Starlight

by Alexandra Richland

  Mr. Taggart grinned. “Follow me and we’ll get back to basics, all right?”

  Tentatively, Marie entered the dressing room behind him and looked around. A mirror stretched across the far wall surrounded by exposed light bulbs. Along the counter below the mirror was a collection of makeup, hair dryers, wigs, brushes, and everything else needed to transform someone like her into a Hollywood starlet. Wardrobes lined up side-to-side and end-to-end on her right, each rack jam-packed with clothes, and two tan couches sat on her left with a coffee table between them covered in magazines.

  A middle-aged man and woman stood toward the back. Marie assumed they were Francois and Victoria.

  Mr. Taggart gestured toward the stylists. “Marie, please have a seat and we’ll begin with the introductions.”

  Marie walked across the room and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the mirror. She grimaced at her reflection. The bright lights of the room emphasized her poor makeup application, unlike the deceiving low lights in her apartment. She looked like a cartoon character. Now, she realized what John Wayne meant with his comment in the limousine.

  Marie blushed as Victoria approached, surveying her with a critical eye. She wore a black dress and flawless exotic makeup.

  “Hello, Marie, my name is Victoria. I look forward to working with you today.”

  Francois stepped forward and introduced himself in a charming French accent. He had a tanned complexion and his black hair was coiffed in the popular pompadour style. He wore a black dress shirt, no tie, dark gray slacks, and a shiny black belt. The first few top buttons of the shirt were unfastened, exposing some dark chest hair.

  Marie shifted nervously in her chair under their watchful stares.

  “Don’t fret, my dear, the mistakes you’ve made with your hair and makeup are common with beginners,” Victoria said. “Proper makeup application is an art. At this studio, you’ll learn that less is more when out in public, and that in front of the camera, your look has to be more dramatic.”

  Marie removed her white gloves and tucked them inside her purse.

  “But nothing resembling clown makeup,” Victoria added with a giggle.

  Marie placed her purse on the counter and joined in her laughter. Victoria seemed very friendly. She trusted the woman to steer her in the right direction.

  “Normally, if you’re filming a motion picture, you’ll have many people working on you. It is quite a lengthy process to prepare someone for the camera,” Victoria explained. “But today, because you’re only shooting a screen test, Francois and I can create the look you need all on our own and in a short amount of time.”

  Victoria swiveled the chair so Marie faced away from the mirror. Francois looked on while Mr. Taggart sat on one of the couches, rifling through an appointment book. Victoria draped a plastic cover over Marie’s body and secured the ties around her neck to hold it in place. She removed Marie’s false eyelashes and applied a cold cloth to her face, vigorously removing her makeup before patting her skin dry. After loosening Marie’s ponytail, she picked up a blow dryer and brush from the counter.

  “We must get rid of the frizz before we curl your hair,” she said, putting the brush to good use. “Since your natural hair is long and thick, we won’t need to add extensions or put a wig on you today.”

  Once Victoria was satisfied Marie was frizz-free, she rolled a small cart beside her. On the top of the cart sat a plastic case containing a set of large curlers. After their insertion, Victoria sat Marie under a blow dryer for half an hour.

  Makeup followed. Victoria applied foundation, powder, eye shadow and liner, rouge, pale pink lipstick, and false eyelashes, a routine similar to the one Marie had completed this morning. However, she knew the results of Victoria’s labor would be much better than her own attempt. Next, Victoria removed the curlers and added hairspray. Marie felt no pain at all. Victoria gave her a good once-over and set down her equipment. “All done.”

  Victoria spun her around to face the mirror. Marie gasped at her reflection. The stylist did a wonderful job enhancing her natural features. Her curled hair fell to just below her ears, looking polished and not at all frizzy. Victoria had layered the foundation and powder on heavily, but explained that was to offset the harsh lights of the soundstage. On film, it was important for skin not to look shiny or uneven.

  Marie turned toward the couches to show Mr. Taggart her new look. He was no longer in the room.

