Without further adieu, I give you,
Behind the Mask
1. A Day in the Life
Concealer, foundation, rouge, mascara. These are the tools of my trade. I use some more than others and these are but a few of the many products I use. The fact of the matter is, it all comes down to one thing, my reason for living - I make people beautiful. I live to make people beautiful.
I see things that many people don't - jumbo sized pores, unholy blemishes, bothersome birth marks, and sneaky wrinkles. But with a wave and swoop of my magic brush it all gets covered and no one but me and the face in question knows of the imperfections that were at hand before my cavalcade of cosmetics saved the day. I am the super hero of the beauty world - more importantly the celebrity beauty world… well now I should say 'was.'
A few wrong brushstrokes and snips of the tweezers saw Linsday Lohan on the "Worst Dressed List with an Emphasis in Poor Makeup.' And before I could say 'rehab,' my good name was dragged through Hollywood mud. You may think that all Miss LiLo cares about is where she'll get her next snort of blow from, but her opinion on a good make-up artist carries a lot of swag in such a small community of starlets. As far as they're concerned having my hands anywhere near their plastic faces is just as bad as having gravity and old age rubbing against them. I couldn't even touch Britney's face post Federline divorce and that's saying a lot.
Thankfully the Disney Studios took pity upon me and took me on as a make up artist for their live action films. Much to my remaining friend's chagrin, I was flown down to the Bahamas for three months of applying fake beards on extras for this little film called Pirates of the Caribbean. And then the unthinkable happened - the head make up artist went on sudden maternity leave and I was the only one capable of handling the trio.
Bloom. Depp. Knightley.
If you put those three names together before the release of the Pirates franchise it probably wouldn't mean anything. Now, it makes goth high school girls squeal with delight and grown men wish they were pirates. And, because I was able to apply black eyeliner on men just right, I was thrown back into the daily grind of being one of Hollywood's go to make up designers. Of course I didn't go back to making people beautiful - quite the contrary. I guess the Disney people saw I had more to give and instead of keeping me to make up the faces of the up and coming teen idols, they sent me out into the world of Studio Make Up Design with a butt load of references and the promise that if it didn't work out - I could always come back and poke Johnny Depp with an eye pencil for a slated fourth Pirates film.
So instead of applying matte lipstick to Jennifer Hudson for the Oscars, I was applying fake scars and gore to a legion of vampires for some random graphic novel film. I discovered the world of freelance make up design and I've been shuttled around from studio to studio ever since I was released from Disney. It hasn't been that bad, the work has been steady and I've been appointed as Head Make-up Designer for almost every film I've worked on. It pays well, I get to dish to my few friends outside of Hollywood about which famous face I had my hands all over that day, and more than once I've been approached by the media to give a tell-all about George Clooney and his dating habits.
Of course whenever the cameras come towards me, I find myself moving in the opposite direction. There's a reason why I get other people camera ready and stay hidden in the make-up trailer. Sure I did some theatre in high school, but that's where it ended. That's not the kind of life I want, and I sure as hell am not looking for a film career. No thank you, I'll pass.
I'm perfectly fine watching others get all the acclaim; I can take pride in the fact that I was able to get them looking ready for their close up. While I know I wont' be making it into the thank yous of any Oscar acceptance speeches, my work will be apart of cinema history. And that's all I can ask for, really.
At this point in my life I'm in that weird transitional period between films. I finished up a gory vampire drama almost a month ago and the three weeks leading up to tomorrow was all pre-production and design meetings with the crew for a new film Fox Searchlight is doing. My days have been spent talking to the head of the costume department, the assistant director, the producers, and all the boring stuff that normal people just don't care about. I'm a geek and a slave to my craft, what else can I say?
Today I was getting the make-up trailer squared away for tomorrow when principal photography begins. Tomorrow is the big day - meeting the cast, starting the filming, and getting the lay of the land for the next three months. It really does feel like it's the eve of the first day of school. I just have to make sure I get some sleep tonight.
Although when I spot the truck/trailer combo that is a rare commodity in my life next to my parking space as I pull up to my place in Topanga Canyon, I have a feeling sleep is going to be very limited.
