[B]-Their subjects are put into physically and/or emotionally distressing situations, breaking their will over time.
-Their problems are oversimplified and repeatedly emphasized.
-They are unconditionally "loved," accepted, and receive "guidance" from a charismatic "leader."
-Their identity is now based on the group.
-They are, in a subtle way, encouraged to break off ties from friends and/or family who do not participate in this newfound CULTure.
-Access to external information is severely monitored and/or controlled.[/B]
I was the handpicked protégé of a cult leader.
Picture me, long brown hair, old blue hoodie, standing on a stage in front of a group of 40. Picture me crying my eyes out. Imagine me telling all of these blank faces everything I hate about myself. Telling them how much of a failure I am, how my relationships are falling apart, about how much I fear the future. I try to make eye contact with as many of them as I can. I need them to know how I feel, too. After I'm done, after I hit rock bottom and have nothing else to say, all 40 of them rise out of their seats, swarm the stage, and give me a group hug. We cry as a unit.
I hear phrases like "stay strong." and "we're here for you." It's this moment I savor the most. This feeling of unity, of belonging. This feeling of power, that I can show exactly who I am, and they'll still love me. We all return to our seats save one, who remains on stage to take my spot in their self-loathing. Rinse and repeat 'til all 40 are a crying mess.
Then, a bell rings. We all pick up our backpacks, put our books away, and proceed to head to our next class. This is Junior High, and I'm 13 years old. We’ll have another crying session soon. Tomorrow, next week, it doesn’t matter how long you wait, it’s inevitable.
On the way out the door, our group of 40 shakes the hand of our teacher. He says the same phrase he says every day.
"The day is today, and the time is now."
[img]http://i.imgur.com/OxlutbO.png[/img]
This is Mr. Smith, and he taught my drama class in Junior High. His cousin worked for the school district allowing him to get away with a ton of crazy shit, like write and direct a play about 9/11 starring 13 year olds. There was a scene where a woman stole a baby on a subway, which terrifyingly enough isn’t the WORST directorial decision he’s ever made. He once tried to put a scene in Anne Frank where nazis storm in and shoot her in the face. Dead serious.
It wasn't always like this, though. All through my 7th grade year things were great. Every day before class he'd stand by the door and shake the hand of every student, and then once the bell rang to leave we'd line up and shake his hand out the door, and he’d say his token phrase. The day is today, and the time is now. We didn't have a clock in our drama room, because we weren't supposed to be worried about the time. The time was now, you were here, and you were attentive.
Nobody ever got in trouble in that class because he was a great teacher. He did kung-fu fridays where he would demonstrate self defense tricks from his years of taking northern shaolin longfist, we'd watch twilight zone episodes on days off, and he was passionate about changing lives through theater. Everyone who was in his classes called him their favorite teacher.
Now Mr. Smith only taught method acting.
[quote=wikipedia]In the dramatic arts, Method acting is a group of techniques actors use to create in themselves the thoughts and feelings of their characters, so as to develop lifelike performances. Though not all Method actors use the same approach, the "Method" refers to the practice—influenced by Constantin Stanislavski and created by Lee Strasberg—in which actors create characters by drawing on their own emotions and memories, aided by a set of exercises and practices including sense memory and affective memory. Method acting is similar to Stanislavski's system.
Method acting is a bitter pill to swallow. It requires tremendous amounts of self control, and can by psychologically, and physically damaging.[/quote]
[quote=huffington post]
After playing a former Nazi concentration camp guard in "The Reader," Kate Winslet had a difficult time walking away from the part. She was reportedly so focused on accurately depicting the guard on duty that the actress took several months to get back to normal. The actress said:"It's like I've escaped from a serious car accident and need to understand what has just happened."
Heath Ledger died from a drug overdose following his portrayal of The Joker in Christopher Nolan's "The Dark Knight." A source told FOX News:"Heath refused to talk to anyone out of character. If you tried to communicate with him normally instead of The Joker, he would just ignore you."Ledger reportedly locked himself in an apartment for a month before shooting and spoke of having difficulties sleeping while playing the part.
In order to get into his 19th century role in the Steven Spielberg biopic, "Lincoln," Daniel Day-Lewis allegedly spent a full year reading and thinking about the president, sent text messages to his cast mates as "The Commander in Chief" or simply "A" and shunned all conversation of current events while on set.
In order to play disabled Irish artist Christy Brown in "My Left Foot," Daniel Day-Lewis spent eight weeks at a clinic for cerebral palsy patients, used a wheelchair throughout the film's shooting (that is, when he wasn't being carried from scene to scene), and was actually spoon-fed off camera. During the filming, Day-Lewis broke two ribs, but he also won his first best-actor Oscar.[/quote]
Daniel Day Lewis is arguably one of the best actors of our generation, and Mr. Smith was an ardent fan. I don’t think I need to explain the differences between our class of 40 and Daniel Day Lewis, but I will say this; I don’t care how good of an actor it’d make me, I will never act method again.
