But now, right here, this was Goldie’s big moment, well, big second. She wasn’t going to get sixty of them.
She lowered her chin, fixed a steely gaze at Cromagnet, and got into the stance she’d choreographed for days with the stunt coordinator. Steely Ann, her character, was a minor superhero from one issue of a comic book in the seventies. She was a throwaway, even in the comic books. But Goldie was going to do everything she could to make them remember her Steely Ann.
She used her lower register, the tone that brooks no debate, and she channeled a fierceness that wasn’t acting.
The set, the costume, the ridiculous plot, all of it was artifice. But Goldie’s heart was beating fast. Her mind was no longer riddled with worries about the external, her career, or how she looked. None of it mattered.
What mattered was that at this moment, she believed that Sparkle Dawn was her daughter and this jack wagon Cromagnet, her domineering ex-husband. In that framework, Goldie became Steely Ann, mother, protector, and fighter for the underdog.
She put her hand on the hilt of the prop sword of her costume. She looked at Cromagnet, stepped into her light, and delivered her line.
“You are Cromagnet. But I am the STEEL!” Goldie slid the sword from its scabbard. She sliced it in the air in front of her as if she was hacking through the vines of a malevolent forest.
Goldie sold the line. Tommy kept her in the center of the frame. She knew he’d likely push in on her eyes. They were flinty with determination.
This was why she had an Oscar. This was why they were lucky to have her in this dumpster fire movie. She didn’t act. She felt it to her core. And everyone around her believed. She was totally committed to her role, to her line.
“Cut!”
Goldie nearly fell over with the weight of the swing she’d taken at Cromagnet’s stunt double. She struggled to right herself.
“Thanks, Goldie, now move over. Let’s go with about a foot.”Trevor didn’t give her any feedback, compliment, or critique. He just needed her over to the side.
Goldie put the sword back in its scabbard. She stood where Trevor directed. They did the scene ten more times, but none of those takes included a close-up for Goldie.
She had her take, at least. Maybe someone higher up than Trever Sunday would like it, would see that she’d elevated the scene. Or not. Probably not. She’d done all she could do. But it probably was for nothing.
Tommy, the DP, caught up with her as she headed to her trailer. It took her about two hours to get the wig, the makeup, and the suit on. It took about thirty minutes to undo it all, with a team of three who were waiting inside.
“Hey, Goldie, you did well. That was a great read.”
“Thanks for having my back.”
“Of course.”
That was nice. Nice was rare here. Tommy had run the camera on her first love scene back in the day. And he was never creepy about it. That was rare here, too.
She climbed into the trailer.
The wardrobe assistant worked on unzipping the back of her super suit. It was halfway down, and she was struggling out of the beast when Trevor appeared.
“Goldie, we’ve got a new take on the scene for tomorrow. I’m going to need you to look over these new lines. A bit different blocking.”
Goldie was half in her robe and half in her super suit, and people were hovering all over her. She looked at the pages Trever gave her. She was also trying to ignore the rash that the spandex was causing under her armpits. She took the pages.
On the page, Steely Ann had gone from fighting next to Sparkle Dawn to being pushed down and helpless.
“Wait, I’m going land on my butt, and what’s his name,Greased Lighting or whatever, that sidekick character, is going to landon topof me?”
“It is going to be hilarious; he’s going to give you a look, and then you’ll sort of give it back to him. Like you’re interested. You know, kind of a superhero cougar thing. Funny, right?”
“I don’t like it; you’re turning her into comic relief. From all my research, she’s a role model, or is supposed to be.”
“Please, she was a one-off. Think about it. This will be sexy and funny. Maybe get some of the fans into older women. You’re welcome.”
Trevor was doing this to get her back. Pure and simple. She’d stood up for herself, for her one good take, and he was punishing her by turning her into a joke, turning her scenes into parodies.
“It’s not funny or sexy. It’s just demeaning.”
