Tension grew with every word that came out of her mouth. She was in front of a crew of 10 men, two women, and a 23-year-old model who was playing her boyfriend. The words that she was saying so strappingly and passionately slowly became a blur in her mind. She was trying very hard to stay in character, but all she could do was think about the phone call that she had just received from her agent regarding a bad review. She knew her lines, the she knew her actions, but she had no self-control over her emotions. She was trying to keep her tears inside long enough to say five more sentences before her big finale. This way, her tears would also have meaning on screen.
Just two more sentences and she can let it all out. She felt this definitely wasn’t her best performance, but the director wasn’t yelling cut, so she had no other choice but to continue. She wanted to get this scene over with, so she could go back into her trailer and compose herself long enough to piece herself back together. She could not afford to crack. Not now… especially not now.
The crew of ten men, two women, and the 23-year-old model who was dubbed “The Sexiest Man Alive” were positioned only a few feet away watching her recite her lines in a vacant Los Angeles studio lot. She no longer cared, because her insecurities fell apart along with her insides.
As she abruptly and loudly said the last word before her breakdown her knees caved in, and she fell onto the wet concrete floor splashing her cold selfless body with dirty rain that had fallen onto the floor just like her, but only a few hours earlier.
No one flinched as she clutched her shaken hands onto the pavement. She was finally able to cry. Her wait was only five minutes long, but to her it felt like an eternity. She began to shout at the top of her lungs while rolling around in the puddle.
After a couple of minutes in her own angst-ridden bubble, she snapped back into reality. She slowly arose dripping in dirty water and tears. Her head came up until her eyes were leveled with everyone that had just witnessed her collapse. She shyly smiled signaling the end to her dramatic performance, and looked back down until the director yelled cut.
Everyone was speechless. The director leaped out of his chair and ran up to her gleefully. He began to tell her how mind blowing and natural she was. He went on for another minute praising and raving. He kept mentioning the article that the LA Times wrote about her incompetent acting skills, and how her performance would prove them wrong.
She nonchalantly smiled and absorbed the sudden compliments she was receiving from all ten men, two women and gorgeous model on the set. She no longer wanted to rush back into her trailer and deteriorate into oblivion.
She knew that wasn’t acting she had just done out there under those bright hot lights. Her breakdown was not scripted. All her character was supposed to have done was cry for a few seconds, but she took it to another plateau. If it wasn’t for her agent calling her 15 minutes before filming with the bad news, she would’ve miserably delivered those tears, but no one else knew that, and she wasn’t going to say another word.