The smell of ganja hits me full force as I open the door to the small house I share with my older sister Eleanor. I roll my eyes as I throw the keys to my car on the entry way table. My sister doesn't touch the stuff and neither do I, which can only mean one thing:
Sergeant Pepper is staying over. Again.
I guess I should make it clear that my parents were crazy social activists growing up in the sixties and seventies…alright, I admit, they were hippies to the core and my siblings and I are their flower children and living homage to their number one obsession in life - The Beatles. We're all named after one of their famous songs: Eleanor Rigby Asherbee, Penelope "Penny" Lane Asherbee, and Sergeant Pepper Asherbee. I think I got the better end of the deal. I just thank God that they didn't settle on Prudence or Lucy for me.
We grew up in Northern California - dad teaches at Berkley and mom's specialty is environmental law. They both pushed for their kids to make something out of their lives and tried to keep us out of HelL.A. for as long as possible, but Eleanor and I immersed ourselves into Hollywood. Sarge is the only one who does our parents any justice.
He's a semi-professional surfer who would rather die than sell out. His address is the pick-up truck/trailer that's currently parked outside the house and his port of calls are various parking lots adjacent to SoCal beaches. Whenever he runs out of food, gas, or money, he makes his way to our humble Topanga abode to shack up for a few days.
And it's not like Elle and I can turn him away - Sarge is our baby brother.
Our pot smoking, surfer dude slacker brother, but our brother all the same.
"Dude…" his voice sounds from the other room, "is that you, Pen? You gotta try this weed, totally top notch."
I make my way into the family room watching as Sarge takes a hit off his pipe before exhaling through an empty paper towel role stuffed with dryer sheets. At least he's making an effort to keep the pungent smell mountain spring fresh.
"I'll pass, Sarge," I mumble as I sit down in the chair next to the couch he's occupying, "Where's Elle?"
"Office? I think…" his voice is foggy and if I'm not mistaken he's going to forget about the pipe and just ride the high out for about an hour, "working on a rewrite…"
Eleanor writes scripts and is a pick up writer for a bunch of different major network shows. The woman is so attached to her computer I think it's the only honest relationship she's ever had, and I don't think she'll go out looking for company of the non technological persuasion any time soon. Her writing is her marriage and only relationship.
"How long you crashing here for?" I ask my twenty- two year old brother. He shakes his head, his floppy mane of blonde hair cascading into his eyes. He shrugs before taking a deep puff on his pipe. Once he's satisfied, he lets it rest on the coffee table. I know he's going to be worthless to talk to, so I opt for better company.
Passing the stairs that would take me up to our bedrooms and the one guest, I head towards the small den that serves as Elle's work station. I lean against the doorframe, staring at my sister's back as the glow from the computer screen illuminates her silhouette.
"You really should turn a light on," I announce as I flip on a light switch, "you'll ruin your eye sight."
Eleanor turns around looking slightly miffed that I interrupted her creative flow. She smiles softly, however, and movers her line of sight away from her work.
"When did you get in?"
"Just now. Sarge?" I question.
"Few days. Work?"
"Uneventful," I grin at my older sister. We're lucky enough to have that sibling bond where just a look, a word, or a nod conveys an entire conversation. The woman is my best friend, "I meet my assistants and the cast tomorrow."
"Who is it this time?" Eleanor, like most of the Hollywood crowd except for yours truly, has the need to be in the know twenty-four/seven. Elle knowing surprise additions to the cast, or crew members could open up the right doors for her and her original screenplays noticed. Granted rubbing my shoulders with the high and mighty of Hollywood could open some doors for me as well, but I'm not interested to shoot up to be the best of the best of make up artists within Hollywood. I'm so grateful that all I have to worry about is painting faces and applying gore if need be.
"I was given color sheets for Rachel McAdams, Jude Law, William H. Macy, Sherry Yates, Clark Jones, John Hammond, Valora Francis," I pause to let Eleanor make a face, "and Justin Timberlake."
"So basically the whole cast?"
"Basically, yes. But tomorrow is the 'getting to know you' phase so I'll probably be messing around with their hair and make-up and talking to the artistic director and maybe the director himself."
