She came in like a cockroach, bold as hell, icky as a wad of somebody else’s gum on your theatre seat, unapologetic about trying to co-opt our movie and turn it into her movie. And, like a roach, she was nearly impossible to kill. They called her…
A seemingly harmless porcelain doll that surely brought some little girl great joy back in the blessed pre-Barbie world. Rescued from a bin of her mates in a provincial French charity shop. Chosen, like so many women, for her blonde hair and innocent blue eyes. She was meant to be a companion and a comfort to Lauren McQueen’s Sophie. Alas, Bambolina had other plans.
She did the rest of the film with her head balanced revoltingly on her broken neck, attached only by a few threads of her disgusting hair, staring accusingly – unforgiving - at all of us. Lauren didn’t say it, because she’s a trooper, but I know she cringed every time she had to hug that smelly creepfest close.
At least it was for a purpose. The Wasting isn’t a creepy doll movie, as much as Bambolina tried to make it one. But her role is important. Best Supporting Actress important. Not going to say more, because I want you to watch the movie.
We threw the body in a sack and left it in a field. Our gaffer, Bryan “McGyver” Gavigan, took her head as a trophy. Fool!
The next day, everybody went home. I went to the crew house to see them off. Bryan had hung Bambolina’s head from his rearview mirror like a pair of fuzzy dice, or a pine tree air freshener. (She smelled as rank as those air fresheners.) We all questioned the wisdom of tempting doom this way, but Bryan laughed it off. Just like they do in scary movies right before the doll/clown/amusement park ride kills them. As he drove away, we noticed it, sitting in the boot of his car: Bambolina’s headless body. Waiting.
Nobody has seen Bryan since. If you find him, please let us know. But don’t touch the doll.
I'm the writer-director and more or less the mother of this film.