So, you may remember this little post about Matt's rejection by the folks at Public Enemies, the movie starring the one and only Johnny Depp, the greatest actor of our generation.(To summarize for those of you too lazy to click a link: Matt has a misshapen head, one that is too freakishly grotesque to appear on screen with Mr. Depp.)
So, even though he was secretly hurt after being rejected by Sir Johnny Depp, Matt had a little laugh on the blog and in the newspaper, then moved on. Forgot about it. Left Depp behind.
Until... about two weeks ago he got a call. The number was blocked, so Matt figured it was a cop or a prosecutor calling him for work. (The following is a recreation of actual events.)
Cheery voice: "Hi, this Emily from Public Enemies calling to see if you can come in for a shoot on the 18th and the 23rd."
Matt: Stunned silence.
Cheery voice: "We're going to be filming at Union Station on the 18th. And then, on the 23rd, we'll be at the Biograph Theater. And that would be the scene where he gets shot."
Matt: Stunned silence.
Cheery voice: "I just talked to your dad like three times. So, we were wondering if you were available for any of those dates."
Matt (interior): Wow! Yes! Woo hoo! Yes! With bells on! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!
Matt (out loud): "Why, yes, that might work. Um, did you say you talked to my dad?"
Cheery voice: "Yes, Tom Hanley."
Matt: "That's not my dad."
Cheery voice: "Yes, Tom Hanley."
Matt: "That's not my Dad."
Puzzled voice: "Yeah, I talked to him this morning. Tom Hanley."
Matt: "That's not my dad's name."
Further puzzled voice: "Tom Hanley."
Matt: "My dad's name is Mark."
Quizzical voice: "Well, I talked to Tom Hanley."
Matt: "Um...I'm sure that's not my dad's name."
Perplexed voice: "Your name is Matt?"
Matt: "Yes."
Perplexed voice: "I talked to Tom Hanley. Tom Hanley has a son named Matt."
Matt: "Well, that may be, but that's not me. I really want to do this. I just want to let you know that's not my Dad, in case you're looking for someone else."
Flummoxed voice: "Please hold."
Matt was on hold for at least three minutes and he spent the time pondering how he would convince this woman that, in fact, he did know the name of his father. Matt figured this was all about to fall apart again. Instead, when she came back, she gave him a confirmation number and a time to show up. This was getting kind of real.
Still, Matt kept this all under his hat, sure the movie folks were going to call back and say they'd made a mistake, that the Horse Face doesn't belong on the big screen, or Tom Hanley has come back to claim his son. But neither of those things happened. Instead, they called back and told Matt when he could come in for a fitting. This was very, very real.
Matt had to go to this certain address in Chicago. They told Matt he couldn't wear scented deodorant or cologne and he couldn't take pictures and he had to wear underwear (apparently that was a problem with some other folks) and he had to come alone.
Matt: "Can I bring my guide dog?"
Cheery voice: Stunned silence.
Matt: "Just kidding. Ha-ha."
So, about a week ago, Matt went in for a fitting and Matt again almost blew it. For, you see, when someone is fitting you for clothes they want to know your sizes. Not Matt's strength. They wanted hat and neck and in-seam and arm length and on and on. Matt doesn't even know his own shoe size because, why bother to learn when it's printed in the shoe? Right? Right? (Matt guessed 10; it was 7-1/2. The cheerful fitting woman rolled her eyes.)
But, luckily the people were very forgiving and they found clothes, even though the shirt neck is two sizes too small because Matt guessed 14-1/2 (he knew it had a half in it!) then was too embarrassed to admit it was way off. The room was this odd, unfinished office space with hundreds of suits, shirts and hats from the 1930s. Matt couldn't help but think that, somewhere, there was a group of naked grandfathers wondering who stole their clothes while they were napping.
They gave Matt a suit (gray with pinstripes), suspenders, a brown tie, a brown fedora, a giant light brown overcoat that weighs eight pounds, and black shoes. You weren't allowed to take pictures so instead Matt posted a picture of his grandfather to approximate the look. Suffice to say, he looked cool.
Finally, they shaved Matt's sideburns (oh, those beautiful sideburns!) and gave him a check-in date. Holy moly, this was going to happen!
The first day of shooting was this past Sunday and it was pretty fascinating...and weird...and dull...and awesome. But Matt will post more about that later because this post is far too long already and he's still trying to see if anyone's posted pictures of the shooting at Union Station. (Yes, people were taking pictures of the extras.) Plus, suspense is good for increased readership.
So in summary, Mr. Johnny Depp, you are a great actor, director and humanitarian. And all those nasty things that Matt said about you - and he said a lot of horrible, profane, terrible things - are water under the bridge as far as Matt's concerned. The Horse Face forgives you.
No comments:
Post a Comment