be wild and wooly!

The evening was not just wild and wooly, it was loud and rambunctious, and the sort of 'going away party' any teen might desire in his heart of hearts . . . our apartment, once roomy and spacious, was now filled with four adults, one of them being my son's agent, six teens, and four youngers, plus L'il Man, just for good measure! Who cared if the night was interspersed with rehearsing lines with his castmates, and doing yet more 'takes and retakes' attempting that perfect shot to submit?

Our efforts paid off in the wee hours of the next morning, when, apartment vacated by well-wishing party-goers . . . (I mean . . . advisors to the new project!) and I began the process of editing and preparing for transmittal. And we had yet to pack. Egads.

We managed to do it all, astoundingly. Sleep would simply have to come later, at some future date when time was no longer of the essence.

We boarded the plane the next morning, knowing without a doubt that The Actor had done his very best, no regrets.

Our job now was the infamous job of all in this industry: wait.

. . . to be continued . . .

Greek Myths, Anyone?

Please allow me to get back into the blogging groove, after a weekend of R&R by scrolling through the multitude of photos we've taken on location. Several don't miss it! blog posts are on tap over the next few days!

Today, a brief glimpse into the hair and makeup department, headed by none other than: Medusah.

What a great way to place a memory hook in folks ear, eh? To name one's professional-level skill set as a free-lance contractor under the guise of a famous Greek goddess?

It works.

And, amazingly, the tresses Medusah herself carries look astonishingly close to being legendary!

Each morning, after arriving on location, my son would accomplish two tasks: change clothes, go to hair and makeup.

This tiny cubicle on wheels housed four professionals, all doing what they do best. Coiffure the stars.

Delightful folk, these stuntmen in their own right. Transforming a modern teen into a early 60's icon; a greyheaded star into a youthful father; a regular Joe into a union worker of the era, complete with sideburns.

Yes ~ without this particular arm of the crew, the show would be lacking. Sorely lacking.

After all . . . they tranformed this:

Into this!

Necessary

Necessary updates are on their way.

I know it's been a quiet week, here in the blogosphere at My Son, The Actor.

Rest assured ~ behind the computer screen, real life has been playing out at warp speed, and my son and I have been hangin' on to the riggin' like nobody's business - knuckles white and hair blowin' in the wind!

Therefore, please stay tuned. You'll not miss a moment of the chronicle unfolding around the current project . . . you'll be the first on the list as the next project rolls in . . .

To keep you satiated until more press releases arrive, a photo for your viewing pleasure - one of those pictures that one simply *knows* there must be a story behind!

Whistle While You Work

We'll be on location yet again today, my son, the actor doing his thing.

Meanwhile, far, far away, in the land of executives and decision makers, a group will gather round about a tape; meet other candidates; and determine the forward motion players.

Those who do their appointed activity will be supported behind the scenes by a woman who is of the praying sort.

Anyone care to join her?

Harley and Me

Visual effects.

Summer sun.

Breezes.

Filming.

Park.

Children.

Fun.

With 'base camp' moved to a new location yet again, and that a good space away from the actual area of filming, it behooved many a crew member to hop on a bicycle and/or scooter and/or skateboard in order to get where they were going.

L'il Man was no exception.

When my son discovered and borrowed a pal's bike, it was only natural that he'd take his little brother for a ride - and little brother LOVED it! Riding about, mimicing the vroom! vrooom! sound, it was hard to tell just who, exactly, was the star of the show.

:D

Takes and Retakes.

Never sit on your laurels, they say.

As mentioned last week, my son put his auditioning skills to work in the midst of filming this current production.

I"m happy to report that all takes and retakes have been accomplished, and, as of midnight last night, have been successfully submitted. Again.

If you are of the praying sort ~

If you are of the sit on the edge of your seat and bite your nails sort ~

If you are of the 'come see what may' sort ~

You'll be glad to know that *this* particular actor isn't sitting on the sidelines. He's up and at 'em, ready for whatever comes next.

Join us in the anticipation, won't you?

Meanwhile, it's Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, Off to work we go!

Autographs: The Process

A pictoral rehearsal, minus the pressing, burgeoning crowd:

Gathering pertinent information.

Oh, the elbow grease of it all!


The closure.

Finito.

Moving on. Next!

All In A Day's Work

Wenesday, July 15: Honor request to complete taped audition. Submit via www.

