by Leah Stewart
Charlie, in his own car, counts his breaths and tries to think of nothing. Not the scene, not what it reminds him of. In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two, three. His lot is much closer than Josie’s. He’s already in hair and makeup, joking with the stylist, before Josie reaches her parking spot. On the way back to his trailer, he greets everyone he sees, remembering names, asking after dogs and girlfriends and children, not thinking of the scene.
As is her own habit on set, Josie smiles at everyone she passes but doesn’t speak. In the makeup chair, she closes her eyes and runs through the revised scene, fixing each word in her memory. Her character must confront her estranged mother, the climax of a long emotional arc that started in the show’s first episode. She has to be both furious and vulnerable, to feel the weight of everything that’s come before, to rage and cry.
Charlie paces from the video village to craft services and back again, waiting for the director to be ready. One of his castmates calls him over to watch a funny video on his phone, and Charlie laughs appreciatively. He asks the guy about the vintage motorcycle he’s rebuilding and concentrates as hard as he can on the long and complicated answer. This is the actor who will, shortly, be pointing a gun at Charlie, but right now he’s just a friendly guy who loves motorcycles and that’s all Charlie has to think about. “About to start,” the AD says in passing, and Charlie nods like he’s happy to hear it.
Sitting in her director’s chair, Josie waits with her earbuds in, eyes closed, letting the music summon the mood. The scene is about, she thinks, how her character can’t stop wanting her mother’s love even though it hurts her to keep wanting it. Loss and longing. Hope and fear. She feels the touch on her knee that signals it’s time. She opens her eyes and sees Mystery.
Mystery, who rescued them.
No, of course it’s not Mystery. It’s the new PA. She doesn’t even look very much like Mystery, just a little something in the shape of the face. Sufficient, in Josie’s state of mind, to conjure her. Mystery, at the wheel of the boat, her face wet with tears. Mystery, known only by her actions, which Aristotle promised is enough.
“Thank you,” Josie says to the PA, with such intensity that the girl looks discomfited. Josie rises from her chair, walks toward the camera and the lights, while Charlie, across town, does the same.
They go to work. They slip the bonds of their own lives. They channel their emotions and so become a conduit for ours. They do what the world needs them to do; they transform.
Acknowledgments
When I started this book, I knew only a little about the life of an actor. I’m enormously grateful to the many people who helped me in my research, especially Jeremy O’Keefe and Elwood Reid, who made it possible for me to visit sets, witness auditions, and talk to casts and crews. This book wouldn’t exist without the crucial insights of the actors I interviewed: Jon Gries, Zoe Jarman, Matthew Lillard, Graham Patrick Martin, Kathleen Robertson, Anika Noni Rose, and the others who gave me the gifts of their time and observational skills. I can’t thank them enough. My thanks also to Maria Semple for talking me through a week on the set of a multicam and giving me the basketball idea. Last but not least, thank you to k. Jenny Jones and her acting students at the University of Cincinnati for allowing me to observe their stage combat and technique classes and answering all my questions.
My research also involved a number of books and articles on both acting and kidnapping. In addition to the books on acting technique quoted throughout, I found these works invaluable: Long March to Freedom: The True Story of a Colombian Kidnapping by Thomas R. Hargrove; Kidnapped: A Diary of My 373 Days in Captivity by Leszli Kalli; The Negotiator: My Life at the Heart of the Hostage Trade by Ben Lopez; A House in the Sky by Amanda Lindhout and Sara Corbett; and “My Captivity” by Theo Padnos in The New York Times Magazine. I also read memoirs by actors including Alan Cumming, Tina Fey, Rob Lowe, and Amy Poehler, and watched Hollywood Reporter Roundtables; DVD commentaries; and a number of episodes of Locked Up Abroad.
I keep needing to find new ways to phrase my thanks to my editor, Sally Kim, who always helps me find the best version of the book, and my agent, Gail Hochman, who always gives excellent advice. This is my fifth book with both of them and I couldn’t be luckier.
I’m also lucky to have resources and supportive colleagues at the University of Cincinnati: Thank you to the Taft Research Center; the Office of Research AHSS Program; Jay Twomey; Chris Bachelder; Michael Griffith; and Jenn Habel. Enormous thanks, also, to the Rivendell Writers’ Colony, where many of these pages were written. I’m grateful to Carmen Touissant, for being such a good host, and to Kevin Wilson and Leigh Anne Couch, for being such good company.
My daughter, Eliza O’Keefe, once said to me wisely, “When you’re irritable it means your writing isn’t going well.” So thank you to her and her brother, Simon, for their tolerance, and for reminding me to get out and do something fun. My thanks to my husband, Matt O’Keefe, for putting every word to the test and making me a better writer—and for the last twenty-three years.
About the Author
Leah Stewart is the critically acclaimed author of The New Neighbor, The History of Us, Husband and Wife, The Myth of You and Me, and Body of a Girl. She received her BA from Vanderbilt University, and her MFA from the University of Michigan. The recipient of a Sachs Fund prize and an NEA Literature Fellowship, she teaches in the creative writing program at the University of Cincinnati and lives in Cincinnati with her husband and two children.
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