Chapter 59: Actor Study
Producer Da Silva and Director Parker got into the car and headed to the hotel.
"Why did you promise Ronald he'd sign the script? Our contract to purchase the script from Christopher Gore for $5,000 includes exclusive rights to his signature."
"Otherwise, Gore wouldn't have sold it to us at that price. He wasn't a rookie. You should know that MGM later bought the script from me for $40,000. Gore hoped this movie would make it to the Oscars. He wanted to do it and only agreed if nominated for Best Original Screenplay," Da Silva, who was driving, asked.
"I had no choice, David," Alan Parker replied from the passenger seat.
"This is a youth film. You, Chris, and I said goodbye to our teenage years 20 years ago. The kids today—their likes, recognition, aesthetic preferences, common vocabulary—there's a generational gap between us."
"I originally planned to immerse myself in the life of the Performing Arts Academy, stay with those kids, and observe everything about them closely. But now..."
"I'll find a screenwriter to help with revisions. The one who revised the youth dance film *Saturday Night Fever*."
Da Silva stepped on the gas pedal. "But what if Ronald actually writes it? And there's no script available?"
"In Hollywood, a verbal contract is worth less than a scrap of paper. Who can say otherwise?" Director Alan Parker asked with a smile.
"Sam Goldwyn said that." Da Silva also laughed. "So why promise him he'd sign? If you give him a script doctor's fee but deny him the credit, won't he just do the bare minimum?"
Alan Parker was silent for a while. "I think Ronald is someone who values long-term interests over short-term gains. You gave him $6,000, and he didn't buy a flashy Pontiac but a practical, fuel-efficient Japanese Honda."
"This kid has big goals. For someone like him, having his name on a script is far more important than the $20,000 it costs to hire a script doctor at this stage."
"Only by giving him hope for career advancement instead of money will he pour his heart into writing, spilling his most genuine emotions onto the typewriter as if vomiting blood and turning them into words. What I want isn't mediocrity. What you want is excellence!"
"So what's your plan?"
"Isn't the lawyer hired by the team here to handle such matters? Besides, he might not be able to write a satisfactory script. We'll deal with that later. The most important thing now is the profession of acting, David."
"I asked a friend to investigate, and it turns out the main power at the Academy of Performing Arts lies with the school principal. The principal who attacked us is also a member of the New York Public Education Commission and oversees funding for public schools..."
Unaware of this, Ronald returned to the artist's apartment.
Meg took the initiative to help decorate Ronald's place with a more bourgeois aesthetic. She hung some Indian-style posters on the living room wall and brought in some plastic flowers.
Ronald happily watched Meg clean the house. He pulled a cup of Coca-Cola from the fridge, sipping it while observing Meg busy at work. It felt truly comforting.
"Ring, ring, ring..."
Ronald walked into the inner room to answer the phone.
"Ronnie, it's been a while since you called your aunt," Aunt Karen began.
"Auntie, I was just about to call you. I've got a good photography gig in Manhattan and landed a long-term contract with a casting company as their photographer."
"It's a company that specializes in selecting actors for film directors, so we often take photos."
"What? There's mail for me? From some director's guild? Oh, no, that's the Director's Guild. Yes... my membership card. Okay, I'll come home, Auntie."
"Ronnie, is that a girl's voice I hear? Remember to bring her to Staten Island to meet us," Aunt Karen teased.
"Alright, Auntie, I have to go. I'll stop by tomorrow to get my card. Love you, bye."
"Coming, Meg!" Ronald dashed into the living room and picked Meg up. "You have the best taste."
Meg clung to Ronnie like an octopus and kissed him.
The sweet scent spurred Ronald forward, placing Meg on the couch. She grabbed his neck, and they tangled together.
After some time, Meg slipped on her jeans and T-shirt, taking two steps at a time to open the back room door.
"Click, click," Meg unlocked the door and went to shower. The train apartment's poor design required crossing two rooms to reach the bathroom from the living room.
For shared apartments, privacy was nonexistent. Thus, Meg preferred coming to Ronald's place.
Ronald picked up his shirt and pants and entered the room. "Should I take you to the Actors Studio to sign up tomorrow?" he called to Meg from a distance.
"Tomorrow? I'll see you in the morning," Meg replied, poking her head and arm out while drying her hair.
"Perfect. I'll head to Staten Island in the afternoon. Want to come with me?" Ronald opened the bathroom door.
"Ahaha... no."
"Not coming to Staten Island?"
"No... well..."
Meg wasn't ready to visit Staten Island yet. Ronald thought living together might still be premature.
The next morning, the two drove to the Actors Studio to sign up.
The studio was in Hell's Kitchen, in an unassuming brick building on West 44th Street. Ronald nearly missed it if not for the massive flag above the white door with "Actors Studio" written in capital letters.
