Fiction: Abigail Pepper (part 1)
I’ve never considered myself to be a proper filmmaker. I’m more of an amateur who likes to get something out there once in a while. A short film, a video clip or, if all else fails, a 48 Hours film. Of course I also tried to get a feature film off the ground, at least a couple of times, but that always ended in failure.
It usually comes down to the fact that the producer in question doesn’t want to invest time and effort in a lateral entrant, who makes a living selling ads for glossy magazines.
Had I been a political reporter, I could have incorporated the experience into a series about the ins and outs of a political party. But Party Politics was shown on television years ago.
If I had a past as a top athlete, I could have focused on making documentaries about the pain and glory that are inextricably linked to the careers of our Olympic champions. But that would put the presenter of Sports Lives out of a job and that just would not be right.
I'm glad to have a steady job and happy to make do with all the crumbs I can pick up as a filmmaker. And just to be clear: there are also years that I’m not working on anything. That I am satisfied with my other hobbies, that I spend more time with my family and that I don’t feel the need to put myself through all that agony again.
But at some point the itch starts again.
Like last year. After a rather long period of inactivity, I suddenly started writing again. Keeping in mind the idea that, if the establishment didn't throw me a bone, I would do it all under my own banner, just like before.
I was mulling over a short film called Joy of Life, which would be set in just a few locations and only sported a few characters. Which meant I would be able to fund the project with my own savings.
It was going to be a short drama about the unscrupulous female director of a nursing home who tries to send an elderly man to an end-of-life clinic, with the help of the elderly man’s son who preys on his inheritance. Writing wasn't the problem for a change. Thanks to the free program Celtx, the script was done in a few sessions.
The casting wasn’t a big deal either. I’m not a household name by any means, but over the years I’ve met a lot of people. Tjeerd, the first actor I approached, was immediately on board. Although he had just accepted a major role in a comedy series, his agent told him that he had a few weeks off in the middle of his shooting schedule and so he said yes.
Men can be so wonderfully simple at times. Tjeerd had the time and he was making enough money doing something else, so let's go! His only 'condition' was the actress he nominated as his co-star: Abigail Pepper, the dark-haired vamp who made many a man's heart, including his own, beat faster.
Naturally, I also thought this was a good idea, Abigail Pepper was in my top-3 list anyway. Not only did she have a beautiful on screen appearance, she could also switch between different emotions at lightning speed, exactly what the role called for.
With Tjeerd and Abigail on board I would feel much more confident than before. The only problem was that I said those words out loud and that he repeated those words to her almost verbatim. This transference of power left me very vulnerable. And that was the beginning of a lot of trouble.
At first Abigail had told Tjeerd that she wanted to do it, that she thought it was a great idea, and that she would read the script as soon as possible. During the next couple of days or during the weekend at the latest. But days turned into weeks and Abigail was suddenly busy, busy, busy and when I couldn’t reach Tjeerd I called her agent, who told me that Abigail really didn't have time for freebies.
When in sheer desperation I called her myself, and she actually answered the phone, she sounded suspicious as if she couldn't remember her previous promise, perhaps not to me personally, but to Tjeerd, at least.
Up to that point I had been very accommodating. If you ask people to participate in a project for (next to) nothing, it is difficult to make too many demands. I get that.
I just didn't understand why she couldn't just say yes or no. She promised to actually read it now and to call me back a few days later. Instead, I heard through Tjeerd that she didn't think the script was all that hot, that she actually wanted a professional screenwriter to rewrite it and maybe someone else could direct it.
I would then only be listed as producer.
I'm not proud of what happened next, but something inside me broke. I decided to call her to give her some truth. But it was nothing like that at all, she insisted. She thought the project carried a lot of promise, so much so that she had already taken some steps herself to make it extra special. Since I had told Tjeerd that I would gladly cover the budget, she presumed that money wouldn’t be a problem.
When I politely inquired, while already seething inside, it turned out to be an extra investment of around a thousand euros.
That may sound like a small fry, but if you work ultra low budget, you have to be thrifty and a hundred euros is already a lot. I asked her, not even unkindly, if she intended to pay for it herself. But of course she didn't.
Who did this troll think she was? It might not have been smart to say this to her using these exact words, it didn't fit in with this world where people only say ugly things behind each other's backs.
After my uncharacteristic outburst, there was a chilling silence. Then the connection was cut. With GF’s like this, who needs enemies. Right?
Word of this exchange would undoubtedly spread like wildfire through the film community, but it was too late to worry about that now.
(Tbc)