Eyes Wide Shut, Ovaries in Charge

Wild Woman, Wild West

I’ve been watching Seth Rogan’s series about Hollywood on Apple TV. It’s no The Player, but I adore the cast. And Sarah Polley? Be still my heart! The Story Girl? Heck yeah, I’ll remain loyal and watch it.

In the episode I watched last night, Catherine O’Hara’s character says, about producing, “Every day this job is a kick in the ovaries.”

I wonder if she improvised that or if it came from the writers. But as a woman producing an independent feature film after years in the business as an actor and screenwriter...

Yeah, I felt that...

Not-so-quick sidebar:

When I was a young actress who had just moved to Los Angeles over ten years before #MeToo...

I had a meeting with a somewhat known agent. I was so excited to finally get my foot in the door! Funny, I forget exactly how I got the opportunity. At any rate, our first meeting was at his office on a Tuesday afternoon. He asked me to bring a headshot, resume, and monologue—standard stuff. When I got there, he was brusque, acerbic, and even insulting.

“Okay, let’s watch you suck in your monologue,” he said, leaning back with his arms folded against his chest.

Maybe this was an intimidation technique, but:

a) I was Minnesotan and therefore great at ignoring direct conflict, and...

b) I had also studied classical music and opera. And for people who think the film Whiplash was not an accurate depiction of music mentors back in the day, well, sorry. I got news for ya. I had one teacher whose mantra was, “You get your crying done with me so that you are tough in front of the maestro.”

I cried a lot.

A lot.

Until I stopped.

My monologue must not have totally sucked because he jutted his chin out at the end and said, “Okay, let’s meet again on Thursday, but first, I need you to watch three movies between now and then and prepare the monologue I’m going to give you.”

The films were The Kid Stays in the Picture, The Player, and The Bad and the Beautiful, all films about Hollywood and the competitive and sometimes terrible things people do to succeed in this town. He told me they were often presented in comedic ways but that these films were actually guidebooks to success.

An overachiever, I watched all three in two days and worked on his monologue, which, instead of being from a play, was from Miss Congeniality or something. (Mine had been a monologue I was actually too young to do at the time. It would make more sense now! It was from “It Had To Be You” by Renee Taylor and Joseph Bologna, and it was about an actress of a certain age, probably in her 30s at that point because when it was written, that would have been old, and how she finally got a good agent and then he died. That was something that happened to me a couple of years later. I finally got an amazing agent who was a legend and who believed in me, but then she had a stroke that left her incapacitated.)

At our second meeting, I performed the monologue and told him I had watched the movies and also read the book version of Kid Stays in the Picture. He didn’t believe me.

“Who reads books?” I believe that was his response, replete with a snort.

I told him that while I understood the message he was sending with these films, I was a kind person who believed that meeting people, doing great work and showing others that they could rely on me seemed like a better strategy than scheming and plotting.

He laughed in my face.

(It was 2006.)

Then he told me that we would have a final meeting on Friday at 6 pm to see how serious I was about signing with him. That I should come dressed to kill and be ready to show him.

Reader, I never went to that third meeting.

Years later, I read about him in USA Today. He was one of the more terrible predators in a sea of sharks.

It was vindicating. For years, I had wondered if I should have kept that Friday night meeting. One night of... ugh... for more opportunities later?

But other situations had taught me that just because someone promises you an opportunity doesn’t mean they’ll actually follow through.

We’ll never know what might have been. We only know what has been. And there was one bright spot from that entire experience:

It was a contributing factor to my development of a love of projects that are either skewerings of or love letters to LA/Hollywood/Broadway/movies/theater/the film and entertainment business.

Hence my watching The Studio.

Sidebar over.

My husband and I are currently producing our first independent feature film. Every day is, indeed, a kick in the (insert your variety of reproductive organs here), but stick around, and you will see it’s also a daily miracle.

I’m used to people doubting me. I’ve been a singer my entire life, and I still have people who, when they finally do hear me sing something, say, “I had no idea you were a singer.”

Reader, I am DEVOTED to singing.

I even wrote and toured a one-woman show all about my life as a singer.

But I also have experienced that in this world, if you’re not famous, people often assume you must not be very good or something.

I know differently because I live and work among some of the most amazing, crazy talented people in the world. Some of them are famous; most of them are not. They come in every age, every gender, every shape and size, every everything.

For creative types, the first question people have about our project is about the script.

I happen to write with Carlo Carere, a man who has amazing ideas all the time. Our experience has been that even with a great, multiple award-winning script, most people in this town don’t give you a chance until you’ve shown them that they can trust you; by that, I mean that they won’t lose money or jobs because of you.

That’s a high bar and one that we decided we had to create ourselves at this point.

Every day brings a new set of insane obstacles and challenges. Frankly, we’ve had a lot of difficulties with this project, from losing a very special crew member to pneumonia to being ghosted by agents and investors to my own inner monologue and habits.

And here’s where it gets interesting for me on a personal growth level.

I’m a very tough person thanks to the school of life, and yet a total people pleaser by childhood training.

It’s intriguing to me that these flaws/skills really help me as a producer.

First of all, as a people pleaser who has experienced some trauma in life, I’ve learned to micro-read and micro-observe people. What do I mean by this?

All my life, as long as I can remember and reinforced by various traumatic experiences, I’ve learned to pay attention to every little eye twitch, each individual finger flick. The small movements a person makes. I listen deeply to people, not just to stay emotionally safe, which is where that came from, but also because, over the years, I’ve learned that I actually like listening to people. I like hearing what they think, and why, and how. I like hearing their perspectives and stories. I find people actually... gasp... interesting.

With this spirit, I’ve been so fortunate to get to know our crew, some of them on a deeply personal level.

Like the best experiences, our crew has become incredibly familial and collaborative. We have been having weekly production meetings for over a year now, where everyone is free to offer opinions and pitch in, get to know each other, and try something new.

Maybe it’s a necessity at this budget level.

But it’s also fun.

And now, as I see the amazing tests and samples people are coming up with, I’m in awe.

Whenever I think to myself, “How the heck are we going to accomplish this movie at this budget?” “What happens if I don’t find any more investors?” Someone in the crew shares something amazing, or some other investor appears.

I don’t ignore my deep feelings of fear and worry. I just let them hang out.

I don’t let the feelings rule me, at least not for too long.

But I don’t try to ignore them or push them out because I’ve noticed that my feelings are important.

They point to things I really should pay attention to, although not necessarily believe are permanent.

As I go through my day, letting every feeling show up as it will and saying hello to it, then, when the miracles happen—and those are myriad!— I am able to feel the exhilaration of joy, gratitude, relief, or pride.

Free and unconstrained.

It’s an insane proposition, making a movie.

I’m doing something I’ve simply not done before, not at the feature level, anyway.

Incredible people with huge hearts, brains, and talent are coming together for this project.

I am grateful every day for them.

I see that I’ve got something I’ve always had, but not everyone does, which is GUTS.

I’m watching myself overcome people-pleasing tendencies, but I also still have the ability, when necessary, to transform that “flaw” into a gift: respect for my fellows, care, deep listening, and openness to their experience in life.

So yeah, it’s a kick in the ovaries.

And they may be kicking back—but they’re also kicking ass.