It has been five months since my last post on July 23. Then, I was in the midst of a heart-breaking move and separation from my partner of nearly 17 years. Now, I am in a much more positive, peaceful state of mind, and I felt I owed it to my readers to tell you what happened next, and where I go from here.
As I have said since I started this blog, this was intended to be just "my year in LA" to see how I did pursuing acting full-time. I am happy to report that after a great first six months, work has continued to come in steadily. It is a rare week when I don't have any acting work, and all of it is paid these days as I no longer accept non-paying jobs. Since July, I appeared in one musical, was invited to join a prestigious theatre company, and am currently working on two children's holiday plays with the two premiere children's theatre companies in LA. I have been cast in two feature films that shoot in December and are likely to get national distribution. I did several webisodes, including one with Patrick Warburton ("Seinfeld," "The Tick," "Rules of Engagement"), a music video, several re-enactment shows, and a student film for Loyola Marymount University that involved learning a made-up language and speaking it in an Eastern European accent. And on November 1, after one full year in AFTRA and ten days on "Held Up" as a principal, I am finally eligible to join the exclusivie Screen Actors' Guild. It has been exciting, challenging, and fun.
But, back to the heartbreak. In July, after Pasha (my pug) and I moved into my new apartment on the border of Hollywood in Los Feliz, I was so sad that it was difficult for me to go out in public without crying. I took a break from my acting studies at The Actors Collective (although I started back with a Manager's Workshop there this past month), and from doing much acting work of any kind while I focused on the formidable tasks of unpacking and grieving for my marriage. It was very difficult for me to go from a 2000 square foot home to an 800 foot one bedroom apartment, and find a place for me to put all my antiques, my heirlooms, and most of all, my clothes (I'm sort of a wardrobe collector and have tons of period and character costumes)! I still don't have all my books, photographs, and scrapbooks from my home in Foster City; that's going to require one final move, and I'll have to get a storage unit for them. But I found that as I unpacked and gradually created a home that looked like nobody else but me, it was healing and liberating. I enjoyed putting my childhood treasures on display with inherited items from my grandmother and my parents. I could see the blending of the generations in my home, and reminders of them are all around me now. Plus, I found places for my favorite items that I have collected on my world travels, and they give the apartment a little bit of an exotic air. It's small, but it is cozy, and now it is home.
The real salvation for me this summer, though, came when I was cast as "Grandma Georgina" in the musical "Willy Wonka," put on by the Stepping Stone Players in Glendale. I hadn't done a musical since 2004, because singing and dancing had gotten two strenuous and painful for me, but in this role, I spend the entire show in a bed with the other three grandparents! No dancing, a little singing (plus helping out the kids in the big numbers from the wings), and a lot of comic lines - a great role for me. I even have a top quality DVD of the performance, so I can use it on my next reel. And I met some wonderful people who were so kind to me and helped me through the worst days, when I would go on, do my lines, come off, and cry. The rehearsal period was seven exhausting weeks (every night, Monday through Friday), and then a three-weekend run which earned crowds of 200-300 every show and rave reviews in the press. It was a real blessing for me; it's hard to be depressed when you are singing "The Candy Man" every night! Plus, the show has such a good message: "If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it; want to change the world, there's nothing to it. There is no place I know like the world of pure imagination; living there, you'll be free, if you truly wish to be." Maybe acting is the world of pure imagination, and I am finally free and living my dream of being a full-time actress.
When that run ended in September, I took a much-needed vacation to visit friends in the New York City area, and then developed a killer sinus infection on the way home that lasted for almost a month. Even so, I worked, doing the webisode with Patrick, a lead in "Murder by the Books," a supporting role in "1000 Ways to Die," and the afore-mentioned music video and student film. Also, in an effort to eliminate as much negativity as possible from my life, I fired my agency (Affinity Artists), as my agent was a nasty man who never returned calls or e-mails and lied about sending me out for auditions; and I dropped my membership in the Underground Theatre Company, also run by a brutish man who locks the doors when workshops start and won't allow you to even audition for productions if you have any conflicts. I don't need that in my life. I'm still seeking an agent, and have had some interest from four agencies, but they are not the ones I want to be represented by, and I'd just as soon wait until I can get a really good one. I'm also looking for a manager, who I hope will have the contacts to get me working in network TV, which is the next step for my career.
In December, I was cast in a lead role of the Dancing Squirrel Company's production of "The Adventures of Holly and Snowflake," a holiday play that we take to underprivileged and at-risk children for ten shows before Christmas. The people that run it are wonderful and kind,and I love doing this kind of "giving back" work for children. I have also been cast in two roles in The Black Box Theatre Company's production of "The Velveteen Rabbit," one of my all-time favorite books, which will run mid-December to mid-January. It's a great way for me to get involved with children, since I don't have any of my own, and all my family lives at least 2000 miles away. I'm really excited about being in both of them.
I've also been cast in two feature films: "Justice on the Border," as the sheriff in a small New Mexico town helping the feds battle the Mexican cartels (yes, I know, me as the sheriff is a stretch, but remember Frances McDormand in "Fargo?" She won the Oscar that year.); and "The Hit Team," a comedy in which I play a target of the Mafia and get to give a comic performance as a dead body. Also, a movie I shot last summer, "Mommy and Me," is now ready for distribution and got a lot of interest at the recent Film Industry Market, so it may be coming to theatres nationwide! And just this week, I did an overnight shoot on a new web series, "After Hours," set in a bar, and got my first SAG voucher (ironic, since I no longer need them to join SAG - you need three to become eligible). I was also asked to join the prestigious Sky Pilot Theatre Company, whose works are regularly reviewed by the LA Times; I start a one-act festival with them in January.
So I think my year in LA, acting-wise, has been a success. Is it profitable? No, not yet. I would have to be doing SAG work regularly to turn a profit. And this, of course, was the big sticking-point with my husband: I was spending too much money on my career without showing a profit. Well, every start-up takes time to get going, and this was in many ways my start-up year. I'm only sorry he was not able to see our commitment through to the end of the year. But truthfully, I would not have wanted to quit now and go back to the Bay Area. I have discovered that LA is where I really belong. All my life I have felt like a gypsy; restless, never fitting in wherever I lived. But here, almost everybody I meet has felt that way. Most of them are in the creative field now, and no one cares what your day job is, or even how much money you make. It's "what are you working on" that is important. LA is a place that values the creative process in all its forms, and I am finding my place in it, particularly by bringing theatre to our children who no longer have arts programs in California's bankrupt public school system. I'm proud of that, and proud to be a part of the tradition of acting that stretches back thousands of years. Art lasts. It may be the only thing that really does. And to create art, you need artists, like me. I'll never feel ashamed again that I am "just an actor," no matter how hard my husband tried to make me feel that way.
So I guess I am starting over. From now on, my blog won't reflect just "my year in LA," but my life as an over-40 (WAAAY over) actress in LA. I'm not making any promises about how often I'll write, but I do promise that I will post when I have something that I think is important to say, and that it will be honest, and I hope, interesting.
In Hollywood, when the director yells "cut" and we go back to start over, it's called "back to one." And that's where I am - back to one, starting again, with another chance to do better now that I am (sadder) older and wiser. In the movies, you can always get a do-over, and if you get it wrong, you can "fix it in post" as we always say; that is, make it look perfect in the finished product. I'm trying to stay real in a world of artifice, and in doing so, I think I have found my home at last. Back to one.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Facing "The Realities"
On June 26, 2010, I was privileged to perform one of the monologues in the new play by Brandon Sharkey, "The Realities." The play is about people who have been on reality shows and how the experience has affected their lives. All of us who performed in it have been on reality shows, but the monologues were not our true stories. I got cast in the show partly because I was on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" But the monologue that I performed was about a woman who had been on Big Brother, who was now trying to deny that the experience had changed her at all. In fact her new "celebrity" had changed her whole life and was driving her to drink and pills in order to cope with it.
In a way, I feel like that is what I am dealing with now in my own life. I came to LA almost on a whim for the first time in 2005 for three months, to see if I could get work here as an actress. I expected to work a little and get a childhood fantasy out of my system. What I did NOT expect was that I would fall in love with LA, that I would get work on the first day I sought it, and that I would do so well that I would want to keep coming back again and again until ultimately, I would have to choose between a new life here and my old life in the Bay Area. But that is exactly what happened. Of course, it isn't quite that simple. The wild card for me is that I had already given up my career and my old life because of my back injury and my lupus, and that acting gave me back a sense of worth, of purpose, of dignity that I couldn't seem to find with anything else (believe me, I tried!). It doesn't take into account that my health improved dramatically when I lived in LA, to the point where my joint pain almost disappeared. But my husband hated LA, and told me every time I raised the question that he would never leave our waterfront home in Foster City, even if I made it big in LA, which of course I have yet to do. So when I asked him one more time if he would be willing to move, even to a drier area like San Jose, he said no, and I realized that he wasn't ever going to change his mind. I offered once more to come home at the end of the year, but we both knew it was a hollow promise. My heart is in LA now, no matter how much I try to deny it.
So currently, I am trying to face the reality that I will be moving forward alone. It's a scary prospect. I never expected my little experiment to turn out this way. It was, as the title of my blog attests, supposed to be just a year in LA. Suddenly, I'm a full-time resident. I have moved to a 1950s style apartment in Los Feliz (right off Hollywood Boulevard) with hardwood floors, on a street with both huge magnolias and palm trees, an apt metaphor for the Southern girl who has ended up in this most exotic of worlds. My dog, Pasha, lives with me now - she and I packed up my things from my beautiful waterfront home in Foster City over an Independence Day weekend (another metaphor?) that was punctuated by periods of such wrenching sobbing on my part that I thought some of my organs might be damaged. This is the most difficult experience of my life.
But Pasha and I made it to Los Feliz on July 5th, after an eight and a half hour drive on a trip that usually takes six. For an eleven-year old pug that had never traveled more that 45 minutes in a car before, she did fantastic. She was a little confused about the apartment - no traction on the hardwood floors, no back deck to run across to chase squirrels and boats - and as I showed her my little place I kept saying things like "I know it's not as big as what you're used to," apologetically, idiotically, and crying. No, it's not what we are used to. But I think this may be the last great challenge of my life: to embrace the fears I have about being able to care for myself with my illness; to live on greatly reduced means (I have a disability income that allows me to make a limited amount of money each month, and so far I have not exceeded it); and ultimately, to live and work successfully and happily in one of the most eclectic, fast-paced, competitive, cosmopolitan, challenging, and glorious cities in the US, if not the world. Am I up to the challenge? Well, only by living it will I be able to tell.
I was going to use this post as a kind of mid-year analysis, to see how I am doing. So I will close by saying that although I haven't worked in July, it was by choice (I turned down some unpaid work) because I had too much going on in my personal life and the stress caused me to feel really bad. But January through June, this is the best year, business-wise, that I have ever had. I completed a new reel in July, which you can see by going to my profile at Now Casting and clicking on the 2009-2010 Theatrical Reel. It's mostly comic and I'm very proud of it. I also got a new look; I am keeping my hair dark after coloring it for "I'm Alive," and I cut it in a short, curly bob. I like it; I wore it this way 20 years ago and it makes me feel a lot younger. I'm getting new headshots next month since I look really different. I guess I am trying hard to live an authentic life, to face reality whenever I am confronted with it and to tell the truth as much as I possibly can, even when it hurts. That feels like growth. So I guess my year in LA has been good for me so far, even though so far it is the hardest work, emotionally, that I have ever done.
In a way, I feel like that is what I am dealing with now in my own life. I came to LA almost on a whim for the first time in 2005 for three months, to see if I could get work here as an actress. I expected to work a little and get a childhood fantasy out of my system. What I did NOT expect was that I would fall in love with LA, that I would get work on the first day I sought it, and that I would do so well that I would want to keep coming back again and again until ultimately, I would have to choose between a new life here and my old life in the Bay Area. But that is exactly what happened. Of course, it isn't quite that simple. The wild card for me is that I had already given up my career and my old life because of my back injury and my lupus, and that acting gave me back a sense of worth, of purpose, of dignity that I couldn't seem to find with anything else (believe me, I tried!). It doesn't take into account that my health improved dramatically when I lived in LA, to the point where my joint pain almost disappeared. But my husband hated LA, and told me every time I raised the question that he would never leave our waterfront home in Foster City, even if I made it big in LA, which of course I have yet to do. So when I asked him one more time if he would be willing to move, even to a drier area like San Jose, he said no, and I realized that he wasn't ever going to change his mind. I offered once more to come home at the end of the year, but we both knew it was a hollow promise. My heart is in LA now, no matter how much I try to deny it.
