Every actor has this fear that they're going to be offered a project that they don't necessarily support, and I feel as if the fear only grows when it comes to commercials.
This could mean being on a Pro Life-commercial when you're staunchly Pro Choice, talking about the wonder that is the medicine that you're on (for Herpes...when you don't really have it, but it now seems as if you do to the entire rest of the world), or just generally promoting a product that you know from personal experience absolutely sucks.
The fear can be pseudo large and pretty legitimate. I mean, is a grand really worth it? Seventeen grand?
...Three hundred dollars?
What do you do?
And then, beyond that, there are just certain commercial platforms that seem 100% taboo--like "Why in the hell would I ever want to shoot something like that? Embarrassing."
Most specifically: the infomercial.
Somewhere, there is a woman who is driving her kid to her first date at a miniature golf course/crock potting dinner/buying a pair of Jimmy Choos/blowing lines, and this woman has the "privilege" of saying that she paraded around in Pajama Jeans on an infomercial. Saucily.
Someone somewhere has "Fallen, and they can't get up."
Someone somewhere has enthusiastically chugged a Magic Bullet-smoothie, ShamWowwed the hell out of the hood of their car, donned a Bump-It in their hair before a manufactured night out with an imaginary group of girls, and all with a thumbs-up and a series of nods of approval to the camera.
"This product is genius--and so am I!"
...This happens. Obviously. And we all know it, because we see these people constantly, and point and laugh and say "HaHA! That looks dumb."
Well, imagine my surprise this past Friday when my manager sent out an email saying that they had a last minute infomercial project come up and that the shoot would be on Monday "Would anyone be interested in helping out?"...and that I replied YES!!!!! before I really got the chance to think about what I was signing on for.
And then all of a sudden...all of a sudden, I'm about to become "that girl". ...Hmph.
That. Girl.
Who's on the wrong bus heading towards Jersey at 8am. Then stranded in the middle of a mall parking lot with 5 (perfectly nice) strangers at 8:30. Then picked up by a director--tan, floppy blonde hair and shades--in his jeep and escorted to the studio smack in the middle of a quiet unassuming little suburb.
(So far...so far all of this seems exactly precisely right.)
And it's all there:
The super bright ready-to-go "kitchen", complete with dishwasher sink stove oven big fat fridge and the longest countertop on an island you've ever seen.
The super bright ready-to-go "bedroom".
The super bright ready-to-go "laundry space" (with shelves lined with canisters of OxyClean..."This is where Billy Mays shot, ya know.").
All roped off, but all absolutely poised and on the ready, available at any time...for magic.
And then there--off in a little room all by itself--was the display desk. The infamous display desk where said presenter presents the product surrounded by a bunch of women who ask silly questions, only to nod with approval to the camera in front of them when they discover that "Yes, grape juice really does lift off of your whites in a snap! when you use blahblahblah!!!"
Crazy crazy business.
But there it was, all right there in front of me. And I had to shake my head a few times to actually convince myself of what I was about to do--This is so silly!!!--but then kinda stepped back and thought about it for a second, and went Meh. Or maybe not. It's still a gig, and maybe...maybe it's actually fine.
...
Surprises are always nice.
I like em. Specifically when I've walked into a situation not feeling stellar, and I get this little surprise of "pleasant" thrown my way.
So, it was nice to realize that the product I was promoting was actually really kinda cool. (A bit of a glorified spy-tool to use on your kids...but pretty damn clever just the same.)
Even more nice: I was going to be acting! Like for real! Nothing shmaltzy smile-wink-nod-like, but like actually something character-driven: a TESTIMONIAL!!! I GET TO DO A TESTIMONIAL!!! SWEET!!!!
...As the mother of an 8 year-old boy. ... 8.
"You don't quite look old enough to have a teenager yet," (THANKS!!!...) "But...yeah, 8 should work."
(Arrrrrrgh.)
"So, Angela, how many kids do you have?"
...Wait. Really?
"Yeah! You do...?"
Nooooo. No. I don't. ...Yet.
"Oh. ...You married?"
Nooooo...
"Oh. ...You're not even thirty yet, are you?"
Nope, not quite.
"Hmph."
(What the hell does that mean?! ...These are just not the kind of complexes I was expecting to have on the set of an infomercial.)
And yet there I am, requestioning my life choices, as per.
Am I going to have to bounce an 8 year-old on my knee throughout said testimonial?
Do I have to give the camera a thumbs-up and a wink?
Do I have to fake cry?
Will I be the one offering this product up to the American infomercial-watching audience with the utmost enthusiasm screaming "And if you act now, you'll get a complimentary green tea moisturizer from Proactiv! Six month's worth, yours for only an additional $14.95!" ?!
Where's Richard Simmons? Suzanne Sommers?! WHAT IS HAPPENING IN MY LIFE?!
I wait a series of hours before they film my testimonial--the last segment of the day. And I'm walking away from the make-up chair towards the ready-to-go "bedroom" in my Mommy-appropriate T-shirt and jeans, but with a mug that looked like a cross between a drag queen and a Bratz-doll (I really don't think I'd trust any testimonial from any mother of an 8 year-old who looks like this. I wouldn't.) and I pause.
You DID sign-up for this--voluntarily.
There ARE moms who look like you, with this...face on--just not in Park Slope.
These people are NICE, they gave you COFFEE...and it's a GIG, ANGELA!!!
Get over yourself and do the damn thing, and act the part--without judgement. No. Judgement.
...
And honestly? It really wasn't bad. It wasn't. At the end of the day, it was a pretty mellow shoot (and yes, that in itself was a huge surprise) promoting a pretty decent product, and it was a pretty good time.
It was work. Work I could, at the end of the day, legitimately find a way to get behind. And I did.
I have to believe that that will always be the most important thing to this business, for me anyway: Can I actually find a way to get behind this?
If I can, then where's the problem? There simply isn't one.
If I can't...
...Well then how far will I go? How much will I just suck it up?
When would it just not be worth it anymore?
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