Sunday 13th July 2008: Poor old Hazy…
…really did not feel well today.
The prime suspect was a suspect mushroom. Several, in fact.
In a laudable attempt to use up the contents of his fridge, young Master Hargrove had made himself a stir-fry (or some pasta [I forget which]), and chucked everything in - even his ageing fungi (sounds like an elderly redcoat).
BIG mistake. HUGE.
When Hayes called me at about 9am to say he was ill and not up to shooting, I went to his apartment. His previous feature film (for Victor Fanucchi, with whom Hayes’ll soon be shooting another one, ‘Art House’, with Iggy Pop) was called ‘Beyond The Pale’…and that’s just how he looked when I peered into his bedroom. Beyond pale, beyond tired, beyond belief, really - the man was not what you’d call ‘a picture of health’. And this is the guy who’s usually the life and soul…
A phonecall later, Steve had agreed that we could start at midday to give the invalid some time to sleep off his lurgy. It turns out poor old Hayes had been up most of the night vomiting - the relentless kind that makes your whole torso ache long after your stomach’s been emptied.
Lovely.
Add to this the fact that I’d gone to sleep ridiculously late (again), having sat in front of my glowing laptop for hours longer than I should’ve, and then woken up far too early for no good reason…and you’ve got two very tired actors on your hands, Mr Kopera.
Hayes dealt with it very well, considering, with plenty of TLC from hair and make-up, and understanding from the rest of the cast and crew. He did keep thinking he was going to hurl, though. ( He didn’t, in the end.)
I was pretty on top of things…except when I saw the picture of a happy little girl on the cover of one of Nick’s childhood books (today’s shoot was a flashback scene in Nick’s bedroom). I don’t know what it was: nostalgia for the days when my sister, Lizzie, and I still lived in the same house (we don’t even live on the same continent now - I’m in London, she’s in Texas [Lizzie and her husband work for the same U.S. bank, and moved from the UK about a year ago]); guilt because I don’t see or speak to her nearly often enough, and haven’t done for years (a failing I’ve recently vowed to do something about - starting with a trip to Fort Worth later this year)…or just a general sense of sadness for lost innocence, for my childhood that now feels like the dim, distant past.
Whatever it was, I had to leave the set for a few minutes, go downstairs, get some air and pull myself together.
When I come back up, Hayes is grinning queasily. He twinkles at me and says, “Did you need to ‘take a moment’ there, buddy? Did you? Hmm? Would you like me to call you an ambulance?”.
Something tells me I’m never going to live this down.
Matthew Jure 13/07/08
Look out tomorrow - Dad’ll be in the house…
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