So currently, I am trying to face the reality that I will be moving forward alone. It's a scary prospect. I never expected my little experiment to turn out this way. It was, as the title of my blog attests, supposed to be just a year in LA. Suddenly, I'm a full-time resident. I have moved to a 1950s style apartment in Los Feliz (right off Hollywood Boulevard) with hardwood floors, on a street with both huge magnolias and palm trees, an apt metaphor for the Southern girl who has ended up in this most exotic of worlds. My dog, Pasha, lives with me now - she and I packed up my things from my beautiful waterfront home in Foster City over an Independence Day weekend (another metaphor?) that was punctuated by periods of such wrenching sobbing on my part that I thought some of my organs might be damaged. This is the most difficult experience of my life.
But Pasha and I made it to Los Feliz on July 5th, after an eight and a half hour drive on a trip that usually takes six. For an eleven-year old pug that had never traveled more that 45 minutes in a car before, she did fantastic. She was a little confused about the apartment - no traction on the hardwood floors, no back deck to run across to chase squirrels and boats - and as I showed her my little place I kept saying things like "I know it's not as big as what you're used to," apologetically, idiotically, and crying. No, it's not what we are used to. But I think this may be the last great challenge of my life: to embrace the fears I have about being able to care for myself with my illness; to live on greatly reduced means (I have a disability income that allows me to make a limited amount of money each month, and so far I have not exceeded it); and ultimately, to live and work successfully and happily in one of the most eclectic, fast-paced, competitive, cosmopolitan, challenging, and glorious cities in the US, if not the world. Am I up to the challenge? Well, only by living it will I be able to tell.
I was going to use this post as a kind of mid-year analysis, to see how I am doing. So I will close by saying that although I haven't worked in July, it was by choice (I turned down some unpaid work) because I had too much going on in my personal life and the stress caused me to feel really bad. But January through June, this is the best year, business-wise, that I have ever had. I completed a new reel in July, which you can see by going to my profile at Now Casting and clicking on the 2009-2010 Theatrical Reel. It's mostly comic and I'm very proud of it. I also got a new look; I am keeping my hair dark after coloring it for "I'm Alive," and I cut it in a short, curly bob. I like it; I wore it this way 20 years ago and it makes me feel a lot younger. I'm getting new headshots next month since I look really different. I guess I am trying hard to live an authentic life, to face reality whenever I am confronted with it and to tell the truth as much as I possibly can, even when it hurts. That feels like growth. So I guess my year in LA has been good for me so far, even though so far it is the hardest work, emotionally, that I have ever done.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Shooting "I'm Alive"
This post has been removed at the request of the producer due to privacy considerations.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Why Hollywood Marriages Fail
It is a cliché that everyone in Hollywood is has been married and divorced multiple times. This stereotype is a cliché because it is, of course, partially true. Rue McClanahan, a stage and TV star best known for the TV series “The Golden Girls,” who died this week, was married six times. Yet there are many long-lasting and loving marriages in Hollywood; Kyra Sedgwick, known for her starring role in the hit series “The Closer,” has been married to Kevin Bacon for over 20 years. My Bacon number, by the way, is two, and if you’ve ever played Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, you will know what that means.
But still, it is true that many, many Hollywood marriages end in high profile divorces, often due to very high profile affairs (Brangelina, anyone?). I’ve been on a lot of TV and movie sets, and a lot of the time we extras spend waiting we also spend gossiping about the leads and who is sleeping with whom (I know some stuff, but I’m not telling!). And I think the basic reasons that stars divorce come down to these:
1) Long separations due to location shoots
I’ll bet if Jennifer Aniston had it to do over again, she wouldn’t have sent her gorgeous husband Brad Pitt off to work on location with equally gorgeous Angelina Jolie, who already had a reputation for getting involved with her co-stars, on the set of “Mr. and Mrs. Smith.” I suspect this is why Brad and Angie now alternate who works, taking turns on films and accompanying each other to sets with all six kids in tow. I’m sure it makes the love scenes a lot less sexy when the whole family is watching.
2) Long work hours
Shooting a weekly series is a demanding job. I have worked on the “House” set and was told by the regular background actors that 16-hour days are the norm for the cast and crew. And the star’s family lives in England! I’m not sure if that marriage will last. I’ve heard Rob Lowe say this is the reason he left “The West Wing” and “Brothers and Sisters,” so he could spend more time with his family, who lives in Santa Barbara, which is 90 miles up the coast from LA. I can relate!
3) On-set emotional affairs
As I have mentioned, even after a ten-day shoot background actors can feel very close to each other. What about actors in a four-month theatre run? Or in a regular series? Even if you are not playing a couple, you can get very close to your co-stars. Noah Wyle even married his makeup artist! (They are divorced now, but still). My point is, you have a lot of downtime on set, plenty of time to have your emotional needs met by someone who is not your spouse.
4) on-set physical affairs
I have only done a few kissing scenes, and I can tell you that your body does not realize that it is “just acting!” There is usually some chemistry between the actors for love scenes to be believable, and if they are sexy enough, the scenes often continue into real life. The examples are too numerous to mention, but the most famous is probably Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, who met while filming “Cleopatra” in the early 1960s when both were married to others. They ended up leaving their spouses and were married for 12 years, divorced, then remarried, divorced again, and were planning to remarry when he died suddenly in his early 50s. A very passionate couple whose relationship began with those sexy scenes on set.
5) One star’s career takes off and the other’s doesn’t
Everything is relative in terms of careers “taking off;” this can mean that one is just making more money than the other. This year much was made of the “Oscar curse” when Sandra Bullock’s marriage collapsed right after she won Best Actress, but that was for cheating; a better example is that of Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe. When they married, Ryan was the bigger star, but over the course of their marriage, her star has eclipsed his, and many in Hollywood speculated that he could not handle her larger success and that the Oscar win was the last straw. Others speculated that his suspected affair with Abbie Cornish was really what killed their marriage. Either way, they are divorced now.
6) Substance abuse
Too many examples to count here! Suddenly successful actors usually have access to a lot of money, and they may be isolated from former friends and support systems due to their sudden fame. Too many of them then turn to different forms of substance abuse for comfort: alcohol, cocaine, and/or heroin to name a few, as well as prescription drugs. Carly Simon divorced James Taylor after he missed the birth of their son because of his heroin addiction (he’s now clean). Melissa Williams left Heath Ledger due to his drug habit; he later tragically overdosed accidentally, robbing us of a great talent that had just begun to flower.
7) Physical abuse
Much of the abuse that goes on marriages is hidden, but there are a few notable examples. Tina Turner is a dramatic example of a woman who left her husband Ike after years of abuse with nothing but the clothes on her back, and spectacularly turned her life around. Charlie Sheen’s current wife is apparently planning to divorce him after turning him in for his abuse of her over this last Christmas holiday. And of course, O.J. Simpson’s second wife, Nicole, left him due to his abuse, but later paid with her life when he killed her and her friend Ron Goldman with a knife. Sadly, many abused spouses do end up murdered by their abusers.
8) Emotional or verbal abuse
This type of problem usually gets hidden under the heading of “irreconcilable differences,” but you read about it in the bitter divorce battle that was underway between Dennis Hopper and his most recent wife (fourth? Fifth?), that ended with his death last week, in the acrimony between Alec Baldwin and his ex-wife Kim Basinger in the leaked e-mails about their daughter (“you are a rude, thoughtless little pig”), and of course, Charlie Sheen again, and his ex-wife Denise Richards (I can’t even quote that leaked voice mail, as it is X-rated!).
9) Financial problems, usually overspending
This latest, greatest example of this type of stupid behavior is that of Heidi and Spencer Pratt, of “The Hills,” married less than one year, millions in debt, and already separated. Heidi is the only who had 10 plastic surgeries IN ONE DAY. This is a case of too much fame, too much money, too fast, wasted on two idiots. There are others, but these two are my favorites.
10) Non-support by the non-acting spouse: financial, emotional, or otherwise
Finally, we get to the spouse that just really does not want the other person to be an actor. This usually happens in the case of a career change, when the other is used to a quiet life, or doesn’t want to move to LA. It happened to Jim Carey, it just happened to Crystal Bowersox, and sadly, it is now happening to me.
Keith and I have decided to separate formally as of around May 12. I have moved into a larger apartment, still in the Los Felix area of Hollywood, and will be bringing my furniture and my pug, Pasha, down to live with me here in late June. Keith had always been clear to me about not wanting to move to LA, and not wanting me to be an actor (“acting is the world’s most selfish profession” he’d say). He’s right, actors DO require a lot of attention, and are narcissists to some degree, but I think I am more of a studier of the human condition, and I like to portray that on stage and film. I’m not surprised that we ultimately were not able to stay together, but since we have been a couple for nearly 16 years, I am devastated and heartbroken by this decision. Our lives since I became ill have just taken completely different paths, and I feel much better physically in LA than I do in the Bay Area, while the best place for his work in computer science remains in San Jose. I love him and wish him all the best.
Namaste,
Jennie
But still, it is true that many, many Hollywood marriages end in high profile divorces, often due to very high profile affairs (Brangelina, anyone?). I’ve been on a lot of TV and movie sets, and a lot of the time we extras spend waiting we also spend gossiping about the leads and who is sleeping with whom (I know some stuff, but I’m not telling!). And I think the basic reasons that stars divorce come down to these:
1) Long separations due to location shoots
I’ll bet if Jennifer Aniston had it to do over again, she wouldn’t have sent her gorgeous husband Brad Pitt off to work on location with equally gorgeous Angelina Jolie, who already had a reputation for getting involved with her co-stars, on the set of “Mr. and Mrs. Smith.” I suspect this is why Brad and Angie now alternate who works, taking turns on films and accompanying each other to sets with all six kids in tow. I’m sure it makes the love scenes a lot less sexy when the whole family is watching.
2) Long work hours
Shooting a weekly series is a demanding job. I have worked on the “House” set and was told by the regular background actors that 16-hour days are the norm for the cast and crew. And the star’s family lives in England! I’m not sure if that marriage will last. I’ve heard Rob Lowe say this is the reason he left “The West Wing” and “Brothers and Sisters,” so he could spend more time with his family, who lives in Santa Barbara, which is 90 miles up the coast from LA. I can relate!
3) On-set emotional affairs
As I have mentioned, even after a ten-day shoot background actors can feel very close to each other. What about actors in a four-month theatre run? Or in a regular series? Even if you are not playing a couple, you can get very close to your co-stars. Noah Wyle even married his makeup artist! (They are divorced now, but still). My point is, you have a lot of downtime on set, plenty of time to have your emotional needs met by someone who is not your spouse.
4) on-set physical affairs
I have only done a few kissing scenes, and I can tell you that your body does not realize that it is “just acting!” There is usually some chemistry between the actors for love scenes to be believable, and if they are sexy enough, the scenes often continue into real life. The examples are too numerous to mention, but the most famous is probably Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, who met while filming “Cleopatra” in the early 1960s when both were married to others. They ended up leaving their spouses and were married for 12 years, divorced, then remarried, divorced again, and were planning to remarry when he died suddenly in his early 50s. A very passionate couple whose relationship began with those sexy scenes on set.
5) One star’s career takes off and the other’s doesn’t
Everything is relative in terms of careers “taking off;” this can mean that one is just making more money than the other. This year much was made of the “Oscar curse” when Sandra Bullock’s marriage collapsed right after she won Best Actress, but that was for cheating; a better example is that of Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe. When they married, Ryan was the bigger star, but over the course of their marriage, her star has eclipsed his, and many in Hollywood speculated that he could not handle her larger success and that the Oscar win was the last straw. Others speculated that his suspected affair with Abbie Cornish was really what killed their marriage. Either way, they are divorced now.
6) Substance abuse
Too many examples to count here! Suddenly successful actors usually have access to a lot of money, and they may be isolated from former friends and support systems due to their sudden fame. Too many of them then turn to different forms of substance abuse for comfort: alcohol, cocaine, and/or heroin to name a few, as well as prescription drugs. Carly Simon divorced James Taylor after he missed the birth of their son because of his heroin addiction (he’s now clean). Melissa Williams left Heath Ledger due to his drug habit; he later tragically overdosed accidentally, robbing us of a great talent that had just begun to flower.
7) Physical abuse
Much of the abuse that goes on marriages is hidden, but there are a few notable examples. Tina Turner is a dramatic example of a woman who left her husband Ike after years of abuse with nothing but the clothes on her back, and spectacularly turned her life around. Charlie Sheen’s current wife is apparently planning to divorce him after turning him in for his abuse of her over this last Christmas holiday. And of course, O.J. Simpson’s second wife, Nicole, left him due to his abuse, but later paid with her life when he killed her and her friend Ron Goldman with a knife. Sadly, many abused spouses do end up murdered by their abusers.
