This is a guest post by Candice Sanchez McFarlane.
It was 2006, Los Angeles, and I was attending yet another audition technique seminar. I stood on the stage, hoping to fascinate and stun the visiting talent manager with my craft. I was hopeful when I saw that it was a young, black woman. Surely, this meant she was supportive of women and actors of color. I gave it all I had. Or, as good as one can give with dialogue for a one-dimensional, “cute, racially unspecific,” best friend role with no arc. The feedback changed my life.
“You are great, but you don’t look enough like Halle Berry.”
Like lightning, clarity ran through me. Every role I had ever auditioned for was a poor attempt at filling a race or gender quota. Not because there aren’t good writers out there but because it doesn’t matter. It’s a business. What Hollywood wanted from female actors was to just look the part and say the words. This woman knew that for the machine to make money, she needed to be able to sell me. I was not an attractive commodity.
I started dissecting every film that was in production at the time. Even when a woman had written the original script, there was a man also listed as a writer. Even when a woman was the producer, there were far more men with producer titles. In every capacity, women were outnumbered. Except in front of the camera.
Despite a lifetime of acting classes, a five-year audition marathon trying to infuse life into flat black/latina characters and the loss of a dream I had for so long, I stopped. Right then. Cold turkey. There was no way for me to make an impact in front of the camera. There were enough people striving to book a role–many of whom look like Halle Berry.
I wanted to be behind the camera. I began taking writing and production more seriously. I focused on ways to develop and empower women in the business conversation of film. This presented an even greater challenge. Many of the women I came across were looking for the best way to market, finesse, and accept the films that were being made. Thinking like Capitalists.
I wanted to be a satisfied audience member.
I couldn’t understand why these women weren’t identifying the issue instead of trying to assuage it. The issue in the very first step, the step that all the other steps are built upon. The step that allows actors to not have to look the part but to understand the complexities that go into every woman, fiction or otherwise.
The writing.
The writing became everything to me. I wrote until I couldn’t stand the clicking of the keys any longer. I attended any seminar (I could afford) that focused on writing. I joined groups for underrepresented writers in entertainment. I worked in branding/promotions in the industry with a focus on empowering women’s voice and issues. I hosted and taught groups of young women in high school and college who were interested in becoming writers, hoping to nurture their interest and support their goals. I sent my materials to every possible festival, contest, open submission that had a mailing address. I got back “encouraging” feedback like “strong writing but not what we are in the market for” or “love your voice but could you water it down a bit for the audience?” It amazed me each time because I WAS the audience for my work. The women and girls in my life WERE the basis for my characters. This was the true face of women but not the image the industry wanted women to see of themselves.
Every woman can see a romantic comedy for the first time and predict the ending. Every woman knows the tale of the power struggle that the successful female character has with her mate on television or that her success prevents her from finding a mate. Every woman can watch a sitcom and know exactly when the Mom’s desperately forced and unfunny lines will be delivered. Even though we know these things and can handle more intellectually stimulating content – we accept it.
For those who are more conscious of their content, they might deploy some effort and search for something indie, to feel like they are not just another part of this machine. I like to include myself in this group, but I keep coming to the same questions. Why is “indie” the place to find realistic female characters? If today’s society is full of women with fascinating lives and varied interests that do not all revolve around the same core story – why does our mainstream content not reflect it? Would we not pay the same $14 for a movie ticket about a woman we really connected with that we do for the one that is a caricature?
I believe that we would. I believe that if the content were accessible, it would be supported. The truth is we all have a say, if we choose to exercise it.
Through this journey, I have met wonderfully bold and gifted female writers and producers who are looking to make a way. In my current documentary, Click Here: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Making Movies, we are highlighting a new generation of storytellers who are doing it their way. People who have been met with the frustration of an industry that tells them there is no audience for their work and who choose to ignore it and make it anyway. These are women, men, and even students who are trailblazers in my eyes. The group may be small, but it is inspiring.
So what do we do in a world where you can do anything? We blog, we crowdfund, we search, we SXSW, we Hulu, we Netflix, we YouTube, we support and spread the word about the content that speaks to us. We don’t let ourselves get caught in the web of the lesser of all content evils. We seek out the content creators that we believe deserve a chance. We actualize our place in this world of film. We don’t remain passive audience members but active participants in the conversation. We do it because we now have the tools. We do it because it will eventually make a difference. If we do it enough and do it consistently and do it boldly, there will one day be a girl in an audition room who is reading for a role that feeds her mind and soul, that represents the emotion, intricacy and capability within every woman.
Forgive my rally call but now more than ever is the time.
Actress turned advertising executive turned branded content expert turned writer, producer and mommy–with creative prowess and keen business savvy–Candice has developed original content for major brands (Visa, Pepsi) and indie distribution alike. She is currently in production on the documentary Click Here: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Making Movies. More information can be found at http://www.seedandspark.com/studio/click-here-or-how-i-learned-stop-worrying-and-love-making-movies.