Let's Get It On!_ The Making of MMA and Its Ultimate Referee - Big John Mccarthy [85]
It wasn’t my final interaction with the woman I’ll call Miss X. In the makeup room, I was told to sit next to her to prep for the episode.
Soon a production assistant came in and gently said to her, “Mr. Benson wants to work through the lunch break, so I took it upon myself to order you grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, and some pasta.”
She exploded like the assistant had just run over her dog. “No, no, no. That’s my time. That’s my thirty minutes, and I want to go to the commissary.”
“Okay, but Mr. Benson—”
“I don’t care what Mr. Benson wants. That’s my thirty minutes. If I want to stand out on Barham Boulevard and pick my nose, that’s what I’m going to do.”
The assistant nodded, walked to my chair, and gave me the same line and lunch menu. In my one Academy Award—worthy moment, I went for it. “No, no, no, no,” I shrieked, startling the makeup artist. “That’s my thirty minutes, and if I want to stand out—” I paused. “You know what, bud? If I said something like that, I’d be a dick. Thank you so much for the lunch. That would be great.”
Miss X looked at me, daggers coming out of her eyes, and stormed out. Everybody in the makeup room applauded me, but I can tell you with the utmost confidence that she will never “friend me” on Facebook.
Now, it could have been a bad day for her, and she’s probably a wonderful person the rest of the time, but her behavior always reminds me of how to not act. She’d made a hardworking man, who was simply doing his job, feel insignificant. I’d tried in my own small way to right that wrong. Nobody’s above anybody else, even if they’re well-known.
My second big brush with fame came from another unexpected phone call, supposedly from a production assistant to Nicolas Cage who said the A-list actor wanted to put me in a film he was directing.
I thought one of my friends was playing a practical joke on me and said, “You’re full of shit.”
After many assurances, the caller said, “Could I at least deliver the script to you within the hour so you can look it over?”
“You’re really going for this one, but sure, why not? Send the script over within the next sixty minutes.”
When the script arrived at my house within the hour, I thought, My friends are good. The script looked legit. Even the Saturn Productions company listed at the bottom of the front page checked out when I searched for it online. Having watched my dad and his LAPD friends orchestrate the most elaborate jokes on each other, I had to admit this was a pretty good one.
When I started reading the script, though, I quickly realized it wasn’t a prank. I’d seen real scripts. Besides appearing on Friends, I’d had the opportunity to work stunts and advise on the 1999 cop comedy Blue Streak, starring Martin Lawrence and Luke Wilson.
Looking at this script, I knew my friends weren’t smart enough to come up with something this detailed.
I called the assistant back, and he asked if I’d meet Cage at his house to read for him.
The next day, on my lunch break and in my LAPD fatigues, I found myself pulling into Cage’s driveway in Bel Air in my Audi TT. There was the latest model, red Ferrari 360 Spider in a line of classic cars.
Holy shit, I thought. I don’t belong here.
Cage was a friendly guy. He told me he’d been training with Royce Gracie and had watched me since UFC 2. I fumbled through the read while Cage kept telling me I was doing great. I knew I sucked.
Afterward, he said, “I want you to do the part, but I need to check with some people before I can give you a final answer.”
Later that day, I got the call. I’d been cast.
Sonny, the story of a young returning Army veteran who can’t escape his seedy past, was filmed in New Orleans. They flew me down South for four days and later had me come back for another week of shooting.
The movie starred future Academy Award nominee James Franco. I played Detective Rollo, a crooked cop whose one purpose seemed to be beating up Sonny or another character every few scenes, then leaving.
In one of my scenes with Franco, I had to blindside him next to his car parked on Bourbon