Most people have some talent at which they excel. Me, I'm a maestro of the movie camera. I've been doing media studies and I found that I had an amazing knack for getting the best out of a camera. This led to me getting an offer I couldn't refuse.
Not from The Godfather, happily, but from a wannabe rock band at our school. They weren't too bad, actually, but I sort of doubted that they'd ever make the big time. The talent was there, but it was more of a talent to copy other artists, lacking that flare of originality that is so necessary for success.
The band had decided that they wanted to make a video that they could hawk to the video companies, hoping that a promoter would see it and fall all over himself in his endeavours to shovel the shekels in their direction.
I gently suggested that maybe a few gigs at local hotels and night clubs wouldn't hurt but they were mad keen for a video. Apparently in the music industry, if you didn't have a video you had nothing.
I would script the video.
I would have artistic rights.
I would direct and produce it.
My name would be on it.
It would be a smash hit and I would be famous.
In sheer self-defence and to shut them up I agreed to do a video for them. I knew damn well why they were agreeable to letting me script, direct and produce the thing. They didn't have the foggiest idea of how to do it or what they wanted. I also knew that their artistic temperaments meant that they'd try to take control but I thought I could handle that. It would be good practice.
I came up with a reasonable script and the boys were happy with it. They got to do what they did best, play and sing, and I got to do all the hard work. What could be fairer than that?
I arranged to borrow one of the schools recording studios for one Saturday. The professor was agreeable, saying the finished video would be considered one of my work assignments, so I was killing two birds with one shot.
It quickly became apparent that we were going to have a problem with the filming. Not from the band or their fans but from the parasites. There is a distinct difference between the fans and the parasites. The fans are there to cheer their boys on. The parasites are there to suck away the glory and the kudos, as well as any blood they can sink their teeth into.
The fans tended to do as they were told and kept out of the way. The parasites would tend to find ways to get into the video. That was OK. I'd expected that and had built in a few parts for some of the young ladies, subordinate to, but complementary to, the band.
Despite my precautions a small problem arose. She was only about five foot six but she had a sparking personality, looked really vibrant with her mass of red hair, and could project a sexual charisma just by smiling. She was also a cheerleader, and quite a good one, I believe.
Her name was Cherri, spelt with an I, and she had a narcissistic personality. She wasn't happy with the bit parts that the other girls were willing to do. She wanted to be a star. Seeing that she couldn't play and couldn't sing it was going to be hard to fit her into the band. I needed a place where she could be seen and not heard.
Have you ever watched the 'Married – with children' TV series? I quite enjoy that show. In one episode Kelly was included in a rock video. Her role was to be chained to a fence while the video was shot around her. Why they needed to chain her to a fence, I don't know. But the idea did stick in my head. So what the hell? I figured what's good for Kelly would also be good for Cherri.
I called Dan, the band leader, over and told him I had a little problem. I wanted, I said, one of the girls to be fastened to the rails, indicating some rails that ran along one wall of the studio.
"I want her to act as a focus as the virgin sacrifice for the heathen gods," I said. "I figured one of the girls in tattered clothes or possibly some sort of brief costume. Any suggestions as to who might be interested?"
As expected, Cherri had drifted over and was in earshot. Also, as expected, she didn't look too enthused at the idea of being chained to the side of the stage rather than central. Dave was looking around and naturally Cherri was the first person his eyes fell on.
"Ah, perhaps," he started, but I interrupted him.
"No, not Cherri," I said quickly. "Try someone else."
Cherri had already been opening her mouth to refuse the offer and now she snapped it closed, looking indignant. It was fine for her to refuse the offer. Not so fine to be rejected out of hand.
"Ah, why not Cherri?" asked Dan. "She probably has her cheerleader costume here and would seem to fit the requirements.
"Yes, why not Cherri?" I heard Cherri mutter.
"Too flamboyant," I said easily. "She'd probably draw attention away from the band. I was really thinking someone who'd be more of a background figure."
I could practically see Cherri's antenna twitching as she picked up the signal. She'd be apart from the others and more noticeable. All she had to do was agree to play it down. That didn't mean she couldn't milk it for all she was worth.
"Actually, Dan has a point," she said, sounding rather diffident. "I do have my cheerleader outfit in my bag. I'd probably do a good job. Why not try me out?"
"Mainly because I've seen you in that uniform," I told her. "I know how good you look in it. Let's just say you fill out the top a little abundantly."
I looked at her, considering.
"I think it might work with a little change," I said, stroking my chin and trying to look thoughtful. If you work the cheerleader skirt with your current blouse, that should do the trick. You'll be showing a bit of cleavage but you wouldn't be as distracting as in the full uniform."
I was still shaking my head with a dubious expression on my face. Cherri hopped in before I could turn her down again.
"OK," she said quickly, "that's settled. I'll just go and get changed."
"Ah, Cherri," I said hastily, "where the blouse is concerned only two buttons."
I tapped the top of my chest to indicate which buttons I meant, trying to give the impression I wanted cleavage, but not too much cleavage. Cherri gave me a cat with the cream smile and flitted away.
I dug out a couple of pairs of handcuffs and gave them to Dan. (It's amazing the things you can find in the prop box. Especially when you make sure in advance that the things you want are there.)
"OK, Dan. When I give you the nod I want you and one of the others to drag Cherri over and fasten her to the rail. Please remember to fasten her with her arms wide and facing the band."
I'd already found that I needed to be pretty explicit when explaining what I wanted. Dan was quite capable of just handcuffing her ankles to the bars and leave her facing away. After all, as far as he was concerned, Cherri was incidental to his music.
The next session went quite well and I signalled Dan to bring on the virgin sacrifice. He and the drummer stepped out and came back with a genteelly struggling Sherri, who they proceeded to fasten to the wall.