8) Emotional or verbal abuse
This type of problem usually gets hidden under the heading of “irreconcilable differences,” but you read about it in the bitter divorce battle that was underway between Dennis Hopper and his most recent wife (fourth? Fifth?), that ended with his death last week, in the acrimony between Alec Baldwin and his ex-wife Kim Basinger in the leaked e-mails about their daughter (“you are a rude, thoughtless little pig”), and of course, Charlie Sheen again, and his ex-wife Denise Richards (I can’t even quote that leaked voice mail, as it is X-rated!).
9) Financial problems, usually overspending
This latest, greatest example of this type of stupid behavior is that of Heidi and Spencer Pratt, of “The Hills,” married less than one year, millions in debt, and already separated. Heidi is the only who had 10 plastic surgeries IN ONE DAY. This is a case of too much fame, too much money, too fast, wasted on two idiots. There are others, but these two are my favorites.
10) Non-support by the non-acting spouse: financial, emotional, or otherwise
Finally, we get to the spouse that just really does not want the other person to be an actor. This usually happens in the case of a career change, when the other is used to a quiet life, or doesn’t want to move to LA. It happened to Jim Carey, it just happened to Crystal Bowersox, and sadly, it is now happening to me.
Keith and I have decided to separate formally as of around May 12. I have moved into a larger apartment, still in the Los Felix area of Hollywood, and will be bringing my furniture and my pug, Pasha, down to live with me here in late June. Keith had always been clear to me about not wanting to move to LA, and not wanting me to be an actor (“acting is the world’s most selfish profession” he’d say). He’s right, actors DO require a lot of attention, and are narcissists to some degree, but I think I am more of a studier of the human condition, and I like to portray that on stage and film. I’m not surprised that we ultimately were not able to stay together, but since we have been a couple for nearly 16 years, I am devastated and heartbroken by this decision. Our lives since I became ill have just taken completely different paths, and I feel much better physically in LA than I do in the Bay Area, while the best place for his work in computer science remains in San Jose. I love him and wish him all the best.
Namaste,
Jennie
Friday, June 4, 2010
"Old Mo" has Shifted
It's been over three weeks since I have posted, and the reason is simple: I started getting work again. As I wrote about in my last post on May 9th, April was a really bad month for me, and I only worked one paid day. But I was confident that the momentum, "Old Mo," would shift - it always does. And I was right. It shifted mid-May, in a big way.
I had continued to be offered small jobs, mostly unpaid background work, through April and early May, and I decided to take a few of them even though they didn't pay, just to remind the universe that I was a working actress. One of them, a promo for something called "Young Nails," just involved me coming in, sitting in front of a green screen (so they can change the background; they use it a lot in animation and CGI) in three different outfits, and smiling. I even got my hair and makeup done, and they gave me a tee shirt and free body lotion. So it's not all bad, even if you don't get money (and they fed us). Another was for a Christian-theme film called "Belle of the Bus" where I got to play my favorite-ever character title, "Vixen with a Walker." I've got to figure out how to write a You Tube spoof using that. But this was unpaid too, and I still need to pay the bills, so I prayed very specifically to get a PAYING JOB. And that afternoon, no kidding, a student director that I had made a film with in 2005, called out of the blue (she told me later she had felt the Lord leading her to call me) with a major offer.
This student, now no longer studying at USC, is named Lily Shi and she is an amazing woman. She grew up in China, got a degree in economics, and has written a book about how to revitalize the American economy called "Build an American Ark" that the Obama administration wants to work on with her. She has a very interesting salvation story, and she has set that to music in a concert called "Song of Salvation." The film we did in 2005 was called "Father I Hear Your Voice," and I played piano and sang in it. She said she loved working with me, and asked me if I would not only sing in the concert but also manage the project of a small concert first, then later with a larger choir, and finally a documentary movie and a CD, all paid above scale! I couldn't believe my good fortune, and I truly believe it was an answered prayer. Of course I said yes, and have been working with the delightful Lily since May 11. Our concert will be June 19th at 2:00 p.m. in San Gabriel, and I will be sending an invitation to all my friends who live in the Los Angeles area. So far we sound really good! :-)
After this happened, the flood gates seemed to open. I got cast as an angry Vietnamese (no kidding, accent and all) mother in a screenplay for the 18th annual UC-Irvine Screenwriting Festival (it ended up winning!). I got cast in a major supporting role in the summer cast of the long-running play, "Vampire Masquerade," at The Next Stage" in downtown Hollywood, where I will be performing Friday nights in June and July. I got cast as one of the leads for a benefit play called "The Realities" about people who have been on reality shows (thanks to my experience on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" back in 2003), which will be held on June 26th at the Santa Monica Playhouse. I did a paying job on the new Spike TV reality show, "1000 Ways to Die," as a neighborhood lady who is mad at her mailman for reading her mail and tries to knock him down in the local carnival dunking booth, then is horrified as he is accidentally electrocuted when he falls in the water which was electrified by people missing the target and hitting the circuit box. It's very funny - watch for it in September! I got cast with no audition as "sister of patient" in a National Board of Medial Examiners training video, and though I haven't shot it yet they have already said they want to use me more. And I shot the role of a "flamboyent drama teacher," also a paying role, in a music video that will run on Disney. All this happened prior to Memorial Day!
There's more, but you get the idea. I think it's called "trust." Yes, there aren't as many projects going on right now, and the competition is fierce. But as long as I believe I am meant to be here, the work will come. It hasn't stopped in the nine years I have been working as an actress. When it does, then I'll do something else - like go back to school and study how to me a costume designer. That "flamboyent" thing comes really easily to me!
Blessings,
Jennie
I had continued to be offered small jobs, mostly unpaid background work, through April and early May, and I decided to take a few of them even though they didn't pay, just to remind the universe that I was a working actress. One of them, a promo for something called "Young Nails," just involved me coming in, sitting in front of a green screen (so they can change the background; they use it a lot in animation and CGI) in three different outfits, and smiling. I even got my hair and makeup done, and they gave me a tee shirt and free body lotion. So it's not all bad, even if you don't get money (and they fed us). Another was for a Christian-theme film called "Belle of the Bus" where I got to play my favorite-ever character title, "Vixen with a Walker." I've got to figure out how to write a You Tube spoof using that. But this was unpaid too, and I still need to pay the bills, so I prayed very specifically to get a PAYING JOB. And that afternoon, no kidding, a student director that I had made a film with in 2005, called out of the blue (she told me later she had felt the Lord leading her to call me) with a major offer.
This student, now no longer studying at USC, is named Lily Shi and she is an amazing woman. She grew up in China, got a degree in economics, and has written a book about how to revitalize the American economy called "Build an American Ark" that the Obama administration wants to work on with her. She has a very interesting salvation story, and she has set that to music in a concert called "Song of Salvation." The film we did in 2005 was called "Father I Hear Your Voice," and I played piano and sang in it. She said she loved working with me, and asked me if I would not only sing in the concert but also manage the project of a small concert first, then later with a larger choir, and finally a documentary movie and a CD, all paid above scale! I couldn't believe my good fortune, and I truly believe it was an answered prayer. Of course I said yes, and have been working with the delightful Lily since May 11. Our concert will be June 19th at 2:00 p.m. in San Gabriel, and I will be sending an invitation to all my friends who live in the Los Angeles area. So far we sound really good! :-)
After this happened, the flood gates seemed to open. I got cast as an angry Vietnamese (no kidding, accent and all) mother in a screenplay for the 18th annual UC-Irvine Screenwriting Festival (it ended up winning!). I got cast in a major supporting role in the summer cast of the long-running play, "Vampire Masquerade," at The Next Stage" in downtown Hollywood, where I will be performing Friday nights in June and July. I got cast as one of the leads for a benefit play called "The Realities" about people who have been on reality shows (thanks to my experience on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" back in 2003), which will be held on June 26th at the Santa Monica Playhouse. I did a paying job on the new Spike TV reality show, "1000 Ways to Die," as a neighborhood lady who is mad at her mailman for reading her mail and tries to knock him down in the local carnival dunking booth, then is horrified as he is accidentally electrocuted when he falls in the water which was electrified by people missing the target and hitting the circuit box. It's very funny - watch for it in September! I got cast with no audition as "sister of patient" in a National Board of Medial Examiners training video, and though I haven't shot it yet they have already said they want to use me more. And I shot the role of a "flamboyent drama teacher," also a paying role, in a music video that will run on Disney. All this happened prior to Memorial Day!
There's more, but you get the idea. I think it's called "trust." Yes, there aren't as many projects going on right now, and the competition is fierce. But as long as I believe I am meant to be here, the work will come. It hasn't stopped in the nine years I have been working as an actress. When it does, then I'll do something else - like go back to school and study how to me a costume designer. That "flamboyent" thing comes really easily to me!
Blessings,
Jennie
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Extra Work, Amateurs, and Pros
I didn't book much work in April, but I did work a couple of days as a plain old background actor, commonly called an extra. I wasn't featured in any way, I was just in the background. One I did for free; it was an independent film, set in the late 1980s,called "Leaving Limbo." I got to dress up in leggings and lace, and wear my hair big and curly, like old-school Madonna. Really, that's the only reason I did the job, because I still love to play dress-up. The other job was a non-union gig on "Criminal Minds" where I played a patient; I got to wear pajamas, a robe, and slippers the whole time I was on the set, and ride in a wheelchair. I also shot a short romantic film in San Francisco last month done entirely by film students in six hours. I thought I'd write a little about the differences between working as an extra on an amateur vs. a pro set, and working on a student film vs. a professional independent film.
The call time for the indie film was 6:30; it was set in a converted downtown theater in Pasadena that is now used as a church. When I arrived and went into the sanctuary to check in, I saw about 14 other men, women, and girls dressed in the familiar leggings and leg warmers, "Flashdance" cut-out neck sweatshirt look from the 1980s. The lobby had a few posters that had been created in the 1980s style for fake movies, one very "Fatal Attraction," another very "Breakfast Club;" the overall look was very authentic to the period. The Assistant Director (AD), a young woman who appeared to be nervous and not used to power, herded us to the mock theater exit, where we were supposed to be leaving a showing of that late '80s weeper, "Steel Magnolias." I explained to the teenagers behind me that this is a sad film in which Julia Roberts dies, so they would be sad or dabbing tears. I felt 100 years old.
The AD walked us through our blocking, pairing me up with a witty gentleman from the church as my date, and putting us in a group of about seven couples to exit as our leads are talking in the lobby. We are seen in the background behind them. The premise is something about the lead female falling asleep and waking up to find it is 20 years later; hence the title, "Leaving Limbo." It sounded a lot like "13 Going on Thirty" to me but hey, I wasn't asking any questions. So theoretically, all we had to do was come out of the theater, but not like we were in a wedding procession, then go our separate ways as we had been told to do, while the leads had their conversation. And we had to do that without making any noise or running into anything.
But this is not as easy as it might sound. The director wanted to do this in one long take with a wide angle lens on the lobby. This is called a tracking shot, because she started the scene by following the dorky male lead from the corner where we were exiting to the far corner where his blind date, the female lead, was complaining about him to her friends. In the meantime, there are 15 extras in seven groups moving in three different directions behind them, and two others at a popcorn stand. And of these extras, I was the only one who had any acting experience. So there was a lot of running into things during the shots, or forgetting to crossover when they were supposed to, or slamming of the restroom door during the take, so we ended up shooting this one tracking shot for about 90 minutes. Then we had to do close-ups on the leads from each direction, and the shoot ended up lasting nearly four hours, on a scene that will take less than two minutes in the film. The lack of efficiency caused by the amateurism of everybody involved probably doubled the time this should have taken.
By contrast, in the TV show, "Criminal Minds," a CBS crime procedural drama starring Joe Montegna along with others, the cast and crew were models of efficiency. I booked this job through my calling service, Joey's List, which is run by a former employee of Central Casting. Now he has a group of reliable extras that he will market to Central for $65 per month whenever you want to work, saving you the trouble and hours and hours of calling it can take to get through to Central. I usually book work whenever I tell them I want a background job, but this month I only got one day out of eight I listed myself as available. It's never been that bad before.
Anyway, once you are booked, you get a mailbox number on Central's call-in line, and the night before the job you call in to get all the details: call time, location, wardrobe information, and any other details that you might need to know. I was in the hospital scene group as a patient; there were two of us, along with two doctors and two nurses, and we all arrived at 5:30 p.m. When I arrived at a CBS studio in Burbank I'd never realized existed, I went straight to the check-in trailer and was told it would be "a little while" til they used us. The crew had been there since 2:30 p.m., so that meant it might be a late night (usually you can add 12 hours plus a one-hour meal period to get your maximum day; the studio does not like to pay double time as it must over 12 hours). So we settled in to wait.
