Making My Son Cry

Sam's ability to produce free-flowing tears on demand won him the leads in The Adventure Club and Winter Hymns. Not because those characters have to cry all the time, but when they do, it really has to work. These are not scaredy-cat, cry-baby tears that make you want to give the boy a shake. These are tears of pain and heartbreak that make you want to give the boy a hug. Both directors made a point of saying "you got us with the tears..."

Well, it's one thing to cry on tape or in a small audition room. There aren't many people around. You have to do it once, maybe twice, and you're done. And you have nothing to lose, really.

It's something else entirely to cry on cue when you are surrounded by a crew of 10 or more plus the director (and often one or more of the producers) ... not to mention the other actor in the scene, who are all counting on you to get this done. And then you've got to run it over and over. Scene 10. Scene 10A. Scene 10B. Scene 10C. .. each from a different point of view. Wide shots, tracking shots, "coverage" (close ups), over the shoulder reverse-angle shots. And who knows how many takes for each. We had to dump a take yesterday because emergency response vehicles screamed up the street all the way through it: "Still rolling: take it again from the top..." {cue fresh tears}

Fortunately, Sam had great training ground in Winter Hymns. He cries in the opening and closing sequence of that short film - first, tears of embarrassment and disappointment, and then tears of fear and sadness. Those scenes, totalling maybe seven minutes of film time, took more than seven hours to shoot. Both times, Sam ran dry in the first hour. So he called me in to make him cry.

We'd duck into the bathroom (or in the case of the last scene, in which he wasn't allowed to move between takes for continuity's sake, I'd crouch on the floor next to him), and we'd whisper about scary and sad things that make us both emotional. Like losing him at the Dragonboat Festival or losing Grandpa Ashe. He'd hold back tears and then I would duck away (or into the closet in the bedroom scene) just as the cameras rolled. It made me cry every time, too. By the end of the day, I was wrung out like I'd cried for a week. Partly because it goes against my instinct to make my boy cry. But it worked.

So when Sam prepped for the emotional scene yesterday, he had the "mom trick" in his back pocket. He kind of hoped that he would just have to get glassy-eyed when he tells his mom how much he misses his grandpa and asks if she thinks he could ever be like him. Up they went to "grandpa's den" for rehearsals while Jeremy and I set up a vantage point behind the monitors in the living room. A few minutes later, I could hear "Sam's mom?" rippling through the crew. "Where's Angie?" Yup. Big tears required.

I ducked into a small spare bedroom with Sam, who asked for a knock at the one-minute warning. I could hear them lighting the scene and then clearing out non-essential crew to give him some privacy. I reminded Sam that he nailed this himself in the audition and he told me what he was going to think about - how he couldn't imagine losing us, never seeing his parents again, how sad he feels for Jeremy, who doesn't have his dad or see his mom. He made me cry while he stored it all up and then took a deep breath and took his place at grandpa's desk, old photo in hand.

And blew everyone away.

I was watching on the director's monitor in the hallway and was crying myself! (And Jeremy could feel crew eyes on him as he fought tears downstairs.) You could hear a pin drop when Geoff called cut .. and then Sam said, "Sorry for being late on the Science Museum line" and Geoff replied, "Are you kidding me? You. do. not. have. to. apologize. for. anything. WOW!" Gabrielle Miller (Corner Gas), who plays his mom, told him he performed "beautifully" and remarked that he was very talented. They did two takes of the two-shot, just one of Sam's close up, and a couple (fire trucks, camera angles) of Gabe's close-up.

Geoff said not to worry about tears for the over-his-shoulder angle, but Sam said he wanted his cry-voice to sound right and to do his best to help Gabe's performance (which she thought was the sweetest thing ever. Geoff said, "Well, I am not gonna say no to that..."). Sam popped back into the spare room with me each time to prime the well, but he really just needed to see me share in his own preparation - my emotions make him emotional, too. We're all that way about our mothers.

One day, Sam won't need to whisper-share his fears and sorrows with me to prepare for an emotional scene. He won't need me on set at all. I might shed a tear when that happens. But one thing is for sure: no matter who he is pretending to be, I will always cry when I see my son cry.