Authors: Carla J Hanna
In the film industry, a good agent
and publicist
we
re essential to an actor’s success.
Mom
hired my agent when I was thirteen, and we were in contract with the studio that produced my first studio film,
VamPy
res,
when I was fourteen. I also filmed
Beautiful Outcast
the spring before I turned fifteen,
Bright Mute
the summer after I turned fifteen, and
Romeo & Juliet
the summer after I turned sixteen.
I appeared in dozens of small roles.
The studio had
Blake Cameron
and me do a ton of worldwide promotions for
Bright Mute
:
magazine covers and
articles, talk shows, and practically every industry event.
I had to do even more promotions for
Romeo & Juliet
with
Evan
.
It was my first world tour.
Mom
said that in negotiating those contracts, she worked with her lawyers to build “self-empowerment” in them so that I was able to do
Left to Die
and the “Muse” projects independently.
Mom
always said
there were
two
“
truths about Hollywood:
”
an actor
wa
s only as good as her
agent and
publicist and all
professional
relationships in the industry
were co-dependent
.
Without knowing how to put what I saw
in
to words
as an eight-year-old
,
I recognized both truths
at Sunday school doing a lesson for the first time, a lesson that we
repeated
several times until I quit going to church when I was thirteen
.
* * * * *
The kids at our art table were cutting out pictures from magazines that showed
evidence of Christ in everyday life
—
the lesson for the day. We all were cutting up issues of the leading celebrity magazine. Manuel saw a picture of me and my parents and showed it to me. The three of us were walking under
the
“Country Mart” sign. I was embarrassed and focused on my magazine, which was published the week following his. It had a picture of
Mom
. She looked gorgeous outside at a farmers’ market with a huge sunflower in the bag she was holding. She was smiling at a farmer selling her asparagus. The picture was very colorful.
I was there for both photos and listened to the plans.
The morning the pictures were taken, the publicist gave
Mom
the instructions. She was to show off her legs and wear a red v-neck shirt because a study found that women thought other women were more attractive when they w
o
r
e
red.
Dad
should wear a black stretch cotton tee,
baseball cap
, shorts, and flip flops. I should be in a sun dress and
sandals
,
no
flip-flops, hair in a pony-tail with a
pink
bow to make me look younger, more feminine. We were to be at the Mart
at 10
a.m.
, park in the north lot, and walk through the courtyard to the bakery.
We were to b
e sure to walk under or next to any signage so that the shops in the mart
we
re represented. Dad should drive the Lexus SUV
. I
t show
ed
humility.
Dad parked the SUV, and we all held hands and smiled while we walked a gauntlet of photographers to the courtyard
of
the shopping center
. The photographers stopped taking pictures and stayed in the north parking lot. There, the publicist met
Mom
.
“You all look perfect! How did it go, Michelle?”
“Fine,” Mom replied. “What’s next?”
“The Brentwood farmers market on San Vicente
Boulevard
. Change clothes
—
jean skirt and a tan tee
,
”
t
he publicist commanded
.
“You will be shopping alone.”
She handed
Mom
a Peruvian woven shopping basket with a large sunflower in it. “When you
carry
the bag, be sure the flower is facing the cameras on the side of the bag closest to your shoulder. Buy vegetables. You should leave here at 10:15. Be at the farmer’s market at 10:45. Park next to the golf course and walk in.
The memory of that morning and Mom’s interaction with her publicist stuck with me. A few years later I understood:
Without a good publicist, an entertainer’s picture would not be in the magazine. If it
wa
s not in the
magazine, the actor would
not get face time with the masses. If the masses forget the actor, the actor’s A-list career
i
s over. More broadly, e
ntertainers
we
re at the mercy of their fans. If the fans watch
ed
the movies and like
d
those movies, the actor w
on
and the cycle continue
d
.
Each
year
we did that lesson and cut up magazines
.
I always saw pictures of me or my family and my friends.
After the divorce,
I
understood that
celebrities
were not just people
. We were
products.
* * * * *
A man’s voice startled me, “Happy birthday, Marie.” A figure emerged from the shadow of a tree on
the
San Vicente
median
.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
“Honey, it’s me, Alan. You’ve neglected me for the last month and now you don’t even recognize my voice?”
“Hi, Alan!” I smiled as
he came towards me. “What are you doing here at five in the morning?”
“
Hoping to see you
. I got you something but I don’t want the
m
an to fuck up the surprise for me
.
I mean you.”