  “When you were under the dryer, Nathan left to talk to the director,” Victoria said. “He’ll be back. But first, Francois must select an outfit to go with your new look.”

  Francois’ face lit up as he looked Marie over. “Darling, you look fabulous. Très bien. Now come, stand up, and let me take a look at your outfit properly.”

  Marie did as she was told.

  “The dress you have on is lovely,” he said, “but the style doesn’t complement the set for your screen test. We need something more elegant today.”

  Marie followed him to the wardrobes. He moved various items aside on the rack. “Non, non, non,” he said, rejecting outfit after outfit. He was on the final wardrobe when he stopped halfway through the selection and declared a triumphant, “Oui!”

  Francois flung a dark blue sequined number off the rack. “Now, Marie, this is exactly the look you need.” He held up the dress. “Viens ici.”

  She looked at him questioningly.

  “Come here,” he repeated in English.

  She stepped toward him.

  “Put this on.” He handed her the outfit. “Everything we brought in today should be your size. Mr. Taggart gave us an estimate from when he saw you at Schwab’s.”

  Francois led Marie to a black curtain, which hung from the ceiling on a circular rod, providing a makeshift private changing area. He pulled the curtain around her, affording her privacy. She took off her shoes first.

  “What size are your feet, Marie?” Francois called as she removed her sundress.

  “Seven.” She heard some rustling in the corner of the room.

  Carefully, she stepped into the dress, noting how soft the fabric felt against her skin. The dress was v-necked and ankle length, with a slit that ran up her right leg. Fabric gathered at her right hip, secured with a large diamond brooch, as well as around her waist, creating a belted accent.

  She pulled back the curtain nervously. Francois looked pleased as he zipped up the dress and led her to the far wall. Marie looked over her shoulder and into the mirror to view the back of the dress. The sequins sparkled, as did the diamond brooch. Francois approached with a pair of strappy black sandals dangling from his hand. The shoes made her legs look longer, as emphasized by the slit up the side of the dress.

  Francois handed her a pair of black gloves and Victoria presented her with a diamond bracelet and matching earrings. Marie straightened her posture and looked at the result in the mirror with a smile. She thought about her Thursday shift at Schwab’s when she stood next to Diane, feeling plain. Now here she was, four days later, in a dressing room at Starlight Studios, looking like a sophisticated Hollywood film star and feeling more confident than ever.

  Mr. Taggart entered the dressing room. He grinned as he looked over her transformation. “This is exactly what I pictured when I saw you behind the counter at Schwab’s. You look glamorous without being too over-the-top.”

  She gave a sheepish smile. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”

  “Absolutely. Now, everything is ready for us on the set, so if you’d like to come with me.”

  Marie followed Mr. Taggart out the door. They walked down the hallway in the opposite direction than she’d come in. Around the corner, the walls were painted tan, a red carpet covered the cement floor, and portraits of some of Starlight Studios’ most famous stars lined the hallway.

  Marie felt humbled in their presence, even if they were just photographs. A lot of rich history was associated with Starlight Studios and she couldn’t believe she had the opportunity to film a screen
test here. Being on the lot was exciting enough; to think she might actually sign a contract and have a career in acting now thrilled her immensely.

  Mr. Taggart opened a door at the end of the corridor. The only light on the other side came from the far end of the soundstage.

  “Please be mindful of the cables on the floor,” he said.

  Marie kept her eyes down, watching her step as instructed. She had barely gotten used to the pumps she’d worn to the studio, and now she had to adjust to her new, higher-heeled shoes that Francois loaned her.

  The soundstage changed from dark to light as Marie and Mr. Taggart reached the set—a lavish reception room. Against the back wall was a grand marble fireplace. A large portrait of a smartly dressed man hung above the mantle, framed in gold. Lighter gold wallpaper covered the wall. There were logs in the hearth, but no fire. Two green and pink floral loveseats and a harp sat in the middle of the set, and off to the side was a curved white staircase that led to nowhere. A plush beige carpet covered the floor and a sparkling chandelier hung from the unfinished ceiling, along with spotlights, wires, and scaffolding.

