MINISTERUL EDUCATIEI AL REPUBLICII

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IP Institutul de tiine Penale i Criminologie Aplicat
Catedra de Psihologie i tiine Socio-Umane

Text:
The
performance

Analyze this text

Pasat Natalia

SSP14S12
 Chisinau 2015

The performance

Cut!

The director slammed his script to the floor in disgust. This was
the eighth take. The eighth time his leading actor had blown the
scene.

The actor, dressed in prison fatigues, looked across the open set.
It was designed to resemble a small, stark attorney client room
in a state prison.

Whats that stupid directors problem now? he muttered to

himself.

Tony Tony please, come here From off stage a man waved.
Begrudgingly, Tony strolled over.

What is it, Jim?

Jim handed the actor a cup of juice. Hey, man, relax. Take it easy.
You just about got this one in the can.

I know

Look, a couple more scenes and we can take off somewhere;

blow some of that money theyre paying you.

Youre right, Jim. Tony grinned at the thought and took a sip.
Im just letting this part get to me, thats all.

Thats what makes you such a great actor. You get into your
character.

Thanks.

Jim was right. Tony would listen to his friend. After all, Tony trusted
him with his life. Jim had never let him down.

Jim and Tony grew up in Joplin, Missouri. Jim, Tony and Jims kid
sister Melinda were fast friends, inseparable. It seemed only
natural by the time they were in high school Tony and Melinda
would be romantically involved. Jim welcomed the relationship.

The summer before senior year brought a rival for Melindas

attention. Brad Stockton was a transfer student, rich, obnoxious
and used to getting what he wanted. When Melinda refused him,
Brad had nearly raped her. His fathers money and influence
covered up the incident. But Tony plotted revenge.

Tony and Jim lured Brad to a remote lake on the premise of

possessing evidence that would send him to jail. When Brad
arrived Tony was waiting at the waters edge. Venting his anger
he coldly struck Brad across the head with a rock.

With Jims help, they stripped the unconscious boy to his shorts,
tossing him into a shallow section of the lake. The incident was
ruled an accident: the boy had struck his head while swimming
and drowned.

Tony and Melinda eventually split up. The two boys never spoke of
Brads death again. That was over twenty years ago. Tony Howard
was now one of Hollywoods leading men. He commanded top
billing, top pay, and his pick of leading ladies. Jim became Tonys
trusted agent.

Ok, ok I get it! Tony shouted at the director, not caring who
heard. Get off my back.

Tonys outbursts were becoming a regular part of the daily

shooting. He constantly missed cues and fumbled lines. When
asked, he angrily shrugged it off, blaming it on a sudden
migraine. At one point the studio considered replacing him. But
Tony always managed to finish the scene, usually to the raves of
studio execs viewing the daily rushes.

Alright people, alright, lets try it again. The director signaled

and studio hands sprung into action. Props were re-set; make up
was freshened; lights recalibrated; cameras loaded and readied.
Rudely brushing off an over attentive wardrobe girl, Tony mounted
the stage. He glanced at Jim, giving his friend a curt nod, and took
his mark.
Give em a performance they wont forget, Jim encouraged.

Ready all Two dozen workers took up their positions.

Ready, the director barked. Lets get it right this time! Lights
speed a set of digital timing sticks clicked in front of the
camera lens, and action!

Damn it Tom, you know Ive done everything I can! The actor-
attorney dropped a thick file folder on the metal table top.
Theres nothing left nothing!

Ive got a date with the electric chair in just over an hour and
you say theres nothing you can do! Tonys character Tom paced
nervously, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Across the room, watching the scene carefully, the director

noticed the perspiration. It wasnt in the script. But this was good,
by God, this was what he wanted: emotion, raw, honest emotion.
He signaled his assistant to let the scene play out.

On stage, Tom spun around to his lawyer. What about the new
evidence? he asked excitedly, the DNA thing.

The lawyer shook his head. It didnt pan out, there was no
match.

Damn it! Tony, as Tom the condemned man, savagely punched

the table. This is dynamite stuff, the director thought, grinning, if
the set holds up.

Theres nothing left to do, Tom. The lawyer tapped the folder in
front of him. The psychologist signed off this morning. He says
you are sane and fit. Short of the governor theres nothing left
nothing. Im sorry. He lowered his head unable to look at his
client.

Sorry, Tom said softly. Sorry Tony repeated the line. He was
ad-libbing now, following instincts which earned him two Oscar
nominations. A tear rolled down one cheek. Across the sound
stage every eye, every ear, was focused on the tense
performance unfolding before them.

Sorry
Tonys character slowly turned to face the wall, his back to the
camera. It was a gutsy move for an actor. The director could have
kissed him. It was brilliant.

Yeah well The actors voice was barely audible. Im sorry,

too.

The actors froze in position, film still rolling. Finally a silent

direction was given. Lights slowly faded, plunging the set into
darkness.

Cut print thats it, thats it! The director excitedly jumped off
his seat. Wild applause arose, lights flickering on.

On stage Tony stood motionless. His migraine was back but he

didnt care. He knew he nailed the scene. A satisfied smile
crossed his lips. Next picture Ill hit em up for twice, no three
times the money. Ill get it too! Tony mumbled under his breath.

What was that?

Nothing, nothing, I was just Tony turned to find himself in a

small, drab enclosure. Like the set, it was painted an ugly grey.
But it smelled of stale cigarette smoke. A single lamp hung over a
metal table and two metal chairs.

