The One (job) That Got Away Part 2
Or, Will This Character Die
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My agent Thom’s name popped up on the phone screen. I’d been waiting for this call, but trying to distract myself for weeks. ‘Reprisal’ had gotten picked up. After working as a guest star on the Hulu pilot, these were the things I knew:
1) My character would appear again in 102.
2) My character would die in 102.
3) I wanted that second episode.
4) Somewhere between crafty and set, the showrunner, Josh, said to me, “I’m not sure, your audition made me think maybe she won’t die… I don’t know.”
5) Don’t pin too much on things you hear around crafty.
“Hi Thom!”
“Hey! How are you?”
“…I’m good, fine. How are you?“
“Oh I’m great…”
“…”
“So I heard about Reprisal.”
“Uh huh?”
“I have a series regular contract for you.”
“What?”
“They want you to be a series regular.”
“What?”
“You’re guaranteed 8 out of 10 episodes, but it’ll probably be 10 out of 10. You’re gonna be on the show.”
“What??”
Thank goodness my children were at preschool, because I laid down on the floor and screamed. I don’t remember the rest of the conversation really. Numbers I didn’t fully understand that sounded bigger than numbers my agent had said to me before. Travel, housing - oh right it filmed in Wilmington - residuals, series regular, series regular, series regular is what rang through my head.
I repeatedly called my husband at his job; so many times that he thought something had happened to one of the kids.
I sat on the end of the couch (where I’m sitting right now writing this) and looked around in a daze. Series regular. Two words I longed to hear together in an offer; still, I couldn’t believe it.
Once we looped my manager Matthew in and combed through all the details of the contract, he saw “local hire” discrimination in the numbers. Under the series regular contract, I would be given a flat fee to find housing for about four months, and cover my own travel and meal expenses. Since we weren’t sure what the schedule would look like and how long the show would run, we decided not to uproot my whole family, and instead I would travel back and forth. This, of course, meant that the stipend would be gone very quickly and I’d be paying for it out of pocket. In the end, it made more sense to counter their offer and work under a Guest Star contract; basically the same pay but production would house me and cover my travel and per diem, which would allow me to keep more of my paycheck. It was a tough pill to swallow, letting go of the words “series regular.” Understanding that even in the dream-come-true-scenario, the industry was still gonna industry me.
A few weeks after it was settled, Thom called again to say I’d be playing my own sister in one episode. The second episode, actually. The episode in which I was supposed to die? I’d no longer be dying - I’d be playing two characters who stayed alive and well. As a girl who grew up with Haley Mills’ version of The Parent Trap memorized, I’d have licked a dirty boot to do it. What was already a dream job became even dreamier.
I’ll save the stories of the four-ish months between Wilmington and Atlanta for another time. Life and work felt amazing and hard, magical and lonely, dreamy and painful, exhilarating and exhausting, you get the picture. Once the showrunner and writers began writing to the strength of the cast, the show found its groove. I opened each script like it was Christmas morning; finding the voice of Molly together was my artist dream come true.
As actors, we spend so much time auditioning. So. Much. Time. Reading and interpreting bits of script, playing our own camera operators, lighting designers, makeup and hair artists, finding scene partners, then acting. We send these performances off and hope one fits into the world some dreamer has created (and some executive thinks will bring profits.) I cannot emphasize enough how much of my life has been spent doing these things. To have months of such a luxurious time, where I was unavailable to audition for anything else, in which scripts were just sent to me, entrusted to me, where I just had one job, a job I loved - I did not take that for granted.
Once we wrapped, the premiere and release of all ten episodes was set for less than two months away. Everything happened quickly, which is so often how it feels - a swift avalanche or a sporadically dripping faucet, nothing in between.
Almost immediately after wrapping, they began negotiating my contract for season 2. And shortly before the premiere, after weeks of back and forth, I signed my real first series regular contract for season 2 of Reprisal.
We premiered on December 5, 2019. My manager attended the premiere in LA with me, where we watched the pilot I’d filmed over a year earlier. The after party was loud and very crowded; hugs were given and “you’re so wonderful”s exchanged. I felt like a fish out of water, and the air was too loud. Once I was sufficiently overwhelmed - by the sounds, the bodies, the excess, the idea that tomorrow the show would be out and my life could be forever changed - I asked somebody to help me find the nice man in the black car who was tasked with driving me around all evening, so he could take me home.