Usually I visit a lot with the other extras on sets, but this being a late call, we were all pretty tired, so we didn't do much socializing. I had a book, and my new Blackberry phone, so I was able to check e-mails regularly, and the time flew by. Before I knew it, it was 8;30, and the AD told us we were breaking for a one-hour lunch. The food, of course, is one of the best things about a network show, but since we were not on location but at the studio we often don't get a great meal and sometimes even have to buy our own at the commissary. Not so here. They had barbequed a flank steak, and we also a choice of chicken or fish. They had a sushi station. They had a full Mexican food bar. They had a full salad bar. About the only complaint I had was that they didn't serve Diet Coke! They also provide to-go boxes, and since I wasn't that hungry, I got enough of a meal to feed me twice the next day! "Working for food" on these sets really is a perk.
After "lunch," we went back to the set, and waited two more hours while the crew hastily put up the walls of the "hospital room" that our guest star, Linda Purl, would be emoting from. I was amazed at how fast they worked. We finally got started on our one scene; I was pushed by a nurse down the hall past Joe and one of his colleagues, looking exhausted and in pain, which at that point was not too hard to do as it was almost midnight and my back was killing me. We did five quick takes, with the principle actors' experimenting a little each time on their delivery, and then the AD in charge said, "Okay everybody! That's a wrap!" For our part of the show, with two and a half pages of dialogue, it had taken two hours to build the set and shoot the scenes; we normally estimate about an hour per page just to shoot. So this was one speedy cast and crew. Their professionalism was impressive.
Doing student films can be delightful for many reasons. At this point in my career, I usually get to play leads, and the students treat me like a star. This particular film was being shot in a classroom setting, with the teacher working very closely with me and the student director, so for me it is like getting free acting lessons. And of course, if the student does what they say they will, you get a copy of the film to be used in your all-important acting reel, which is the visual part of your resume that you put on the Internet for casting directors to look at when you submit for auditions.
This particular film was a romantic comedy where I was playing the female lead, a woman in her mid-30s. Her age along was reason enough for me to be excited about doing the film. I got to act opposite a handsome young actor who reminded me a little of Matthew Broderick. It was like going on a date with a grown-up Ferris Bueller. I was doing the film for a class at San Francisco's Academy of Art University. It is called "The DMV One;" the premise is that the young man goes in at the end of the day to renew his drivers' license at a small-town DMV office where the young woman is alone. She begins the series of questions that quickly devolve into a series of insinuations about his personal life, which leads up into a sexy back and forth where they both get satisfaction of different kind than what is normally provided at the DMV. It's a very funny film. The standard practice at these shoots is to do a quick run-through of the film first, then begin shooting, and when we did the run-through the class was howling, which is very gratifying.
This film was very complex to shoot because it was full of witty banter, arch glances, and ultimately, a near kiss. I had always heard that romantic scenes were not romantic to film, and now I understand why. As you are gazing into each other's eyes, there is a camera stuck between your faces in the close-ups; the positions you're asked to hold can be excruciating (yep, there's that back pain again); and if you are working with an amateur crew, the biggest problem with working with students, it can take forever to get the scenes shot right. This is due to unfamiliarity with lighting, camera angles, and how to get the best emotions out of an actor. A student film really is a learning experience for all. But these students were as professional as many indie filmmakers that I have worked with. They worked quickly, without wasting time, and were serious without being pompous. We had a great time, and shot ten pages of dialogue, or a five-minute film, in seven hours. Not bad for amateurs!
So. which is best? Well, obviously, I like getting paid to work. But if I could do the type of work that I got to do in this student film (light romantic comedy) and get paid for it, this would be a dream come true. And that's what I'm working toward.
The call time for the indie film was 6:30; it was set in a converted downtown theater in Pasadena that is now used as a church. When I arrived and went into the sanctuary to check in, I saw about 14 other men, women, and girls dressed in the familiar leggings and leg warmers, "Flashdance" cut-out neck sweatshirt look from the 1980s. The lobby had a few posters that had been created in the 1980s style for fake movies, one very "Fatal Attraction," another very "Breakfast Club;" the overall look was very authentic to the period. The Assistant Director (AD), a young woman who appeared to be nervous and not used to power, herded us to the mock theater exit, where we were supposed to be leaving a showing of that late '80s weeper, "Steel Magnolias." I explained to the teenagers behind me that this is a sad film in which Julia Roberts dies, so they would be sad or dabbing tears. I felt 100 years old.
The AD walked us through our blocking, pairing me up with a witty gentleman from the church as my date, and putting us in a group of about seven couples to exit as our leads are talking in the lobby. We are seen in the background behind them. The premise is something about the lead female falling asleep and waking up to find it is 20 years later; hence the title, "Leaving Limbo." It sounded a lot like "13 Going on Thirty" to me but hey, I wasn't asking any questions. So theoretically, all we had to do was come out of the theater, but not like we were in a wedding procession, then go our separate ways as we had been told to do, while the leads had their conversation. And we had to do that without making any noise or running into anything.
But this is not as easy as it might sound. The director wanted to do this in one long take with a wide angle lens on the lobby. This is called a tracking shot, because she started the scene by following the dorky male lead from the corner where we were exiting to the far corner where his blind date, the female lead, was complaining about him to her friends. In the meantime, there are 15 extras in seven groups moving in three different directions behind them, and two others at a popcorn stand. And of these extras, I was the only one who had any acting experience. So there was a lot of running into things during the shots, or forgetting to crossover when they were supposed to, or slamming of the restroom door during the take, so we ended up shooting this one tracking shot for about 90 minutes. Then we had to do close-ups on the leads from each direction, and the shoot ended up lasting nearly four hours, on a scene that will take less than two minutes in the film. The lack of efficiency caused by the amateurism of everybody involved probably doubled the time this should have taken.
By contrast, in the TV show, "Criminal Minds," a CBS crime procedural drama starring Joe Montegna along with others, the cast and crew were models of efficiency. I booked this job through my calling service, Joey's List, which is run by a former employee of Central Casting. Now he has a group of reliable extras that he will market to Central for $65 per month whenever you want to work, saving you the trouble and hours and hours of calling it can take to get through to Central. I usually book work whenever I tell them I want a background job, but this month I only got one day out of eight I listed myself as available. It's never been that bad before.
Anyway, once you are booked, you get a mailbox number on Central's call-in line, and the night before the job you call in to get all the details: call time, location, wardrobe information, and any other details that you might need to know. I was in the hospital scene group as a patient; there were two of us, along with two doctors and two nurses, and we all arrived at 5:30 p.m. When I arrived at a CBS studio in Burbank I'd never realized existed, I went straight to the check-in trailer and was told it would be "a little while" til they used us. The crew had been there since 2:30 p.m., so that meant it might be a late night (usually you can add 12 hours plus a one-hour meal period to get your maximum day; the studio does not like to pay double time as it must over 12 hours). So we settled in to wait.
Usually I visit a lot with the other extras on sets, but this being a late call, we were all pretty tired, so we didn't do much socializing. I had a book, and my new Blackberry phone, so I was able to check e-mails regularly, and the time flew by. Before I knew it, it was 8;30, and the AD told us we were breaking for a one-hour lunch. The food, of course, is one of the best things about a network show, but since we were not on location but at the studio we often don't get a great meal and sometimes even have to buy our own at the commissary. Not so here. They had barbequed a flank steak, and we also a choice of chicken or fish. They had a sushi station. They had a full Mexican food bar. They had a full salad bar. About the only complaint I had was that they didn't serve Diet Coke! They also provide to-go boxes, and since I wasn't that hungry, I got enough of a meal to feed me twice the next day! "Working for food" on these sets really is a perk.
After "lunch," we went back to the set, and waited two more hours while the crew hastily put up the walls of the "hospital room" that our guest star, Linda Purl, would be emoting from. I was amazed at how fast they worked. We finally got started on our one scene; I was pushed by a nurse down the hall past Joe and one of his colleagues, looking exhausted and in pain, which at that point was not too hard to do as it was almost midnight and my back was killing me. We did five quick takes, with the principle actors' experimenting a little each time on their delivery, and then the AD in charge said, "Okay everybody! That's a wrap!" For our part of the show, with two and a half pages of dialogue, it had taken two hours to build the set and shoot the scenes; we normally estimate about an hour per page just to shoot. So this was one speedy cast and crew. Their professionalism was impressive.
Doing student films can be delightful for many reasons. At this point in my career, I usually get to play leads, and the students treat me like a star. This particular film was being shot in a classroom setting, with the teacher working very closely with me and the student director, so for me it is like getting free acting lessons. And of course, if the student does what they say they will, you get a copy of the film to be used in your all-important acting reel, which is the visual part of your resume that you put on the Internet for casting directors to look at when you submit for auditions.
This particular film was a romantic comedy where I was playing the female lead, a woman in her mid-30s. Her age along was reason enough for me to be excited about doing the film. I got to act opposite a handsome young actor who reminded me a little of Matthew Broderick. It was like going on a date with a grown-up Ferris Bueller. I was doing the film for a class at San Francisco's Academy of Art University. It is called "The DMV One;" the premise is that the young man goes in at the end of the day to renew his drivers' license at a small-town DMV office where the young woman is alone. She begins the series of questions that quickly devolve into a series of insinuations about his personal life, which leads up into a sexy back and forth where they both get satisfaction of different kind than what is normally provided at the DMV. It's a very funny film. The standard practice at these shoots is to do a quick run-through of the film first, then begin shooting, and when we did the run-through the class was howling, which is very gratifying.
This film was very complex to shoot because it was full of witty banter, arch glances, and ultimately, a near kiss. I had always heard that romantic scenes were not romantic to film, and now I understand why. As you are gazing into each other's eyes, there is a camera stuck between your faces in the close-ups; the positions you're asked to hold can be excruciating (yep, there's that back pain again); and if you are working with an amateur crew, the biggest problem with working with students, it can take forever to get the scenes shot right. This is due to unfamiliarity with lighting, camera angles, and how to get the best emotions out of an actor. A student film really is a learning experience for all. But these students were as professional as many indie filmmakers that I have worked with. They worked quickly, without wasting time, and were serious without being pompous. We had a great time, and shot ten pages of dialogue, or a five-minute film, in seven hours. Not bad for amateurs!
So. which is best? Well, obviously, I like getting paid to work. But if I could do the type of work that I got to do in this student film (light romantic comedy) and get paid for it, this would be a dream come true. And that's what I'm working toward.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
On Typecasting and Shooting "Whoreders"
Business has been slow in LA since I wrapped "Held Up." I haven't worked a single paying day in April, not even any background work through my calling service. Most of the network shows have shot all their shows for the season, and the new pilots are wrapping up now. The major films that shoot in the summer are just cranking up, so we are in a major lull. And since actors like to be acting, I have resorted to taking a few non-paying, "will work for food" jobs. One of them was a short film for the web channel "Funny or Die." It is a parody of the popular show, "Hoarders," except that this show is called "Whoreders," and the star of the show hoards - you guessed it - whores. And I play - wait for it - a whore.
Now, I understand that most actresses have to play hookers at some point in their careers. Some of them even win Oscars for it, like Donna Reed in "From Here to Eternity." But usually, these actresses are doing it to play against type - Donna Reed definitely was not the hooker type, and that's why she won the Oscar. I'm not sure I've done enough work to have a type, but the work I'm best known for at this point - "Whorified" - just may have typecast me. Oh sure, I've played lots of mothers, teachers, nurses, doctors, and in my upcoming film, "Child of God," I'll be playing the lead, an innocent widow who is the soloist and secretary at a small town church, a far cry from a hooker. But until it comes out, the work that I've gotten the most recognition for is from playing a whore.
I'm not complaining. Hookers are great fun to play. On this set, there were about 30 or 40 of us in an old house right in downtown Hollywood, just a couple of blocks north of the Chinese Theater. We were all wearing tons of makeup and varying degrees of slutty clothes. I was relatively sedately dressed: I had on a black tank mini-dress with my black bra straps hanging out and lots of cleavage, lacy bike shorts, sky-high gladiator sandals, and huge dangling earrings, and I was holding a black feathered fan that one of the other "girls" had loaned me. The director had asked us to bring props and reading material that might be funny, so I read the American Association of Retired Persons (AARP - yes, I'm a member, because I'm retired) magazine (I was playing the "old" hooker, which is also starting to get "old"). Some of the girls' sex toys that they were using as props will probably have to be pixilated in the film; they were definitely X-rated. But it all worked; the atmosphere was great, and the props were funny.
