10 Minutes to Showtime!

“10 minutes to showtime!”

“You heard me, people!” shouted Paul, the producer, hair ragged, eyes tired, mind a million places at once. He burst into the gallery, call sheet in hand, throwing his arms around wildly. His assistant-in-training, Amanda, a short girl in her early 20’s, brown hair in a tight ponytail, trailed behind him.

“Allison!” he shouted to the head vision mixer - the one in charge of listening to the director’s orders for which camera to pick and what VT to play — “What’s the sitrep with the broken camera?”

“Still down!” she said, her back straight, as though she were a cadet in the army. With the conditions of her workplace, the set of Late-Night Tonight with Mike Knight, she might as well be. It’s the most popular, most prestigious late-night show, which happened to be celebrating its 35th Anniversary with a big blowout special featuring guests, musicians, and an exclusive interview with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, Jim Happening. The most notable part of the show was its focus on live music, presented by Gary Michaels, an extremely talented drummer who’s been on the show since its air date.

Paul, the producer and stand-in director of today’s show, approached Allison. Sweat dripped down his face. He’d been up all night going through extensive notes after its director was hospitalised two days before from eating a bowl of disastrously bad shrimp.

Paul had been producing this show for years — He couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong for the big show. Unfortunately for him…

“God — Camera 3 was integral to the show,” he said, hand over his mouth. “Do we have a solution?”

“Well, we could move one of the other cameras… we’ve got two on the guest. In my five years of working here, we’ve never needed two on one guest,” Allison queried.

“Can’t do it. Jim needs 2 cameras. One of his stipulations for being on the show. Something about capturing every best possible angle. We ordered a new one?”

“Yeah, should be here in 8 minutes.”

“Great job.” Paul patted Allison on the back heartily. “Now I just have to figure out how to direct the show…” Paul contemplated. Paul was no director, but today he had to be. Everything was riding on his shoulders.

Allison opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then closed it again. Amanda sensed her anxiety.

Paul shook away his contemplation.

“9 minutes to showtime, people!” shouted Paul as he quickly ran out of the room, his assistant in tow.

“So how come filming the band is so important?” huffed Amanda, racing quickly behind Paul as he shuffled down the studio halls. Paul loosened the tie around his neck and undid a button, then wiped his brow.

“Because the Band being front-and-centre is an integral piece of the show’s history. If we suddenly change things on the day of the big special, you know what the fans will say about us? Scratch that, you know what the media will say about us?!”

Paul and Amanda ran down the winding halls, twisting left and right.

“Plus, Gary Michaels, the lead, is a legend,” he continued. “I’ve looked up to the guy since I was a kid. And I’m not letting him down today of all days.”

“Sounds like a lot of stress.”

“It is. It’s not just the camera either. The audience is running behind schedule - the mics have blown, the lights aren’t calibrated properly. My back hurts. And now I’ve got to direct the show!”

“Well, why not let Allison direct?”

“Allison? No, she’s just the mixer.”

“But she’s been here for, like, 5 years.”

“Look, kid, I appreciate that you’re enthusiastic — that’s great. But your job is to shadow me, silently. I respect the ideas - but it’s not your weight to bear. I’m the producer. It’s all on me.”

Paul creaked his neck as they approached a door.

“God, and that’s not even the worst part. You know the worst part?”

“What?”

15 Years Ago.

“8 Minutes to go!” shouted Samantha in a huff.

Paul, fresh-faced and eager to please, followed behind Samantha, his mentor. Tall, blonde, with a face tougher than steel and an attitude just as immovable, she sauntered into each room of production with an iron-clad glare. A simple point was all that was needed to whip the staff into shape. Paul admired how in control of everything she was.

“You okay, boss? You seem very… agitated today,” he asked once.

“Listen, Kid,” said Samantha, “I could tell you it’s the backache. I could say it’s the early mornings and late nights, or it’s shouting so loud you have to chug ten gallons of tea to soothe your aching voice. But it’s not”

Samantha, for the first time, stopped in her tracks and stared Paul deep in his eyes.

