Wit and Wisdom
by Beth Broderick
I will be starting a new Christmas movie this week. It will be my tenth. It’s all a bit under wraps because this particular company doesn’t want us sharing information about it until they give us the thumbs up, but it will be a fun one. I have worked with these folks before, and they are lovely.
The world of Christmas movies is a special place. We shoot them year-round. I have spent many an hour sweltering in winter gear on a summer’s day. I have also been outside in freezing weather, twice in high heels, my wee toes turned to ice, hands stiff with cold. I didn’t mind. It is almost impossible to be unhappy shooting a Christmas movie. I am sure there are folks who have managed it, but I am always in the best of spirits.
The hours are long and, like any film endeavor, hard, often exhausting work, but on these projects, it is also a respite. One has entered an alternate universe where folks clink their cocoa cups and swoon over gingerbread men. I am almost always surrounded by the most beautiful lights and decorated trees. There is usually a backlot which has become a town square decked to the nines with Christmas cheer and action-packed with festivities. And of course, snow. It’s not a Christmas movie without snow.
I am a native Californian, and I had once seen snow on the ground on a trip to Big Bear, but it was not until I moved to New York City that I saw it fall. I looked out the window of my shabby apartment on my sordid street and saw the beautiful flakes falling from the sky. I stared out that window for hours. Snowflakes can make any landscape magical for a time, and in the Christmas game, magic is the coin of the realm. There are snow blankets and snow machines. There are techniques for wetting asphalt and making it look icy in a certain light. As the song goes:
“Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it Snow.”
The plots almost always involve a young woman who finds herself in a small town when the holidays are looming large. There she encounters a man who is earnest and usually dedicated to helping others. On many occasions, he is also a foster parent of a young boy, or the volunteer who keeps the lights on and the roof repaired at the local old folks’ home. She likes him but is still hearing the siren call of big city life and a career on the rise.
I am usually her mom, but a few times I am the owner of the Inn she is staying at or the main coffee joint in town. It has been hinted at more than once that I might, in point of fact, be Mrs. Claus on a mission from the North pole to set things right, when our heroine has lost her HO HO HO. I am always gently urging her to stay, to get out and discover the wonders of life in a bucolic rural setting. I am always hoping she will see that this small town has everything she needs to be truly happy.
Ironic that I am tasked with getting this message across time and time again. I am definitely a city mouse. I like the pace and diversity, the hum of a major metropolis. I like big airports and museums and the wide variety of cultures on offer. Still, I have to admit that I am moved by these stories in the same way that the audience is, and there is a massive audience for this content. These movies are a touchtone for people who hail from all walks of life. A chance to take a break from the churn of everyday pressures, to check out completely from the news of the day. To see community at its sweetest and most coherent. To watch love develop in adults who are returned to innocence by the holiday spirit.
HO-HO-HOLLYWOOD.
I have worked with a few production companies several times, and there is joy in that simple fact. I know the crews and the teams, have had long chats with the producers at some point. We are comfortable with each other. It is like slipping into a familiar rhythm, entering a safe space.
I am honored to be asked to return time and again and they, in return, feel confident having me in the mix. We know it will all be fine, better than fine, it will be fun, and that will translate on the screen.
They have not always been perfect experiences. There was a hairdresser on one who was so mean to me that I did not know what to do. I begged her not to put any products in my hair that have a shine component or any trace of oil. She angrily sprayed me down with the stuff, and I had to shoot 7 scenes on my first day with terrible hair plastered to the sides of my face. I asked her assistant to take over, which of course pointed to the notion that I might be a “difficult” actress. Because it is always assumed that the actress is the problem. I spent the day clinking cocoa and holding back tears.
As the weeks went on, it became clear to the AD team and production company that I am a pro and ridiculously easy to work with, so there was no lasting damage to my reputation, just seven whole scenes of a big film where I look like hell, but whatever. That’s show biz. I am not sorry to report that it took a bite out of her cache. They later told me after the film came out that they swore to never hire her again.
On another one, the director kept calling me wanting to talk. I was wrapping up some business and texted her that I would be happy to, and we could meet early on set. When I arrived, she rushed into my trailer.