So the idea for the film is this: the door opens, and the pimp says to the team who is doing the intervention, "These are my whores." The team gasps at the sheer number of us in the house (we were all sitting/lying over the furniture and floor) and make appropriate filthy comments. Then they tell him to start making cuts (eliminating us from the group). And one by one, as he cuts us, the team would lift us up and "bag" us as if we were garbage, just like they do on "Hoarders." Kind of demeaning, especially when you are doing it just to get a free lunch. And when the actor playing the pimp came up to me and said, "Hey, 1930s? It's time for you to go," I was actually hurt and didn't have to act my sad expression.
The funniest part of the shoot was the point where they loaded about fifteen of us onto the back of a dump truck, "bagged" (don't worry, there were large holes for us to breathe through, and the bags were clear, but it was kind of creepy), and them filmed it driving slowly away. When we took off the bags we realized we were on the main Hollywood tour route; a group of tourists was gaping at us and snapping photos of the whole shoot. All the hookers smiled and waved, and I called out, "Welcome to Hollywood!" What a crazy scene this place is.
So, I was happy to be working again, it only took about three hours, I met some nice people, and I had a good time playing "dress up." And the bottom line is, I don't care if I am typecast as long as I am getting paid. But this is supposed to be show "business," and I promised myself that since I am doing this as a "professional" actress I was not going to do any more of these non-paying jobs. So who's the real whore? The one who gets paid to do her job, or the one who gives it away for free?
t
Now, I understand that most actresses have to play hookers at some point in their careers. Some of them even win Oscars for it, like Donna Reed in "From Here to Eternity." But usually, these actresses are doing it to play against type - Donna Reed definitely was not the hooker type, and that's why she won the Oscar. I'm not sure I've done enough work to have a type, but the work I'm best known for at this point - "Whorified" - just may have typecast me. Oh sure, I've played lots of mothers, teachers, nurses, doctors, and in my upcoming film, "Child of God," I'll be playing the lead, an innocent widow who is the soloist and secretary at a small town church, a far cry from a hooker. But until it comes out, the work that I've gotten the most recognition for is from playing a whore.
I'm not complaining. Hookers are great fun to play. On this set, there were about 30 or 40 of us in an old house right in downtown Hollywood, just a couple of blocks north of the Chinese Theater. We were all wearing tons of makeup and varying degrees of slutty clothes. I was relatively sedately dressed: I had on a black tank mini-dress with my black bra straps hanging out and lots of cleavage, lacy bike shorts, sky-high gladiator sandals, and huge dangling earrings, and I was holding a black feathered fan that one of the other "girls" had loaned me. The director had asked us to bring props and reading material that might be funny, so I read the American Association of Retired Persons (AARP - yes, I'm a member, because I'm retired) magazine (I was playing the "old" hooker, which is also starting to get "old"). Some of the girls' sex toys that they were using as props will probably have to be pixilated in the film; they were definitely X-rated. But it all worked; the atmosphere was great, and the props were funny.
So the idea for the film is this: the door opens, and the pimp says to the team who is doing the intervention, "These are my whores." The team gasps at the sheer number of us in the house (we were all sitting/lying over the furniture and floor) and make appropriate filthy comments. Then they tell him to start making cuts (eliminating us from the group). And one by one, as he cuts us, the team would lift us up and "bag" us as if we were garbage, just like they do on "Hoarders." Kind of demeaning, especially when you are doing it just to get a free lunch. And when the actor playing the pimp came up to me and said, "Hey, 1930s? It's time for you to go," I was actually hurt and didn't have to act my sad expression.
The funniest part of the shoot was the point where they loaded about fifteen of us onto the back of a dump truck, "bagged" (don't worry, there were large holes for us to breathe through, and the bags were clear, but it was kind of creepy), and them filmed it driving slowly away. When we took off the bags we realized we were on the main Hollywood tour route; a group of tourists was gaping at us and snapping photos of the whole shoot. All the hookers smiled and waved, and I called out, "Welcome to Hollywood!" What a crazy scene this place is.
So, I was happy to be working again, it only took about three hours, I met some nice people, and I had a good time playing "dress up." And the bottom line is, I don't care if I am typecast as long as I am getting paid. But this is supposed to be show "business," and I promised myself that since I am doing this as a "professional" actress I was not going to do any more of these non-paying jobs. So who's the real whore? The one who gets paid to do her job, or the one who gives it away for free?
t
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
My First Red Carpet: The 2010 Streamy Awards
You have probably never heard of the Streamy Awards. Until I got involved with the web series, "Whorified: The Search for America's Next Top Whore," neither had I. The Streamys are the awards for best content created specifically for the web, and 2009 was the first year they were awarded. Our web series, which was shot in May of 2009 and premiered on the web in October later that year, was eligible for all of the awards for comedy (it was a parody of the reality show "The Search for America's Next Top Model). We had gotten rave reviews, with one critic even calling it "America's first great classic web series," but we never got big numbers in terms of web hits. Still, we had a strong cult following, and we were getting legitimate "twitter chatter" about our chances for getting nominations. Our writer-director, Ann Marie Lindbloom, who is a member of the Academy of Web TV (kind of like the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences-AMPAS-that votes on the Oscars), did a great job of promoting the series via Facebook, and all of the cast tried to get the vote out as well. But alas, when the nominations were announced, we did not make the cut, although one of our "whores," Brenda Walsh, had made it to the semi-finals in the category of Best Actress in a Comedy Web Series. I should point out that all of the series that did receive nominations either had famous stars in them or were produced by well-known companies; "Whorified" had neither. But so it goes.
Anyway, Ann Marie was allowed two free tickets to the April 11th awards ceremony, which was going to have a red carpet for the first time, and was going to be streamed live over the Internet. As the event approached, it became clear that it was not going to sell out (they were originally trying to sell tickets for $225!), so she was able to get those of us who wanted to attend tickets for only $25. In the end, there was a group of seven that represented the cast of "Whorified:" Ann Marie (AJ the producer in the series), Brenda, Marie, Candis, and myself (all "contestants" on the show), Scott (the doctor who prescribes his "five-bite" diet for every ill), and Victor (who plays one of the "Johns"). We all dressed up in cocktail party dressy (not formal, since it started at 5 p.m. and that just seemed too over-the-top); there are lots of pictures on all of the girls' Facebook pages. Ann Marie hosted a cocktail party at her new apartment beforehand, which ironically is the completely re-built "hooker house" from the show which was a condemned property when we used it! It is a beautiful complex of gray stucco one-bedroom apartments now.
We were all mildly drunk when we arrived at the Orpheum Theatre, a cavernous 1930s art deco palace where the ceremony was to be held. Out front, there were three or four chaotic lines; no one seemed to know where we were supposed to go. We had our tickets with us, but we were told by an usher that the lines were for "will call" and that everyone had to pick up another ticket which would actually admit us to the building. I looked around but didn't see any stars, although there were a lot of well-dressed men and women, some in long gowns. Our group held our own in the looks department, I have to say. The lines took about 30 minutes, so it was a good thing we had arrived an hour before the doors opened. Then we were told to proceed to the rear alley for red carpet check-in, which we did. But when we got there, a burly guard stopped us and asked us if we were nominees or press. We said neither, and he told us we could not get on the red carpet without a press pass. We gazed at him sadly, then proceeded to beg. While we were shamelessly pleading, a well-dressed, good-looking black man came up with his body guard, and ran into the same problem. Ann Marie said, "Jaleel, I loved you in your series [the name escapes me]." He smiled and said thanks, and she asked for a group photo; he was obviously somebody I should know. As he put his arm around my waist and I put mine around his neck, I said, "Honey, who are you?" and Ann Marie whispered, "It's Jaleel White!" I said "You're Urkel! Honey, you grew up good-looking!" He was laughing - he probably gets that a lot. He IS good-looking, very fine - nothing like the nerdy Urkel that the older ones in the group remembered from "Family Matters."
We decided to walk all the way around to the street at the far end of the building, rather than just the alley, following Jaleel to see if we could tag along and get in with him. There was a large crowd slowly moving into the red carpet area, and basically we just squeezed into the group and started shaking hands with people that Ann Marie knew or saying hello to some minor stars (Ileanna Douglas, Kevin Pollack) and introducing ourselves. And it was working, too. We were just about to be let in to the enclosure where the actual red carpet was, where all the interviews were being conducted, when the guards closed it off, saying that it was too crowded and that only nominees were to be allowed in from that point on. But, we discovered that we could just walk around the outside of the enclosure, and meet more interviewers at the end as people were coming out! Sneaky, sneaky! So we waited there, and Ann Marie managed to get us interviewed by a LA-based blog, including photos of the whole group. Then I saw Randy and Jason Sklar being interviewed inside the enclosure, and I called to them and said "Hi guys! It's Jennie from Held Up!" They remembered me, and we walked over to give them hugs, and I was able to introduce them to Ann Marie, who is a big fan. We took photos, and then, since we were inside the red carpet and knew the Sklars, Mingle Media, who had just interviewed Jason and Randy, asked to interview us! Cool, huh? So that's the way it goes. A lot of networking and moving and grooving in the crowd.
You can see our interview at this link:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDMHdhCXLOM&feature=player_embedded>
We worked the red carpet for a full half hour until they told us the doors were closing and we had to get to our seats,at 5:30. Our seats were in the balcony, of course, since none of us were nominees, but the theatre is gorgeous, a lot like Radio City Music Hall, all soaring and gilded, and the stage looked beautiful. The award itself looks like a silver fountain of twisted cables rising from its pedestal (I got to see one up close from a winner on the carpet with me, who won a technical award earlier in the week), and the centerpiece of the stage was a huge mock-up of this. Unfortunately, though, the ceremony got off to a bad start with a cheesy dance number and went downhill from there. Host Dick Scheer (sic) did a decent monologue, but when he said 35 awards were to be presented my heart sank, because I knew that meant a long-ass show. And then there were the endless bits - from the first presenter David Wain (sic) of the series Wainy Days, who had to prove he wasn't really the nerd he plays by going out into the audience to hit on a woman (too long, not funny) to a host of others that I can't remember now, because, well, they sucked. And the technical issues! My God, it was like tech rehearsal at the high school senior play! Mics went out. The scrolling video for the nominees went out, and the presenters didn't have them on a list, so the back-up plan was - to start the video over from the beginning of the show? And while we were waiting, along with the bored host and presenter, two fully naked guys actually streaked across the stage. Great, it's the 1970s! It went on and on, and by the time two hours had passed they had only given out 10 of the awards. Our group looked at each other and said, "Ready to go?" And we all were more than ready. We later found out that the show went on for three more hours!
To tell you the truth, I was truly embarrassed by this display. We are supposed to be representing the future of entertainment. These people acted like they had all gotten together in a room a few days before the event, thought up a bunch of bits that sounded good, and didn't eliminate (or rehearse) any of them. The humor was frat-boy, sophomoric, dick and toilet jokes most of the night. It was clear that there had been little or no technical planning, because there were so many mistakes and glitches. I have directed business meetings that went more elegantly. And it made me angry, because the people who bothered to watch on the web now think that if this is the future of entertainment, they're not buying, and now it will make it even harder for writers and actors like us to get funding for the really good programming that we are putting together. It was a major wasted opportunity for our industry and we all were upset about it. We went out to dinner afterward to gripe, and everyone agreed that the event had been a bust, but that the red carpet had been a blast! And we got coverage in the press the next day (see interview above), so it definitely was not a waste in terms of getting the show noticed. Who knows? Maybe we can finally get the last ten episodes funded and find out who wins "Whorified!"
Til next time,
Jennie
Anyway, Ann Marie was allowed two free tickets to the April 11th awards ceremony, which was going to have a red carpet for the first time, and was going to be streamed live over the Internet. As the event approached, it became clear that it was not going to sell out (they were originally trying to sell tickets for $225!), so she was able to get those of us who wanted to attend tickets for only $25. In the end, there was a group of seven that represented the cast of "Whorified:" Ann Marie (AJ the producer in the series), Brenda, Marie, Candis, and myself (all "contestants" on the show), Scott (the doctor who prescribes his "five-bite" diet for every ill), and Victor (who plays one of the "Johns"). We all dressed up in cocktail party dressy (not formal, since it started at 5 p.m. and that just seemed too over-the-top); there are lots of pictures on all of the girls' Facebook pages. Ann Marie hosted a cocktail party at her new apartment beforehand, which ironically is the completely re-built "hooker house" from the show which was a condemned property when we used it! It is a beautiful complex of gray stucco one-bedroom apartments now.