“I’m about to let you in on a secret. And it’s only because you’ve been with me 6 months already — if you asked me this question a week earlier, I’d be afraid you’d quit on me.”

Samantha leaned in close.

“It’s the talent. Stuck-up, only in it for the fame and fortune. You enter each room of production like as a boss, but the moment you’re in front of talent, they expect you to get down on your hands and knees and bask in their presence.”

“Well? What’s the worst part?” asked Amanda to Paul, who was daydreaming.

“Amanda, how long have you been shadowing me?”

“About 5 months and 20 days.”

“It’s the backache,” said Paul, plainly. He buttoned up his shirt, tightened his tie and opened the door.

“7 Minutes to showtime, champ!” he cheered, walking, arms outstretched, towards Jim Happening.

Jim, 26, youthful-faced, donned in exuberant amounts of makeup, was scrolling through social media videos of him on his phone, hardly paying attention as Paul entered the room.

“Oh, hello… er…” Jim looked up from his phone and stared at Paul, squinting his eyes.

Paul’s smile fell into a frown.

“Paul. Paul Stevens? The producer?”

“Oh, Paul!” Jim gleamed. “How the devil are you?”

Jim shook Paul’s hand fervently.

Paul opened his mouth to speak, but he did not get the chance before Jim continued.

“Listen, old chap, thank you for organising this. I know it’s Sir Knight’s big day, and I’m thrilled to be a part of it, but I think we can both agree that it’s a bigger day for me. My new movie isn’t just a movie… It’s a film.”

Jim smiled proudly at his profound statement.

“I was wondering… instead of the usual soundtrack, could we perhaps play the soundtrack to my new movie?”

Paul, gobsmacked, held an awkward pause.

“Um, I-I’m not so sure about that,” he eventually mumbled.

“Oh no, this won’t do at all. There’s no point in me being here if I don’t get to promote my film.” Jim huffed, frantically texting on his phone.

“But we’re already playing four minutes of your new film,” Amanda said angrily.

Jim finished typing and put down his phone. He looked up at Paul with an uncaring, vacant smile on his face. Suddenly, the door flung open.

“Jimmy! Thanks for the text, dude!” shouted Jim’s Manager. With sweaty palms, he shook Paul’s hand. “Paul, good to see you. Looking forward to the show!”

The Manager’s hair was slicked back with far too much gel, and his suit was a few sizes too tight.

“Hey, kiddo”, he said, addressing Jim. “Uncle Paul and I are going to go talk about what you texted me about. Don’t worry, leave it in my capable hands,” he winked.

The manager ushered Paul and Amanda back out into the hallway. Jim waved them out with a devilish smile on his face.

“I trust you’re already aware of the stipulations for his appearance?” asked the Manager, closing the door. “You don’t think they’re unreasonable, do you?” he feigned innocence.

“Oh, yes, completely reasonable, sir. What’s next, shall we give him a massage live on TV, too?”

“Ah, Paul, you jokester. Not bad ideas, perhaps next show, eh? But I hear ol’ Jimmy had a great idea just now.”

“Yeah, the twerp wants to change some of the songs to the soundtrack for his new movie”, said Amanda.

“Some of the songs? Hmm, no, no. I think we should replace all of the songs. Would work as better advertising.”

“All of them?!” shouted Amanda.

“All of them,” smiled the Manager.

“You can’t do that,” said Paul, angrily. “Gary is an important part of the show. His music is iconic!”

The Manager leaned in close to Paul. “I get this isn’t exactly your cup of tea, but it wouldn’t exactly be a good look for a producer if his talent suddenly walked out on him because his needs weren’t being met, now would it?”

Paul bit his tongue.

“Well, good luck, bud. You’ve got — " the Manager grabbed Paul’s wrist — “oh, 6 Minutes! It’s all on you!” The Manager walked off, shooting finger guns.

