ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST
My country peepo, how una dey? It’s been a long time since I left you without a dope read to laugh to (did you get my ref to the ‘lates n greats’) For the longest time I was Aaliyah in my mind; until an unfortunate run in with a mirror after a side part wash and set gone incredibly wrong chan… you know what? On second thought, let’s just not… *shudders in shame*. My most sincere apologies will be followed by a clutch full of excuses; and they won’t even be good excuses because clutches are so ridiculously space challenged. Clutches aren’t good for anything other than looking good. They’re like that vain needy partner that you have to be with throughout the party but is only good for looks not conversation, and to add insult to injury doesn’t even have the decency to stuff a couple packs of small chops in their pockets for you on the way out. So I’ve decided to skip all that and promise to do better in the future.
For the most part, I haven’t written anything because nothing has happened really. I’m not on the back to back production train yet. You see what had happened was… um the dog ate my ticket and so I ran back into the station to buy another one, then I stopped to get a sandwich because an actor has to eat right? And then the train was being vindictive and so it left without me…soooo… that’s kinda what happened in a non-existent nutshell typa way. I haven’t been on any other sets since my last job that ended in February, so I didn’t have any ‘actor’ adventures per say to tell you about, and I didn’t want to make stuff up (since we have decided to put the devil to shame and not tell lies halleluyuurrr). However, on my way back to Lagos; because I had taken a few days (that turned into a couple weeks…give or take a month… or 2) away, something happened. And brethren the something that happened is the story you’ll read today. Brothers and sisters prepare to receive the word that is about to come powerfully after the praise and worship.
So on the day I was returning to Lagos (which was and still is the biggest struggle I have faced so far this year) someone slid into my DM’s. He was very straight to the point as well, no faffing about which I like. He said, “Hi! Please may I have your number. It’s for a job. Regards”. That was literally the entire message; I copied it out word for word. After reading what has to be the Annalise Keating of DM's, I instantly switched from block a brother mode to professional speaker of English mode. You may not know this, but there is an art to professionalism in the undefined world of the creative; one that I am yet to fully master. On the one hand you don’t want to sound too eager and excited when potential work shows up, because people erroneously read this as desperation and then treat you with the level of condescension they figure is commensurate to how much you must be starving as an artist. On the other hand, you don’t want to come across as offish or even worse, lacking in any kind of personality whatsoever, so that you don’t repel potential jobs away because of how boring you are. Because of this dance of the dangerous days, I find myself responding to emails, texts and DM’s with my literal actual head held high. I kid you not, I’m responding to an email, hours or a day after it came in with my chin up in the air, and one half of my mind chanting: “You is kind. You is smart. You is IMPORTANT”. While the other half is going “You is hungry. You is a rent payer. You is gonna sleep under the bridge if you don’t pay your rent”
So after seeing the DM, not reading it, going off Instagram, and then returning a couple hours later; I read and responded (this is part of the art trust me). In a matter of minutes, numbers were exchanged and we were well on our way from misery to happiness today uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh (the Shrek lovers will get it, and oddballs like myself will count the uh huhs to see if they’re complete. They are). Little did I know that this job would be the worst welcome back to town that I could have received ever (that is if we’re not counting the dead rotting rat that decided to die and lay itself to rest in my bathroom wall while I was away … #livingmybestlifeoutcheafolks #blessedandhighlyfavoured). So we made quick work of getting me on the project, even though I hadn't seen the script yet, because he really wanted to work with me. To be honest I knew better than to commit to a production pre- script. But you guys his Instagram was popping on such a super duper big baller shot caller level that I figured "eh, if they worked with him, let's get it on" (a picture is worth a thousand words true, but nobody tells you which damn ones.) Listen to me friends, rookie mistake numero uno: SAYING YES TO A PROJECT WHEN YOU HAVE NOT YET READ THE SCRIPT!!
