Barry took another copy of the page, "I'll read it with you."
"Yes, Cole?" He asked me, indicating that he had begun the audition.
"They used to hang people here." I kept my voice low as if a little hesitant to answer the question.
"That's not correct. Where'd you hear that?"
"They'd pull the people in crying and kissing their families bye... People watching would spit at them." I answered in a somber tone.
"Cole, this was a legal courthouse. Laws were passed here. Some of the first laws of this country. This building was full of lawyers. Lawmakers."
"They were the ones who hanged everybody." I continued in the same tone.
"I don't know which one of these guys told you that, but they were just trying to scare you, I think." Barry chuckled a little here.
Alright, this is my transition part. All the training I have done with Dad, enacting different scenes from different films shall come to fruition today. Just like he had taught me, try to think from the character's perspective. Put yourself in their shoes. I think of all the times people treat me like a kid, ignoring my opinion or simply thinking of me as lesser than them. The times when teachers would look down upon me only because of my age. I channel it all into one sentence.
"I don't like people looking at me like that," I told off to Barry who looked genuinely baffled for a moment.
"Like what?" He asked nonetheless.
"Stop it!" I shouted, gaining undivided attention from all four of my interviewers.
"I don't know how else to look–"
"You're a stuttering Stanley!" I lowered my voice slightly, so it was no longer a shout but still loud enough.
"Excuse me?"
"You talked funny when you went to school here. You talked funny all the way to high school!" I behaved like the meanest bully that I have observed in my recent school years.
"What–"
"You shouldn't laugh at people. It makes them feel bad." My rebuking voice was full of rage and sadness.
"How did you--?"
"Stop looking at me." I covered my eyes with my hands as if he would disappear from that simple act.
"Who have you been speaking to?"
"Stuttering Stanley! Stuttering Stanley!" I started shouting repeatedly.
"Who!"
"Stuttering Stanley!"
"Stop that!"
"Stuttering Stanley! Stuttering Stanley!"
When no one said anything for a few moments I removed my hands from my eyes and looked down at the script, "Did I miss something?"
I didn't. The page ended at that point so obviously I couldn't go on any further. I turned towards the four filmmakers and looked at them expectantly.
"That was brilliant!" Barry was the first to break the silence."What do you think, Night?"
The director looked a little uncomfortable answering the question, "It was good."
That was elaborate.
"Can you do something else for me?" Shyamalan asked suddenly. "Anything else you might have prepared?"
I thought long and hard. This was just like my first day of acting when Dad had asked me to do an improv. For obvious reasons, I can't use the same material. I need something to wow them. I so wanted to do a Sam Jackson from Pulp Fiction but this one is not a comedy film so that would just leave a negative impression if anything.
When put on the spot like that, I couldn't think of anything. It didn't even occur to me at that moment that I could do a scene from [Sex-ed] whose lines I've memorized forwards and backward. Seeing the four empty chairs in front of me I got a wild idea. I cleared my throat once before beginning the performance. A song that I had been preparing with my tutor Paul Tanner for quite some time now.
~: "There's a grief that can't be spoken,"
I ignored the surprised expressions from all the people in front of me, especially the director and one of the ladies who recognized the song.
~:"There's a pain goes on and on
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone~"
I continued singing the entire song, immersing myself in the emotion, thinking of the pain of losing a loved one and living through survivor's guilt. I shed a tear or two at one point, but I didn't care as I continued the song and no one interrupted me.
"Oh my friends, my friends
Don't ask me what your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more."
When I finished the song, I wiped the tears from my face and only then I realized the scene around me. One of the ladies who had recognized the song, probably the producer, was also wiping away her tears while Barry was grinning like a loon. But my attention was on the director in front of me who had this subtle look of satisfaction in his eyes.
Retrospectively, it was at that moment that I realized that I had succeeded in my audition. Whether I got selected for the role or not, it didn't matter. I gave my best performance, and I couldn't have topped this.