It destroys people.
I joined the drama program in my 7th grade year, which had two plays. The 9/11 play previously mentioned, and a show made up of two twilight zone episodes. Nightmare at 20’000 feet, and The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street. 8th grade. First day of class we learn of the next production. It’s called Imaginary, and it was written by Mr. Smith himself.
We would only be allowed to call each other by their character names until the play was over. In the halls at school, over the phone, at home, you must call each other by your characters names, or you’re supposed to do 10 pushups. Of course we did it, it was for the play, and we were gonna change lives, right? We were method actors, and that’s what we did. Changed lives. That was the entire point of Imaginary.
The day is today, and the time is now.
Changing lives.
I am a professional.
Changing lives.
The day is today and the time is now.
I am a professional.
Such was the gospel of Mr. Smith. Imaginary was gonna be the best play ever performed by a junior high school. Oh man, I can’t wait to see the audience’s reaction when the school shooting scene happens. Or the funeral scene soon after. Or the scene where my character, Jeffery, the downs syndrome student, gets his head bashed into the stage and repeatedly gets punched by a group of bullies.
Yeah, Imaginary was a riot.
Since we still had to attend school, we couldn’t be in-character ALL the time, but we managed. You were never allowed to get out of character during play practice. From 3:00 ‘til 11:00, you were this whole new person. Imagine how that must feel to the character who’s supposed to be bullied? Or the character who threatens to shoot his best friend? How am I supposed to react when I’m eating my lunch across from the guy who just bashed my head into the ground? Do I break character, and realize that it’s all fake? Or do I keep the facade, because I know in the long run it’ll all be worth it?
I think you know the answer. I never ate lunch with Devin, my classmate, one of my best friends, one of the nicest people you will ever meet in your entire life, because I was in character. And he scared me. I was not an actor, I was a boy with downs syndrome who just got the shit beat out of, and I’m sitting across from the person who did it.
Okay, it’s just Devin. Shit, I broke character. Now I need to get it all back again. For Imaginary. Mr. Smith said to use your own experiences to get back in character, so I’ll do that. Remember everyone that bullied you this year. That should do the trick. Remember how you and your girlfriend aren’t doing so hot right now. Remember how your family’s fighting. Get back into character.
Puberty is a tough time for a lotta kids, y’know? You’re trying to figure out who you are as a person, but how can you when you’re putting on this mask? When I’m trying to be this fucking handicapped kid, who’s emotions are fueled by shit that’s going on in my real life? I brought this up to Mr. Smith one time, and he let me in on a secret. He wrote this play with this cast in mind. He gave everyone parts that dealt with their inner demons, because he wanted to make us stronger. He knew I was bullied, so he gave me a character that was helpless and weak, because he knew my emotions would come out.
I can only imagine what the others are going through. Jack, Anthony, Devin, sweetest kids in the world, put into rolls such as gangster, bully, victim.
At the end of the night, it only brought us closer. Because once our characters were shed, we had nothing else to do but reflect on the emotions we just buried ourselves under. The emotions that filled the pages of Imaginary. Pack up, go home, we do it again tomorrow. But remember, do NOT tell your parents what Imaginary is about, or who your character is. We want it to be a surprise. We want to change lives. We are professionals. The day is today and the time is now. We are professionals.
We will change lives.
It’s around this time, when we stopped going by our real names and started showing up to class crying that we earned our tag. The Smithites. That’s what non-drama students called us. Teachers called Mr. Smith the devil, but it only made him laugh. He would joke that he was going to show up with devil horns and a pitchfork. What did they know? They weren’t in the class. They weren’t part of Imaginary. Just wait ‘til they see the play, they’ll see. I stopped hanging out with non-drama students. Most of us did. We were our own little community, and that’s how we liked it.
It’s lunchtime. Mr. Smith tells us to get our food and come to the front of the auditorium. My mom brought pizza for the entire 40 member cast. She placed it in the back of the auditorium as to not interrupt practice. So we’re all in the back, eating and talking, when Mr. Smith comes on stage and says “If you’re not in the front two rows in five seconds, you’ve all failed. Five.”
The countdown starts, and we all sprint. The food is left where it is.
“Four. Three. Two.”
About half of the cast is still nowhere near the front two rows, so they take a seat wherever they can.
“One. You’ve all failed.”
Mr. S takes a bite of the sandwich his wife prepared for him, and began his monologue.
“I told all of you to be at the front of the auditorium. What were you doing in the back?”
Nobody responded.
“The play is cancelled. I can’t trust any of you. Do you think you can change lives if you can’t even follow directions?”
He yelled “No!” threw his sandwich to the ground, and glared at every one of us. For a small, beady eyed man he had phenomenal voice control. His shouts boomed and echoed off the back wall of the auditorium. I think this is the moment he learned that by shouting, he gets his point across. He would not hesitate to yell at us from this day forward.