"Who's got the reigns?" she asks intrigued.
"Jeff Kinney…never worked with him before," I remark, "then again, I don't know who's on my team either."
One of the nice things about being considered the top of your field in Hollywood is you know pretty much everyone worth knowing. I have a sort of unspoken camaraderie with other top make-up artists in the industry. We know which underlings work well and which ones to avoid. The thing that concerns me is the name on my roster are ones I've never heard of before. And if the studio is giving me a handful of rookies to take care of an all-star cast, then I'm going to have my work cut out for me.
"Well good luck with that, I certainly don't envy you," she responds before turning her focus back to her work. She is so goal oriented and fixated on her job that I have a hard time wondering why she doesn't already have nominations out the ass.
I head back towards the living room, hoping Sarge has completed his smoking for the evening. I haven't smoked any pot since high school, but for some odd reason I have this sinking feeling that this upcoming production is going to be one hell of a stressful time.
I'm apart of a world where almost everyone has a hidden agenda. The people of Hollywood do one thing but the subtext is completely different story. If you don't fall perfectly into their assembly line, then you aren't worth their time. I've managed to stay true to who I am this long, and hopefully after this stint with Fox Searchlight, I'll be able to finally retire from the film industry and focus on my own make up line.
Because the longer I stay, the more I think that the legions of Hollywood are dragging me down with them.
As soon as this film, Southern Sunset, wraps, I'm retiring from film.
Period.
*~*~*~*~*
The first day of principal photography always makes me nervous.
I don't know why. I've met the cast, I've met most of the upper echelon of the crew, I have a good understanding of my character, and I know I don't suck because the studio picked me to take on the role.
Maybe because no matter how many films I have under my belt, it still seems almost completely foreign to me. My world is music, stages, and thousands of screaming women every single night. Not boom mikes, gaffers, and pick ups. Granted I've gotten a lot better at this sort of thing and it isn't that much different from shooting a music video. Well the last time I checked, music videos only take three days to shoot, not three and a half months.
Or maybe it's just this particular type of film. I've done my share of dramatic roles, but this is far different from anything I've tackled. I'm not a lead by any means - I've always shied away from the lead roles because while I think I can handle that kind of pressure, I really don't want the whole crux of the film on my shoulders.
I know, hard to grasp: Justin Timberlake afraid of tackling a leading role in a big film - maybe a few years from now when I'm not too focused on my music. But for right now, I'm fine with about an hour or less of camera time.
But this movie is different. For one, I'm really stepping outside of my comfort zone. Most of the roles I've done have been comedic, or run of the mill kind of guys thrown into a really sticky situation. My character for this film, Nathan Trent, is in a sticky situation…one I would never want to be in for as long as I live.
Then again, his situation would never happen to me because: A - My family is not a really strict, radical southern family and B - I'm not gay.
My agent came to me almost half a year ago with a script that he said would, 'secure my place in the upper hierarchal ladder of young Hollywood.' The film was Southern Sunrise - a tale of a close knit, deep-seated family living in the heart of Georgia. The oldest daughter brings her liberal, free thinking fiancé home from California to meet the family for Thanksgiving. Her grandfather still thinks the South is in the Civil War (and winning), her mother is a God-fearing, Baptist Sunday school teacher, and the father is a close minded bigot who would rather die than admit he's wrong about anything. The daughter has to deal with her two younger siblings and the problems they're going through as well. There's her younger sister, Gabby who is the town darling, and is destined to live and die in the small Georgian town but wants bigger things, and then her brother, Nathan (that would be me!). Nathan brings his best friend from college home for Thanksgiving and it isn't until later in the film that we find out the best friend in question is really his lover.
Yeah…a real crazy family drama, but something that my agent thought I should get my hands into all the same. For a while we were pushing for me to play the part of the fiancé because it has some great comedic moments, but for some reason I wanted to step into Nathan's shoes, wanted to try something different.
So cue me doing screen tests and finally signing on for the project.
And as the caravan of cars carrying my entourage and me pull into the Fox studio lots, I can't help but feel nervous as hell.
The only thing that's keeping me sane is the ringing of my phone telling me that I have a text message. I quickly grab for my phone and flip it open, revealing a message from my current squeeze - Clarissa.
