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American Gay Sad

STAGECRAFT


“Cut! That’s a wrap, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you very much”.


Applause broke out in the studio at this announcement. Even those actors, major and minor players in this movie, and not even on the final day’s call sheet had all turned up to be witness to this last day of filming. For the majority, this would be the pinnacle of their artistic careers; to appear in a movie that starred the great Dirk Hogart. It was a tale that they could recount to their grandchildren long after they had left the glitzy glamour of Hollywood far behind; their acting careers, for some reason, having never quite taken off but, hey, I did play a role in a movie alongside, guess who? Only the number one box office star, the greatest action hero, the handsomest man in the world, the epitome of the silver screen: Dirk Hogart. 


“Hogie” to his legion of fans, had dominated the lives of millions for more than four decades. Just when the rumours would start that, perhaps, the great man had made his last multiplex appearance, an announcement would suddenly materialise like magic in the Hollywood press announcing that he had signed on to head an upcoming feature and the great publicity machinery would begin to crank up yet again on a dizzying spiral all the way to the top of the box office mountain.


Now, on this last day of filming, the megastar sat smiling graciously in his director’s set chair, his name emblazoned on the back, as actors and crew lined up to pay homage. One by one they queued to shake the great man’s hand and receive a wrap present, a tradition that, in its own right, had become a thing of legend for “Hogie”, it was said, gave the exact same, wildly expensive and extravagant present to every single person who had played a part in making this movie. Even when some over exuberant, starstruck crew member requested a photo with their hero, the dazzlingly white smile never left the star’s face as he posed amenably, his blonde locks flowing, nodding along at the platitudes that came his way, hand to heart in gratitude, as if he had never before heard such a wonderful compliment. To each, he muttered the same response.


“You have become a dear, dear friend”.


How they floated away from his presence.


When the director then took to the mic and made a short speech thanking everybody and a set was drawn back revealing the lavish banquet that had also been laid on by the great star for the wrap party, squeals of delight filled the studio as everybody rushed to partake of the sumptuous feast. 


“What a guy”.


“So generous”.


“So gracious”.


“I am sooo going to miss being on this movie”.


“So handsome. How old is he, anyway?”


“Oh my God, it’s a Rolex”.


“And mine says: ‘To Bart, love Hogie’”


With everybody engaged in eating, drinking, gossiping and gawping at the personalised gift inside their wrap box, unnoticed, Ruben Hogenstein, for that was the real name of their generous benefactor, eased himself painfully from his chair and slipped quietly away to his trailer. This customised vehicle was parked in an area outside in the vast grounds of the studio that had been home to “Hogie” ever since his first box office hit so many years previously. The parking site was roped off behind a fake wall and secured by Albert, a studio employee seconded to protect the privacy of the star on every shoot. Striding manfully still, “Hogie” handed Albert the last gift box that he had brought with him to the trailer.


“Oh, Mr Hogart, sir. You are too generous. Thank you so much. Too kind”.


Flashing the smile that had captured a billion hearts worldwide, men and women alike, “Hogie”, for the last time on this set, placed his right hand on his heart and, with consummate acting ability, said: 


“Albert, you are my dear, dear friend. Until the next one”.


Leaving Albert close to tears, the star disappeared behind the wall and, almost immediately, the smile disappeared and his body slumped over as he stood on the bottom step of his trailer and pressed the button on the side of the vehicle which activated the hydraulic step and lifted him up to the sliding door. Pedro, his assistant, slid back the door and helped him inside, closing the portal on the world.


“Why did you take so long? I wait here all alone?”


“Pedro, not now, okay? I had to give out the wrap presents and wait until everybody was distracted. You know the score. Help me to my dressing table”.


“You are too generous. Why you have to be so generous? Is lot of money”


“Look, it’s expected, okay? Give me a break. You did a great job. They loved the watches and the personalised touch. Hey, that security schmuck, it is Albert, right?”


Pedro, a handsome Latino of fifty or so years, nodded and guided his partner to the dressing table of the magnificently appointed trailer and into the plush chair. He then helped remove the jacket and shirt that hid the body brace that enabled the star to maintain his manly pose on set. Caressing “Hogie’s” shoulders, he whined.


“Why I always kept out of sight? You ashamed of me?”


“Not now, please. I’m exhausted. I need a shot”.


“You need to go over the new script. I’ve been asking you for days. The studio wants an answer”.


“The shot, please”, he pleaded.


Pedro, pouting sulkily, retrieved a syringe from a bag and proceeded to inject his lover with the painkilling opiate, a wave of relief spreading over the actor’s reflection in the mirror as the drug started to take effect.


“Oh God, that’s so good. Thank you”.


The word of thanks brought a reluctant grimace to Pedro’s face, the closest he would ever get to a smile.


“Come on, help me get the rest of this stuff off”.


First came the wig, one of several that the trailer contained, expensively fashioned from real Nordic locks, they were as genuine as a hairpiece could look. As Pedro lifted the heavily taped toupee from his head, the actor watched in the mirror as his face changed instantly. Despite the years of plastic surgery, there was no denying his age now as he stared at his baldness. It was the part of this process that he had grown to hate almost as much as the next; the extraction of the fake teeth. A literal fortune had been spent on dentists over the years but the removal of the smile that had enraptured so many hearts was still a slow and painful process because of the additional adhesive used; one that he could never manage on his own and, as Pedro tugged on the snap on, porcelain veneers, the star winced in discomfort, tears forming both from the actual pain as well as the visual pain of seeing what he had become, as he stared at the filed down stumps that remained.


“Ooh, ugly.  Quick, put these in”.


Pedro, grimacing in disgust, handed him a new set, less prominent, less sparkling and he fitted them in.


The final part of the transformation-from the eternally young, glamorous, handsome, macho megastar that everybody envied and longed to be -to the aged, bald, toothless, crippled queen that he really was -never failed to upset him greatly. But no sympathy was forthcoming from his lover.


“Oh please. Always with the tears. Get over it already”.


Ruben Hogenstein used industrial make up swabs to remove the filler and pancake from his face, the process hindered by the tears that continued to run down his cheeks as he stared at the reflection of his partner standing behind him. This man upon whom he had become so dependant. This man who knew all of his secrets, shared his life and his bed. This man who, in reality, he detested. Pedro was not a nice person, unsympathetic and harsh. He never allowed "Hogie" to relax, always driving him on, always demanding that he take on another movie, increase his bank balance but who, somehow, was not appalled at his real self and not at all enamoured of his screen persona. Who else but Pedro would take him if they knew the truth? He would face a life of loneliness; he knew that only too well. For him, the dream of a quiet, sedate, happy retirement would never be. 


Swallowing his regrets and summoning all of his proficient acting skills, resignedly, he reached back and stroked Pedro’s arm lovingly with his left hand, his other hand on his heart.


“ Darling Pedro, what would I do without you? You are my dear, dear friend…and lover”.


For him, the acting would never end.










July 14, 2023 21:12

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2 comments

Rachel Lione
05:11 Jul 23, 2023

I'm posting this on everyone that didn't start with "Cut!" not to be mean...I almost didn't see it either...

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Mary Bendickson
13:38 Jul 15, 2023

Behind the scenes harsh reality.

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