Why does anyone care what we’re like in real life? The truth is that if you’re a person who cares that much about something so inconsequential as what someone you’ve never met thinks about another person you’ve never met, you’re probably not the kind of person I want to meet.
Still, the only projects that see a boost from conflict on the set are the occasional horror flick where the studio’s really trying to bump up the film’s “You wouldn’t believe the crazy shit that happens on this set” cred.
“Well, we just met,” I tell Kandice from KNTV-LA, “filming just started, you know, but so far, yeah, I’d say it’s been a positive experience.”
“You never know where these things can go,” Kandice from stupid, misguided KNTV-LA says, somehow managing to be the first to publicly speculate on the possibility of an off-screen love affair between me and Emma.
That sort of thing happens a lot, people tell me, but I’ve never seen it work out without some kind of scandal at the end of it. This is a job.
It felt good, getting that out. It really did.
“This is a great project,” I tell Kandice from KNTV-LA, “and I’m thrilled to be working on it with some of the best people in the business. It’s always an honor to be a part of something with so much heart.”
When you don’t have anything genuine and positive to say about a film you’re working on, you say that the project “has heart.” It doesn’t mean anything, but people who hear you say it still get that warm and fuzzy feeling.
The script is nothing you haven’t seen in every other summer romantic comedy that’s come out in the last 30 or 40 years, but that’s another one of those things they tell you not to say in a live television interview.
They’d prefer you don’t mention how this will be the fourth movie of the year that features a woman who is overworked and hating her life, who then finds a man and, through his charm and carefree lifestyle, he teaches her a new way of living: one that includes making time for herself and his penis.
It’s touching, really.
“If you were to hook up with your new costar, would she be the first leggy redhead you’ve had in your life?” Kandice from KNTV-LA asks, and even in the somewhat pixelated view of her expression that I can make out, I can see that she feels just as stupid asking that question as I do having to answer it.
“I think women are beautiful, no matter their hair color,” I deflect.
“Well, we are all looking forward to the new film when it comes out. Thank you for talking to us today. Damian Jones, everybody,” Kandice from KNTV-LA says and turns to a different camera. “After the break, we’ve got the Chief of the Green Bean Council, Rick Murphy, to tell us why this longtime side dish might be better as the main course. Stick around.”
I warmed up the viewing audience for a guy from the Green Bean Council?
“And, we’re out,” someone whose name I couldn’t possibly remember says and comes in front of the camera, removing my microphone.
On the little screen, Kandice from KNTV-LA looks up and says, “So, off the record, real first impressions of Emma Roxy?”
There’s off the record and there’s off the record. With one, the reporter would rather go to jail for contempt of court than to mention your name in connection with a story. That’s how good reporters get the inside track: they need to have that kind of credibility, to have built that trust. If they start burning their sources, they’re not going to stay competitive because nobody will talk to them.
Kandice from KNTV-LA, on the other hand, has that hungry look in her eyes that always signifies a person is ready to do whatever it takes to get bumped up a few spots in her world.
Ambition is not a motivator that I generally trust in another person.
“Off the record,” I tell her, “I really just met her. She seems to be a competent actor and a pleasant person.”
Kandice from KNTV-LA, who had hoped to somehow leverage her leaking my (assumedly juicy) response into providing her the opportunity to transform herself out of being Kandice from KNTV-LA into Kandice from CNN or Kandice from Good Morning America, clenches her teeth and says a quick “thanks” before the feed goes dark.
The little studio I’m in is quickly traversable, and I’m back to my dressing room in no time at all, minus the time it takes to do a couple of pictures and sign a few autographs.
“What’s next, Kieran?” I ask my pretentiously-named assistant.
“All right,” he says, his feet on my couch, “it looks like you’re back on set at 5 and then you’re done after that. Did you want me to give Meg a call to see if she’s still interested in doing a benefit with you, or do you still want me to wait until the rest of—”
“Yeah, we’re just going to wait a bit on that,” I tell him. “I still need to hear back from a couple of the organizers. There are some location concerns, so I’d like to get all that figured out before I start dropping in headliners.”
“Where were they planning to do it?” he asks.
“I don’t even remember,” I tell him.
“What are the concerns?” he asks.
He’s always trying to be more involved than I want him to be. Really, I just like having someone make my phone calls and otherwise do all the legwork. The fact that he has a ridiculous name may have factored into my hiring him, but the cruel joy I get out of that isn’t enough to convince me to open up a spot in the inner circle.