Knocking on the door, staff asked their purpose and handed them audition application forms.
"Isn't this the Actors Studio? A place for acting training?"
The staff, used to clueless young people like Ronald, pointed to a historical introduction on the wall.
It turned out the Actors Studio was a club-like space created by Lee Strasberg, Elia Kazan, and others to discuss acting techniques. Joining required passing auditions and selections. Those without acting experience in film or theater rarely succeeded.
"Is the Actors Studio a club? How many audition rounds do you need to join?" Ronald asked, puzzled. "Do they charge tuition?"
"No tuition. If you pass, you're a lifetime member for free. The audition is also free. But if you fail, you'll have to reapply after a year."
Disappointed, Ronald and Meg left.
"What now, Meg? Julia Taylor mentioned Stella Adler at NYU teaches acting classes."
Meg noted Lee Strasberg's dramatic institute on 15th Street. She enrolled in a 12-week course, paid by Ronald, starting the following week.
Un miembro del personal explicó pacientemente las distintas duraciones de los cursos y los precios. Al final, Meg eligió el curso de 12 semanas y 12 horas semanales que comienza la próxima semana. Esto llega justo a tiempo para completar la mayor parte del entrenamiento de actuación antes del comienzo final.
Ronald emitió un cheque por $980 y pagó la tarifa completa de capacitación. A partir de la próxima semana, Meg pasará 2 horas al día entrenando habilidades de actuación y Lee Strasberg, que tiene casi 80 años, les dará su primera lección en persona.
Resistiendo la tentación de Meg de cenar con él, Ronald se apresuró a regresar a su casa en Staten Island.
El estado de ánimo de la tía Karen era mucho mejor que la última vez y el alivio financiero alivió enormemente su estrés mental.
Después de la cena, Ronald jugó un rato con Donna y la tía Karen sacó una carta de gran tamaño.Al abrir el sobre, resultó ser una tarjeta del Gremio de Directores.
El nuevo presidente del Gremio de Directores ha reformado la tarjeta. La nueva versión ya no es una tarjeta de cartón, sino una tarjeta de plástico del tamaño de una tarjeta de crédito, que parece muy moderna.
Después de leer los diversos beneficios sindicales explicados en detalle en la carta adjunta, lo que más llamó la atención de Ronald fue el programa de aprendizaje de directores que ofrece el Gremio de Directores cada año.Una vez que presente su solicitud y sea aceptado, podrá unirse al equipo de directores famosos y verlos paso a paso mientras dirigen películas.
La tía Karen se acercó y le dio las buenas noches: "Ronnie, no olvides volver y quedarte conmigo dos días el Día de los Caídos a finales del próximo mes".
"Lo haré, tía Karen". El último lunes de mayo es el Día de los Caídos. En esta época del año, la tía Karen se reunía con los antiguos camaradas y viudas de su difunto marido. Esta es una fiesta importante a la que ella asiste todos los años.
Acostado en la cama, comencé a pensar en cambiar el guión. Ronald se dio vuelta una y otra vez para ordenar sus pensamientos.
Para los ocho protagonistas, ¿qué tipo de final se te ocurre que pueda hacer que el público se sienta real y feliz al mismo tiempo?
No tengo ni idea. Yo no pertenecía a ese círculo artístico cuando estaba en la escuela secundaria. El equipo de lucha también era un deporte relativamente aburrido. A diferencia del quarterback del equipo de fútbol, podía salir con chicas que aprendían instrumentos musicales o bailar.
No entiendo sus sueños y su dolor en absoluto. Para escribir un final maravilloso, es necesario observar más de su vida diaria.
Ronald fue autodidacta aquí y tuvo la misma idea que el director Parker.
Entonces, ¿qué tipo de representaciones teatrales te gustaba ver cuando estabas en la escuela secundaria?
Durante sus años en Toteville High School, Ronald sentía envidia de los talentos artísticos de los integrantes de la orquesta, el equipo de baile y el equipo de porristas cada vez que los veía.
A los ojos de un tipo rudo del equipo de lucha libre como yo, poder bailar ballet, tocar el violín y hacer volteretas son habilidades muy poderosas.
Para personas como yo, que no comprenden las habilidades internas, ver la armoniosa melodía del violín y la bailarina girando en el aire es casi como ver al hijo de un mago.
De hecho, mostrar estas habilidades a los ojos de un profano, ¿no es algo maravilloso de ver?
Las diversas canciones y bailes del sueño eran aún más emocionantes porque no podía hacerlos, ¿verdad?
Ronald se dio vuelta, trepó, agarró el bolígrafo y, mientras repasaba mentalmente las tres tramas, comenzó a escribir en el papel manuscrito...
Fin del capítulo