He continued talking, giving us a speech about how we need to respect him more, about how we weren’t ready, about how we didn’t take it seriously, about how disappointed he was in us. He then calmed his voice down, and asked that anybody who didn’t want to be in Imaginary to please leave.
Nobody budged.
He bent down, collected the pieces of his sandwich, took a big bite, and said “let’s get back to work, then.”
Imaginary in its entirety will be uploaded on youtube sometime soon. But just know that it’s filled with a lot of screaming, crying, physical altercations, and overall just a whole bunch of people being fuckin’ dicks. One scene, however, I will never forget, and that’s the funeral scene.
Imaginary was a stage play, but there were little video scenes projected as well, to add flavor. Intro, outro, stuff like that. But the funeral scene was filmed. We found a funeral place that would let us bring a camera in, set up a coffin, and started shooting. It was two hours of nothing but 13 year olds crying. Mr. Smith would just patrol the scene with a camcorder, getting closeups of everyone bawling their eyes out. I couldn’t cry. I don’t know why. I felt like shit, but I couldn’t cry. I chocked that up to my character not fully understanding what was going on, but I knew I should be crying.
I looked around at all my classmates, every single one of them with tears streaming down their faces. It was a madhouse. Finally, for the first time ever, Mr. Smith called for a break. He told us all to go outside and get some air. We burst out into the parking lot. Nobody could stop crying. Everyone was either still in character, or too wound up to stop. A congregation of students pacing, sitting, about ready to pull their hair out. All of them bawling. Robert was on his hands and knees in the dirt, fists clenched, about ready to punch his way into the earth.
Now I have no idea what her motivations were, or why she chose to do what she did, if it was a lapse of reason or a character choice, I have no idea. One of the students stood up, and just sprinted out of the parking lot into four lanes of traffic. Horns blared as she barely avoided getting ran over, and she booked it into an alleyway and disappeared around a corner. Mr. Smith ran after her, and I just fucking lost it.
I started crying the hardest I’ve ever cried in my life. I don’t know what came over me. And I couldn’t turn it off. I broke character, but I did not stop crying. This was an accumulation of all the emotions that built up throughout Imaginary’s practice days, and it did not let up. Mr. Smith retrieved the student who ran, and gathered us all back in the funeral parlor for a meeting. I did not attend because I couldn’t stop crying.
A few minutes passed when Mr. Smith called me back in to the parlor. I took my seat and he told me that he was going to resume filming now, and that he wanted me in the scene because my tears were authentic. I got back into character, and he filmed us crying for another 20 minutes.
Imaginary was cancelled soon after. It destroyed everyone in the class. I posted a video on Facepunch of one of my old friends, Jesse, and his speech in-class the day we got word of it. The video was titled “this is my fire” and it was a passion filled piece, showing him crying and detailing how badly he wants to change people’s lives with the work we put in. The video ends with all of the teary eyed cast members, giving him a group hug. The video got dumbed to hell, but fuck Facepunch, they don’t know what we were doing. They have no idea what Imaginary is, or how it was going to change people.
Mr. Smith spoke to his cousin, and somehow the play got brought back with a few changes. In the original script, my character is supposed to be swarmed by a group of three bullies, who repeatedly punch me in the face, then one of them is supposed to grab me and throw me to the floor, all the while my best friend is crying and screaming in the corner. I writhe to center stage where the main bully says “What, having problems getting up? Well let me help you.”
He grabs a handful of my hair, and lifts my crying face for the crowd to see. He then slams my head down on the stage before the three bullies leave. My best friend comes over and shakes my body while yelling repeatedly for help.
Apparently the district flipped its shit at this scene in particular, because the beating literally comes out of fucking nowhere. In the final product, the bullies just grab me and throw me to the ground, wherein I get knocked out or something because the result is the same.
Another scene they had a problem with, is a confrontation between two of the bullies later in the play. It’s supposed to be them arguing about the beating earlier in the play, one of them saying they shouldn’t have done it, the other saying how much of a pussy the other one is. The bully-with-a-heart-of-gold archetype says “man forget you, we ain’t friends no more” and the main bully starts to storm off.
He stops, and says “Hey, one more thing…” and the lights go out. A gunshot is heard, before the lights come back up and the main bully has the other by the throat and has a finger gun pointed at his head. Main bully says “next time, it’s for real.” Before throwing him to the floor and storming off.
The district FLIPPED THEIR SHIT again because you can’t threaten to shoot someone in a public school play full of 13 year olds, so they cut out the gunshot, removed the finger gun, and changed the line to “Next time…MAN THERE WON’T BE A NEXT TIME”
We performed to sold out crowds. One of the cast members would no longer go by his real name. He kept his character’s name, and uses it to this day. He was hospitalized in a suicide attempt the summer after he left junior high, and I’d bet dollars to dimes that it would not have happened if he wasn’t in Imaginary.
