I was allowed to stay until Ben presented his award since the plane couldn’t take off without him. I sat in the audience and watched Lady Gaga perform. Her seats were right next to mine, but while she was onstage her parents moved up and sat in them to watch her. I imagine that Lady Gaga has done a lot of things that confuse her parents, no matter how supportive they may be. Watching Lady Gaga’s parents watch Lady Gaga nail a musical tribute to Julie Andrews was extraordinary. When Ms. Andrews herself joined their daughter onstage, their pride almost took solid form next to me.
The last thing I got to see was John Legend and Common perform “Glory.” I had seen them perform it at the Grammys earlier that month (yeah, guess what, I’m a big deal) but something special was happening in the auditorium that night. Maybe it was having their cast and crew there, maybe Oprah really does make every room more magical. Chris Pine’s single tear was no bullshit.
Just before Ben presented his award, I slipped out and headed to the pickup point. I had to walk back through the red carpet, this time jarringly empty. I got in the car and headed straight to the airport. It didn’t matter if the dress got wrinkled now, so I could bend at the waist like a normal human and the ride was very comfortable.
We pulled up in front of a private plane on a deserted, pitch-black tarmac. I stepped out of my car and thought, This is the most unreal situation I’ve ever been in and I’m getting a damn picture of it. Still in the gown and the diamond necklace, I asked the pilot to take my photo on the steps of the plane. Does taking photos in these situations negate your ability to seem cool in them? You bet your ass it does. But COME ON. This was impossibly swanky and no one else was around. I gave the pilot my best sheepish, apologetic smile and got on the plane.
“Hey, what took you so long?” Ben and his assistant had beat me there. “You’re doing a photo shoot out there now? We’ve got places to be.”
They’d both already changed into jeans and T-shirts. How, I ask you, how?
I never posted my photo anywhere because it felt too douchey, but we’re friends now, so you guys know I’m super down to earth. Please ignore my previous comment about being a big deal.
Everyone got ready to take off and I grabbed my sweats and a hoodie and headed toward the bathroom. I pulled the flight attendant aside and produced a small nail file.
“Hi, I’m Anna, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry to do this to you when we’ve just met, but I’m going to need you to cut me out of this dress.”
my grandmother’s funeral
I think of my mom as a softie. She emotes more than anyone else in the family. She has a big, easy smile, and most of my friends describe her as “adorable” within three minutes of knowing her. She’s a people pleaser, but she doesn’t take shit from anybody.
When I was in the second week of filming Pitch Perfect in Baton Rouge, my mother called me around five a.m. to tell me that my grandmother had died. She was ninety-three. The woman had made miraculous recoveries from illness and injury, but she’d said for years that she was ready to die, and a few weeks after asking express permission from both of her daughters, she let go.
My mom didn’t cry. Sometimes I forget that when it comes to serious matters, she’s kind of stoic and dignified. If she didn’t object to violence, she would have made an impressive and beloved general.
I didn’t cry either. The funeral plans would be made soon; she needed to discuss them with the rest of the family. We said good-bye and I got ready for work. It was Monday, which meant an early call time, so I needed to be out the door soon anyway.
I stopped at base camp to tell Debbie, our makeup artist. Actors have weird interactions with the vanity departments. We tell them private things like “I think I’m getting a rash” or “I’m on my period,” the way a race car driver would tell his pit crew that the wheel’s pulling a little to the left. Sometimes, we have to tell them that a family member has died.
I stepped up into the trailer and very quickly said, “Hey, Debbie, I’m fine, but I wanted to let you know my grandmother passed this morning, so you may have to keep an eye on me.”
I’ve always appreciated when someone can sense that I am trying to keep it together and they don’t show too much sympathy.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I’ll have you covered.” She put a tube of waterproof mascara on her station and gave me a nod.
Next, I had to go to set to tell Tommy, our second assistant director. When you start making movies, nobody tells you who to inform in the event of a death, but the second AD is an information hub, and I liked Tommy, so I decided on him. I rode to our shooting location in a van with a bunch of the cast. The small blessing of a five a.m. call time is that no one wants to talk. I did wonder if wearing my sunglasses pre-sunrise made me look more closed off than usual, but I also didn’t really care.