I am a card-carrying member of the Screen Actors Guild. That’s because when I was in my twenties, I was in a few TV commercials, some made-for-TV movies, and had bit parts that were made bittier or cut entirely from major movies. Being a member of SAG meant I got mandated breaks, overtime compensation, and union scale for the work I did. It also made it so I could audition for certain breakthrough parts, zero of which I landed. Now, maintaining my membership means I get movies, called screeners, during SAG award season, which is now, right before Oscar season. I get to vote on the “best of” categories. I also pay quarterly dues, which are not cheap. Every year, I think about quitting.
Why would I quit? Who doesn’t like to get access to critically-acclaimed movies to view at home while they are still being shown in theaters? It used to be a thrill, telling people I had current, coveted movies. They would be impressed, and ask to borrow them. Now, pretty much everything goes to streaming before I can brag about it.
Never mind not being able to impress people; this season, I haven’t seen any noteworthy movies, though “Don’t Look Up” was engaging (and also already on Netflix). This past week Sam and I watched “The Lost Daughter”, “The Tender Bar”, and “Licorice Pizza.” To be honest, we found them grueling, like I am being punished, rather than rewarded, for landing that small part in “How to Pick Up Girls” starring Desi Arnaz, Jr. back in 1978, which is how I became eligible for SAG in the first place.
The reason I have steadfastly maintained my membership for lo these many years is that something irrational in me refuses to close the door on the possibility I might be perfect for some part. I know this only gets more absurd by the year. I know it would be nice to have that extra $218.60 a year I spend on dues. I also know that my SAG membership’s value is diminishing more quickly than I am aging, yet, I can’t seem to let it go.
I guess if I think it through, being a SAG member has never been about protections or perks, but possibility, and as time goes on, the fading urgency of possibilities that, by the year, grow more outlandish. I guess when I look at it that way, I absolutely understand why I will never want to let it go.