Friday, July 17, 3:05 pm:

Never mind that I was in the middle of my first meal of the day, well into the afternoon hours. It was a hold day, and my son and I had already performed the second of three audition requests, during his free time. I had released him to do boy things based on my hunger. He was soon off with his film mate, The Aussie, as he also had the day to do as he pleased.

My dinner was delicious! Rice, veggies . . . it couldn't get any better, any more satisfying.

The phone rang.

3:33 pm:

An energized, and slightly frenzied manager's assistant was on the other end of the line. Casting loved his tape ~ could my son resubmit with a few changes ~ by 3 pm pacific time??

Egads.

3:37 pm:

I finally wrangled my server, paid my tab, and headed to the car, ready to find my son and get to work.

3:41 pm:

Enroute, the phone rings.

Mistake!! Can I put the actor on a conference call, before 3 pm pacific time?

But of course ~ consider me on standby.

3:45 pm:

Phone rings.

Agent on the line. Repeat of previous information. Confirmation of standby status. Arrive at apartment, look for son.

3:47 pm:

Found son, phone rings in hand, cleaning lady turns on vacuum cleaner, baby cries.

3:48 pm:

Door shut, baby sequestered with friend, Agent, Casting Director, my son and myself in conference.

3:57 pm:

Conference completed, changes requested, committment to retape established.

3:58 pm:

Cleaning lady exits room. Baby plays contentedly. Son and friend are nonplussed. They want to go rock climbing.

Mom faints.

4:00 pm:

Mom drives to gym, wondering how she managed to get herself into all of this, when all she really wanted was . . .

LUNCH.



:D

Thespians Are People Too.

Our designated shuttle driver held the van a bit longer, waiting, she said, on the new guy who had joined the ranks. After weeks of a van full of kids, and a week of rather spartan driving company, everyone who had already climbed aboard glanced up with curious glances.

Curious, because we wondered who it might be.

Our driver checked the call sheet an announced, "It's The Leading Lady's Dad."

Oh. Well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?

A grey-headed gent came out of the lobby door, and approached the vehicle quizzically. Confirming his ride, he also climbed aboard.

A bevy of introductions began.

Kind, personable, with great laughing eyes, The Dad chatted comfortably with the present company, both asking and being asked questions of sundry sort.

Then, minus fanfare, we arrived at our destination.

*****

The day waned forward, and I stood at my post, right next to the Chicken Actress and her anxiety-marked holding pen. The sun was shining, the shade generous, and L'il Man happy as a lark.

He requested of me a snack, so I took him inside our digs to fish out a fruit leather to tide him over until lunch. Happily, we exited the trailer, only to discover that a gaggle of folk had taken up residence in our seats about the hen house.

A tall mirror, with the words "Prop Department" written on masking tape leaned against the tree that sheltered all.

The Staff Assistant stood nearby; Wardrobe and Hair were also present.

A fourth figure sat in an out-of-doors lounge chair. Draped in a towel, hair dripping wet and slimed with color, the gregarious man laughed with his counterparts on the lawn. It was none other than The Dad ~ human as human can be, considering his lot in life of chatting with the ladies a nostalgic event of days gone by, when the women folk would gather to quilt, or shuck corn, or defeather chickens.

He was oblivious of his celebrity status, and he liked it that way.

So do I.

Chickens? Yes. Chickens.

By far my favorite scene yet, my son had to educate The Aussie on the difference between hens and roosters a day or two ago.

Given my status as a chicken owner, I find all of this rather amusing ~ that my boy would be the expert in a film not many days hence, whilst I, the mom, really do contain a knowledge base beyond my years.

Perhaps its' a sign of good will. Or of the path ahead.

Either way, I still say it's my favorite scene. Maybe I should begin a campaign for that horse ranch I've been dreaming about for so long . . .

:D

Every Boy's Dream

(If I had a son who was really into sports, that is.)

When the weekend rolled around, it was evident that a corporate excitement was in the air. Friday afternoon, an early wrap . . . AND plans to see the game? Too much!

Sure enough, my son's first ever baseball game was to be viewed from a luxury box at the top of the stadium ~ with none other than The Director himself. The Cast and several crew members had loads of fun.

My son? Spoiled for the bleachers forever.

:D

Paramedics, Pronto!

Thursday's wrap resulted in work for the Transportation Department. It was necessary to move the whole kit and kaboodle to a new location. Come Friday morning, the entire cast and crew were greeted with a new set-up for their digs. All of this was fine, good for the spirits and morale, to have fresh surroundings.

The went off with nary a hitch, and the close of the work day a dull, boring, run-of-the-mill event ~ until . . .

