Tomorrow’s the big day. After slinking onto set twice without actually being on the call sheet for the day, I finally gear up to shake my ta-tas for the cast and crew of American Mary. I have been busy haunting the set without actually needing to be there, other than to circumnavigate my boredom and wondering what the Soska sisters were doing on set. People have asked me how did I involved, will I be topless, and was the casting couch fun. My answers to those questions are: that it’s a long story, you’ll have to wait and see, and duh. But allow me to elaborate on the first answer.
I came across the Twisted Twins’ work before I got to know them personally. When you live in a town where one of your friends owns a movie house, you find yourself gifted at times with passes to shows there (cough *RIO THEATRE* cough) . On one such occasion the film was the premier of the Soska’s full length feature, Dead Hooker In A Trunk. It was obvious to me that this was clearly a film worth seeing. It was great, and even evoked a feeling I had thought long dead in me, namely disgust, and was delighted in an odd way to find myself puking into my drink container in the audience. Through mutual friends, we stalked one another online through Facebook and Twitter until the opportunity to work together with American Mary presented itself. While I had been slated to be a feature dancer in the film and assist with the dance sequences, I found myself being scrutinized by Soska Stereo. They asked me if I’d like to audition for the role of Beatress Johnson. I did, and got cast as one of the main characters. In doing so I was going to have some FX make up done by the great Todd Masters. If you are a fan of horror films, you’ll appreciate that this is significant on a grand scale. But first I needed my head cast.
No one can really tell you what getting a full face cast is like. I can’t really fully relate it to you. The closest I’ve come is Robert Llewellyn’s “The Man In The Rubber Mask” from playing Kryten on Red Dwarf. Even then, it’s a second hand account. Like hearing a story about great kinky sex, there is a distinct difference between experiencing it first hand, and having someone recount it to you. I travelled out to the far boarder of Vancouver/Burnaby to Todd’s studio which is like Santa’s workshop if Santa’s workshop was filled with horrific rubber monsters. It was great. All around people were bustling about and I was swept inside and greeted warmly by his team. They led me to a room which had some bright lights, a mirror and a chair. The chair was in the middle of the room, with a great deal of cardboard taped to the ground. As they taped plastic garbage bags to me, I was replaying in my mind the scene from American Psycho where Christan Bale slaughters Jared Leto. I reasoned that if anyone started playing Huey Lewis and The News I could probably give them an elbow to the solar plexus and get a good head start before the axe came down. I tried not to think of that. I tried to think of Christian Bale named with a chainsaw which was much more appealing, but it wouldn’t come.
The team covered my head with a bald cap, which was an interesting sensation and reminded me of when we used to get rubber gloves in high school and put them on our heads to make ourselves look like chickens. I don’t know if this was just my school, or if this is a collective-consciousness thing that plays out in high schools across Canada. I think we were attempting to impress our various crushes, but it seemed to mature in my early twenties and graduate from rubber gloves to condoms. At any rate, the bald cap brought this all back to me with startling alacrity, though seeing myself with it on, I doubt I’d be able to impress anyone, much less get a date out of them, now with one. They assured me that the alginate would be heavy, but I’d be able to breathe. They also mentioned some people get a little claustrophobic. I assured them that I wasn’t one of these people, though in all fairness, one seldom knows they have these fears til faced with them. I didn’t know I had a fear of monkeys until I was in Thailand and my parent’s house was across the road from a geographical feature named Monkey Mountain. Such is life. In this case, I found it rather pleasant, and found the whole thing slightly less invasive than some treatments I’d paid for at day spas. Given Mr.Llewellyn’s experiences I’d say he was touching on hyperbole or just a big weenie.
They pulled it off and gave me hot towels and a great moisturizer to use (they don’t do pedicures. I asked) and gave me a little tour before I set off. The whole experience was a pleasant one. I did later get to see what my face casting looked like. Although I had be reassured that the alginate was heavy and would weigh my features down my face looked not quite as I would like to have seen it. That being said, I have a pretty good idea of what I’ll look like when gravity has a better grasp of my features. It also reminded me I *might* want to drink more water…
So tomorrow is my first day in the chair. Wish me luck. I can’t discuss to many fine points on this to help keep the surprise, but trust me. If your a horror fiend, you’ll be waiting for this film with baited breath. In the meantime, watch Dead Hooker if your wondering what your in for, and then multiply that by ten.
Wish me luck!
Little Miss Risk