Next semester rolls around and we decide to do Anne Frank. I played Dr. Dussel, (Getting called Dr. Dussel while walking around at school is REALLY WEIRD) and the play got cancelled when word got out that Smith decided to put in a dream sequence where Nazis storm in and shoot Anne in the face. The play would end on the last night with us literally shaving the main actress on-stage to this song;
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkvJY-YfELs[/media]
Then she would yell out “Remember me!” and the lights would fade out.
This play got cancelled, and did not get brought back. Instead, we did a variety show called Operation Now.
[Media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4M2RQHEt7E[/media]
We each chose skits to perform and direct ourselves. My team was in charge of movie skits, Jacks team was doing the Lifehouse Everything skit, Kealee was doing a skit where a bully slams her head in the floor and she gets bound to a wheelchair (She stole all the character mannerisms from the handicapped characters from Imaginary, and I’m still salty about that to this day) and Devin’s team was doing Michael Jacksons thriller.
Making Devin play zombie Michael Jackson was the worst possible idea anyone has ever had EVER. Not because of his dancing, no. He could dance. And he looked the part.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9RKwlF_MXE[/media]
There’s an old story I heard of a kung-fu master who would have a mirror off to the side during every tournament he went to. After his fight, he would stare into the mirror until he recognized who he saw again. He left the warrior behind, and became himself again. Devin didn’t know this trick. He could not get out of character. It took him over completely. One time I was in the restroom changing for my next scene, when Devin storms in, panting, slathering, hunched over. He punches the wall, and just paces back and forth, grunting. I’m scared as fuck. Mr. Smith bursts in, grabs Devin by the shoulders, and throws him against the wall. He gets right in his face and he says “You need to snap out of this shit RIGHT NOW.”
He maintained eye contact until Devin returned to normal. But he never really did. Devin wasn’t the same after that role. He lost his spark. He would still act, but he wasn’t the same person. I can’t fully explain why, but we drifted apart, and I haven’t seen him since my sophomore year in highschool.
Kealee’s skit was really bad. Not just because she stole my character, but because it was melodramatic as fuck with no payoff. She gets injured, her mom takes care of her in a wheelchair, she falls out of her wheelchair, her mom cries, Kealee says “BROKEN PIECES ARE STILL PIECES” and she crawls back into the wheelchair herself, fade out.
Next was the Lifehouse, Everything skit.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NZ8gIcpgdns[/media]
My best friend to this day (and ex-facepuncher, JamesBaum7747) played Jesus. He wasn’t in drama, he got cast ‘cause he was tall and had brown hair. He called us all fuckin’ freaks every day because of how dedicated we were to changing lives. Mr. Smith tried to convert him every day, but he wasn’t having it. We did do some modifications to the skit because we can’t preach religion or something like that, so he wasn’t REALLY Jesus, he was just “the right path.”
Oh, and they added the devil.
Yep, for those of you who haven't seen the original skit, there is no devil. But Jack played the devil. They filed drumsticks down to a point and attached them to black gloves as claws. He wore a long black cloak and would shroud over the “self-harm demon.” Lemme just emphasize that Jack was method acting as the fucking devil. While my friend was “the right path,” Smith just straight up called him Satan. To get into character, Jack would lock himself in a dark closet and listen to this song at full blast. I am not making this up.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3O5Px3_RJ3w[/media]
Jack is the most far-gone out of any smithite. I haven’t seen him in years, but something snapped. He lost his temper constantly, was suicidal, and would often just leave class for no apparent reason. I used to sleep over at his house constantly, but after Lifehouse, nothing about him was the same.
There are other bits from Operation Now I did not mention, but you will find all the notable portions two posts below this one.
One other thing about Mr. Smith, was that he hated relationships, or public displays of affection. Holding hands, hugging, kissing, all that. Dating was strongly forbidden within the smithites, with Mr. Smith literally trying to talk me out of dating a classmate at one time. What started it all happened during this skit show. Two classmates kissed back stage, Mr. Smith saw, called a meeting and flipped the fuck out.
“Now we have people MAKING OUT ON MY STAGE” is the only line I remember from this particular rant, but our punishment was 100 pushups, then we had to stand in horse stance until everyone finished.
[img]http://th01.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2011/187/d/1/horse_stance_3_by_kungfoostock-d3l8gb7.jpg[/img]
Try doing 100 pushups while crying your eyes out and NOT throw up. It’s harder than it sounds. We weren’t crying because we had to do physical work, Mr. Smith already put us through that. We would work out every day before practice. (Which was illegal as he had no physical education certificate at the time) No, we cried because we let down Mr. Smith. This man that cared so much for us was mad at us, and it was our fault. It felt fucking terrible. You never wanted to make Smith mad. He was your favorite teacher. A father figure to most of us. Little did we know, the next day in class things would get fucking nutso.
We walk in, and Smith is silent. He did not shake our hands this day. We take our seats. Not a sound is uttered by any of us. A minute or two passes, and he tells us to take out a piece of paper. He tells us to draw deep, black circles, and then erase them. Over and over again. We did this for maybe ten minutes before he told us to stop.
