Thread: Hyde and Seek [ Chai & Mr Quixotic ]

RE Hyde and Seek Ariamella Mr Quixotic Had he made the wrong choice? Michael Rodriguez asked himself that question as the scene at the piano played out. Not for the first time, however the difference between this time and the others, was that he now believed he answer to be yes. Hyde and Seek was meant to be the breakout film for Katrina Ellis Binetti, or Kat Ellis, as she was to be first-billed on the opening credits, and was the name already prominently displayed on publicity posters her transition from ex-child and teen star to full on adult idol, and darling of the critics. Sure, Kat thought she'd already made it with an Academy Award nomination, but to Michael, that meant little. The Oscars were nothing but a popularity contest, and nominations paid for by those film companies who had the largest marketing budgets. It didn't mean you could act. In Michael's opinion, to be taken seriously, and regarded as great, you were required to display raw passion, and bare your soul for the audience to allow them to see you naked, both figuratively and literally, and to make the viewers forget that what they were watching was not real. That's where the thirty-three year old director had made his reputation as one who had an eye for talent, and who drew the best performances of their lives from his cast. Performances even they didn't know they were capable of. He'd never regretted one single casting decision. Until now, and on his most important film to date. Michael had begged and pleaded for financing, and it had taken two years to convince one of the major studios to agree to fund Hyde and Seek, without him being required to sign away his creative soul. Finally, he had the budget to make the provocative, disturbing film he'd always want to shoot - one about raw sexual desire, and the fall of an innocent young woman into darkness and depravity - and complete discretion over the final cut. It was to be his Magnum Opus. And Katrina Ellis was fucking it up. Although intended to be uninhibited in its portrayal of sexuality, Hyde and Seek was not to be a pornographic film, or one made purely for titillation and box office receipts, where the acting was secondary. It was a film to be driven by the performances, where the naturalness and believability of the characters on the screen was of the up-most importance. Only when the audience could empathise and identify with those they were watching - to forget that these people were not real, that their fears and desires were fiction -, would the movie be able to shock and disturb the audience in the manner Michael craved for it to do. He wanted Hyde and Seek to be burned into their memories forever, and in Katrina, thought he'd found the perfect actress to help him achieve that goal. A young woman with the precise combination of beauty, innocence and sensuality Michael had envisaged when he'd first conceived of the story, she'd come with a great resume, and had charmed and wowed all at auditions. More importantly, though the explicitness of the sex scenes she'd be contractually obliged to participate in had been underplayed, Kat had shown no hesitation at the thought of baring all for the camera, or voiced any concerns about the provocative sexuality her characters would be required to display. It was his fault. Michael should have filmed her being fucked on the casting couch, or at least demanded she strip and spread her legs for the crew before he'd offered the role, to ensure she wasn't some frigid virgin. Because as he was discovering, once under the glare of the lights, with camera's rolling, and eyes of cast and crew upon her, Katrina Ellis was capable of displaying about as much natural heat and passion as a Department Store mannequin, and her lines - when remembered at all - were delivered with the same authority. Why hadn't somebody warned him about this? Michael Rodriguez removed his head from his hands, dragged his gaze away from the pathetic scene taking place at the piano - it was like watching a train wreck - and stood from his chair. CUT! Everyone take ten. Although a man of only average stature - he stood six foot one, with shaggy, shoulder length, light-brown hair which fell almost to his shoulders, an aquiline nose, strong, determined jaw, and a body kept slim and taut by a regular morning exercise routine, and even more regular stress - the volume of his voice belied his size. Thanks to elocution lessons taken before he'd given up his own dreams of acting, and instead turned to directing, the man didn't require the assistance of a loud-hailer. The cast and crew froze, then turned their attention to the Director. OUT, OUT. OUT. NOW. Michael waved his arms, and shot daggers with his eyes, until after no more than a few seconds had elapsed, only three remained in the in the bar of the luxurious Beverly Wilshire hotel. Michael, Katrina, and her Co-lead Renier Bryant, the man Kat Ellis had just attempted to seduce with as much subtlety and finesse as a fifteen year old school-girl with a crush on her teacher. Michael sighed, and began to approach. A mirthless smile crossed his lips at Renier's words to Kitty-Kat obviously he wasn't the only one who'd had enough. Where'd you get this girl, fucking amateur hour? Renier turned his back on Kat and spoke to the Director, in a voice intended to be loud enough for her to hear, as he walked out, and Michael approached the actress. The Director came to a halt a foot in front of Kat, cocked an eyebrow, folded his arms across his chest, and locked his gaze on her face. It took almost a minute before he'd calmed enough to open his mouth. Renier's right, do you know how much this location is costing us? Five thousand dollars a fucking day, and you're not even required to remove your clothes. Last time I asked for that........ Michael left the rest of the sentence unspoken. How could she not remember? He hadn't made a huge fuss over it at the time, but still, they'd had had to abandon the shoot, and move on to another scene, and his voice began to raise as he recalled the problems and extra expense that had created. His funding wasn't unlimited, and it hadn't even been a damn sex scene. This isn't the first time, what else can I fucking do Kat? I change the script, I change locations, I change the filming order, I ask all non-essential cast and crew to leave to make you feel comfortable, and what do you give me? I pay 5,000 dollars a fucking day, so that we can shoot a scene that requires just a little passion, a little heat, a little acting ability , and what do you fucking give me? YOU GIVE ME SHIT. The Director screamed in her face as his hand shot out to rip the script from Katrina's grasp, and he threw the papers to the floor. He stomped on them with his Doc Marten's, and didn't stop until the pages had torn apart, and were scattered across the floor. By the time he was done, Michael was panting with the exertion, and his pupils, narrowed with fury, bore into Katrina. He stomped once more, then lifted his hands, ripped at his hair with his fingers, and took a deep breath to compose himself. Leave. Michael's tone had softened to one of resignation. He took a step back, and motioned to the door the cast and crew had walked out of only moments ago. Don't worry, we'll pay out your contract. It will be cheaper than leasing this bar for the next three months, which is how long it will take before we get a cut that's even worth editing out of the film. I mean it Kat, if you're only here for the pay-cheque, and to get your picture in the magazines, I don't want you. You're wasting my fucking time. I need someone with passion and fire. Someone who can be Lily. The decision had been made. Go. We'll find a real actress.