Until the actors and actresses began their change out of wardrobe. For days folks had joked about the staircase with shark-like teeth. "Be careful!" was a constant refrain, that one did not fall while coming up or down.

No one suspected The Toe Stub.

My son went first ~ successfully marring the front of his big toe as he climbed into the big rig. Yet it was the actress that elicited the call to the paramedics, as the back of her ankle bled profusely after a catch upon the steel edging.

It was the most excitement the paramedic had seen in this shoot. He was THRILLED! to be able to put his skills to work. And work he did - his big black bag jawed wide open, at the ready with all sorts of tools: rubber gloves, peroxide, gauze, bandaids.

All the while, The Actress fawned dramatacism, feining as if she had been cast in a horror film full of blood and gore.

Sheesh.

A production of a clean up job for The Actress; a band aid for The Actor, and then, all was well with the world once again.

Tired and Cranky

It was a wrap for many members of the cast, those who would be called peers of my son, the actor.

No matter that they'd had an incredible evening out together the night before with The Director and The Producer at a hibachi grill . . .

No, the departure of new found friends was disappointing. After a full days work, it brought one to a state of grumpiness, exhaustion, and good, old-fashioned need of sequestering onesself away to recover.

That was the state of my son last night. I pray he slept well, as the production continues on today, no rest for the weary.

Girls Only

A late night, coupled with an early morning call time does not lend itself to a beautiful blogpost. So this morning, a photo for your enjoyment. The Leading Lady, and several VIP cast, photographed doing what young girls do best: The Hand Jive.

Wow! That Was Just Like In The Movies . . .

WHAM! BANG!

The gymnasium door swung open with great fervor and impetuous flair.

I had found an out of the way corner behind The Sound Man and his computer screen vantage point once again. The next scene up was my son, and I wanted to catch the action live and in person.

This time, The Aussie and he were surrounded by a group of boys, featured extras, who were part and parcel of the setting by way of visual descriptors.

Little dinner jackets and ties, button up shirts with starched collars and polished shoes.

It was all part of the ambiance to be included in the shot. Rehearsal had gone swimmingly, and the last boy was hurried into place, a straggler of sorts, while wardrobe put the finishing touches on his final appearance before pushing him through the door to the gym.

"Take 1! Roll 'em ~ and . . . ACTION!"

All was well. Then, suddenly ~

WHAM! BANG!

The gymnasium door swung open with great fervor and impetuous flair.

From my vantage point, the door opened toward me, hiding briefly the frame of the lad who had just been pushed in moments before ~ but that hidden stance was over in a blink of an eye.

A hand put to the mouth, a panicked expression, and the loss of the contents of his nervous stomach spewed out in a desperate attempt to find a trash can gone awry.

Fortunately, crew members had moved aside in the course of their duties, so no human was spewed upon in the moment of embarrassing truth - the boy had butterflies beyond belief, and he couldn't. take. it. anymore.

The first wave brought temporary relief as he then quickly retreated to a nearby receptacle, and continued his unabashed horking.

Meanwhile, the show was going on! Not one crew member was able to stop what they were doing to assist in any way ~ so it was obvious that I, Studio Mom, would have to take up the cause.

I stepped out from my little corner and headed toward the boy. I quickly assessed that he would be unable to articulate any type of answer to any question I might pose, so I then calculated a move toward the closest person with a headset, slightly off duty, in conversation and oblivious to the activity going on behind her.

"Are you in Wardrobe?" I asked her.

"No. Is there a problem?" she asked.

I pointed behind her, to the little boy, obviously still in great distress.

"Oh, my." she said. "I'll call wardrobe right away."

"CUT!"

The timing couldn't have been better, as the stopping of the cameras afforded one of the assistant directors the opportunity to finally turn his attention to the troubled lad.

"Are you okay?" he ventured, while the Headseted One and I approached to inform him that help was on the way.

If I hadn't of seen it with my own eyes, I might have thought it was planned, and the special effects thereof painstakingly executed to give the appearance of realism.

But no.

It happened. Just like in the movies . . .

Poor lad. Crashed and burned big time. I pray it doesn't scar him for life, the embarrassment of it all . . .

A Strange, Yet Wonderful Thing . . .

. . . happened tonight.

We're living [almost] in the lap of luxury. King size beds, feather pillows, down comforters; each our own room and bath; a full kitchen, living area. Not opulent, but sturdy and functional.

The biggest plus?

Maid Service.

At the snap of my fingers I could cause the hotel management to dispatch personnel in a flash, to distribute and tend to our needs.