It’s surreal to look at these photos now. In the theatre, we always have an opening night party: a celebration of all the work we’ve done in the rehearsal hall and through previews. Then - we run the show, we keep it alive and fresh and new every night. This was our opening night party, it was in the can and about to be broadcast. But all the work was done. Maybe for now. Maybe forever. It was also, as surely you’ve figured out by now, our closing party. The last time I’d see many of these people.
All ten episodes dropped on December 6, 2019. I spent the day on a plane from Los Angeles back to Atlanta, wondering if the world would be different for me. I felt tingly all over, and tired, ready to be in my own cozy home again snuggling with my babies on the same couch where I received the phone call from Thom.
I watched the whole show over the next few nights; I felt in awe and so proud. Its great, weird, quirky characters, fascinating plots, and wicked timing made it a show I would’ve watched anyway. Reprisal stunningly captured female rage and our human capacity for revenge. Of all the shows - my show was a show I loved.
The world did not change overnight.
Some people found Reprisal and watched.
My friends loved it.
I gained a few new fans but for the most part, no one really seemed to be aware of its existence.
Christmas came and went.
We rang in a new year.
2020.
I was the lead in a cool indie film called Blood On Her Name that started streaming in February.
The weeks ticked by and the show seemed to be largely ignored. Season 1, it seemed, was not making a big splash.
March comes. You know what happens in March of 2020. Worrying about how a show was doing felt trivial in March of 2020.
April comes. I am home. We are home. We are all home. I long for the days of being sent an audition for which I can play my own camera operator and put on makeup. Instead, I film a Shakespearean soliloquy for instagram, plant tomato seedlings, and share in the homeschooling of my children.
Everyone is watching TV. A lot of TV. I wonder why Hulu is not promoting us more, giving us another boost, given that… everyone is watching a lot of TV right now. They do not.
May comes. My children will not go back to school this year after “a few weeks,” it seems. So many children will not go back to school. So many parents will be desperate for options. So many people will suffer. There is no way to quantify or compare suffering during this time. And so many people will bring beauty from ashes. Patrick Stewart will read all the sonnets for us. Mo Willems will teach my children art classes. My neighbors will ensure that the elderly among us receive groceries without having to leave their homes. I will zoom with three different friend groups nearly every week. I will survive. And you, you survived.
I got the call in June. A missed call from my manager. Another. I didn’t want to call him back because I knew. But I wanted to hear it from him and not on Deadline. So, I called. He told me Reprisal would not survive. It would not survive the pandemic, or making-art-during-capitalism, or whatever behind-the-scenes drama I was not privy to. My series regular contract was gone again. The gift of scripts written for me was gone. But the whole world was as shaky as I’ve ever known it, so I couldn’t even cry.
The world had forever changed in that year since I’d taken the first call from Thom, telling me a dream had come true. The world, my world, our world was a fundamentally different place.
Now, four years later, I walk among the unmasked faces and wonder if we’re all wearing a different kind of mask, one that pretends we didn’t all go through the pandemic years. A mask that has forgotten the isolation and fear, forgotten the ashes the beauty came from.
Last month I went to LA for a film festival and had dinner with Josh, the showrunner, for the first time in over four years. We laughed and shared long overdue stories. We teared up over what it all meant to us. Catharsis is sitting with someone who knows how to write for you and hearing a few more things they might’ve written. Catharsis is looking each other in the eye after a margarita and accepting how timing, an unmeritocratic industry, and just dumb luck meant a dead end for one magnificent story. Heartbreak alone is isolating, heartbreak together is catharsis.
When I find a cathartic rose in a sea of almost forgotten ashes, you can bet I’ll run and scratch both hands on the thorns to pluck it.
Quote of the Week
“My rage intensifies because I am not a victim. It burns in my psyche with an intensity that creates clarity. It is a constructive, healing rage… a way for us to learn to see clearly.”
~bell hooks
I always get a little giddy rush when my email tells me you’ve written us another post. And once again, you’ve managed to make me smile and break my heart all at the same time.
Bethany, thank you so much for writing this. Not only do you write beautifully, but you also think and feel beautifully. I did watch Reprisal, and it was stunning. I'm so sorry it was cancelled.