“We are in trouble here. I am afraid we might get shut down.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Our lead actress is really struggling. She has a three-month old baby and there is some drama. I guess the father left her, and she is a wreck. Cannot remember her lines, can barely focus. The network is nervous, very nervous.”
“Okay well I am here now. I will help her. I will get her through it. You just direct the movie. I got this.”
She was skeptical but agreed to let me try to handle the situation.
I learned that the actress was from the stage and this was her first film. A first film In the lead! That is a daunting and terrifying situation without all of her attendant troubles. I walked on to the set and put my arms around her and whispered.
“I am here now. I will be by your side every minute. I will run lines with you over and over and explain the blocking, so it makes sense to you. I have done thirty five films. I will not let you fall. You will be great.”
We sat and ran lines while the crew readied the set. I told her she was a true talent. That I admired her Broadway credits, and was jealous of her soaring vocal ability. I was playing Mrs. Claus in that one, and I called on every ounce of Christmas magic I could muster. She began to brighten.
“That’s good. We are good. Let’s go.” I said when the director called action.
She stood a bit awkwardly in front of the counter. I gave her an action to do, a prop to pick up and place down as she walked into the scene. She said her lines perfectly but was still a bit stiff. Having cameras aimed at you at close range is scary at first. I smiled at her and nodded, then whispered.
“That’s it. That was great. Now this time let me see those eyes shine. Let me see you.”
I never left her side. Went with her to lunch, to feed the baby, went over the material over and over again.
At the end of the day the director once again came into my trailer.
“The dailies look good. Network is calming down. Everyone is breathing. We are back on track. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. What’s the point of being a veteran if I am not here to help someone who is starting out. And you know there is the mystery of my origins, I am Mrs. C and all, there is good reason to believe that I am a chip of the old Kringle block.
The actress did a fine job; her beauty and talent rose to the occasion. The movie was adorable. Christmas came right on time.
I love that part of the job. A lot of older actresses feel the sting of not being the focus anymore, not being the “money” and they can be a bit testy with the young ones. There are actresses who would have made it even harder for that girl. I was happy to help. It is now my job to help my movie children shine and send them forth into success. That’s a very good job.
TINSEL TOWN HUBBY.
Some of the most indelible memories are the time spent with my “movie husbands” For one, they have all been happily married or partnered gents who are a joy to work with. To me, it is always fun to have a “rent a husband” for a few weeks. To spend time with a male peer and hear his thoughts on this stage of life, on how it feels to still be making movies. Some are repeats. Men I have worked with before, as comfortable as an old shoe. Others I am just meeting and getting a chance to know.
Robert Pine was Mr. Claus on one of my jobs. We played gin rummy in between scenes and made each other laugh for a month. Greg Evigan (B.J and the Bear) regaled me with stories of his family and his “other life” in music. On location, we will sometimes grab a glass of wine or a bite and talk world affairs and politics. Michael Gross has been my movie husband more than once, and working with him is easy and soft as butter. My friend Mark Humphrey is a walker like me, and we were stationed in a beautiful but remote locale. On our days off, we covered mile after mile, telling stories and seeing the sights.
I do not want a real life husband. Been there. Done that. Big no, No, NO. But it’s fun to rent one once in a while and enjoy their company.
Once, I had dinner to meet my new husband, John Newburg, who has played that role with me a few times since.
“Tell me about your family. Your wife,” I asked.
“Two wonderful sons. I’ve been married to my wife for forty years. My only regret is that I didn't meet her sooner.”
A lovely fellow. It warms my heart to think of him.
An actor’s life can be hard. Lots of travel and upheaval. Time away from loved ones. We pine for and worry about our people and our pets. The talk about Hollywood is that it is a rough place filled with vicious wild behaviors, and I suppose there is a cut-throat aspect to some parts of the business, but I don’t pay that much mind. Most of the people I work with are dedicated, delightful, big-hearted folks who all make personal sacrifices because they are compelled to tell stories and create a vision for others to enjoy.
It is a privilege to work among them. Whether it is a Christmas project or not, the spirit of community on set and behind the scenes is almost always true-hearted and a joy to behold.
Blessed.
On we go …
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Christmas in May