Trevor Clarence: Don’t Just Audition the Kids, Audition Their Parents

The Sweetshop imagines Trevor Clarence a bit like a wig; he's a little bit silly but somehow pulls your whole outfit (or idea) together.

The Sydney-based director has been described as having the wit of Cristiano Ronaldo and the body of Will Ferrell. He loves making ads. People tend to love making ads with him. He has a past as a successful stand-up comedian, feature filmmaker, actor, musician, and yoga teacher (not so successful, but he has some certificates).

Many years ago, when I was just a child selling treats to other children, I was directing a Nutella commercial in Poland. It involved a seven-year-old boy and a dog. The dog was amazing; we flew her in from Amsterdam and got everything in one take.

The kid, not so much.

Because of my lack of Polish at the time (it’s now even worse), I couldn’t really chat with him during casting, so I just went off what I could see on the day.

What I didn’t know, because I never really got to meet him properly, was that besides being unable to repeat his performance, the child was also a complete asshole. And his guardian (father) had absolutely zero control over him -- or apparent relationship with him, which is the leading cause of asshole children.

So after day one of struggling to get a performance and trying to refocus the commercial on this incredible dog, we arrived on set for day two. There, I was told, “The boy doesn’t want to come out of his trailer”. I remember thinking, “Trailer? Why don’t I have a trailer?”

Apparently, he was bored of acting now and didn't "feel like it”. I pleaded with his father, asking him to please find some way to help us finish our jobs, but he just shrugged. After two hours of an incredible crew sitting around tweaking lights, the AD came out with the boy’s list of demands:

"He wants a remote control speedboat and a girl from his school to come to set."

I began to throw my hands up in the air incredulously, but the AD interrupted my appropriate gesture to inform me that they had agreed to the demands.

"Jeez," I said. "Oh well. I guess at least we can shoot now."

"No," the AD explained. "He won’t come to set until he sees them."

So we go back to fiddling with lights while a runner is sent to whatever Poland’s version of Toys-R-Us is, and a producer somehow manages to get A GIRL OUT OF SCHOOL to come visit the set to see this young superstar somehow fail at the simple task of smiling at a dog; all while his father shrugged.

My producer was even kind enough to offer the boy a big jar of Nutella to take home after the shoot, to which the boy apparently replied, “Maybe if you fill it with money”.

So now, whenever the kids are too young or too Polish to get to know in the casting, I always make sure I meet the parents.