  As Marie took in her surroundings, she climbed the two stairs needed to reach the set, and forgot one important detail––to watch her step. Her foot caught on a cable lying on the ground and she stumbled forward. With a gasp, she placed her hands out in front of her, bracing for the impact.

  Two strong hands grabbed her from behind before she hit the floor.

  “Watch it, kid,” a deep male voice growled in her ear.

  Marie steadied and her rescuer released her. Her heart racing from her near miss, she turned around to thank the mystery man. He was middle-aged with salt and pepper hair and tired brown eyes. The scowl he gave her made her rethink voicing her gratitude.

  “We can’t have you getting hurt because of your own stupidity and clumsiness,” he said sharply. “I came in here on my day off, and so help me, heads would roll if it ends up being all for nothing.” The man turned and stalked off behind a large camera, leaving Marie trembling in fear.

  “Don’t mind him,” Mr. Taggart said. “That’s Kenneth Locke. He’s directed many films for the studio over the last twenty years, but I’m afraid he doesn’t have the best people skills.” He glanced at Mr. Locke over his shoulder. “I asked him to come in and direct your screen test because he’s one of the best directors in the business. Unfortunately, that meant he had to come in on his day off.”

  Marie had heard about Kenneth Locke. His most notable directorial project was an epic war picture made a few years ago, which broke box-office records and won many awards. His attitude surprised her. She had expected a man of such high esteem to be polite, especially since his job involved interacting with others in order to achieve a common goal.

  “Taggart, I’m ready.” Mr. Locke folded his arms across his chest, his scowl deepening.

  Mr. Taggart smiled, focusing on Marie and not the surly director. “This is how the first part of your test will go––I’m going to ask you some simple questions. Please answer them honestly. It’s not so much your replies that are important, but the voice you use and how you look when speaking. You’re not acting in this segment. Just be yourself.”

  Marie nodded, aware of Mr. Locke pacing in the distance. “I understand, Mr. Taggart.”

  His grin widened. “Please, call me Nathan. Mr. Taggart makes me feel old and I’m only twenty-three.”

  Marie wondered how somebody so young held such a prominent position at a major motion picture studio. “All right, I will.”

  “Okay, Locke, let’s get started,” Nathan said, matching the director’s informality. He winked at Marie before walking away.

  Mr. Locke stalked toward her. She braced for the worst.

  “Okay, kid, now listen here. I want you to stand in front of the fireplace and Taggart will ask you questions. Look directly into the camera as you reply. Speak clearly. Don’t be stiff and remember to smile. Pretend you’re enjoying yourself and don’t waste my time.”

  Marie bowed her head. “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Locke grunted and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. As she walked onto the set, she minded her step this time. Miraculously, she didn’t fall, even though her legs shook as she headed to the fireplace, as directed. On her mark, she faced Nathan, refusing to look at Mr. Locke, who stood next to him. Another man emerged from the shadows and joined the duo.

  Nathan gestured to the newcomer. “Marie, this is Norman, our cameraman for today. When I ask you the questions, pretend that it’s the camera lens speaking. At no time will you make eye contact with the three of us. We won’t appear on camera. It’s all you.”

  Marie drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her eyes burned under the bright lights.

  Victoria stepped up onto the stage and powdered her face. “Honey, I know the spotlights are hot, so don’t worry about perspiring. It happens to the best of them. This is what I’m here for.”

  Marie thanked Victoria before the woman retreated.

  “We’re going to start now,” Nathan announced.

  Marie recalled the portraits of Mr. Mertz’s stars that lined the hallway leading to this soundstage, drawing upon their influence to complete her test successfully.

  “Roll tape, Norman,” Mr. Locke said.

  “What is your name?” Nathan asked.

  “My name is Marie Bates.” She smiled and stared into the camera lens, suppressing her intimidation and fright as best as she could.

  “How long have you been living in Los Angeles, Marie?”

  Nathan followed up with a few more questions, after which Mr. Locke instructed her to stand up straight, face the camera, and hold her pose. Then he told her to slowly turn to the right, pause, and return to her starting position. Afterward, he instructed her to do the same in the opposite direction. Her final instruction was to turn around completely in slow motion.

