Chapter 1: Artistic Licence

"Have a seat, kid. You want anything to drink?"

"Oh, um, no thank you."

"Alright, then. I guess we'll get down to it. I've got your copy of the script right here. I'm going to give it to you, and I want you to memorize it by the end of the week. From the time you wake up on Sunday to the time we hit post-production, you're Fiddler Green, and you're going to walk, talk, eat, sleep, and breathe accordingly. I know I don't have to tell you how to do your job. You've got a good reputation following you around. I'm just reminding you that it's in your contract this time, so if you slip up even once, that's a violation. Just because you're by yourself doesn't mean that you're off the hook. You've got a lot of fans out there who-"

"With, um, all due respect, Mr. Cut, I really don't think I need the whole speech again. I've been method acting for years now, so the fact that it's in my contract now doesn't really change anything."

"Right, right, right. Well, I'd just hate there to be any confusion about the legal aspects involved here. I know you're not going to try and get out of it. You're a good kid. Me and you, we understand each other, see. It's all about the art of it. All of those Haywood bigwigs might only be interested in making bits off their pictures, but not me. Nah, they offered me a job down there not too long ago, and I had to turn them down. If I'm gonna make pictures, I'm gonna make my own pictures. And that's why we're doing an epic. We're gonna show the world that we don't need anybody else! It's me and you, kid. You're my star, so I'm counting on you to bring them in and keep them in. Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

"I'm really fine. Anyway, uh, hey, I was looking into the, uh, the character a little bit, and I, ah, I probably need to do a lot more research and all, but, ah... well, the thing is, I mean... I don't really seem to fit the bill, uh, physically, for this particular part."

"Oh, that? Yeah, don't worry about that. We can just make you look green in the editing room. That part won't even be hard to do. We'd have to change that cutie mark anyway, so it's not an issue."

"But I'm not even a pegasus."

"Mmmh. Artistic licence. Any other questions?"

"I... no, I guess not, then. I'll go get started on that script."

"Great, kid, great. I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job on this one. We've got a blockbuster on our hands, I'm telling you."

As soon as he walks out of my office, I let out a deep sigh, and pour myself some cider from the bottle I keep on my windowsill. He really is a good kid, but he always seems like he's in a hurry when I know he has nowhere to be. I figure he's one of those guys who's only comfortable in someone else's head. I used to be the same way, when I was younger. I write all of my own movies, like any professional worth his salt, so I know what it means to take on a character too. Maybe not like that guy, but enough to know how it is. I first met him when he was someone else. I was trying to scout him out, offer him a job even, and he wouldn't even tell me his name because he wasn't willing to break character. That's how I knew this kid was something special. That was back in his first picture, see. He was playing a waiter with cerebral palsy, and he kept moving his front legs around all funny and insisting his name was Greasy Spoon. I was never on the set for that one, so I actually had to wait until the film was released to find out Greasy Spoon was being played by this fella by the name of Blazing Saddle. When I called him up, he said he'd always wanted to star in a Smash Cut picture. The kid thought he had thrown away his chance, but he never broke character, even though he could have. He was a good kid, alright. Good actor, too. That's why I wanted him playing my lead. I only wish he'd have had more to say just now.

I take a nice, long, drink of cider, and tell Jackie to put me through with Mr. Daisy. After a few rings, he picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's Smash. I got your message earlier, but I can't give you a date yet. We don't even start filming until next week. I'm sorry, but these things take time. I can pay the interest, so I don't know why I'm being contacted about this already."

"I dunno what che're talkin' about. You wanna talk to the boss?"

"Uh, yes. I want to talk to your boss."

"Alright, just a sec. HEY, BOSS! SOME GUY BYANAMA SMASH WANSA TALKTA YOU!"

I wish Mr. Daisy would hire some more competent employees. This guy had completely ruined the noir-style atmosphere that I had been trying to drink in. It's true that good help is hard to find sometimes. I used to have a sheep for a lighting director that would fall asleep every time he saw his own reflection.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's Smash. I got your message earlier, but I can't give you a date yet. We don't even start filming until next week. I'm sorry, but these things take time. I can pay the interest, so I don't know why I'm being contacted about this already."

"Uh, Smash. Smash, Smash, Smash. I was expecting better from a Haywood director."

"Actually, I'm independent, but-"

"Shut up. Look, I'm a reasonable guy. If you can pay the interest, you can pay the interest, but I wasn't expecting this one to become a long-term investment. I'm just going to have to send someone down there to monitor this little project of yours and make sure you're actually going to make all of the money I've put into this thing. You let my gal on set, and she'll talk to me for you so you don't even have to worry about that. Just keep up your work, and keep up with the payments, and nothing else happens. Now how does that sound?"

"That sounds great, Mr. Daisy. I won't let you down."

"Of course you won't."

He hung up without saying goodbye. I hate it when they do that. He's always much nicer before you've made a deal with him. As soon as you get your hooves on a single bit that belongs to that guy, he turns into a real jerk. It can't be good for business.

I down another drink of cider, but there isn't as much left as I want. I buzz Jackie one last time to tell her she can go home. Tomorrow, I need to hand out the scripts to everyone else. I should have done this a lot sooner, but the photocopier had about three different problems, and I just didn't get around to it until now. I get out of my chair slowly, stow what's left of the bottle of cider back in the desk drawer, lock it, and walk out of my office. Today marks the transition from pre-production to production, and it's going to be a long three months.