Life imitating art

The drinks they were giving out at the awards ceremony were definitely not strong enough. I deftly pick up 2 full glasses from the server just seconds after placing down my empty one. The warm Californian sunshine was blinding and I felt hot in my new Armani but this is what I had wanted all my life: walking the red carpet amongst the top ‘dramatis personae’ in Hollywood, separated nicely from the crowds and paparazzi all beckoning from beyond the barriers.

And yet I felt sick - nothing to do with the bad Prosecco or the nomination – it’s the guilt - sitting in my stomach like a bad meal. My vision goes blurry for a split second, and looking down I noticed both my glasses were already empty. Have to be careful. Have to keep it together. If I was going to pull this off then I needed to be sober.

My ‘plus one’ and annoying flat-mate Ryan was not helping. I could sense his shiny sunglasses, hipster beard and bright purple suit ever-present beside me. ‘Guess who I’ve just seen?’, he said, a bit too loudly.  ‘That actress from that crime series everyone was watching last year – based in Norway or somewhere. You know – it’s called ‘Crime Hurts’ or something’. ‘You will have to narrow it down a bit,’ I said dryly, ‘and keep your voice down. Low profile. Remember!’

Ryan was a year-two drama student with pretentions of imminent fame, and it’s his damn fault I’m in this mess. I never should have agreed to bring him, in fact why did I. Oh yeah – I remember - he threated to expose it all if I didn’t. I had to agree - but insisted he grew a beard and talked to no one. ‘Don’t worry he said – I will just tell everyone I am the inspiration for your main character.’

In a way I suppose he was. When I was desperate I had to cast him and his ‘am-dram’ girlfriend Courtney (pretty, blonde, dumb) in the leading roles. ‘Oceans run deep’ was a captivating short story about a young couple in love and how it all goes wrong (very wrong) with the pressures and stereo-typical problems of life in mid-town Chicago. We filmed most of it in our flat share with some of the outside shots on location and an abandoned warehouse was used for the final climax - a very realistic murder scene. I had to add some effects of course to cover their acting but all in all it was very convincing (too convincing!)

He fancies himself as a great actor of course, waiting for the big break. Little does he know his bad acting actual helped this miracle happen. Yes, it was a miracle. Or is it a curse. I shudder at what I had done – am I really going to go through with this. I just don’t deserve it. And yet… I NEED this award. My career is no-go. I have nothing else. I can’t serve food in small wooden kiosks any longer. My parents – Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman (long may they live and continue to finance my movie making career) will be watching the show on TV. Winning this award will give me the exposure I need – I could pretty much write my own ticket. But then I think of Courtney’s photogenic face staring at the camera. Her innocence. She didn’t even know what me and Ryan had planned; the poor thing thought it was a college project or something.

Ryan has wondered off, I can hear him laughing with the ‘what’s her name’ actress - telling her ‘My girlfriend left me’, (he needs to shut up about Courtney), ‘she went off somewhere backpacking in New Guinea or somewhere. Probably never see her again.’  

I turn to remind him if people ask about Courtney we tell them she went to Australia (Can’t be contacted. No she didn’t leave a forwarding address)  - when suddenly Max Walburton’s face blocks my view.

Max is one of the competitors in my category and a cliché of long hair, tiny round glasses, ‘surf dude’ banter and a pasty complexion to contradict it all. His bitchy girlfriend is hanging off his shoulders like a pet snake with a face constantly locked in a expression of contempt for everything in its eyeline. Even his pithy film entry (a 20 min ‘thriller’ about a mouse stuck under a cupboard, hunted by a cat, and the worst ‘Deus ex’ ever) deserves this more than I do.

‘Hey Matt. Dude. Watched your short today – so amazing man. It was so ‘real’ – so perfect. A sure thing - it’s your day this time. You are a master. I prostrate myself before you.’ And he performs an elaborate low mock bow before me, long overcoat draping on the floor. I can’t decide if he just taking the piss or is just trying to be humble so he can look more surprised when he wins. ‘Well I think we all have a chance’, I mumble. The Anaconda just looks off into the distance. Max suddenly spots someone more important and they both swivel in unison like joined up Siamese twins, ‘catch ya later bro’. There is a loaded presence behind his small grin and chuckle as he walks away. Does he know something? Can he tell from the early screening? Would a professional eye spot what the casual observer (and  obviously the judges) cannot? He would like nothing better than to throw me to the dogs (or snakes).

Felicity Grayson strolls over. Her long bracelets dangle over tanned wrinkled forearms. Her eyes attempt sultry and her chin is in the air. She is a top producer and in the past a serial ‘rejecter’ of my work. ‘Mathew, darling’ (a kiss on both cheeks?), ‘how are you. I’m hearing big things about you and your little movie.’

‘All good I hope’, is all I can say and immediately regret it. 

‘Not just ‘good’ darling! The word is ‘Brilliant’! Your story of love broke down, the tension, the humanity of strained choices.’ She looks up into the sky above as if reliving the screening. ‘A classic story. Such great scripting, and such a brave decision to go black and white.’

In my head I laugh ironically. No Felicity, not brave, it was a necessary filter I needed to help pull this stupid stunt off. And yes, it was a great script - a great story. Took me over a year to write. That’s why I fell short at the end – ran out of time – got desperate. Felicity is still cooing. ‘We must talk when this little ‘jaunt’ is over. Chao for now. Will call you – you clever thing.’ And off she twirled to purr and swoon over the next potential talent to be found.

Don’t know if I can do this much longer. Are all the free drinks gone? I look round, but all I see is empties. Christ, don’t actors ever buy their own drinks.

They are calling us in for the ceremony dinner. It’s now or never. I could sneak out the back, run away and refuse the award on religious grounds, pull out of the running before it’s too late. Then the film gets ignored. Can be forgotten. And not examined for mistakes (or evidence).

I head for the exit when an arm scoops me up and guides me through the double doors. ‘Come on Matty, stay cool, need your nerves for that big speech tonight when we win.’ Ryan is confident at least and we get caught up in the stream of A-listers and film making hopefuls.

Many drinks and an unfinished meal later I am still craning my neck searching for the exits looking like a meercat on the prairie. Can’t believe I am actually going to do this. I look down at my scrawny chicken carcass in cream sauce and envy the lack of choices it had in its short life. I recognize no one on my table - except Dave of course, still chatting to the actress who is actually lapping it up. Has he forgotten Courtney so quickly. At least where she’s gone there will be no repercussions. Maybe my relief at that indicates that perhaps I do want this after all. I do want to cheat and get away with it. Fact is – I appear to be staying put.

Several awards later - they’ve announced my category and heart rate goes from ‘frantic’ to ‘liable to collapse’. Clips of the four contenders have been shown (I cannot watch mine – it’s obvious - but no one spots it). Now the golden envelope of fate is in the hands of the host who opens it with care and announces:

‘And the winner is Mathew Zimmerman for ‘Oceans run deep’.

I gasp. Somehow I manage to stand up. I wonder if Courtney will see this in Australia. I smile for the first time tonight and head for the stage:  Mathew Zimmerman – winner of the Best CGI Animated Short Movie.