Joey Lawrence, lit through a sepia tinged filter, stands at the railing near the attic, his vest open. Lightning flashes white in the home. A young woman rolls her head as she dances in the living room.
He plays the piano in the darkened room. A candelabra sits on the top of the piano, the wax dripping as the candle burns. Smaller candles line the shelves next to him. Sitting backwards in a chair, he taps the wood.
He leans against the wall, singing and then stands by the door, his arm across it. A fan blows in the family room as he stands by the window, his arms folded. His muscles ripple as he touches the boards and reaches out his hand.
The young woman kicks up her leg and arches her back as she dances.
Lying in bed, arm folded behind his head, he watches the spokes of the ceiling fan turn. He puts his hands on his chest.
The young woman struggles to get back on the chair.
He holds onto the board in the column and reaches out his hand again. He points and then spreads out his arms.
The young woman pirouettes and touches her face.
He finishes playing the piano.
The thunderstorm raged for an hour before the lights went out. Joey Lawrence lit some candles and wandered around the house. His dancer girlfriend continues to practice her routine for an audition in the living room.
Lawrence, though, views her as an extension of himself. While he wishes her luck on her auditions, there’s a small part of him that hopes she fails. In between his own auditions and day job, he has a middling music career. He usually records background vocals for a studio and during lean weeks, he’ll do jingles. However, he believes the jingles are beneath him.
Sometimes his girlfriend says she wants to quit after a rejection. He pats her on the shoulder and tells her to keep going while thinking of the young singer who flirted him at a session. He’s a handsome guy and every once in a while, he wonders if his girlfriend is holding him back. She hasn’t succeeded yet and her network of friends haven’t gotten anywhere, either. He has gotten to know producers and some songwriters. Maybe he’ll ask the young singer out tomorrow.
Director: N/A Year: 1993