The filmmakers were in a trance and no one spoke anything for a few moments, making the scene a little awkward. Seeing that, my amazing mother took it into her own hands to prevent the situation from worsening. She cleared her throat audibly, "Does he need to do anything else?"
"No, that will be all." The fourth lady who had hardly spoken anything by now said, "We will contact you with the result of the audition by the coming Monday, that's the 23rd."
"Alright, come along Troy," Kathy called out as she indicated the door behind me.
Before following her, I nodded to the four filmmakers, "Thank you for letting me audition today. Have a good day."
With that said, I followed my Mum back outside before they could reply.
As soon as I was back in the waiting room, I saw every kid and their guardian looking at me all weirdly. Kids I can understand, they must be curious to know about my audition, but adults too? That was a little creepy. Among those staring at me was a boy that I recognized. It was Haley Joel Osment who played the role of Cole in the original timeline. Funnily enough, he was also wearing a suit. He must have come here during my audition.
My mother didn't let me dwell on it too much as she grabbed my shoulder and gently led me outside.
"What was that?" I asked, still bewildered even when we were away from the prying eyes.
"Your audition took twice as much time as others. Usually, it means you have a higher chance of getting the part. Naturally, they were curious." Kathy replied with a smile.
(Break)
"What do you think of him?" Barry asked his co-producer Kathleen Kennedy when Troy and his mother had gone out.
"He is very good. Everyone can see that, but you shouldn't have shown such blatant favoritism," Kathleen chided.
Barry rolled his eyes, "Look Kat, I don't want to do this needlessly. You know we need a kid who can carry the acting part, Bruce hardly can. We have already auditioned more than 200 kids and a good one is finally here. Why the hell won't I rush? If only [Sex Education] had been released a week ago, we wouldn't even have to audition anyone else."
Kathleen didn't comment on his frustrated rant and turned to the other two in the room, "What are your thoughts? Night? Lana?"
The director looked nervously between the two producers before announcing his decision with finality, "I want him. He grasped the character well, exactly like I had envisioned. In fact, I was looking for a kid like that. But that song at the end, that was too good. That just gave me an idea for the film, I can add a song to the film. We can change the drama scene with a song. Yes…"
He didn't even realize that he was talking about his plans for the movie with the kid, ignoring the other three people in the room.
Lana, the casting director, was even more uncomfortable. Usually, it was her job to recommend a shortlisted group of actors who would then be auditioned by the director and the producers to make the final decision. But the director insisted on auditioning everyone. Then in an unusual occurrence, two of the producers also came out for the auditions.
Now she understood why. Kathleen had recommended a kid named Michael Cera who was too sweet of a kid for such a role and Lana would have rejected him right away because of his lack of practical experience and skill to carry such a large role on his shoulders.
Barry, on the other hand, had recommended the topic of their current discussion, Troy Armitage. The kid was good, but Lana would've rejected him as well. The reason was his accent. While the kid did have a passable accent and she wouldn't mind recommending an adult with the same, the kid still faltered in many places and went back to using a British dialect.
"His accent may cause a problem," Lana pointed out to stop the conversation from going any further. "I haven't seen [Sex Education], so I don't know about his real accent, but I could sense the places he was struggling. It may cause you some problems while shooting."
"We can get him a dialect coach till shooting begins," Barry waved it off casually, "he is almost there, it won't be much of an issue."
Night nodded, "I don't have a problem with his accent. I can work with it. Just a few more retakes for a better actor is hardly a problem."
Kathleen, the last one, who was still hopeful about Michael Cera was conflicted. She wanted her friend's kid to play the role, but she could see that acting in a serious movie was not his forte. Not at the moment at least. If the movie was a comedy, he would be a good choice. And at the end of the day, Kathleen was nothing if not practical.
She sighed internally, "Voice coach it is. We can even use the voice coach story during the promotion period to show how much effort the boy has put into the role. People love a hard-working kid."
