Back on TV…

Tuesday, October 12th, 2010 in: News

The afternoon after being ambushed by the casting director, she told me that I had a choice to either go stay at a hotel near the shooting location or get picked up at 5 in the morning the following day. I didn’t really have my own place, and had been imposing myself on my friends at the sushe, I choose door number one. So the adventure began a little earlier than expected.

That is, it would have, if the driver was on time and not two hours late.

When they finally arrived it was almost 9pm. The casting director had been waiting on the couch in the hotel lobby since 7pm. I marveled at the spare time at her command. We stopped at a McDonald’s to get me dinner, and about an hour later arrived at the hotel. The front desk almost refused to give me a room for lack of the ID they didn’t tell me to bring. Despite the fact that I wasn’t making the reservation, someone is really keen on tracking my movements. I’ll have to keep my eyes open, they’re onto me…

The room was a double with two saggy mattresses. The TV had 36 channels, 30 of which were dedicated to some special news broadcast. I read until I fell asleep, waking up just in time for a pathetic hotel breakfast of boiled tea eggs and runny rice porridge with a couple different pickled things. I’m usually all for pickled stuff, but China overdoes it sometimes.

The set was at a ski resort about a half hour away. The summer left it mostly empty, the perfect location to shoot a hotel drama. The casting director kept having me repeat a bunch of lines in Chinese. That’s right, I actually had a speaking part. In fact, my part provides some much-needed character development. If my brother is reading this, I got a speaking part on TV before you, nyah nyah Joey.

I changed in the ski locker room into a silly bright printed t-shirt, tight jeans and sneakers too small for my feet. I was glad I brought my own socks: they always forget the socks. My “co-star” was a pretty young Ukrainian girl, who had lived in China for about 7 years since her father worked here. Her Chinese was vastly superior to my own, but as fate would have it, I had all the lines. Allow me to set up the scene for you.

The show is about a guy and a girl at this hotel, where I believe both of them work. The girl is your typical Chinese ideal heroine, quiet, buttoned down, mostly passive, pretty but doesn’t seem to realize or flaunt it. The guy is a little more assertive, trying to bring her out of her shell. I’m guessing they eventually fall for each other and overcome some sort of obstacles to live happily ever after, but for now, they are just friends.

Rewind back five years. My character, an Italian named Robert (what, don’t I look it? Didn’t you know that all laowai could pass for all other laowai?), was a guest at their hotel, back when the girl first started. We apparently spent a lot of time together, watching fireworks and I wooed her back into my room, where I either just kissed her or… well, the backstory is a little fuzzy. Either way, she fell in love with me, but when I left the hotel, I disappeared, and she was forced to recover from her heartbreak. Today, five years later, I am back at the hotel, checking in once again.

With my new wife.

Our first scene was walking up to check into our room. With my arm around my wife, I go on about how I was there five years ago and the “service is excellent.” I was told to just make up some things about the hotel, with a few notes from the director, a funny guy who spoke excellent English. We had to reshoot a few times, because the director couldn’t feel the passion. “You’re newlyweds! You act like you just met. More kissy kissy, muah muah muah, be in love!” He made a funny little dance, hugging himself to show that he wanted newlywed mushy stuff. We did just meet, I thought to myself. I was comfortable hamming up the role, but I could sense that my young bride was uneasy, so it was all air kisses and cheek to cheek. All the better, she was a heavy smoker anyways. I angled it so the camera couldn’t tell the difference. I thought of the little things I do unconsciously when I actually develop feelings for someone: holding her hand and pull it up for a kiss (the director loved that), placing my hand in the small of her back, slowly guiding her to her mark. It was a weird experience, I’m not entirely sure how I managed to remember my lines whilst forgetting that there were 50 people standing around us, pointing cameras and bright lights in our faces.

