A Clapperboard’s Tale by Barbara Mogerley
In the 90’s, I worked as a clapperboard on Cain and Abel – A Tale of Sibling Rivalry. The Director rejected traditional filming methods. He abandoned scripts in favour of improvisation. For authenticity, he’d advertised for: Male siblings (antagonistic relationship essential). No trained actors!
He was inundated with applications from thespians posing as workmen. The Director had almost given up when two brothers, dressed in overalls and hob-nailed boots, walked into the studio. He signed them immediately.
Off camera, the brothers fought continually. Their bruises only enhanced the fight scenes. On set, however, the brothers became camera conscious. In the murder scene, it took 600 takes before Cain eventually killed Abel. I was overworked. The clapper-man ran out of chalk. My clapstick became unhinged. My wooden slate began to splinter. I was falling apart.
I was replaced by an electronic slate with LED digits and coloured stripes. Looks can’t make up for experience in my opinion. I was unceremoniously dumped at the back of the storeroom between old film reels and Lethal Weapon III props. I cried quiet tears. I felt humiliated by this affront to my art. I thought things couldn’t get any worse. By God they did.
I’m now displayed on the wall of an American diner. I sit in a glass case, close to Monroe’s white dress and DiMaggio’s jersey. A dead fly rots in the corner. My credits include: The Great Dictator (1940), Les Quatre Cent Coups (1959) and Taxi Driver (1976). Nobody reads them. My photos with Truffaut and Hitchcock curl and fade. Children splash coke on my pane, or distort my vision with greasy fingers. I was once the most fêted clapperboard in L.A.
It could be worse. One clapperboard, a veteran of Apocalypse Now, is used to frighten crows on a farm in Michigan.
Barbara is a French and English teacher in Dublin. She writes personal essays and historical non-fiction.
Artwork – Elizabeth Collins
www.elizabethcollinsdesigns.com
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