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| | | | | | | | | | | | | Guest Column - Evan Katz
A Dream Come True
In my seven years since graduating from Duke, I had been an unpaid intern, an unpaid location scout, a waiter, an agent's assistant, a production assistant, and a hair restoration product salesman. Then, in February, my roommate Barron and I made the Top Ten out of 7500 screenplays in the Miramax/HBO/LivePlanet sponsored Project Greenlight contest. We'd won a Sony DV camera and an Avid editing system, which we used to shoot a three-minute scene from our film. And on this particular night, we were going to see our scene displayed on the big screen, after which we'd find out if we made the Top Three.
We arrived in a procession of limousines at the Galaxy Six Theaters on Hollywood Boulevard. Lights blaring in our faces, we were whisked out onto a long, green carpet lined by reporters, photographers and curiosity seekers. I walked down press row, arm in arm with my mother who'd been flown in from New York, and every two feet, Barron and I would have a brief interview with a different reporter. It was a blast. Even as a writer, who never aspired to the limelight, it was a dream come true. We talked about our movie, we talked about being in the Top Ten, we talked about our day jobs selling hair products; whatever the press asked, we came back with a witty response and a pair of killer smiles.
And then I turned to my mom. After seven years of looking in every corner of town for recognition and validation, seeing the pride in my mom's eyes as I chatted it up for the Entertainment Tonight cameras made the whole struggle worthwhile. It was that rarest of moments: one of pure, unadulterated joy. That alone would have been enough to make this my happiest moment ever. But the event hadn't even begun yet.
We entered to a packed theater and sat front row center. After a taped address from Harvey Weinstein and a pulsing trailer for the contest, the crowd was buzzing with excitement. Barron and I were the fifth to introduce our scene. We knew it wasn't the most visually impressive, but we got laughs where we intended and we hoped that we acquitted ourselves well enough for our script to carry us to the next round.
When Matt Damon and Ben Affleck stepped out to announce the Top Three, they explained - over the course of five or ten interminable minutes - how everyone was a winner and how much they agonized over this decision. I can assure you, it was nothing compared to the agony of anticipation we felt as we waited to hear our fates. Finally, they announced the names of the three finalists. My name came second.
You could have heard my mom cry from outside. I started crying as well. The rest was a big blur. A hug from Barron, a hug from my manager, a hug from my mom, a call to my sister in New York, and before we knew it, we were being shuttled down a corridor to the Knitting Factory, where we'd have a few hours to answer questions from the press. Reporters from TV Guide, Variety and the Hollywood Reporter. Pictures with Matt and Ben. On camera interviews for HBO. To say it was surreal wouldn't do it justice.
In a brief moment of clarity amidst the tumult, I realized that the stars, the cameras, the glamour... none of it mattered. It was all window dressing for one incredibly joyous evening that I was fortunate enough to share with my mom. It was her belief in me that allowed me to pursue my dreams and this was the first chance I had to pay her back. I never felt better in my entire life. | | | |
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