Chapter Three #3
But there are no texts, from her or anyone. With nothing left to look at, I drop my phone into the velvet sack and hand it to Brad. He places it with the others inside the Gucci backpack, which is passed to Loretta. She holds it in her lap, all but daring us to try to change our minds.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Ronan says.
“I really appreciate it. It shows your commitment to this movie. But it doesn’t stop with just your phones, of course.
Once we’re done here, I’d like you all to change into the costumes of your characters.
For the rest of your time on this island, try to live like these women, connect with them, know them as well as you know yourselves.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it: This experience won’t be easy.
Which is the point. We’re here to tell the truth about these women, so we need to live it, despite any inconvenience and hardships we might encounter.
If we endure this together, my hope is that we’ll bring that experience with us to the set next week.
There, we will, as Violet has already said, make something very special. ”
Violet starts to applaud, and the rest of us join in. By now, the hierarchy is clear. Violet leads. We follow. I even notice Susie, seated on the other side of the table, stop mid-applause and start again, trying to emulate the way Violet claps.
As the applause dies down, Brad passes out scripts, starting with Ronan and Violet. When they take them, I get my first look at the title, which is emblazoned on the cover in silver letters.
Darkness
As titles go, it’s pretty generic. There’s no indication what the movie’s about, which Ronan might have done on purpose.
His first film, Mercy, was the same way, and it didn’t hurt its critical or commercial reception one bit.
Still, I was hoping for something a little more specific.
Marin Keane Has One Line might be a terrible title for a movie, but at least I’d have an idea about what to expect. This tells me nothing.
When Brad finally places a script in front of me, I eagerly flip to the first page. There, a breakdown of the cast lists our names and the characters we’ll be playing. Violet, naturally, is at the top. She’ll be taking on the role of Ruth Hume Semple, the island’s owner. Fitting in so many ways.
Susie is next on the list, playing a character named Katrina Fiske. She’s followed by Heather, who has the part of someone named Jonquil Collins. After that is Julianne, playing Phoebe Minafer.
My name is near the bottom of the list. No surprise there. But at least I now know the person I’ll be playing.
Daisy Rue.
I stare at the name, rapt.
Daisy.
My first character in a movie.
And hopefully not my last.
Even though all I know so far is her name, I feel protective of this stranger. Daisy was a real person. She lived on this island. In the same cottage I’ll be living in. I have a responsibility to do right by her.
At least as much as I can. The cast breakdown all but confirms my suspicion that I won’t be in the movie very much. The only character listed below mine is someone named Azra, to be played by…Ronan.
“Are you giving yourself a cameo?” Violet says.
“Maybe,” Ronan says. “The part has no dialogue, so I figured anyone can do it. And I’ve been wanting to pull a Hitchcock and put myself in one of my movies.”
I do the math. If Ronan has no lines, then the character immediately above him must have, like, two. Which is fine. Really. I have no reason to be disappointed. The voice of my high school drama teacher rings through my head: There are no small parts. Only small actors.
We’ll see about that, Mrs. Schwartz.
I flip through the script, expecting to see Daisy’s name intermittently. But there it is, right on the first page.
And the second.
And most of the ones I manage to glimpse before Ronan clears his throat and asks if we’re all ready to begin.
Everyone says yes, including me, even though I suspect I’m not quite prepared for what’s about to happen.
I’d become so convinced that my part was Minor Character with Minimal Lines.
Now that that no longer seems to be the case, I’m gripped by a fierce, unshakable anxiety.
What if the role of Daisy is much bigger than I imagined? What if everyone—especially Ronan—expects more than I can deliver? What if I fail?
I already know the answer to that last one. Good-bye, one hundred grand. Good-bye, SAG card. Good-bye, any hope of ever booking another acting job again.
But it’s too late to back out now. Too late even to excuse myself and take five to collect my thoughts. Everyone else now has their scripts open to the title page and is waiting for me to do the same. When I do, my anxiety tightens around me, squeezing so hard I can scarcely breathe.
Right there on the first page, typed neatly beneath the title and Ronan’s name, are words so unbelievable I blink to make sure they’re real.
Based on the diary of Daisy Rue
That’s when it finally dawns on me why the actress who had this part before me sent those texts. She’s jealous that I’m here and she’s not. Because the part of Daisy is more than just a glorified extra, more than a tiny role in a much larger story.
She is, to my utter astonishment, the main character.