I
t was
going to be sexual if it would make “the
m
an” want to alter it in some way. Alan act
ed
so masculine that
most of us thought he was denying that
he
wa
s gay. I wish
ed
he would just embrace who he
wa
s
. N
o one would judge him for it. We
didn’
t care
about his preferences. We want
ed
him to be happy. Every girl he date
d
end
ed up being a bitch and h
e beg
ged
me to let him see my breas
ts at least once per month. It was
weird, close to psycho
, and made everyone uncomfortable
to be
around him.
I hugged him and asked, “Do you mind if we walk together towards
4th
?”
“I’d love to spend the time with you. I’ve missed you,
baby
, a lot. I get that you want to spend time with Manny, being in love and all that shit, but we need to carve out some Alan time.”
“I’m not flying anywhere next week.” I assured him. He handed me a gift bag.
“Open it, wear it, think of me. And don’t get pissed, but I have to talk to you about some gossip.”
“What about?” I asked while I opened the gift
, a watch. “Wow, this is great!”
“It’s waterproof, everything. It’ll record your runs
—pace, distance—
and even synchs to your heart rate monitor. I thought you’d dig it.”
“I love it. Thanks, Alan.”
I put it on while he started talking.
“My news isn’t great, Marie. Apparently, Manny, Mitch
,
and Beth
we
re
a three-some
—n
ot now that you’
re dating but before, after Kate.”
My stomach turned. “Yuck. How do you know?”
Alan pulled out a photo from his back pocket and showed me Manuel and Beth kissing. I stopped walking and studied it. They had their biking gear on. It had to have been the morning of the Oscars. I asked, “Why were you watching them?”
“You know
I like
Beth, she’s fucking perfect. When I heard the three were together I didn’t believe it so I asked Manny the day before this photo. He said I should mind my
own
business
. I heard
he was gonna bike with her the next morning so I figured I’d see for myself.”
“What do you mean by ‘together’?”
“Rumor is Manny g
ot
her ready and Mitch
scored
.”
I almost p
uked. “Bull. Really, Alan, you’
re way too obsessed with Beth.”
“I’m sorry, Marie. This must upset you. I’m sure he’s perfect now that he’s finally getting some from the most amazing girl on the planet. He had great practice with Beth and Kate and you know what they say, practice makes perfect.”
I didn’t like his tone of voice and questioned his intentions. “Shut up, Alan.”
Alan objected, “Hey, I’m just trying to protect you, help you out. There are lots of secrets those three share. You have to have noticed by now.”
“Yeah, I have.”
I wanted to get away from Alan. I didn’t know if I was going to cry
,
and I certainly didn’t want him to see that he had an effect on me
.
“Thanks.” I gave him back the gift bag and patted his shoulder. “See you
in class
.”
My cell rang
as I drove home from school
. It was Celia.
“Hi!” I answered.
“Happy Birthday,
Liana
Marie! Do you feel free now that
you’re
eighteen?”
“I feel relief. I want to go to Grandma’s after graduation. M
om
wants to go with me to
Montana
, too. Will you have any time off? I could plan around your or Tom’s work schedule.”
“Hmm. I can’t get away. Maybe Tom can. I’ll have him check and get back to you. I only have a minute to give you your happy wishes. Before I go, I still haven’t received a copy of the “Muse” contract from
Martin
or Michelle. Something is fishy
—
I can feel it. Can you try to get it? I want you to know that I’m concerned so you can be careful but I don’t want to scare you. I have no evidence, just a feeling.”
“
Y
eah, s
ure,
there’
s a copy of the contract in my safe deposit box. I’m too tired to get it today. I have to rest before my birthday party. Can I get it to you tomorrow? I think the bank is open on Saturday.”
Celia affirmed,
“Yes, the bank is open, so that’
s totally fine. Use the home fax. I won’t be able to get to it until
tomorrow afternoon
anyway. So sorry I have to r
un. Love you and happy birthday.
”
“
Thanks.
Love you, too.”
I parked in the garage and closed the garage door. I still had tha
t Oscar
dress in the back of my car. I tried to take it to a second hand store, but I couldn’t do it. My own hesitation
caught
me off guard. One
the one hand,
it
was worth quite a chunk of money—
the dress cost $8,000
when it was made for me, but it was a gift from the
designer who
is
now
the “it” guy
. D
onat
ing
it for a charitable event/auction
would be socially responsible
, but
i
t
was my crucifix
. It reminded
me of
the
obligations I had to the
many
people
who built m
y brand. I pulled the dress out of the trunk and hung it back in my closet. I decided not to think about the dress. It was my birthday. I needed a nap and fell asleep.