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I Wanna Be in Bollywood!

August 12th 2008 22:24
Rani Mukherjee she ain't!
Following my recent screen debut in you know what... (for those new to my rantings, "The Square"), behind you know who... (Julian Morrow of, you guessed it, "The Chaser"), I've gotten a few tickets on myself. I'm not ashamed to admit it, but the narcissistic spell of seeing myself reflected on the big screen in all my smiley, sunglassed glory, has led me to think this might be a fun little hobby. It's not enough to bare my soul in cyberspace, and have my blog ranked 269 out of 5501 Orble blogs. No! I must scale the heady heights of mediocrity and be in a Bollywood film!

So off I went to Missenden Road this evening, to the Rydges Hotel, where the casting session for... something beginning with V... was being held. Having done the usual make-up in the car beauty routine in the rear vision mirror, in the muted glow of tail-lights, adding an obligatory application of "Kajol" (the product, not the actress); a standard for any female role in Hindi cinema (and might I say, quite risky given I never use eyeliner, and something with such potential for disaster should not be attempted in a) the dark, or b) a frequently moving vehicle)... this sentence has become as long and convoluted as the script for an Aishwarya film.
As I was saying, I did the makeup in the car, and arrived one hour after the suggested starting time. A quick trip to the Ladies' revealed mineral make-up powder on the suit, and a strange lead pencil-like shading on my nose, which I cannot account for, except to say that Bridget Jones was in the house tonight, from her make-up disasters to her scary-stomach-holding-in pants (vital for the 33 year old attempting to audition for roles of nubile 20-something university students, especially as I never fit that particular description; even as a 20-something).

I sashayed past the pool in my red patent heels, past Vikram, who I met later, and was escorted into the "pool room", for want of a name, by Vikram's young, female, Aussie off-sider. The producer was attempting a read-through with some young Indians, so he asked me to wait whilst he sorted things out with the auditionees. However an Indian-Australian, emo haired low-talking waif boy asked me what role I was hoping to audition for.
"Anything," I declared, then remembering suddenly the film's genre, added, "Well, the Australian roles. I can't speak Hindi".
Now, having already pushed the boundaries on the character descriptions ("young and hot", "intellectual looking", "elegant looking 24ish lady", "21ish"), I was informed that all of the Aussie roles had been filled already. Barely half a dozen others remained, sitting in a circle with scripts in lap. When the low-talker muttered, "We only have Punjabi roles left", and claimed no need for extras, as they would be milking the Sydney Uni campus for willing crowds, I was given a virtual "Thanks for coming" and shown the door (after he very obligingly typed in my contact details into his mobile, in case anything came up).
Determined not to leave without a last ditch attempt at getting a foot in the door, I chatted to Vikram from Bombay (not Mumbai...?), to discover this film is the first of this particular production house, before shaking hands, turning on my heel, and joking with a passing cameraman as I left about coming too late for a part, giving myself a big thumbs down, a giggle, a winning smile and hair-toss... to show I could play a Bollywood princess if they decided to call.
So unfortunately, unless emo hair waif boy miraculously did not delete my details when I left the building and does call, my Bollywood career has not started yet. It's enough to drive me to using emoticons... ! Till then, I'll practice the art of applying eyeliner.
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