We were all mildly drunk when we arrived at the Orpheum Theatre, a cavernous 1930s art deco palace where the ceremony was to be held. Out front, there were three or four chaotic lines; no one seemed to know where we were supposed to go. We had our tickets with us, but we were told by an usher that the lines were for "will call" and that everyone had to pick up another ticket which would actually admit us to the building. I looked around but didn't see any stars, although there were a lot of well-dressed men and women, some in long gowns. Our group held our own in the looks department, I have to say. The lines took about 30 minutes, so it was a good thing we had arrived an hour before the doors opened. Then we were told to proceed to the rear alley for red carpet check-in, which we did. But when we got there, a burly guard stopped us and asked us if we were nominees or press. We said neither, and he told us we could not get on the red carpet without a press pass. We gazed at him sadly, then proceeded to beg. While we were shamelessly pleading, a well-dressed, good-looking black man came up with his body guard, and ran into the same problem. Ann Marie said, "Jaleel, I loved you in your series [the name escapes me]." He smiled and said thanks, and she asked for a group photo; he was obviously somebody I should know. As he put his arm around my waist and I put mine around his neck, I said, "Honey, who are you?" and Ann Marie whispered, "It's Jaleel White!" I said "You're Urkel! Honey, you grew up good-looking!" He was laughing - he probably gets that a lot. He IS good-looking, very fine - nothing like the nerdy Urkel that the older ones in the group remembered from "Family Matters."
We decided to walk all the way around to the street at the far end of the building, rather than just the alley, following Jaleel to see if we could tag along and get in with him. There was a large crowd slowly moving into the red carpet area, and basically we just squeezed into the group and started shaking hands with people that Ann Marie knew or saying hello to some minor stars (Ileanna Douglas, Kevin Pollack) and introducing ourselves. And it was working, too. We were just about to be let in to the enclosure where the actual red carpet was, where all the interviews were being conducted, when the guards closed it off, saying that it was too crowded and that only nominees were to be allowed in from that point on. But, we discovered that we could just walk around the outside of the enclosure, and meet more interviewers at the end as people were coming out! Sneaky, sneaky! So we waited there, and Ann Marie managed to get us interviewed by a LA-based blog, including photos of the whole group. Then I saw Randy and Jason Sklar being interviewed inside the enclosure, and I called to them and said "Hi guys! It's Jennie from Held Up!" They remembered me, and we walked over to give them hugs, and I was able to introduce them to Ann Marie, who is a big fan. We took photos, and then, since we were inside the red carpet and knew the Sklars, Mingle Media, who had just interviewed Jason and Randy, asked to interview us! Cool, huh? So that's the way it goes. A lot of networking and moving and grooving in the crowd.
You can see our interview at this link:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDMHdhCXLOM&feature=player_embedded>
We worked the red carpet for a full half hour until they told us the doors were closing and we had to get to our seats,at 5:30. Our seats were in the balcony, of course, since none of us were nominees, but the theatre is gorgeous, a lot like Radio City Music Hall, all soaring and gilded, and the stage looked beautiful. The award itself looks like a silver fountain of twisted cables rising from its pedestal (I got to see one up close from a winner on the carpet with me, who won a technical award earlier in the week), and the centerpiece of the stage was a huge mock-up of this. Unfortunately, though, the ceremony got off to a bad start with a cheesy dance number and went downhill from there. Host Dick Scheer (sic) did a decent monologue, but when he said 35 awards were to be presented my heart sank, because I knew that meant a long-ass show. And then there were the endless bits - from the first presenter David Wain (sic) of the series Wainy Days, who had to prove he wasn't really the nerd he plays by going out into the audience to hit on a woman (too long, not funny) to a host of others that I can't remember now, because, well, they sucked. And the technical issues! My God, it was like tech rehearsal at the high school senior play! Mics went out. The scrolling video for the nominees went out, and the presenters didn't have them on a list, so the back-up plan was - to start the video over from the beginning of the show? And while we were waiting, along with the bored host and presenter, two fully naked guys actually streaked across the stage. Great, it's the 1970s! It went on and on, and by the time two hours had passed they had only given out 10 of the awards. Our group looked at each other and said, "Ready to go?" And we all were more than ready. We later found out that the show went on for three more hours!
To tell you the truth, I was truly embarrassed by this display. We are supposed to be representing the future of entertainment. These people acted like they had all gotten together in a room a few days before the event, thought up a bunch of bits that sounded good, and didn't eliminate (or rehearse) any of them. The humor was frat-boy, sophomoric, dick and toilet jokes most of the night. It was clear that there had been little or no technical planning, because there were so many mistakes and glitches. I have directed business meetings that went more elegantly. And it made me angry, because the people who bothered to watch on the web now think that if this is the future of entertainment, they're not buying, and now it will make it even harder for writers and actors like us to get funding for the really good programming that we are putting together. It was a major wasted opportunity for our industry and we all were upset about it. We went out to dinner afterward to gripe, and everyone agreed that the event had been a bust, but that the red carpet had been a blast! And we got coverage in the press the next day (see interview above), so it definitely was not a waste in terms of getting the show noticed. Who knows? Maybe we can finally get the last ten episodes funded and find out who wins "Whorified!"
Til next time,
Jennie
Monday, April 19, 2010
My Audition for "Don't Forget the Lyrics"
I love song lyrics. Melodies are nice, but to me, the lyrics make the song. Nothing makes me madder than to hear some drummer or guitarist say something like, "the lyrics don't matter anyway," when they are trying to pitch a project to me. I am a singer/songwriter. OF COURSE the lyrics matter! So when I got the chance to audition for the new, daytime syndicated version of "Don't Forget the Lyrics," I was thrilled.
I have actually auditioned for this show twice before, when it was on at night, hosted by the hilarious and immensely talented Wayne Brady, and you could win $1 million. However, both times, although I did well on the written lyrics test, I must have been nervous, because I had too much vibrato on Carly Simon's "Let the River Run," and my voice cracked on the big high note on Juice Newton's "The Sweetest Thing." Plus these are really old songs, and kind of obscure. So I never got to meet the producers who ultimately choose who gets on the show. This year, when the casting director called me, she actually said, "We really want to get you on the show this year. So we want you to come to the open call, but with a VIP appointment so you can meet our new host AND meet the producers." Wow - that was a big step in the right direction! I just had to take the lyrics test right then, on the phone. No pressure. Actually, the test wasn't too hard. Most of the songs were from my dating era, the 1970s and 80s, and since I have sung in so many bands, I knew a lot of songs from the 1950-60s and 1990s. It's only the last decade that I suck at, like rap and hip hop. If I get on the show, I will have to study hard. She told me I only missed 3 out of 30 songs, which she said was "great." The hardest thing is they want the exact lyric, with the prepositions like "the" and "that", etc., in the right places, which is not easy. But I got the VIP slot.
The new host is Mark McGrath of E! Extra and former (current?) lead singer of Sugar Ray, a band I had never heard of, but apparently he is very famous. The open call was held at the ESPN Zone's LA Live Club in the huge open air mall in front of the Staples Center where the Lakers play. It was an absolutely gorgeous Saturday, and when I arrived for my 2 p.m. appointment, there was a long line of people waiting to get in, non-VIPs as it turned out. The Casting Director had told me on the phone to park and come directly to the front of the line when I arrived, so I did, avoiding the dirty looks of all the people on line. However, I didn't get to go right in - far from it. I had to get into a shorter line to fill out paper work, with questions like "how many songs do you know the lyrics to" to questions like "what is the biggest risk you have ever taken?" They like interesting answers, so I tried to come up with stuff that they would like to hear about.
While I was in line, I started talking to the other people around me, as I usually do, making insta-friends and handing out cards. There were about 12 of us waiting to go in, and of that 12, three of us including me were from Alabama! Now, I meet Southerners in LA all the time - they love the climate, and it's not as liberal as San Francisco, so they fit in better here - but for 25% of the line to be from my home state was quite a coincidence. We had photos made accordingly. Finally, Mark McGrath appeared, in full makeup with his hair seriously gelled into a forest of points. He was very cute with a nice, Hollywood-white smile. He was with a full camera crew, and he said he wanted to go down the row of 12 and have us all tell about ourselves and sing a song for the camera. This will be shown on E!Extra as the new promo for the show (sorry, I don't know when). I wasn't really ready for this - windblown hair, sunburned face, not warmed up, but you do what you have to do. So when my moment came, he asked the usual questions: where are you from? how long have you been here? are you nervous? what are you going to sing? I told him I wasn't nervous, and he said why, because you might forget the lyrics. I said "honey, I KNOW these lyrics." He actually blushed a little. So I sang the Lee Ann Rimes country ballad "How DO I Live" directly to him, touching his shoulder and his cheek and really flirting big-time. When I was done, he said, "You sure are a polished singer." I told him that I used to be a wedding singer and that I really wanted to get on the show. He replied, "Well you sure have the personality for it." So I think that part went well.
Then it was time to go inside and meet the producer, in this case a producer's assistant, although I do think one of the producers was listening outsider at one point. She took 12 of us into a large room with glass walls that was very noisy. I could hardly hear myself speak. She asked us a few questions based on our paperwork, but mostly they wanted to know what our favorite kind of music is and why and then to hear us sing a song loudly from that genre. When it was my turn I sang my old stand-by, "Let's Give Em Something to Talk About," and I actually think I went up too high on the jump during the verse which would be really bad. I'm not sure because like I said, I couldn't hear myself. But although it was a strong confident belt with good tone, the wrong note is still the wrong note. And I can sing that song in my sleep! When we had all sung, and there were some fabulous performances including one totally buttoned down white woman who did a perfect version of "Baby Got Back," the producer's assistant asked five women to stay so she could ask them a few more questions, and I was not one of them. She assured us that that didn't mean anything in terms of whether we were cast or not, but in my experience, it almost certainly means that we were not. Damn. She did say that if we had not heard by the first week of July, it meant we didn't make it this year, but I didn't need to hear that to know that I had probably missed the cut once again.
So what did I learn? Well, I learned that the new show is only going to have a payout of $100,000, so it's best to try to get on a game show when it is in prime time. I learned that while I'm not nervous in interviews with celebrities (more on that in my upcoming post in "The Streamys"), it still doesn't help my singing. I learned I need to rehearse for auditions like this so I can sing better. And I learned I'm still pretty competitive, and I'm going to keep on doing this until I get back on a Game Show, any game show, and win some more money!
Til next time,
Namaste
Jennie
I have actually auditioned for this show twice before, when it was on at night, hosted by the hilarious and immensely talented Wayne Brady, and you could win $1 million. However, both times, although I did well on the written lyrics test, I must have been nervous, because I had too much vibrato on Carly Simon's "Let the River Run," and my voice cracked on the big high note on Juice Newton's "The Sweetest Thing." Plus these are really old songs, and kind of obscure. So I never got to meet the producers who ultimately choose who gets on the show. This year, when the casting director called me, she actually said, "We really want to get you on the show this year. So we want you to come to the open call, but with a VIP appointment so you can meet our new host AND meet the producers." Wow - that was a big step in the right direction! I just had to take the lyrics test right then, on the phone. No pressure. Actually, the test wasn't too hard. Most of the songs were from my dating era, the 1970s and 80s, and since I have sung in so many bands, I knew a lot of songs from the 1950-60s and 1990s. It's only the last decade that I suck at, like rap and hip hop. If I get on the show, I will have to study hard. She told me I only missed 3 out of 30 songs, which she said was "great." The hardest thing is they want the exact lyric, with the prepositions like "the" and "that", etc., in the right places, which is not easy. But I got the VIP slot.
The new host is Mark McGrath of E! Extra and former (current?) lead singer of Sugar Ray, a band I had never heard of, but apparently he is very famous. The open call was held at the ESPN Zone's LA Live Club in the huge open air mall in front of the Staples Center where the Lakers play. It was an absolutely gorgeous Saturday, and when I arrived for my 2 p.m. appointment, there was a long line of people waiting to get in, non-VIPs as it turned out. The Casting Director had told me on the phone to park and come directly to the front of the line when I arrived, so I did, avoiding the dirty looks of all the people on line. However, I didn't get to go right in - far from it. I had to get into a shorter line to fill out paper work, with questions like "how many songs do you know the lyrics to" to questions like "what is the biggest risk you have ever taken?" They like interesting answers, so I tried to come up with stuff that they would like to hear about.