Now here is how it goes for those of us who don’t have managers or relatives posing as managers taking our potential job meetings and phone calls. You the talent is approached and is either invited for a closed audition or given the role outright. This is because the producer or director has seen what you’ve done before and knows that they can work with you (so basically 90% of the projects I've worked on. Ayye *toot toot* *pat pat* and a spot of accolades). It is usually very friendly and love is still in the air at this point. Then negotiations start and things sink deeper than the titanic and make less sense than why those two couldn’t shack up on that plank together and live in love eternally (outchea bothering Ms Dion to get us through YOUR bad decisions. Rude)
So this guy calls me on Saturday, for a job that is supposed to begin on the Monday right after. Oh let me just take you back to something before we move on. If you noticed I didn’t mention the content of the script, well that’s because I eventually got it (fortunately for my career) and I'm still trying to process what that document was. I haven’t been able to figure it out yet, but I can tell you this for a fact, IT WAS NOT A SCRIPT. There were no- you know what? Like the Aaliyah story, lets just not. So after reading (trudging painfully through) the um… document that was eventually sent to me on Friday, I was mortified. But I still said to myself “c’mon Anee girl, you are not a creative snob and you have not worked in months, you can change the words… and the entire character once you get on set” so at this point, I’m still trying to be on board. So this guy calls me on the Saturday before the shoot on Monday and tells me that he has an idea (cue laughter). He says he wants me to play a different role from the one he originally asked me to play (cue more laughter) So what had happened was, I was meant to play the younger friend or former schoolmate (not classmate) of the lead. Now keep in mind that the lead is a married for MANY YEARS MOTHER of TWO ADULT children, one of which is in Uni. He calls me and says he thinks I should play the lead. Now when you say it like that, it’s an ego trip but when you reason it out based on the description of the lead I just gave you, it’s a problem (I know I have some cushion for the pushing but damn sir). While we're at it, how about I play Morgan Freeman, in the biopic of his life made by the mole-people of middle earth.
That was the reddest flag of all the red flags that were warning me of the sort of job this was going to be. And not pulling the plug right then and there is why passion, and paying rent are not good bedfellows. My reckless optimism told me that there would be a silver lining to this cloud if I just stuck it out. Unfortunately the cloud rained acid and the silver lining was actually a bolt of lightning that electrocuted my brain to within an inch of it’s life when he finally told me how much he was offering. After turning down his idea to have me play the MARRIED FOR MANY YEARS MOTHER OF TWO ADULTS politely, I asked him what the remuneration for the job was. This was how the conversation went:
Film maker: how many episodes is your character in?
Me: I don’t know, I’ll have to take another look at the script
Film maker: I think the character is in like 3 episodes or so
Me: that sounds about right
Film maker: well you know this production is on a budget, and we pay per episode
Me: yes I know that, all productions are. So how much is it per episode?
Film maker: (laughs) you know the sponsors have their budget per actor
Me: yes I know that. So what is the budget for my character?
Film maker: well actually they pay 10k per episode and since your character is in 3 episodes you can do the math
Me:(laughs) do you mean 30,000 naira?
Film maker: (laughs) yes, but I can increase your own small so how much were you thinking?
Me: I’ll do it for 100k
Film maker: ah no o, you know we are on budget na.
Anyway the conversation was more back and forth of basically the same thing, so i won’t burden you with that. He proceeded to inform me that I would be expected to provide my own costumes, shoes, accessories and transport myself to and from set (cue epic spit spewing, eyes crying, chest heaving laughter). This guy is the actual joker and should quit his day job and move to Gotham city where his mates are getting their asses kicked by a bat. Ah! I put my hands on my head for real after this conversation. Needless to say I didn’t take the job. The combination of the non existent story + the flat characters + the skepticism of the artistic direction of a man who thought it a bright idea to have me play the MARRIED FOR MANY YEARS MOTHER OF TWO ADULTS + the 12 years a slave pay (the actual real life slaves not the cast of the movie) was just too many things I’d have to convince myself were okay when I tried to sleep at night. And I really just couldn’t have those conversations with myself because I am quite harsh and God don't like ugly.
My confusion is where these kinds of film makers get their own money from, because they seem to have a lot of it. True to God as my kinsmen say, It worries me that in 2018 when we have so many people being trained to work as professionals in this field, we still see things like this happening. And I’m not the only one going through this (I hope). Maybe I’ve been spoiled by the sort of projects I have been blessed to work on since I started my career or maybe I just want to be a part of an industry that is not for the most part, laughable. Whatever it is, I think there needs to be more serious conversations about our stories, how to develop them properly and how to put them out there. There cannot be just a few Nigerian films that people have paid to go watch at the cinemas. And I don't blame our audience, because we cannot ask people to pay for an experience that leaves them wanting. And while we commend the ones who are trying to do it right (because I hear it is a battle for them as well), it shouldn’t be that the quality productions are so few and far between that we the actors are forced to be a part of mediocre work. The alternative being we don’t get to work for months at a time (I say ol' chap, perhaps a bank robbery or two to tide us over till the morrow what what?). I am an idealist so if I launch into a tirade of how much better things should be, we won’t leave this place.
I hope you enjoyed your welcome back post, I certainly died unto shame a couple of times going through the ordeal, but if for nothing else, I am glad I get to share it with you guys. They say the things that don’t kill you make you stronger; so by that logic, I’m definitely on the path to bench pressing 500 pounds of pure A-list leading lady soon (if Melissa Mccarthy can do it, then look out world). We’re not there yet but we’ll get there. In the meantime, we’ll keep swerving around these potholes and side eyeing these curve balls like the fighters that we are.