“You know, Paul, I’m starting to think the talent are the worst part,” Amanda said, leaning in.

“Yeah… you know, I’m thinking the same,” said Paul.

He shook his head and began a speedy walk down another hallway until they stopped at a door, labelled Gary.

“You’re not really going to…"

“Look, kid, sometimes you just have to acknowledge that, as much as you’d like it to be different, unfortunately, sometimes the talent is what directs the show.”

“6 and a half minutes to showtime, Gary!” shouted Paul enthusiastically to Gary, who was checking his equipment.

“Paul!” said Gary, pulling Paul into a hug that went on just slightly too long. “How’re you doing, man?”

Paul broke out of the hug, leaving him even more discombobulated than he already was. “Good. You?”

“Good, man! Excited for the big show!”

“Fantastic! Listen, I’ve got some news and—”

“—Oh, I’ve got a whole list of classics ready to go up tonight. I can’t wait. These songs mean the world to me, man.”

“Great!” said Paul, feigning enthusiasm. His mind raced for a solution.

“Look - I just need to go and have a quick conversation with Mike; there’s a tiny matter I need to attend to,” said Paul, turning to leave.

“5 Minutes to showtime”, he said under his breath, rushing to his next destination.

“So what was that about needing to make the hard decisions?”

“It’s Gary; he’s a legend. I can’t break his old heart. ”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“We ask Mike if it’ll be a problem to ignore Jim’.”

“Won’t Jim kick off?”

“Only one way to find out.”

They stopped at Mike Knight’s door.

Paul knocked and slowly creaked it open.

“Mr Knight? It’s Paul…”

“Paul, my boy, come on in!”

Mike, grey haired and well-aged was finishing a cup of coffee.

“How goes it, Lad?” he smiled.

“Good, sir. Working hard. Sir, there’s been a… a complication. About Jim Happening.”

“Oh, that boy. So many demands. If it’ll bring the show more success, I can make good on a few stipulations, but any more and I might just go crazy!” Mike laughed. Then sighed. “So, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

“He… is very happy to be on the show!” said Paul with a strained smile.

“Oh, good! Ah, Lad, seeing you reminds me just of Samantha. What a feisty lady she was. Gah, I miss her every day!

She really got the show, you know? Sure, everyone tunes in to see me, but she understood its appeal is more than that. It’s getting to see the stars for who they really are, getting to see the music up close, finding the best entertainment out there.”

“Yes. She was perfect.”

“Hah!” laughed Knight. “Oh, my boy, she was a lot of things, but perfect she was not. She had no ear for music, no eye for cinematography, and if anyone told you she was affable, they were lying. But she knew how to run a team.”

Mike sighed. “Listen, lad, come close.”

Paul moved towards Mike, who whispered into his ear.

“If this thing goes well tonight, I think you’re due a promotion.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve done the role justice for years! Just don’t go doing anything that could ruin the show,” he chuckled.

Paul chuckled back. He thought this news would be exciting. But as he checked his watch, another thought crossed his mind.

5 Minutes until showtime.

The weight of putting on the show was heavy.

“Sir, I’m honoured, really, but without me… I don’t think the show would run. My team need me.”

“Oh… well, I trust your judgment, Paul” Knight patted Paul’s arm.

“Come on, Amanda, we need to get back to the gallery. We have to find a solution to this problem with the music — come to some kind of compromise, maybe.”

“Why didn’t you take the promotion, sir? If it were me, I’d have snapped up any opportunity to rise the ranks.”

“It’s just… the team need me. Without me, it’ll all fall apart, right?”

“Is that really what you think?”

“4 Minutes to showtime, people!” shouted Paul, entering the gallery.

“Allison! What’s the sitrep with the new camera?”

“Sir- bad news!” said Allison. “The camera didn’t arrive.”

“Any good news?”