While I was in line, I started talking to the other people around me, as I usually do, making insta-friends and handing out cards. There were about 12 of us waiting to go in, and of that 12, three of us including me were from Alabama! Now, I meet Southerners in LA all the time - they love the climate, and it's not as liberal as San Francisco, so they fit in better here - but for 25% of the line to be from my home state was quite a coincidence. We had photos made accordingly. Finally, Mark McGrath appeared, in full makeup with his hair seriously gelled into a forest of points. He was very cute with a nice, Hollywood-white smile. He was with a full camera crew, and he said he wanted to go down the row of 12 and have us all tell about ourselves and sing a song for the camera. This will be shown on E!Extra as the new promo for the show (sorry, I don't know when). I wasn't really ready for this - windblown hair, sunburned face, not warmed up, but you do what you have to do. So when my moment came, he asked the usual questions: where are you from? how long have you been here? are you nervous? what are you going to sing? I told him I wasn't nervous, and he said why, because you might forget the lyrics. I said "honey, I KNOW these lyrics." He actually blushed a little. So I sang the Lee Ann Rimes country ballad "How DO I Live" directly to him, touching his shoulder and his cheek and really flirting big-time. When I was done, he said, "You sure are a polished singer." I told him that I used to be a wedding singer and that I really wanted to get on the show. He replied, "Well you sure have the personality for it." So I think that part went well.
Then it was time to go inside and meet the producer, in this case a producer's assistant, although I do think one of the producers was listening outsider at one point. She took 12 of us into a large room with glass walls that was very noisy. I could hardly hear myself speak. She asked us a few questions based on our paperwork, but mostly they wanted to know what our favorite kind of music is and why and then to hear us sing a song loudly from that genre. When it was my turn I sang my old stand-by, "Let's Give Em Something to Talk About," and I actually think I went up too high on the jump during the verse which would be really bad. I'm not sure because like I said, I couldn't hear myself. But although it was a strong confident belt with good tone, the wrong note is still the wrong note. And I can sing that song in my sleep! When we had all sung, and there were some fabulous performances including one totally buttoned down white woman who did a perfect version of "Baby Got Back," the producer's assistant asked five women to stay so she could ask them a few more questions, and I was not one of them. She assured us that that didn't mean anything in terms of whether we were cast or not, but in my experience, it almost certainly means that we were not. Damn. She did say that if we had not heard by the first week of July, it meant we didn't make it this year, but I didn't need to hear that to know that I had probably missed the cut once again.
So what did I learn? Well, I learned that the new show is only going to have a payout of $100,000, so it's best to try to get on a game show when it is in prime time. I learned that while I'm not nervous in interviews with celebrities (more on that in my upcoming post in "The Streamys"), it still doesn't help my singing. I learned I need to rehearse for auditions like this so I can sing better. And I learned I'm still pretty competitive, and I'm going to keep on doing this until I get back on a Game Show, any game show, and win some more money!
Til next time,
Namaste
Jennie
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
"Held Up" and Post-Shoot Depression
It's now early April, and I'm coming off the best shoot I've ever participated in. So why do I feel so sad? Well, it's that rarely discussed but often experienced phenomenon that I call post-shoot depression, hereafter to be called PSD, that actors get at the end of an intense project where the players have bonded so tightly that we feel like family, yet when we wrap we know it's likely we'll never see each other again, at least not in the same context. But I'm getting ahead of my story.
When I last wrote, I had just finished a shoot for an episode of "The Office." It was intense, too, and the hours were long, and I worked with a core of about four people, but I didn't bond with them. Although we exchanged e-mails, I doubt any of us will be in touch. The atmosphere was just too busy, too loud, too hectic to allow for any real sharing. When I got back to LA, I didn't have plans for a long shoot, just a couple of auditions. I actually was already in rehearsals for a web series and a short film in the Bay Area. But then I got a call from a casting director who said he had seen my picture on Now Casting for a new comedy called "Held Up," a web series backed by Sony TV to be directed by Steve Carr ("Paul Blart: Mall Cop"). Although the role was just as a hostage (one of eight), as a featured background player I would get a lot of exposure and would get to be in the scenes with some high-profile comedic talent, plus get paid $125 a day. I said yes immediately. This was a golden opportunity for me. The writers are the well-known comedic improv actors Rusty and Jason Sklar. Most of the principles all had backgounds in comic improv troupes like the Groundlings in LA and Second City in Chicago. And since the cast was very small, I would get to work with Steve Carr directly. Steve has directed many music videos as well as other film comedies including "Daddy Day Care" and "Doctor Dolittle 2" and has a good reputation as a great guy to work with. So I was thrilled to be cast.
I had to drop out of my two projects in the Bay Area, and as it turned out, every single day I worked on the series I had to turn down at least one audition in LA. Plus, the call times were usually 7 a.m., which meant I had to get up at 5:30 to get to Woodland Hills, a suburb in the Valley about 20 miles from my apartment in Hollywood, on time. We started shooting on a Sunday, so the traffic was light, and I arrived at 7 a.m. on the dot. Normally, "on time" on a big call is 15 minutes early, but since this was a small shoot located in a vacant former bank, I wasn't too worried about not being early. As it turned out, I was the third background player there. There were five women and three men; one of the girls was a Facebook friend that I had never actually met, and one of the men was a close friend of the director's, a musician who had never acted. Our holding area was outside under two large open-air tents, with three craft services tables placed around the corner that were perpetually filled with caloric delights to tempt us. I don't know how actors stay so thin! We socialized over breakfast, filling in the usual details: how did you get cast, where do you live, how long have you been acting, what's your "day" job, do you know anyone in the cast, etc. While we chatted, each of us visited the wardrobe trailer to be approved for camera. I had been asked to bring five choices, from casual to bank manager, and the choice they went with was a smock top layered over a black knit top and leggings. It was the most comfortable thing I had brought, knowing that we would be wearing it every day for the 10 days of the shoot. Then I visited the "honey wagon," Hollywood's term for hair and makeup, and was approved to wear my hair straighter than usual and with bangs, and minimal makeup. Easy as pie.
After we were all dressed, we settled into the rhythm of the shoot: hurry up and wait. Every day we would arrive ahead of the rest of the cast, check in with the casting director/assistant director (the same person in this case, though this is not the norm), go to wardrobe, change, have breakfast, stand around and talk, check with the AD about when we would be used, then sit down and talk until they were ready for us, which was usually not until at least three hours later and sometimes as much as six. And this was out of what was usually a 12-hour day. The weather was gorgeous, once the cool morning gloom had burned off; it was usually in the 50s when we arrived but in the 80s and sunny by noon, with a light breeze. It was perfect for sitting around and talking about anything and everything, which is what we did. The project was a comedy, so there was a lot of laughter on the set, and we had a wide variety of people as extras who had great personalities and lots of funny and interesting stories to tell. We bonded closely, just as I imagine real hostages in a bank hold-up might do. We filmed the hostage situation in chronological order, as if we were hostages for 14 days. By that time, I felt like I had known my fellow background actors for my whole life, and I almost cried when I had to say goodbye to some of them.
I have had similar PSD experiences when I have worked on long projects like plays. On my first acting job, when I was in the ensemble for "Little Shop of Horrors," our cast grew especially close. I thought a lot of the reason was because 9/11 happened during our rehearsal period, and also because between rehearsals and the run, we were together for nearly three months. I made some close friends in that cast, some of whom I still am in touch with nearly nine years later, and I have acted with some of them in other projects. Plays and musicals always lend themselves to bonding because you do spend much more time together. But you are usually working a lot more than we were on this set. We had a lot of time to just sit and read, nap, play trivia or Jenga like some of girls did (reaching what must be a record of 35 levels!), play guitar like Steve's musician friend, or experiment with photos like another of the women did. And of course, talk, and eat. We had a little squirrel who we started to feed every day, until he got into one woman's market basket and stole an entire apple, which he carried to the top of a tall tree and then collapsed exhausted on a branch! We decided he had enough food at that point.
I did get to act, quite a bit. Steve used all of us every day. I was featured in the opening sequence where the first set (there are two) of bank robbers enter, screaming and dropping to the ground, in which Steve directed me personally. All of us got featured at some point in the series. The hostage group was used mostly in reaction to the principles, either in disbelief or fear or anger. And I was featured again, joyously being released from the bank. Best of all, because my contract reads the same as that of all the other players, I will be able to join SAG at the end of October, after I have been in AFTRA for one year, because the contract says I have spoken lines. So that is fantastic news for me. Filming was also like a master class in comedy, watching so many great improv actors change up their scenes using different words and expressions from take to take. It's nice to get paid, but honestly, I would do this for free.
Sony is the backer for this web series, and we were told it will be premiering on their web content channel (www.crackle.com) in August of 2010. We were also told that they are going to release it as a 90-minute feature, but I'm not sure when, or if it will be straight to DVD or in theaters or what. I honestly think it is hilarious and could be as successful as recent movies such as "The Hangover," but we'll just have to see. For me, it was just great to be part of the experience. I'm not sure exactly why I was cast, but I feel really lucky and like it may lead me to better things. Now if I can just find a cure for PSD, I'll be fine. The best cure, usually, is to get back to work. I'm working on that.
Til next time,
Jennie
When I last wrote, I had just finished a shoot for an episode of "The Office." It was intense, too, and the hours were long, and I worked with a core of about four people, but I didn't bond with them. Although we exchanged e-mails, I doubt any of us will be in touch. The atmosphere was just too busy, too loud, too hectic to allow for any real sharing. When I got back to LA, I didn't have plans for a long shoot, just a couple of auditions. I actually was already in rehearsals for a web series and a short film in the Bay Area. But then I got a call from a casting director who said he had seen my picture on Now Casting for a new comedy called "Held Up," a web series backed by Sony TV to be directed by Steve Carr ("Paul Blart: Mall Cop"). Although the role was just as a hostage (one of eight), as a featured background player I would get a lot of exposure and would get to be in the scenes with some high-profile comedic talent, plus get paid $125 a day. I said yes immediately. This was a golden opportunity for me. The writers are the well-known comedic improv actors Rusty and Jason Sklar. Most of the principles all had backgounds in comic improv troupes like the Groundlings in LA and Second City in Chicago. And since the cast was very small, I would get to work with Steve Carr directly. Steve has directed many music videos as well as other film comedies including "Daddy Day Care" and "Doctor Dolittle 2" and has a good reputation as a great guy to work with. So I was thrilled to be cast.
I had to drop out of my two projects in the Bay Area, and as it turned out, every single day I worked on the series I had to turn down at least one audition in LA. Plus, the call times were usually 7 a.m., which meant I had to get up at 5:30 to get to Woodland Hills, a suburb in the Valley about 20 miles from my apartment in Hollywood, on time. We started shooting on a Sunday, so the traffic was light, and I arrived at 7 a.m. on the dot. Normally, "on time" on a big call is 15 minutes early, but since this was a small shoot located in a vacant former bank, I wasn't too worried about not being early. As it turned out, I was the third background player there. There were five women and three men; one of the girls was a Facebook friend that I had never actually met, and one of the men was a close friend of the director's, a musician who had never acted. Our holding area was outside under two large open-air tents, with three craft services tables placed around the corner that were perpetually filled with caloric delights to tempt us. I don't know how actors stay so thin! We socialized over breakfast, filling in the usual details: how did you get cast, where do you live, how long have you been acting, what's your "day" job, do you know anyone in the cast, etc. While we chatted, each of us visited the wardrobe trailer to be approved for camera. I had been asked to bring five choices, from casual to bank manager, and the choice they went with was a smock top layered over a black knit top and leggings. It was the most comfortable thing I had brought, knowing that we would be wearing it every day for the 10 days of the shoot. Then I visited the "honey wagon," Hollywood's term for hair and makeup, and was approved to wear my hair straighter than usual and with bangs, and minimal makeup. Easy as pie.
After we were all dressed, we settled into the rhythm of the shoot: hurry up and wait. Every day we would arrive ahead of the rest of the cast, check in with the casting director/assistant director (the same person in this case, though this is not the norm), go to wardrobe, change, have breakfast, stand around and talk, check with the AD about when we would be used, then sit down and talk until they were ready for us, which was usually not until at least three hours later and sometimes as much as six. And this was out of what was usually a 12-hour day. The weather was gorgeous, once the cool morning gloom had burned off; it was usually in the 50s when we arrived but in the 80s and sunny by noon, with a light breeze. It was perfect for sitting around and talking about anything and everything, which is what we did. The project was a comedy, so there was a lot of laughter on the set, and we had a wide variety of people as extras who had great personalities and lots of funny and interesting stories to tell. We bonded closely, just as I imagine real hostages in a bank hold-up might do. We filmed the hostage situation in chronological order, as if we were hostages for 14 days. By that time, I felt like I had known my fellow background actors for my whole life, and I almost cried when I had to say goodbye to some of them.