'Hey babe. I miss you, have fun on set today and we'll have to celebrate when you get home. Alone.'
Such a loaded message and my mind runs wild with the different possibilities Clarissa has lined up for me when I eventually get done shooting today. She's a great girl - a model, and someone I've been seeing for about two weeks now…she's got killer legs. Oh man her legs go on for days…
"Justin, hey perk up," Rachel, my cousin, nudges me, pulling me out of my silent fantasies. I turn to look at her and see that our car has stopped in front of a small army of golf carts. There's a young woman standing next to one, looking slightly anxious. She's holding onto a clipboard of monumental proportions and she's mumbling into a walkie-talkie with her free hand.
"Welcome to the studios, Mr. Timberlake!" she exclaims excitedly as she clips the intercom onto her belt. She extends her hand and I take it with a firm shake, "I'm Leslie, I'm the PA to the Production Assistant and I'll be showing you around set this morning. Can we get you anything waiting for you in your trailer? Coffee? Soda? Water?"
"No. I'm fine," I state. The one thing I hate about the first days is that everyone starts to kiss your ass and only cares about making sure that you are pleased as punch to be here. Of course, I'm happy as hell to be given this opportunity, but the fact of the matter is - brownnosing gets old after a while.
"Great then let's get started!" she grins as she leads me over to the largest cart. Soon we're zooming between the enormous sound stages, Leslie pointing out where everything is. I'm only half listening of course. I'm currently in a naughty text message conversation with Clarissa, and I know Rachel is paying attention to everything.
"And here is the cast lounge," Leslie states with a flourish as we end our tour, the cart coming to a stop in front of a large white tent, "Mr. Kinney wanted this set up for today so you could get reacquainted before you go into make up."
"Thanks," I state. I've completely forgotten the girl's name and I feel terrible, but the way I see it, there's going to be a billion people to remember and the more important ones need to be remembered in order to ensure a seamless filming process.
Hopping out of the cart, I make my way into the tent to see that most of the cast has already assembled. The cast is all-star at best, and I can't quite believe I was able to land a role with such a great caliber of actors.
Rachel McAdams is the lead and is currently in deep conversation with Jude Law, who will be playing her fiancé. Sherry Yates, William Macy, and John Hammond (Nathan's mother, father, and grandfather respectively) are situated on plush couches, sipping on coffee and laughing about something that happened at a SAG Award after party that took place probably when I was three years old. The only two people left are standing at opposite ends of the room. The woman is screeching into her cell phone and the man is looking like he wants to be involved with the rest of the conversation, but has no idea how to go about doing it.
Those two would be Clark Jones and Valora Francis. Nathan's lover and sister. Clark looks absolutely beside himself with relief as he stalks up to me and shakes my hand. Valora gives me a dismissive look before she rushes from the tent, now muttering into her phone.
"Thank God you're here…I was afraid I was going to have to engage her in actual conversation," Clark whispers to me as he leads me over to the rest of the actors who are all grinning in welcome. "She's been yelling about getting a bigger trailer since she's got here."
I'm about to give him a witty retort when a runner comes bursting into the cast lounge, "I need Luke, Nathan, Bethany, and Gabby in make up please!" I give Clark an apologetic look as I leave him to talk with William, Sherry, and John. I meet Jude and Rachel at the entrance, the runner looking three shades of green.
"Where's Miss Francis?"
"I think she stormed off to her trailer," Rachel offers and the runner adds a fourth shade of green to his already waning face.
"We're already behind schedule. You know where the make up trailer is?" Jude and Rachel nod and I just stand there looking like an idiot, "Tell Penny that Miss Francis will be along shortly." And before we can say anything else, he runs off towards the trailers, looking like a most aggrieved White Rabbit.
"Shall we get going then?" Jude questions before he turns on his heels and walks smoothly towards a line of trailers just down the wide corridor between Soundstage 24 and 25. I cast a wayward glance at Rachel who just smiles and starts off right behind our British co-star.
I guess it's time for me to finally step into Nathan's shoes.
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Sorry it's a bit lengthy, but tell me what you think!