We don't do that.

But we could.

But we don't.

Yet, there is no doubt it is nice to return home at the end of a long day to a bed crisply made, and fresh towels in the bath.

Not to mention the dishes done, and room tidied, and vacuum run.

I've not let it go to my head. After all ~ I've passed on service more than once: let the maid have my room taken off her list for free. Everyone likes to be relieved of a duty or two now and again.

Today, I released the maid.

No service, please.

None. Zip. Nada.

The place was well-lived in by days end.

How surprisingly delightful, then, was the moment when ~ without being asked, my son, the actor moved into the kitchen and spruced it up, just as if he were home and had his normal, routine kitchen duty.

Wow. His upbringing really is sticking with him.

How cool. :)

Wild Wacky Weekend

It should have come with a warning tag. After all, who knew when the wrap came Thursday evening that what lay in store was not rest and relaxation, but rather a hodge-podge of "what can we do next" type of line up that left the parental units gasping for a time out!

Michael, The Aussie, Ashley, Stephanie, The Leading Lady, Jack, Israel, Keller, Romy, ?, Lauren, Carson, Dillon, ?, and Caroline

Bowling . . . a movie . . . a 4th of July picnic with fireworks . . .

The Leading Lady, The Aussie, Big Jack, Dillon, Jack, Ned, Israel

. . . rock climbing . . . ROCK CLIMBING?!?!?

Uh, yeah. Rock climbing. :P

Some highlights:

I'm not yet certain as to whether or not we wore them out, or wound them up! The day will tell, as it's another humdinger on tap! Tape rolls at 9.

A Treat

Amid all the shuffling about to and fro as the crew prepared for the next scene, I made a beeline for an obscure corner and found myself sidled up to The Sound Guy and his bevy of equipment, all strategically stacked on a large steel cart with wheels. With the break on his end of the action, we introduced ourselves one to another and engaged in a bit of small talk.

When the frenzy subsided, and the cast took their place, I found that my out-of-the-way corner actually granted me a vantage point to the screen unobscured by a multitude of others, each also peering to get a good view.

The Sound Guy, who had labeled himself a sort of loner, actually had the best seat in the house by virtue of his task. I stood by and watched.

The next day, again in need of making sure I was out of the way, I returned to his little corner of the set. Smiles, warm greetings, more conversation.

My son was up next, a scene designed to create tension toward the greater plot for the main character. I scooted closer to the screen.

The Sound Guy then offered a most generous offering: he secured another headset to a battery pack and handed it to me.

Smiling, I took it, and for the next 15 minutes watched take after take of my son - and heard every word as though I were hearing it as a part of the finished product in a movie theatre! The quality was top notch, bar none!

What a thrill, a fantastic end to a full week's work!

Autographs

The gymnasium is currently filled with upwards of 50-75 kids, all called in from a previously held open casting call for extras. There is a buzz that continuously hums from the room, as each hopes to be seen in the background, or perhaps even be given an ad-lib line out of the blue.

Sitting at long tables in the center, this group and their parent or guardian wait out the interminable waits that are common fodder for this type of venture. Boredom might be an option, or even an experience, but for these extra cast members, the day is certainly dotted with plenty of clout-building happenstance so as to impress peers that weren't able to make it.

For instance: on one wall wardrobe has set up shop. Racks and racks of era clothing line the edifice. Nearby, makeshift dressing rooms are erected with oversized sheets and construction paper signs indicate "boy" or "girl." The seamstress has set up a tidy little corner all her own complete with an ironing board and light, and thread and other tools of her trade. Both boys and girls come and go from this staging area, in various forms of dress, fashion statements of the late 50's abounding.

Meanwhile, in another corner, the 'salon' is open for business. Haircuts, curling irons, mousse, gel, ribbons and hairspray, all in continual motion, create a cloud of visual activity to entertain even the boredest of participants. The latest and greatest trend of 2009 gives way to transformed figures of stalwart, pressed, pristine appearance.

All are in hopes that the next time a crew member weilding a cord about the back of his ear enters the room, they will be called.

No one however, was ready for two events, remarkable to the occassion. The moment when The Director made a personal appearance to decisively hand select boys for one scene ~ and the fateful day when The Actor and The Aussie sauntered in after lunch.

At the sight of them, the sound of books being whipped out at an alarming rate, filled the room, and soon a crowd had gathered about the two lads.

"May I have your autograph, please?" came the requests, as one by one they obliged, for as long as time would allow.