Monday, August 15, 2022
POV – Gaten Matarazzo
I woke up early Monday morning. After getting ready, I looked at myself in the mirror for the fifth time.
The blue T-shirt I picked looks pretty good, right? Casual, but not careless. Youthful enough to pass as a college student, but not so much that people think I'm still in high school. I run a hand through my hair, try to tame it, but, as always, it does whatever it wants.
I take a deep breath.
It's just another audition. Just another one.
I saw the casting call on Backstage three days ago. Second Take Films. A relatively new YouTube channel, with two short films already out and a feature film about to hit theaters… distributed by A24, no less.
Crazy, especially when you consider that the person behind all of it is a guy my age: Owen Ashford, 20 years old. Actor, producer, and screenwriter.
And it's not the same thing to have two viral shorts online as it is to get a studio like A24 to distribute your first feature film. That's a whole different league.
I watched the trailer. It doesn't look like a twenty-thousand-dollar project. It looks professional, well-directed, and Owen's acting is… surprisingly good. I say that without envy. Well, maybe a little.
I also read somewhere that he sold a feature-length script to A24.
How did he do it? How did he accomplish so much in so little time?
And as if that weren't enough, he also landed a role recently in The Hunger Games prequel. A hundred-million-dollar production. I read that he got the part in a last-minute audition, beating out another actor. Things like that don't happen often.
I saw his name in Variety. In The Hollywood Reporter, in Deadline...
Even Hunter Schafer, the star of Euphoria, posted a photo with him on Instagram. They were making silly faces, nothing professional, but the post got over a million likes.
Hunter, with more than four million followers, made a lot of her fans, or people who just follow her, discover Owen through that post, giving him even more exposure on top of the fame he was already snowballing.
Meanwhile, I'm still stuck.
I love acting. I really do. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember. The problem is, Hollywood isn't always kind to someone like me.
I have cleidocranial dysostosis, which means a lot of people see me as weird before I even open my mouth. I look five years younger, and of course, I don't fit the stereotypes of the handsome guy, or the strong guy, or the rebel.
Maybe I blame the system too much. Maybe I'm the one who has to break the mold.
At least I managed to get Second Take Films to call me for an in-person audition, that's a good sign. I know that kind of posting can get over a hundred applicants, maybe more considering the channel's popularity and Owen's rising fame.
I guess today there'll be just a few of us. Maybe ten, fifteen, or less. Direct competition.
I looked for my sneakers, knelt to tie them, and left home with the script in my backpack.
Checked the address. East Hollywood. Not the fanciest area, but definitely more expensive than where I live. It's probably Owen's apartment, or maybe Matt's, the director.
I like that. No cold studios with fluorescent lights or casting rooms with twenty guys in the same position as me. This will probably be one-on-one. More personal and intimate. Typical indie vibe.
I closed the door of my building, went down the stairs, and started walking toward the subway.
I'm not spending money on Uber. If I don't get this role, I need to stretch every dollar I have. If I do get it… well, that'll be a different story.
Although, honestly, even if Second Take Films is getting popular, it's still an independent studio. How much could they really pay me if I land the part? A thousand dollars? Maybe fifteen hundred if I'm lucky? And that's being optimistic.
But the truth is, money isn't the most important thing this time. Even five hundred bucks would help right now, and for one or two days of shooting, that's a decent deal. But there's more to it.
The short film is registered with SAG-AFTRA, so it would add a union credit to my résumé. Big plus.
Second, and probably more important, it's almost certain the short will be uploaded to Owen's YouTube channel, like the previous ones. And that channel isn't small anymore. With the visibility Owen has right now, and the recent success of his projects, this short could go viral in a matter of days.
If that happens, and I'm the lead, it puts me on the radar, description, credits, casting recommendations. People might even start following me on social media if they like my performance.
And honestly, I read the script.
It's really good.
Funny, original, fast-paced, with flowing dialogue and a creative concept. I finished it and thought, How can Owen write so much and so well at only twenty? Seriously, I want to meet him. There's something about him that makes me curious, not just as an actor, but as a person. What's his story?
For all those reasons, I know this short is worth more than most of what's circulating right now.
Come to think of it, I must've competed against over a hundred people on Backstage.
The subway arrived. Luckily, I found a seat. I settled in, pulled the script from my backpack, and started running through the lines in my head, visualizing reactions, pacing, the tone of each phrase. I know them all by heart. I even came up with a few variations in case they ask me to improvise.
"Damn it…" I muttered.
I repeated the line quietly, changing tone, intent. Once more, and again, until a voice snapped me out of focus.
"You alright, kid?"