“Look at your paper. This paper represents your souls, and those black spots are all the mistakes you’ve made. Sure, you can try to erase them, but see, they’re still there. You can never fully get rid of them.”
He picks up my paper, ripped from my eraser.
“Sometimes, you get holes. These are holes in your soul that will never close up. All because of the bad decisions you’ve made. Now I want you to stare directly ahead. No movement whatsoever. If I see any of your eyes waiver, you’re out of the play.”
We sat dead still for 20 minutes. You could start a fucking fire in the middle of the room and none of us would have moved, that’s how much this play meant to us. I’m not sure how exactly to articulate what drama meant to all of us, and I don’t think I ever will be. I’m betting anyone reading this is saying “wow, why so dedicated?” or some shit like that, but it’s hard to explain the pull this man had. He was a father figure, a best friend, he was there for you if you needed to talk, and you never wanted to upset him. He put on these plays for us because he knew we could handle them, and he knew we could change lives, unlike everyone else at this shitty school. We were the kings. The drama program reigned supreme over all else. Everyone KNEW if you were in the program, and you had an army at your back.
The last few minutes of class were soon approaching, and Smith told us all to look at him. He said, from that day forward, he was going to start doing prayer requests. If you had any problems in your life, say them to the class, and everyone would pray for you.
Every day at the start of class, after the handshakes and after everybody sat down, we’d do prayer requests. It was innocuous, despite being completely against the rules of any public school in the united states. But soon it transformed into some sort of a game. Not a literal game, per-se, but everyone played it. That game was “who has the more fucked up life?” It became a battleground for every student to express themselves, to get the most sympathy as possible. My dog died, my dad has cancer, -I- have cancer, I’m being bullied, everything under the sun. If you cry, ten points. Make someone else cry, 30. Get a group hug, 50. Winner wins the love and adoration of fellow smithites. This mockery of a prayer system destroyed the girl I was dating at the time. She’s told lies like “I stabbed a rapist with a screwdriver and killed him” and “I have my social security number tattooed on my foot, but I won’t show anyone”
Nobody could really say anything, so everyone just played along. Nobody would lie in prayer requests, right?
A girl claimed my best friend raped her. My best friend, who had literally just met her that morning, of course didn’t rape her, but she said he did. Class was halted, police were called, turns out everything was bullshit, and she was banned from Drama for the rest of her junior high career. She switched schools, and word on the street is she got “I’M RAD” tattooed on her ass. I can not confirm this. Prayer requests didn’t stop after that. They just kept mounting and mounting. We’d miss days of actual classwork because we were too busy doing prayer requests.
I sat in on a beginning drama class once, and when Mr. Smith said they were going to do scenes that day, a student piped up and said “yeah, right. We’re just gonna do prayer requests.” So smith went over, stood on the students desk, and demanded an apology. The kid apologized, smith stepped off, took the kid outside for a few minutes, and then they both came back in. I dunno what he said, but I don’t think that kid came back to drama next year.
If we had a prayer request day, which happened more than once a week, we were crying in our next class. It wasn’t an option. It just happened. My English teacher called Smith the devil right to my face, in front of the entire class. I ignored her.
Grade 9, the final year. It was at this time that Mr. Smith decided that I was his favorite student, and decided to mold me into him. He asked me to be his teachers aid for an hour he didn’t have class, and spent that hour teaching me kung-fu and life lessons. He would bring me up to the front of class every lesson in drama class and make me demonstrate with him.
Everyone else was jealous. I was being slowly ostracized by the group, but after a short while they started treating me as a god. Every time I got called up for a scene everyone would get hype. They thought I was the best person in the room, and it made me feel absolutely fucking fantastic. I was untouchable. Smith would ask me for advice on what plays to do next, about what music to use, about who in drama is doing what with who. I was his second in command.
We did 12 Angry Men that year for our first semester play. Can I emphasize that 12 Angry Men is one of the best pieces of fiction ever written, and should NOT be performed by junior high school kids? I was cast as Juror #8, but was switched to Juror #3 due to the original #3 being incompetent.
And since we can’t have a play fully cast by men, we switched it up a bit from the original script:
Juror #1: Stayed the same.
Juror #2:Stayed the same.
Juror #3: Turned into a fucking complete psychopath
Juror #4 Female stock broker, doesn’t have any emotion or character beyond “stone-faced”
Juror #5: Black slum kid from Harlem.
Juror #6: A strong, independent woman.
Juror #7: Stayed the same.
Juror #8: Female architect (Played by that bitch Kealee who stole my character in Imaginary then stole my role as #8 fuck her she sucks)
Juror #9 I honestly forget. I think she was just some woman.
Juror #10: Stayed the same.
Juror #11: A female Chinese immigrant
Juror #12: Female ad exec.
Since we added so many females, we changed the name from 12 Angry Men to The Room. Those familiar with the Tommy Wiseau classic will love to hear that our stage production was arguably worse than The Room. We butchered the fuck out of one of the greatest pieces of fiction to come from human hands.