Unlike the set, this room was real.

The entire length of one wall was occupied by a large, dark mirror.
Opposite it was a heavy looking door. Overhead, the single air
vent did little to alleviate the claustrophobic atmosphere.

What were you saying, Tony?

A man stood across the table from Tony. He was about fifty; well
dressed wearing a tailored Brooks Brothers suit. An open brief
case sat in one chair, while a file folder rested atop the table. Tony
gave the stranger a puzzled look.

Who who are you? What? He looked around then back at the
man. What is this?

What do you mean, Tony?

Where am I? Whats going on? There was anger and panic in
Tonys voice.

The stranger held up his hands. Whoa! Easy, Tony, take it easy.
Its me, Bob, your attorney.

What? Tony shouted. I dont know you! Where am I? Who in the

hell are you?

Tony, Ive warned you about this, the attorney said angrily.
Acting crazy wont do any good! He tapped the folder on the
table. The psychologist signed off this morning. He says you are
sound and fit. Short of the governor theres nothing left. Weve
been over this.

Tony shook his head trying to clear it. What are you talking
about? He yelled, and rushed across the room.

Instantly the door burst open and two uniformed guards entered.
They stopped short as the attorney held up a hand. Its ok, no
problem.

Tony now stood inches from his attorney. He looked around at the
two guards then returned his gaze to the man. Suddenly he
smiled and began to laugh.

Ok, I get it. You got me. Its a joke right? He looked around the
room again. Thought youd put one over on Tony, huh? He
patted the other on the shoulder. And you where has the studio
been hiding you? What a performance!

Tony staggered over to the large mirror and rapped on the glass.
You can come out now Mr. Director Jim all of you, I know
you are watching. Ok, you got me! I give up!

Still laughing, he spun around and started for the door. Come
out, come out wherever you are. The guards seized Tony by the
arms and gently but forcibly moved him into one of the chairs.

Dont make this any harder on yourself, Tony, the attorney said
softly, trying to calm his client.

It did no good.
Tony continued to struggle.

An elderly doctor entered carrying his bag. Ignoring the guards,

he stood in front of Tony. Easy now, son, its alright.

He opened the front of Tonys shirt, listening to his heart through

a stethoscope. Tony tried to jump up but the guards held him fast.

What are you doing? Tony screamed. Let me go!

The doctor produced a hypodermic from his bag and began to roll
up Tonys sleeve.

What what, are you crazy? What are you doing? Tony
struggled as the needle pierced his skin. A second later Tony
stopped struggling.

Hell be fine shortly, the doctor announced, checking Tonys

pulse, Just a very mild sedative not unusual.

The next thing Tony knew he was being slowly marched down a
barren green corridor. He was flanked by four guards. The doctor
and another man led the somber procession. His attorney
followed.

Tonys mind reeled. The scene in the grey room played over in his
mind like a movie.

That was it

Of course!

They reached the end of the corridor and a pair of brown doors
opened. Through the pale lighting Tony could see a low wooden
platform and the back of a wooden chair. Entering the room,
everything became clear.

Sure, Tony thought, give em a performance they wont forget.

Thats what Jim told him. Well, damn it, hed do just that!

Looking around, Tony wondered where the stupid director and his
cameras were hidden. As long as they got it right hed give them
the performance of his life. Just dont screw it up, Mr. Director.
He could feel his migraine returning.
Without protest, Tony allowed himself to be strapped into the
chair. He sneered, and then grinned arrogantly. The audience
would eat it up.

Secured in the chair, a man Tony didnt recognize approached

him. The state has found you guilty and condemned you to death
for the murder of Brad Stockton. Do you have anything to say?

Tony looked him in the eye. Lets do this, he barked. Academy

award here I come.

The man backed away.

A hood was lowered over Tonys head. Seconds later, loud

humming split the silence. The room lighting dimmed and then
slowly came up.

Tony stiffened his body, shaking himself violently. He pulled and

strained against the leather straps. With a sudden burst he tried
to come up out of the chair. Then he stiffened again, held it, and
collapsed into the chair, his body limp.

Hold it hold it the director nervously told himself. Wait

wait now

Cut!

He shouted and jumped from his seat. Print it! he called

triumphantly. Thats a wrap!

From all around applause and cheers rang out. Studio lights came
on. Workers scurried about, shaking hands, congratulating each
other on a successful wrap.

Well, Jim, the director said, proudly shaking the agents hand,
our boy did it again! This one should win him the Oscar!

The celebration was cut short. A shrill scream echoed through the
cavernous sound stage.

All eyes turned.

The scream came from a woman who was unfastening the straps
on the prop electric chair. Her hand went to her mouth. Shaking,
she pointed to the motionless figure still strapped to the chair.
One of the lighting gaffers ran up. He felt for a pulse first the
wrist then the neck.

The studio fell silent.

The worker put his head against the figures chest.

Hes dead, he somberly announced, the color draining from his

face.

Tony Howard hes dead

End

http://www.short-story.me/crime-stories/654-the-
performance.html
Summary:

Tony it is considered a good actor, everything that happens to him

in everyday life consider a scene from the film, the Oscar dream,
he killed a classmate but that did not change his life, he still see
that film and that role to be played until the end. Even when he
went to the electric chair he saw everyone including lawyer
psychologists like actors must play their part to finish.