I looked up. An older man was watching me, one eyebrow raised, a mix of worry and confusion on his face.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm practicing a line. For an audition. I'm an actor," I answered quickly, almost stumbling over the words. I held up the script as proof.
He looked at me for another second, processing. Finally, he nodded as if he understood, mumbled something like "good luck," and walked toward the other end of the car.
I went back to my lines, a little quieter this time. Though inside, I couldn't shake that strange mix of nerves and excitement you always feel before an audition.
Only this time, it was more excitement. I had a good feeling.
Forty minutes later, I reached the station. Climbed the stairs and walked a few blocks until I reached the building.
Standing in front of the entrance, I took a deep breath and looked for the buzzer. There was a small black panel with buttons. I found the right one and pressed it.
A buzzing sound. Then silence for a few seconds.
Finally, a slightly distorted voice came through, "Yes?"
"Uh… Gaten. Gaten Matarazzo. I'm here for the audition."
A brief pause.
"Oh, right. Gaten. Come in, second floor, apartment three."
The electric lock buzzed. I took a step back, then gently pushed the door open and walked inside.
I went up the stairs. I could've waited for the elevator, but I preferred to move. Keeping my body in motion helps distract me, and I didn't want to just stand there chewing on nerves.
I reached the second floor and walked to the third apartment. Before I could knock twice, the door opened, and there he was. A guy my age.
I recognized him instantly: Owen. He had a calm expression, pale skin, and light eyes. His dark hair fell in a way that looked almost strategically messy. I couldn't tell if it was intentional, or if some people are just lucky enough to wake up like that.
He was wearing a black shirt and dark jeans.
"Gaten, right?" he said in a professional but friendly tone. He didn't sound arrogant or full of himself, which would've been understandable, considering it was his short film and he was the one doing the hiring.
He just sounded like someone who takes his work seriously.
I nodded with a small smile. "Yeah, hi."
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Owen Ashford, producer and writer of the short," he said, extending his hand.
I knew he was only saying that as a formality, it'd be weird not to introduce himself.
I did the same, giving a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you."
He seemed like a genuinely good person, and I don't say that out of politeness.
"Come in, it's a small place. This way," he said, tilting his head slightly.
I nodded and stepped inside the apartment.
It was simple, but neatly organized.
The living room had two single sofas facing a large TV, and a four-person dining table not far from it. On the table: two open laptops, folders, water bottles, and a couple of half-finished coffee cups. In the corner, I noticed professional filming equipment, cameras, lights, tripods. Expensive gear. Nothing amateur about it.
Oh, and of course, there was a guy sitting at the table who jumped up the moment he saw me.
"Gaten! We've been waiting for you," he exclaimed with a big grin, walking over to shake my hand enthusiastically.
He gripped it hard, like we'd known each other for years. He had a pair of thick headphones hanging around his neck, a The Social Network T-shirt with Jesse Eisenberg's face blown up across the front, and the energy of someone who'd had three cups of coffee and would happily have a fourth.
"Matt Rogers, director," he introduced himself.
I knew who he was, I'd seen his name in the project info. He was the director of the short. He'd also directed Paranormal Activity, and basically everything Owen had made so far. It was clear they were more than just collaborators. They were real friends.
"Nice to meet you," I replied, a little surprised by his energy, but infected by it all the same.
"How did you know it was me?" I asked afterward, genuinely curious.
"The other four actors already came in for their auditions before you. You're the last one," he said as he returned to his seat.
Four other actors?
That meant they'd only chosen five in total for in-person auditions—much fewer than I expected.
I wasn't sure if that was better (less competition) or worse (harder to beat).
"You're not supposed to be sharing that information," Owen said from behind him, looking half resigned, half used to it.
"Oh, come on," Matt replied with a smile. "What difference does it make if he knows?"
Owen gave him a brief look, then shrugged without saying anything else and sat down beside him.
There was something in the way they interacted that made it obvious, they'd known each other for a long time.
"Have a seat, please," Owen said, gesturing to the chair across from them.
"Thanks," I said as I sat down, placing my backpack on the floor beside my feet.
The chair was comfortable. I adjusted myself as naturally as possible, trying not to look tense. I noticed two open scripts on the table, and with a quick glance, I could tell they were for this short film.
Owen rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers, studying me.
"Alright," he said calmly. "Let's start with a scene reading."
I nodded. My throat was dry, and nerves were crawling under my skin, I needed to get this role, no matter what. For the money, for the union credit, and because this short was going to go viral on Owen's YouTube channel.
If I didn't land it, who knew how long it would be before I got another shot at a lead role?
Despite all that, I was ready.
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