Highlights include Mr. Smith calling Juror #5 a nigger every day to get him in character ((Following it up with “can we call him a nigger in the play?” to a resounding NO from everyone ever), and a murder/execution scene.
We had a sheet on the side of the stage, where we showed the shadow of someone knifing a man to death, and also getting strapped into an electric chair. The school district didn’t like that one fuckin’ bit, so they said “yeah, I know you’ve already performed for an audience once already, but you’re not allowed to have a knife on stage.” For those of you who haven’t seen 12 Angry Men…
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a46fYELKgKk[/media]
The knife is pretty fucking important. It’s prevalent throughout the entire show, and the show WOULD NOT WORK without it. So without the knife we’re without a show. A blind hunt went out for a replacement weapon. At one point we settled on a switchblade comb, when someone had the brilliant idea of using a straightrazor. And, despite being 20 times more violent than the source material, seemed to pass the censors. Instead of stabbing the poor gentleman to death, we’ll slit his throat on stage. Perfect.
Now again, for those of you who haven’t seen 12 Angry Men, there’s a part of the script where Juror #3 has the knife, and is measuring the downward angle of the stab against Juror #8. Timestamped 1:10:30 in the lower video.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RelOJfFIyp8[/media]
Now a great part of the scene is everyone in the background flinching at the thought that #3 is REALLY going to stab #8. Juror #3 is a loud, brash, evil man, and you’re not really sure what his intentions are in this scene.
With the addition of the straightrazor, Mr. Smith decided to make it more apparent.
Juror #3, played by me, is supposed to grab Juror #8, turn her away from the audience, and violently start cutting into her throat. All the jurors hop over the table and pull me off, to find that Juror 8 is unharmed, and #3 just laughs and laughs. “Oh come on, it was a joke, a practical joke is all.”
Not only is this COMPLETELY OUT OF CHARACTER AND STUPID, it completely misses the entire point of the scene and fucking pisses me off to this day. He takes all the subtlety of the play and throws it out the window. Butchered the source material so fucking hard it’s insulting.
I spent the rest of the year hearing “NOT GUILTY” yelled at me from the end of the hall. Super fun, that is.
We had no play second semester. Or if we did, I forget what it was. I think we skipped a play that year to focus on our final project in drama, which was a film project. I literally did nothing the entire time. All my script ideas were scrapped, my editing ideas scrapped, I did not direct or even act in it, all I was in charge of was the music, which was approximately 3 songs. I want to emphasize that now, because the movie was shit shit shit. I think I still have the script somewere, and if I do, I’ll copy it verbatim, but the concept is two sisters grow up, one turns out to be a lil’ shit, so the younger sister starts recording how much of a lil’ shit she is. Every scene is just the older sister being a bitch, until the final scene where the younger sister gets hit by a car, dies, and the older sister finds a video tape filled with all the bitchy things she does. That’ll sure change some lives. I can’t stress enough how important that was.
Graduation day we played our videos for our families, I said goodbye to my crazy ass ex, Mr. Smith called me his star pupil in front of everyone, shook my moms hand, and I went home in tears because it was all over. The smithites were to regroup in highschool, and continue the gospel of Mr. Smith without him.
That summer Mr. Smith decided to open up his kung-fu training to students other than myself. It was me and a few other star pupils, all piled into Mr. Smiths car driving to a local park to start. Mr. Smith pulls over on the side of a freeway, looks at us, and says;
“There are a few people at the highschool you’re going to meet that don’t believe in my teachings. Namely, the drama teacher. Now I’m not saying don’t listen to what she says, but just take some things with a grain of salt.” He then merges back into traffic and continues on his way. I stopped going to kung fu after that.
I knew who the drama teacher was, and she was the nicest person you’re likely to meet in your entire life. She knew exactly what she was doing with her classroom, and those words Mr. Smith shared with us echoed, because every smith student was going against her teachings. They were so hard wired to only one way of acting that they couldn’t do anything else besides dramatic scenes with method acting. The drama teacher broke down one day and said she couldn’t handle Smiths students. That’s the year I learned that we were notorious amongst the other drama programs in the state. Word had gotten around about Smiths teachings, and how absolutely fucked up they were. I stopped visiting Smith after that.
I heard from the class that graduated after me that Smith completely disowned me. He called me a failure, and complained that after all he did for me I never stopped by to visit. I came to hate Mr. Smith after a time. I was not the first to do so, there were classes that graduated before me that spoke ill of him, but I just chose not to listen. Finally when I got to highschool, and I saw how much of a joy that theater could be without all the baggage that I realized what a fraud Smith really was. He had taken kids who were just starting to mature, and used those emotions in a mockery of theater. I spoke to a highschool drama teacher who also taught method acting, and I told him some stories of Mr. Smith and he said that he would NEVER let his students get that far. He said what Mr. Smith did was monstrous.
