Day Six -- Tuesday, April 25

A script showed up at my apartment today. it was the first time all week they had made the effort to keep the Lawyer up to speed on the script changes. "Could it be?" I wondered as I turned to page 2, my page. "Could I possibly have more lines?" (Looking back now, I wonder why I didn't assume it was less lines, but God bless my optimism.) And there it was in black and pink, staring back at me. The two stars had a couple of new lines, and I had been given one myself. it was a joke even, a little bit of business. Anthony and John get off on a tangent and I reign them back in with a single extra word: "Continuing..." This was good for me. The line has that smarmy, cynical, judgmental edge, which is one of the few things I do well. Between the script's arrival and my 2:30 call time, I must have said the word "continuing" to myself 50 times. I didn't think the director would be willing to stay with it if it wasn't an instant hit, so I had to nail it the first time out of the gate. "Continuing..." with an accent hard on the "tin." "Continuing..." with a condescending look on my face. "Continuing..." ending in the little sing-song upward lilt that really rubs in the facetiousness. "Continuing... Continuing... Continuing..."

I arrived at my trailer outside Stage 14 at 2:30 and found a script sitting on the couch. "I'm way ahead of you," I thought and picked it up to study the approach to the brand-new "Continuing..." I was surprised, though I don't know why I was, to find some hand-written line changes on page 2, including a thick line right through the word, "Continuing..." Gone. Cut. 50 different "Continuing...s" at my disposal and the world will get to enjoy none of them. After a week of sitting quietly doing my job, my one chance to shine was snuffed out.

And then how did the day go? Well, at least everyone's being nice to me, right? Actually, wrong. The director is able to find new levels of condescension every time he talks to me. Today it was as if I was an extra who had been given a couple of lines. He appeared so panicked that I was going to ruin his show that he talked to me like I was an idiot. Use your most condescending voice for these lines to get the full effect...

"The camera is only going to be on you when you are talking, and then only sometimes. The scene is going on over here and this foreground business [signing the divorce papers, etc.] is going to kill the shot. I need much less."

"You hear these laughs? You hear the laugh on 'She's Charming?' There are going to be laughs and you have no idea where they're going to be. NOW I can fix you, but if you jump in onto their lines, there's nothing I can do. You have to be aware."

During the run-through, one of the cameramen laughed at my "towing" line. I didn't expect it because I didn't think they were really watching any more, so I continued with my next line. The director made an audible noise, a cross between a yelp and a belch, cutting me off and pointed in the direction of the laughing cameraman. "Hear that?" he said.

"Hear it?" I said. "I'm the one that made him do it!! Of course I'm going to wait for the laughter after my jokes. How much of an moron do you think I am? I was on a sitcom for God's sake! I was somebody! I used to matter in this crazy sitcom world. Sure, I only have three lines now but it doesn't mean I'm an idiot, so please stop treating me like one."

And then out loud I said, "Yeah."

One more day. 24 hours from now it will all be over. I'll have made all my money and swallowed my pride. And before I ride off into the fading sunset, I will get the chance to perform my three lines for a collection of people that are actually looking to be entertained instead of looking for a reason to yell at me. That should be fun. I just need to make it there.

Go on to Day 7.

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