CHANCEENCOUNTER
MEETING THE FISH
by Darian Lane Photo: Jason Merritt "I can't tell you what to do." His response was firm. "F#@k it." I said to myself and headed toward the exit. "Tell me some more," He asked, baiting. What was this The Matrix, I thought, but I obliged him. When finished, I asked, "Can I send it to your agent?" He looked at me dead serious, "I can't tell you what to do." That was it. I shook his hand and left. Three months later, I'm standing outside a restaurant by my house in Malibu. I'm talking on the phone with my best friend, Kaz, when in walks Mister Fishburne with his wife and possibly his daughter. Without even thinking I yelled, "Hey, Mister Fishburne." Without hesitation he walked over and asked, "Have we met?" I reminded him of our first encounter. He nodded, and bid me well. Yet I couldn't let it rest there. I was sitting in the restaurant watching my beloved Eagles getting pummeled by the Washington Redskins, when out of the bathroom walked his daughter. She took one look at me and smiled, almost breaking into a giggle/smirk. Several minutes later Mister Fishburne walked to the bathroom. He took no notice of me at all. I reached into my pocket and felt the latest trailer to my new movie. It wasn't the one I had pitched him, but it was my work nonetheless. He would be impressed. I sat in my chair facing the television and the bathroom and waited. He exited. As he passed my chair, I took all the guts I could muster and put them into words, "Mister Fishburne." He stopped, looked down. I felt confident. "In case you are uncertain of my work, here's the trailer to my latest film." "Is this the project you were pitching?" "No..." I didn't get out the rest of my sentence because he had bent down and was now two inches from my face. His breath hot against my nose. All my confidence had drained. "Why are you interrupting me when I am with my family? I am not here to talk business. Those times are clearly defined." My East Coast upbringing should have kicked in and told him to back the f#@k up, but I said nothing. He continued to berate me, but in a kind, stern and fatherly manner. When he finished, there was water in my eyes. "I will take your dvd." He continued, "I take it your contact information is on it?" I nodded. He took the dvd, tapped me on the shoulder, and exited. I looked up at the television. The game was over.
Laurence Fishburne or, Larry Fishburne, stood at an astounding 6ft. I'm 6'4''. I towered over him. Yet something was wrong. Here I was in his dressing room and he was making me feel small. I have always had intimidating eyes, which is why I wear glasses to dial back the intensity. This man's eyes penetrated mine. He stood a whopping 3 inches from my face asking me, daring me, to pitch my story. I took a deep breath, averted my eyes (rookie mistake) and did. When I finished I asked if I could send him the full script. He looked dead at me and said, "I can't tell you what to do." "Are you interested?" I pushed.
September 2013
AZ FILMMAKER 15