It was always weird seeing former students of his that still loved him even after they got into highschool. I would tell stories, and ask them if they remembered certain events. They always seemed to go “wow…y’know I never really noticed it, but Smith is pretty fucked up.” Slowly, one by one, the smithites stopped the shit. We started listening to our new teacher, and realized how fucked Mr. Smith really was. Those who still followed Smith quit the drama program. Our high school drama class became the best in the state after that, and a strong contender for best in the nation, and that is not an exaggeration.
What happened to Mr. Smith? He quit teaching drama and turned to teaching kung-fu full time. He opened a dojo, and as far as I know he’s still doing it ‘til this day, with his most loyal of alumni.
Sans one. One of his star students was dating a boy, and apparently they were getting serious. Mr. Smith didn’t like that one bit. He went to her place of work, dragged her to the back room, and told her she was banned from his kung-fu school, and that he never wanted to see her again. He left her crying in the back as he stormed out.
While I was not there, that’s the most prevalent rumor I’ve heard. Truth is I have no idea why she quit kung-fu and re-joined drama in highschool, but whatever the reason, she didn’t like to talk about it.
I don’t really know how to end this thread, there’s no clear stopping point. Mr. Smith never got fired, we never had a confrontation, it just slowly dawned on all of us that what happened in Junior High was fucking terrible. And I’m not sure how this thread’s gonna be received, both due to how terrible my writing is (kudos for anyone who’s made it this far) and because of how outrageous it all sounds, but I guarantee it’s all true.
There’s probably a lot I’ve missed, and a lot more detail I could throw in here and there. I’ll try to keep fixing things as I see them and adding stories, but I’d like to leave you with this;
There’s a german movie by the name of The Wave.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JbTkdqYivuw[/media]
If you found this story interesting whatsoever, give it a watch. It’s scary how many of my friends I saw in those characters. And while this is way more extreme than what happened in my case, it’s a great movie that fits this piece.
Was Smith a cult leader? I don’t know. But I look at quotes and interviews about cults and I see a lot of my Junior High there. I’ve already detailed the personality changes, and as for the change of values or beliefs, one of Smiths star pupils went in as an atheist, and is now attending a christian college all due to his teachings.
But maybe cults don’t have to follow a check list. Maybe a cult can be any group who’s blinded by reality. Maybe Smith’s a cult leader mastermind, or maybe he’s just some film school dickhead who took things a little too far. All I know is there are a lot of kids I used to know who he fucked up. Is this a story worth posting? Probably not. Is it terribly written? Absolutely. But I’ve been wanting to tell this story for a while, and I knew it was the right time to finish.
The day is today, and the time is now.
TL;DR: I was brainwashed by a teacher who exploited my emotions and those of many other students, to try to change the lives of theatergoers. He failed that task, and fucked up many kids in the process.
I’m willing to answer any questions, and videos can be found two posts down.
Did he get fired? Or, better yet, murdered?
[B]Operation: Now[/B]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4M2RQHEt7E&feature=youtu.be[/media]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NZ8gIcpgdns&feature=youtu.be[/media]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANX6JOwjMdg[/media]
Kinda hard to hear, but worth it. Stick around for the last two minute or so. Things get nuts in this Mr. Smith written piece.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZh2WpW1DPQ[/media]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yk2eG2ypMUc[/media]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNddRm0Q0DI[/media]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DcdDs49NmqM[/media]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zzs6J4svnP4[/media]
[B]Imaginary[/B]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_7V_gOdQQg[/media]
That was one of the most unsettling things I have ever read, what made you want to share it with us?
[QUOTE=Hoboiam;42491409]I had to post the story in chunks because it was literally too long and kept crashing the browser, so the full story should detail what happened near the end.
I'm also gonna try to transcribe what I remember from the script of Imaginary, or if at all possible, get video of it. Should be interesting.[/QUOTE]
Oh, I see it now.
Ever think about getting the police involved with this? It probably depends on what state/country you live in, but there has to be some kind of law against what your teacher orchestrated. Seems like it would loosely fall under the category of hazing to me, if there's nothing against emotional abuse and/or brainwashing.
[QUOTE=Uzbekistan;42491438]That was one of the most unsettling things I have ever read, what made you want to share it with us?[/QUOTE]
I've been meaning to make this thread for a while, just to tell my story. I've had a draft saved to my computer since late '12, but someone in the film review thread recently posted about how much he liked The Wave, and it convinced me to finish it all up.
[editline]11th October 2013[/editline]
[QUOTE=Lordgeorge16;42491450]Oh, I see it now.
Ever think about getting the police involved with this? It probably depends on what state/country you live in, but there has to be some kind of law against what your teacher orchestrated. Seems like it would loosely fall under the category of hazing to me, if there's nothing against emotional abuse and/or brainwashing.[/QUOTE]
I mean there's nothing to really be done any more, it's been about seven years since it happened. I'm sure at the time if our parents fully understood the extent of what happened that someone somewhere would have complained, but as far as I know, nobody ever did. Our parents loved him. Everyone did when they first met him. He wore this fatherly mask.
Would make a good movie.
