MAUREEN TIAN
FILMING WRAPPED up last month, the promotional rollout began shortly after, and boy did we need a lot of it.
I was told the movie was edited and in its final form, but I couldn't find the courage to watch it in its entirety alone. I appreciated the film for what it was and the stepping stone it offered me, yet I wasn't completely in love with it like I thought I'd be.
There was a week or so until it was actually released to the public, but there were actually a few pre-showings already. The critical reception was overwhelmingly negative, despite the all-star cast, citing the unoriginal script, awkward cinematography, and mediocre performances from the protagonists as their main complaints. The last one must've stung Mabel because I noticed she was a bit more on edge recently.
I honestly don't know what I was expecting. Why they hired a male director to oversee the creative process for a film targeted towards young females was beyond me.
Point was, we couldn't rely on the quality of the movie or the name recognition of the cast to bring in numbers.
Lucia, who had put way too much faith in the director's blockbuster track record, was in the driver's seat of the marketing, and she was not joking when she said she was going to make this movie a hit, regardless of the cost.
Flyers were sent out to every mailbox, the ad played virtually everywhere, and most importantly, she booked us for a plethora of events.
One of which was a late night show appearance featuring Atticus and me.
Mabel and Alistair had gone the week prior, so this was the next big push.
I never admitted it out loud, but I was so excited and giddy I couldn't sleep for days leading up to it. It was my big television debut, and this specific program garnered millions of viewers every single showing. This was an opportunity for me to become an A-lister and gain a bigger following.
The host of the show, Isaiah Davidson, was equal parts suave and witty. I wasn't a huge fan, but my cousin was, and he frequently played the reruns of the show while he waited for dinner to be prepared. I remember him having a simplistic set-up that was reminiscent of a coffee shot. The show desired to emanate the same vibe: a casual, yet intimate meeting between two old friends over warm beverages. Perhaps that's what made it so wildly popular.
Despite knowing that, Irma had us show up in formal attire. Me, in a sleeveless silk dress with a sweetheart neckline and ruffled cross-section. Him, in a suit, of course. I get it, he wasn't a fashionista, but neither was I, and I still put in the effort instead of opting for the safe option, mostly because it was expected of me
I was a bundle of nerves the minute before we were about to be seated. Atticus, who stood right beside me with one hand in his pocket and the other in front of his face to check the time on his Rolex, looked composed. He had been interviewed many times, some with Davidson, so he knew how to behave. Me? I had a list of questions I anticipated would be asked of me and rehearsed my answers until I memorized them. Yeah, I was wildly neurotic like that.
"Calm down," he told me, "he's a nice guy, I promise."
I didn't doubt that fact, although I hadn't been formally introduced to him. But it was easy for him to say. He had the experience. "I'm not scared of him, I'm scared of me fucking it up."
"There is no possible way for you to fuck this up," he reassured me, "just be yourself."
Being myself had gotten me absolutely nowhere in life, and in fact, it's even held me back from reaching my full potential, so I wasn't sure where this bullshit advice was coming from. Before I could respond, the blinding lights were turned onto the highest notch, and an audience's applause was welcoming us onto the stage.