  Nathan explained Mr. Mertz liked to see all possible profiles of a potential contract star to get the best idea of how the person looked on camera from different viewpoints. If the individual was selected to sign a contract, any unfavorable angles were noted, and either a solution was sought, or the offending angles were avoided altogether in future film projects, promotional photographs, and magazine spreads. A contract star had to look perfect at all times.

  “Cut!” Mr. Locke hollered after Marie completed her final rotation.

  Nathan jogged up onto the set. Mr. Locke shuffled after him.

  Marie’s heart raced as she awaited her next direction.

  Nathan’s proud grin eased some of her worry. “You did a great job.”

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  Mr. Locke stepped between her and Nathan. “Let’s hurry this up. I’ve got things to do.” His lips curled into a sneer. “Next, you’re going to walk from one end of the room to the other. Listen up, because I’m only saying this once. Start on the stairs and descend slowly, placing one foot directly in front of the other.

  “Remember to look straight ahead, not toward the floor, and sway your hips slightly as you walk. Once you reach the bottom of the stairs, walk to the first sofa and sit down on a slight angle on the right cushion. Cross your right leg over your left, drape your left arm along the back of the couch, and look toward the back of the soundstage with a dreamy expression on your face.”

  “Dreamy, sir?” Marie frowned. “How do I achieve that?”

  Mr. Locke’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know––think about your one true love or something.”

  Marie sighed. It looked as though she was on her own with this one.

  “Remember to keep your back straight. Correct posture is a must at all times.” Mr. Locke didn’t wait for her response before taking his place beside the camera again.

  Victoria powdered Marie’s face and touched up her lipstick. Then she was ready to go. She lifted the bottom hem of her dress as she climbed the steps so she wouldn’t trip. When she reached the halfway point on the staircase, Mr. L
ocke told her to stop and use her current mark as her starting point. She turned around and straightened her posture, recalling his strict instructions.

  “Roll ’em!”

  Marie descended the staircase slowly, focusing on a piece of filming equipment in the distance. When she reached the bottom, she made her way over to the first sofa, sat down on the right cushion, and crossed her legs.

  “Cut!”

  Marie’s stomach twisted in knots as the director stormed toward her. “Do you have problems following instructions, kid?”

  Her lower lip trembled. “B-but I sat down on the right cushion, j-just like you said, Mr. Locke.”

  “Exactly. The right cushion. I said the right cushion!”

  Marie’s eyes darted to Nathan in a panic. “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you have trouble distinguishing your left from your right, Bates?” Mr. Locke’s spittle flew at her face.

  Nathan placed his hand on the director’s shoulder. “Relax. She didn’t know.”

  Mr. Locke marched off into the shadows.

  “Didn’t know what?” Marie asked, frantically searching for an explanation. “I thought I did everything correctly.”

  Nathan cringed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve explained this to you earlier. I’m not usually in charge of screen tests so it was simply an oversight on my part.

  “When a director indicates left or right, he means from the perspective of the actor or actress when facing the camera or audience, not from the perspective of the spectators facing the set.”

  Marie blushed. She had sat down on the cushion on her right when she faced the couch. When facing the camera it was actually the left cushion. She had thought she was following Mr. Locke’s instructions exactly when, in fact, she did the opposite of what he asked of her.

  “Hurry up!” Mr. Locke shouted.

  Marie jumped in her seat, tears stinging her eyes.

  Mr. Locke’s angry voice echoed throughout the soundstage. “Taggart, if she cries, you’ll have to get another director. I don’t have time to hang around while Vicky fixes her makeup.”

  Tears toppled down Marie’s cheeks as she realized she was a fool to think she could pull a screen test off successfully. She leapt from the couch and ran across the stage, her intended destinations the dressing room and then her apartment. In her haste, however, she forgot to mind her step. Her foot caught on another cable and she flew forward. Her knees and palms stung upon impact with the concrete floor.