“Well, the lights still aren’t calibrated, the technicians are still working on the mics, and Gary Michaels wanted to speak with you urgently. He says you, apparently, stabbed him in the back.”

“Oh no.”

“PAUL!” shouted Gary, storming into the room.

“What’s this I hear about cutting our music? That’s our soul, man!”

“Gary, I —”

“— Honestly. Paul, look, I get it. You’ve got a lot on your shoulders. It’s no secret the talent is the worst part of the job. But you can’t just abandon the show. Whatever. If you need me, I’ll be on the show floor. Pretending to drum.”

Gary walked away silently.

“What do I do?” said Paul, head in his hands.

“Sir, I hate to say it, but Gary’s right. You’ve got so much weighing on your shoulders, your cant lift your head to see what’s right in front you. The crew — they know what they’re doing. In a machine, every cog is vital, no matter how big or small. We’re all in this together.”

Paul looked at Amanda’s enthusiasm with admiration.

Paul felt a murmur within his aged heart. Despite it all, she was determined to produce the best show possible. Not just by herself. But with everyone.

15 Years Ago. 3 minutes until showtime.

“Ma’am, you’ve been running ragged back and forth across the stage… are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m better than okay. This is my favourite part of the show. Mere seconds to go, nothing is ready, everyone is in a panic.”

“How is that the best part?”

“Tell me, Paul, why do you want to do this job?”

“Because I want to produce the best show possible.”

“Exactly. And despite all the tribulations you’ve seen in the production, do you still want that?”

“More than anything.”

“Well, there’s your answer. Everything could go up in flames. But when it all comes together, when the cogs in the machine all work in unison, it’s magical.”

“But… how do you know it will come together?”

“I don’t. Nobody does. Not until someone says Action. All you got to do is trust in yourself… and trust in your team.”

2 Minute until showtime.

Paul stood. He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“Allison! Cut the camera from Jim; we don’t need two shots. Get it back onto the band.”

“But sir, I thought you said his Manager-”

“—To hell with the manager. The manager can kiss my ass. We’ll mail him a $50 Costco voucher. He’ll get over it. How long have you been working on this show now?”

“About 5 years”

“And in all that time, did you ever direct an episode?”

“No.”

“Great. You’re directing now.”

“I’m what?!”

He turned to Amanda.

“Amanda. I’ve got something to do. You fix the remaining issues. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

Amanda smiled.

“Thank you"

As Paul rushed out of the room, he heard Amanda.

“Are the lights calibrated? Okay, ask the technicians what they can do with what they’ve got. Are the audience in? Perfect. Anyone heard more about the mics? And someone tell Mr Superstar that if he kicks up a fuss on this show, the only extra camera he’s going to get is one up his—” her voice trailed off.

Paul ran as fast as he could towards the stage’s curtain, where Mike was preparing to head on stage.

“Mike!” he panted. “I know you're on in 1 minute,but I need to tell you… I’d love to take the job. I kept thinking the show wouldn’t run without me. That it was all on my shoulders. But the truth is… this show is full of amazing people.”

“Glad to hear it, lad.”

Mike held out his hand.

“But on one condition,” said Paul. “Amanda. She needs to take my role. She’s young and smart and a team player and an out-of-the-box thinker. She’s perfect.”

“My boy, I trust you judgement as much as I trusted Sam’s. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

They shook hands.

“Now, I’ve got a show to get to,” Mike said, nodding.

“Oh, one more thing, sir. Mr Happening might kick up a fuss…”

“Not a problem. Not the first time I’ve dealt with unruly so-called celebrities." Mike winked, turned, and began approaching the stage.

From his earpiece, Paul heard Amanda shout.

“10. 9. 8”

Did they fix all of the issues?

“7. 6. 5.”

Was the show going to be any good?

“4. 3. 2.”

Would Samantha be proud? Who knows. All Paul knew was that he couldn’t wait to find out.

“Showtime!”