Asa personifies young genius, but he's learning that every film has a breaking point, a point that makes him want to turn back from his commitment. Each new project brings a new challenge and an even greater breaking point. He hasn't backed down yet, but when he's asked to play a difficult role, all the professionalism in the world won't help him fake the part.Have fun!!!!! 😘😘😘❤️
Asa thinks Marshal is looking at him, but Marshal isn't. Marshal is looking at the sun, all orange and glowing on the inside of the plane. It turns the cabin's beige paneling into brilliant morning illumination. It turns all the passengers' skin into memories of shinny golden things he used to hold up to the sun as a child, Frisbees, Mickey Mouse sippy straws, broken colored glass. The sun makes everything beautiful, even dirt. Humans are hard-wired to light up when the sun hits their pupils. No point in letting Asa take credit for it.
That's why he stares at Asa, who's currently hogging up all the sun in his white T-shirt. His undershirt. Asa's shirt is the brightest thing in their cabin, which is cramped with eight people. So bright, Marshall has to squint, but he can't stop staring at the cotton threads of light-play. The shirt looks clean and soft.
"What the hell are you staring at?"
Asa, apparently, wasn't really asleep.
"Does it bother you?"
"Well, yeah."
"Then control your own staring. There's no way for you to know I'm staring unless you're just as guilty of the same thing."
Eyes rolled, accompanied by a thin smile. "Asshole."
Score. He wasn't going to give Asa credit for the sun's work. Anyone could look like that in the sun. Asa is just a kid in a maturing body. Besides, he has no idea what he's got. Marshal didn't want to scare him. It's just that he's perfect for the script but he's not ready for it. No point in not speaking. No point in acting like nothing happened at Olive's little New Year's party last night. One thing he liked about working with this director, she believes in her script. She believes in her actors. Presently, she slept under a blanket beside him. Their seats faced away from the sunrays the other passengers were enjoying. She'd given Asa all the time he needed to get around his problem, short of offering therapy. Marshal was impressed with that.
They shot around Asa's problem scene, against studio wishes. When it came time again, and he still couldn't do it, it was Olive's idea to fly her little camp of actors to her Montana home. Heather Keasley, the female lead, slept beside Asa. Olive's twelve modest acres of mountain views could inspire anyone to open up and talk. That was her therapy. And it fucking worked.
Olive is not a spontaneous woman, so you could tell she'd put some thought into what she would do if she came up against Asa's little problem again. She'd make him comfortable, get him to trust her, put together a presentation of other actors who overcame similar challenges, feed everyone, and discuss the historical ramifications of a star like Asa having the guts to do what she's asking him to do.
At one point, after gaming in her den, we sat on the floor and she took his hand, "I would be willing to start a campaign against homophobia. Anyone can dump ice water over themselves, but it takes real balls for a straight leading man with a rock-solid image to uphold, to kiss another man, on camera. Sure, it's been done, but not without the fear that surrounds the threat to one's image. People are still afraid to be gay, for god's sake. I'd like to see straight people all across the world, sacrificing their reputations, to free the world of its homophobia. Can you imagine, viral videos of your favorite straight, same-sex actors kissing?"
We only turned the TV on to watch the ball drop and wish each other a happy new year, in sync with the rest of the Mountain Time Zone. Like all of us, Asa listened to Olive politely and watched her put away two bottles of wine, without yawning. The rest of us, our bodies on global time zones, drank fruit smoothies out of martini glasses. The script was her baby. Olive, short for Olivia Ofrahasa, is a small, delicately framed woman of Armenian descent. She made independent films with her twin brother until his death in 2002. She only tells us that it was a hate crime that took his life and she has vowed to use her work to remove all hatred from the association of being gay.