Barry's smile widened marginally, "So we all agree?" He looked around and got nods from Shyamalan and Kennedy. Lana also nodded reluctantly because at this point her opinion was vetoed, so it's better to just go along with the majority.
"Lana," Kathleen said, "Why don't you finish up the rest for today? Make sure to complete the selection for all the other speaking kid roles. Make note if a kid stands out for the role of Cole as well. As a backup." She clarified.
Lana nodded reluctantly while the director and the producers retreated from the back door on the other side of the room. Now she had to continue auditioning for the role of Cole even if they had selected the kid because there were a dozen or so expectant kids out there.
She set up the camera behind her and called in the next kid.
She hated her job sometimes.
(Break)
We didn't have to wait much longer. Within a few hours, I received a call from Dad who had safely reached Pittsburgh.
"I just got a call from Barry. They loved your audition." Dad said directly without exchanging any pleasantries.
"Have they made a decision yet?" I asked excitedly.
"You got the part!" Dad answered back with equal enthusiasm.
"Yes! Mum! I got the part!" I shouted in the receiver, not caring about the decorum anymore.
"Ouch! A little lower Troy. My ears are getting old but not old enough to not hear you over the phone," Dad complained from the other side of the receiver. Mum wasn't standing much behind me so I didn't have to shout, but apparently, Dad's enthusiasm was contagious.
"That's great love." Mum hugged me tightly from behind.
"While it's good to celebrate," Dad continued in the receiver, "Barry has specifically told me not to spread the news until we have signed the contract for you and it has been officiated by a judge."
There was this little thing that producers did while working with minor actors in big-budget films. HBO hadn't done so because my parents were so heavily involved in the film that my abandoning the project was highly unlikely. In the current case, were I to leave the Sixth Sense mid-shoot, it would cause a lot of damage to the production companies as minors can't sign a contract.
In such cases, the companies would get the contract signed by the guardian of the child actor, officiated by a judge in a courthouse which is as good as any binding contract. I would have to be physically present in the courthouse, of course.
But there were limits to that as well. Like I cannot be forced to do a scene or an act that I am uncomfortable with. I cannot be forced to do any activity other than acting itself, like movie promotions. I can do it if I feel like it, but it's not binding. Most kids do promote their movies, though.
"Yeah, I won't tell anyone," I promised.
"There's one more thing," Dad continued, "They think that your accent needs work. While you're almost there, they want to provide you with a dialect coach before the shooting begins. Your classes would begin after signing the contract, which will most likely be next week."
"Huh," I muttered. "I thought I had gotten it down. I don't have any problem with that. Anything else about this film?"
"Yes," Dad hesitated, "Look son, I know you are talented and have got the role on your own merit, but in this industry, nothing is set in stone. So unless we sign the contract, don't believe that the role is confirmed. Anything can happen at the last moment. Sometimes, even after the contract is signed."
I nodded into Mum's shoulder who was listening to all our conversation along with, "I understand, Dad. We won't say no to either of the other two projects until this one is signed."
"Good."
We talked about a few unimportant things after which I handed the phone over to Mum and went back to my room to let them do the talking.
Finally, my first role in a big-budget movie with a top-of-the-line star with a good story and potentially one of the highest-earning movies of the year. The only problem was that I had this fear that I wouldn't be able to play to the level that Haley Joel Osment did in another life.
The dude got tons of awards and got nominated for a fucking Oscar of all things! I won't lie by saying that I don't want an Oscar. Who doesn't? But if the movie does as good as it did in my last life that would be enough for me. That would catapult me into the greater limelight. Fame is never bad for actors, as far as I know. Just hoping I don't get roasted by critics and the like.
Not that they'd be too harsh with a child actor.
Still, as soon as I get the script, I am practicing the shit out of it with Dad.
______________________________
AN: Visit my Pat reon to read ahead up to 20 chapters, or participate in free polls about the story.
Link: www(dot)pat reon(dot)com/fableweaver