The funny thing was my lines, although written in Chinese in the script, were to be delivered in English mostly in this scene. Oh well, so much for all that practice. My rambling improv was terrible, but I said it with enough confidence to fool the average Chinese person. “Darling! This hotel is wonderful! They have golf courses, swimming pools, horse racing, and in the evening, they wheel a grand piano into the cafe for jazz concerts, I was here five years ago and the service is excellent.” I turn to the counter “你们的服务非常好，对不对？哈哈！” My character is such a blowhard, I feel sorry for his wife.

When the director was satisfied, he repositioned the cameras and made us repeat the scene a few more times, to get a good reaction shot of the heroine recognizing me and skulking away, only to be confronted by the love interest, whom she pulled into another room to explain her sordid past.

After maybe about 45 minutes of shooting, we went to another part of the resort to wait and eat our crappy lunches. Nothing makes you miss Japanese bento quite like Chinese bento–I ate quickly to avoid tasting it. My wife was also exhausted; being the young socialite that she is, she had been out partying until early morning, leaving her with little sleep. This marriage won’t last long if she carries on like this.

The next scene would take place in the hotel restaurant. The heroine and her male companion spot my wife and I going to dinner, and decide to follow us. We get seated first, and they take the table next to us. I’m wearing big designer sunglasses, sitting inside a restaurant in a bright yellow t-shirt with pink writing on it, truly a quality human being. My wife and I are meant to chat with each other like normal, making up whatever popped into our heads. The mics weren’t on us, so it was just for visual effect. I cracked jokes to get her to loosen up a bit; the nap didn’t seem to elevate her mood much. I remembered the last time I’d done this with Megan, Alan and Adrienne; Megan was a much better conversationalist, or maybe it was just that I didn’t have to pretend to like her. Finally, the dialogue between the real stars had led up to the climatic confrontation.

The male lead was trying to convince his friend to go confront me but she was refusing, saying the timing wasn’t right. After we ordered, he stopped the waiter and said “We’ll have whatever he just ordered.” When the waiter came back, he stopped the waiter and demanded to be served my pasta (what, I am Italian, after all), since it was the same dish. I notice the commotion, and the waiter comes to apologize. “I’m sorry sir, we’ll get you another dish right away, alright?”

“What, no, it’s not alright! 不好！” I stand up and walk over to them, addressing the guy.

“诶哥们儿，你有什么问题吗？这个意大利面是我的太太点的。Hey buddy, is there a problem? That’s my wife’s pasta.”

He stands up quickly, eyeing me suspiciously. “Are you Robert?” He means to ask, but he fumbles the name. I’m confused. “Who? 什么？什么罗波？”

The girl starts whispering my name, and he begins to ask again, but waves it off. “It doesn’t matter what your name is, do you know this girl?” He points to her, still seated, staring at the plate of noodles (which looked decidedly inedible up close). I look down at her. “不认识. Don’t know her.”

He’s surprised. I am a bigger douchebag than I originally thought; not only did I court this woman, I had completely forgotten about her! “Are you sure??” I laugh it off and grab the plate off the table, saying in English “You guys are crazy!” But he quickly grabs the plate from me, sticking his finger up. “I want you to take a gooooooood look,” he slowly draws my eyes to her face with his extended finger. “Are you SURE you don’t know her?”

Willing to humor them one last time, I scrutinize her face, searching my memory. I slowly remove my sunglasses, and my face twists into an expression of recognition. “Hmm, hm? ah, ahhhhhhh, no.” At this, she bolts upright, ripping the pasta from her friends hands and flings it at me, ruining my $1 designer t-shirt. Her friend and I are both dumbfounded, and he grabs her hand and they run off, leaving me to mouth obscenities at their backs, as my wife comes up to find out what just happened. My character got what he deserved, a cold pile of wet noodles to the chest.

“可以了！OK, that’s a wrap” The director thanked us for our time and we got a group shot with him and the other actors. I changed back into my less-douchey street clothes, and met back up with my costar and the casting lady to wait for our ride home.

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