Wow, I'm so sorry that he screwed up your childhood. I hope there weren't any lasting impressions.
[QUOTE=Rubs10;42491669]Wow, I'm so sorry that he screwed up your childhood. I hope there weren't any lasting impressions.[/QUOTE]
Fuck that's something that I never put in the story. I knew I forgot something. When I first started dating my ex-fiance (That's an entirely different story on it's own) I had total trouble expressing my emotions to her. After all those fucking prayer requests full of crying and self pity, I never wanted to talk about any of that shit again. She would constantly ask me what was bugging me and I just told her not to worry about it, and she'd get real upset about it.
It took me about a year to finally break that habit.
[QUOTE=4444;42491646]Would make a good movie.[/QUOTE]
I'll make this into a movie sometime in the future, most likely a short film like a short trailer style.
[QUOTE=garychencool;42491775]I'll make this into a movie sometime in the future, most likely a short film like a short trailer style.[/QUOTE]
Get in contact with me and I'll give you any details you need, man.
Good read, thanks
i read the entire thing
this would make one heck of a movie
10 out of friggin 10
Man that is a lot like Die Welle ain't it.
Such a good movie now I wanna watch it again.
I dunno what to say apart from I'm sorry for what happened to all of you.
[QUOTE=Wingz;42491865]i read the entire thing
this would make one heck of a movie
10 out of friggin 10[/QUOTE]
It should be adapted into a movie after being written into a novel. The OP actually has great writing skills.
I have trouble imagining something like this happening. Have you ever considered filing a lawsuit over this? You have plenty of people to justify the case.
[QUOTE=Rangergxi;42491997] The OP actually has great writing skills.[/QUOTE]
This is the most wrong thing ever said, but thank you. I write a lotta plays, because you don't have to format 'n link together coherent sentences 'n shit.
After I head back to school I'll think about sitting down and fleshing everything out into a book.
This may have been one of the most disturbing things I have ever read on Facepunch.
[QUOTE=Rangergxi;42491997]I have trouble imagining something like this happening. Have you ever considered filing a lawsuit over this? You have plenty of people to justify the case.[/QUOTE]
Y'know it's been so long I don't think it's really necessary. We're all adults now. Most of Smiths students I still talk to seem to just say "yeah that was some crazy shit" and I don't really talk to many of the other ones.
I ran into a Smith student a few months ago, he was smoking cigarettes and playing guitar outside of a pizza hut with a few friends. The parking lot was empty, so they didn't drive there.
Wow shit dude, that's super fucked.
[QUOTE=Hoboiam;42492074]Y'know it's been so long I don't think it's really necessary.[/QUOTE]
He could be pulling that emotional manipulation crap with kids at his karate school or something. I think it would be a good idea to look into that.
I just don't ever understand how people get suckered into these cult groups, it honestly blows my fucking mind.
I mean
[quote]Then, a bell rings. We all pick up our backpacks, put our books away, and proceed to head to our next class. This is Junior High, and I'm 13 years old. We’ll have another crying session soon. Tomorrow, next week, it doesn't matter how long you wait, it’s inevitable.[/quote]
Did none of that seem EXTRAORDINARILY out of place?
Dude should've terminated a loooong time ago. His shit would not have been put up with where I went
[QUOTE=glitchvid;42492163]
Did none of that seem EXTRAORDINARILY out of place?[/QUOTE]
We were 13, man, and we trusted this guy. He was our favorite teacher, why would he want to hurt us?
It's fucked up 8 years after the fact, but in the moment, when all your best friends are taking turns telling everyone how fucked up they feel inside, you're gonna want to get it out, too. You want those hugs. You want that attention. All eyes on you, if just for a moment.
That was actually fucking tops, really unsettling. Excellent writing op.
[QUOTE=Hoboiam;42492264]We were 13, man, and we trusted this guy. He was our favorite teacher, why would he want to hurt us?
It's fucked up 8 years after the fact, but in the moment, when all your best friends are taking turns telling everyone how fucked up they feel inside, you're gonna want to get it out, too. You want those hugs. You want that attention. All eyes on you, if just for a moment.[/QUOTE]
I can perceive that, but I personally cannot relate at-all; I've never had... it just seems.
I just can't understand, I'm sorry. I can perceive (Hard to put into words) that this must suck, but I just cannot comprehend why someone would ever let themselves be this vulnerable.
holy shit dude how did you survive that
I also have had a teacher who had friends in the equivalent of your "School District". People put into a position of power without regulation go mad. That particular teacher said so himself anyway, citing the Stanford prison experiment. He seemed to be able to keep himself under control, well, more or less.
I have to say, it really is scary how much power a teacher without regulations actually has.
This was a very interesting read, and your writing style reminds me of Chuck Palahniuk.
Thanks for sharing.
[QUOTE=Drasnus;42492658] and your writing style reminds me of Chuck Palahniuk.
[/QUOTE]
This is the nicest thing
and I thought I had crazy Drama teachers...
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