What totally sucked was Laurent didn’t want us to rehearse the song; he wanted it ‘to feel spontaneous.’ I wanted to throw up.
Laurent decided on three different camera angles to film the scene. That meant I had to sing the song three times. He wanted a low angle so it looked like you were there watching me from your table. He needed a long shot that took in everyone in the ballroom. Finally, he wanted an arc shot, where the camera would circle me as I sang.
Bandleader: ‘
Cici:
Rick: ‘
Action: Crowd encourages Rick to take the stage.
Rick: ‘
Action: Crowd laughs. Rick turns to the orchestra to get the beat, then turns, and sings.
I croaked out the first couple of words and waved the orchestra to stop.
“Let’s try it again,” I said.
Inside, I was about to die. That was as bad as it could have gone. Laurent had a huge smile on his face, and the cameras were still rolling. When they showed the outtakes later, you could see the fear in my eyes. None of that was acting. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and pointed to the band to begin again.
My baritone version of the song was deeper than the original. The conductor had suggested that we slow it down and make it more of a song you could slow-dance to. He also wanted to give it a 1960s treatment called ‘The Spector Sound,’ developed by Phil Spector of Gold Star Studios. It was more commonly called ‘The Wall of Sound.’ The intention was to create a dense aesthetic that came across well on AM radio and jukeboxes popular in the era. The conductor explained that he was looking for a sound so strong that if my singing wasn’t the greatest, the music would carry the soundtrack.
At least the band had my back. It had a ‘Righteous Brothers’ vibe from their song
I think everyone in the cast was hoping to see an epic fail. Instead, when the song ended, they gave me a standing ovation. For Laurent’s plans, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted to have happen. I was no longer scared of how bad it might go, and the subsequent takes were much better.
For Laurent’s part, he didn’t make an ass out of himself in front of everyone just to torment me. I wondered what his next scheme to afflict me would be. It felt good to overcome my fear of singing and to give a credible account of myself. I would never be a singer, but I could play one in a movie.
When they showed the playback later, it was confirmed: I wasn’t a singer. Though I did look like one on film, my untrained voice wasn’t cut out to sing. I hoped they would do a voice-over for my performance. While I had to admit Lord Jackson did a better job than I did, I wouldn’t call him good by any stretch of the imagination.
◊◊◊
“You’ve been slacking off. Get your ass off the couch and come with me,” Cassidy announced when she came into my room.
All my security staff had key cards. The rest of the team at least had the courtesy to knock first.
“I had a long day, and just want to relax.”
“Don’t make me drag you out of this room,” she said in her best ‘mom’ voice.
“Don’t make me drag you out of this room,” I mimicked.
Cassidy took a half step towards me, and I bailed over the back of the couch and ran to my bedroom to change. She had her baseball duffle bag, so I put on my baseball gear. She made me carry her duffle because I’d been a ‘pain in the ass.’
There was a baseball field five blocks from the hotel. A group of younger kids was playing around in the infield, so we set up in the outfield. Moose had taught her the outfield drills. I was thankful he didn’t show her the ‘extreme concentration’ version of the drill. I didn’t need Cassidy throwing baseballs at my crotch. The kids drifted out to watch me go through my workout.
We then moved to the infield so I could pitch. To warm up, I let the kids each take a turn batting while their friends shagged balls for us. It was funny to watch them choke up on the bat because it was too big. I quickly found out that one semester of Spanish didn’t make me fluent. We were able to communicate with a combination of their broken English and my lackluster Spanish.