I have had similar PSD experiences when I have worked on long projects like plays. On my first acting job, when I was in the ensemble for "Little Shop of Horrors," our cast grew especially close. I thought a lot of the reason was because 9/11 happened during our rehearsal period, and also because between rehearsals and the run, we were together for nearly three months. I made some close friends in that cast, some of whom I still am in touch with nearly nine years later, and I have acted with some of them in other projects. Plays and musicals always lend themselves to bonding because you do spend much more time together. But you are usually working a lot more than we were on this set. We had a lot of time to just sit and read, nap, play trivia or Jenga like some of girls did (reaching what must be a record of 35 levels!), play guitar like Steve's musician friend, or experiment with photos like another of the women did. And of course, talk, and eat. We had a little squirrel who we started to feed every day, until he got into one woman's market basket and stole an entire apple, which he carried to the top of a tall tree and then collapsed exhausted on a branch! We decided he had enough food at that point.
I did get to act, quite a bit. Steve used all of us every day. I was featured in the opening sequence where the first set (there are two) of bank robbers enter, screaming and dropping to the ground, in which Steve directed me personally. All of us got featured at some point in the series. The hostage group was used mostly in reaction to the principles, either in disbelief or fear or anger. And I was featured again, joyously being released from the bank. Best of all, because my contract reads the same as that of all the other players, I will be able to join SAG at the end of October, after I have been in AFTRA for one year, because the contract says I have spoken lines. So that is fantastic news for me. Filming was also like a master class in comedy, watching so many great improv actors change up their scenes using different words and expressions from take to take. It's nice to get paid, but honestly, I would do this for free.
Sony is the backer for this web series, and we were told it will be premiering on their web content channel (www.crackle.com) in August of 2010. We were also told that they are going to release it as a 90-minute feature, but I'm not sure when, or if it will be straight to DVD or in theaters or what. I honestly think it is hilarious and could be as successful as recent movies such as "The Hangover," but we'll just have to see. For me, it was just great to be part of the experience. I'm not sure exactly why I was cast, but I feel really lucky and like it may lead me to better things. Now if I can just find a cure for PSD, I'll be fine. The best cure, usually, is to get back to work. I'm working on that.
Til next time,
Jennie
Saturday, March 20, 2010
My Four Days at "The Office"
It has been three weeks since I lasted posted. The reason for the long lay-off is that after I worked four days on "The Office," I was sick and in bed for ten days. As many of you know, I am disabled with a ruptured disc and a chronic systemic illness, so usually I have to stay in bed for every one day that I work. But this time I got a really nasty upper respiratory infection, caught from one of the cast members of "Windows" (thanks for the parting gift!), and I'm still not completely over it. I guess I'm going to be forced to get an anti-biotic. I kept thinking it was just a virus and would wear itself out. Now it appears it's really a bacterial sinus infection, and it's going to take a Z-pack (Zithromax) to get rid of it this time. So it took me longer than usual to recover from my four straight days of work; it's clear that I'm still not able to work full- or even part-time yet.
Anyway, I digress. First of all, let me stress that it had been about ten years since I had worked four days in a row. I had my accident at work on March 3, 2000 (a day that lives in infamy in my life, because it ended my corporate career and changed my life forever), and retired for good on September 1 of that year. I worked from February 23-26 on "The Office," so it was almost exactly ten years later. Obviously, this work was very different from the kind of work I used to be able to do. In 2000, I was working as a management consultant for the Boston-based firm, The Aberdeen Group. I would wear fancy suits and take clients out to lunch, interviewing them about new products; I would visit public relations firms and be interviewed by the industry trade press as an "expert" and then get quoted in their publications. I was also traveling back and forth quite a bit between SF and Boston. I wrote articles frequently, and in the two months I had been with Aberdeen when the accident occurred I had already been published twice. And of course, I made a lot of money.
All that changed on March 3. I was in Boston for a week of training and a staff meeting, and it was unseasonably warm in Boston that Friday, so I decided to walk the ten minutes it took to get from my hotel to headquarters in downtown Boston. The air was brisk, and I remember how good it felt to get out and walk after being cooped up in the hotel all week. I had a sinus infection then, too - I get them almost every spring. Anyway, the sidewalks are cobblestone there, and my right ankle turned over on one of them. I had a briefcase in one hand, and a training manual in the other, and the sidewalk was going downhill, and suddenly I was picking up speed and falling, unable to catch myself. I remember thinking "this is going to be really bad" as I went down, and sure enough, it was. I hit hard on my right knee, and twisted back to my left, landing hard on my left hand. It hurt, bad, and I was dazed and suddenly surrounded by Bostonians, all full of ideas. "Do ya want me ta call an ambulance?" "Ya oughta sue tha city, with these damn sidewalks." I insisted I was fine, but I was bleeding at the knee and on my palms,and looking back, I should have gone to the hospital. But I didn't - I walked on to the meeting and even took the six-hour flight home that night! I saw my chiropractor on Monday, who insisted I file a disability report, and within five days I was in so much pain I couldn't walk.
It has been a long and difficult struggle back to where I am now. It took months of physical therapy to learn to walk normally again, and finally I starting getting epidural shots in my lower back on a regular basis to basically deaden the nerves around the ruptured disc so I don't feel so much pain. But in October of 2000, my year in hell, I was also diagnosed with Lupus, and my appendix ruptured, unrelated events, I think. After I had my surgery, I became a regular patient of the pain management clinic where I still go on a monthly basis for my pain medication and my discussion about what steps we can take to improve my quality of life. And it was this last question that led me to take the acting class in May of 2001 that ultimately brought me to LA and where I am now. I have reached the point of acceptance of my accident and subsequent illness, because I know I would have never had the courage to leave my cushy corporate world without being literally brought to my knees so that I couldn't do it any more.
I write all this to explain just how different my life is now. Being an extra, or "background actor" as we like to call it, is not a cerebral job, but that doesn't mean it is easy. First of all, the call times, when we have to be to the set and ready to go, are usually early. They can vary from oh-my-GOD early (5:00 a.m. is the earliest I've ever had) to a reasonable 9:00 a.m.; mine was 7:45 a.m. all four days on "The Office" which is fairly standard. The casting director tells you to plan on 10 to 12 hour days. We are paid based on an eight-hour standard, which goes to time-and-a-half for 8 to 12 hours, double time over 12 (this is known as "golden time" and does not happen very often). The non-union rate is currently only $64/8, or $8 per hour, so it's not very lucrative, but you do get fed ("craft services") pretty much all day, and it's incredible food, especially on hit shows. This week we could have had a custom omelet every day if we wanted, plus a choice of three entrees, potatoes, vegetables and a huge salad bar at lunch, and about six choices of desserts. On the last day we had Cold Stone Creamery ice cream! An actor can get really fat unless you exercise a lot of self-control on the set.
So what does an extra do, exactly? Well, first of all, it's important to understand that we are there to make the principles, the main cast, look good. We are there to support them and fill out the set so that the scene looks believable. We're not there to draw any attention to ourselves, unless the director tells us to. We are just "filler" - the people on the street, the patrons in the restaurant, the passers-by in the hallway - that without us, the scene would look unnatural and phony. Background actors can ruin a scene, by looking at the camera, by looking fake when they mime eating or talking, by NOT reacting when a cast member does something outrageous that a normal person would absolutely laugh at. There is an art to it, and there IS acting involved. It always annoys me when people say "background isn't real acting." That usually means that person was a bad background actor or has never done it. There used to be an Emmy and an Oscar for Best Background Actor; apparently the Academy considered it "real acting." A good background actor thinks about their character and where they fit in the scene, and why they are doing what they are doing. I usually talk to the people who will be in the scene with me before we shoot, and we agree what we mean to each other and what we are going to "mime" about. That way we at least have some sense of reality when we do that shot. I like to think that's one reason why I never have trouble getting background work, and why I get featured in a lot of shots. Because I think background is "real acting."
On this particular job, we were shooting "on location" at the Universal Studios' Hollywood Walk, which is an outdoor entertainment complex with a lot of shops and restaurants. We were at a restaurant with an arcade and a bowling alley, similar to a Dave and Buster's. The episode we were shooting is called "Happy Hour" and involved the entire cast of "The Office" going out together for a night of drinks and game-playing. This was fun for me because I love this show, and I got to see every single cast member. There is a rule that extras are not supposed to initiate any conversation with the principle actors, but if they talk to you it is okay to have a conversation. I had hoped that this cast might be friendly as had been the case with many of the shows I have worked on in the past, most notably "Arrested Development" and "Without a Trace" as the friendliest casts. But unfortunately, none of the cast members even made eye contact with any of us during the week, and the three big stars (Steve Carell-Michael, John Krasinski-Jim, and Jenna Fischer-Pam)were escorted around the set by bodyguards. Did they think we were going to ambush them for autographs? Good grief. This was disappointing for me.
Apparently, "The Office" normally shoots at their own office building in Burbank, but since we were on a location shoot that meant we had just a small "holding" area for the extras, separate from the "green room" that the cast was in. Our holding was actually the bar opposite the bowling alley, upstairs from the set, and when we went to the set we had to descend a long, winding staircase that more than one person - though, thankfully, not me - fell down during the week. Going up the stairs was tough on my back, since we were not needed all day every day and usually had to go up and down about five times each day. We also put in long hours, averaging nine each day excluding our half hour lunch. We aren't always "working" all that time - a lot of the time we are just waiting in "holding," which usually means talking (I call it "networking"), reading, making phone calls, or napping. This can get really boring. On this particular shoot, though, they must have liked my look - I wore black pants, a white collared shirt, and a lavender cashmere cardigan, for four days straight, folks, because it was all just one episode - so they used me in a lot of scenes. I was featured right behind "Angela," the very tiny
Angela Kinsey as she was "carded" at the door, and with my "date," at a table right in front of "Andy," played by Ed Helms, as he ponders his next move with "Erin," played by - some girl whose name I forget. I don't know if I'll show up in the final cut, but it was fun getting to "act" for the cameras with the principles.
Some notes on the production: "The Office" uses two hand-held cameras on all shots. This is very unusual for TV. The traditional set-up is a three-camera fixed set on a sound stage, with or without a live audience (Seinfeld, Frasier). Some shows now use a single camera and are not filmed with an audience; most of these use dollies or tracks when they need to move the camera. Using hand-held is much more difficult to keep it in focus, but it allows the operator to whip the camera back and forth much more quickly, which if you watch closely they do a lot during this show. I believe they use the same technique on "Parks and Recreation" which I worked on in December. It's very innovative. Perhaps because of this, I have never been on a TV show that did so many takes of each shot. It was excruciating! There must have been 20 takes of every shot! And when Ed Helms or Steve Carell were doing solo shots, they improvised freely, changing the words, the phrasing, the expressions. It was fascinating for me, as an aspiring sitcom actor, to watch these men at the top of their game practicing their craft. It was like an acting master class. And that in a nutshell is one of the key reasons I do background work.
There are two other reasons I do background work. One, of course, is for the money. I made over $400 this week, which is not bad for an actor who lives pretty cheaply in Hollywood. The other is for the chance to get a SAG voucher or two or three, which unfortunately didn't happen this week for me. There are two unions for film and TV actors: the Screen Actors' Guild (SAG), and the American Film, Television, and Radio Association (AFTRA). AFTRA allows any actor who can pay the admission fee and quarterly dues to join, so I am a member. SAG, however, has no set rules about who gets vouchers. The first assistant director is the one who makes the decision to hand them out on the set, and it can be as arbitrary as: he thinks you're pretty, he knows you'll sleep with him (not making this up), or he was told to by the director because he knows your father. Or it can be legitimate: you were featured in a scene for more than 30 seconds; you had special skills (in "The Office" episode this week, it was playing pool); or you got a line, in which case you were "Taft-Hartley'd" which means you got an exemption under the Taft-Hartley Act and are now automatically eligible for SAG membership. It costs twice as much to join SAG as it does AFTRA, and the dues are twice as much. SAG actors are paid about eight times as much per day as non-union actors are, but I'm told they only work about half as much. Still, I'd love to be eligible. I need three vouchers, and I haven't gotten any yet. Or I need a line in an AFTRA production and I'm automatically eligible. I'm off to work ten days on an AFTRA web series called "Held Up." Right now, I don't have any lines, but I'm going to plead my case. Wish me luck!
Til next time,
Jennie
Anyway, I digress. First of all, let me stress that it had been about ten years since I had worked four days in a row. I had my accident at work on March 3, 2000 (a day that lives in infamy in my life, because it ended my corporate career and changed my life forever), and retired for good on September 1 of that year. I worked from February 23-26 on "The Office," so it was almost exactly ten years later. Obviously, this work was very different from the kind of work I used to be able to do. In 2000, I was working as a management consultant for the Boston-based firm, The Aberdeen Group. I would wear fancy suits and take clients out to lunch, interviewing them about new products; I would visit public relations firms and be interviewed by the industry trade press as an "expert" and then get quoted in their publications. I was also traveling back and forth quite a bit between SF and Boston. I wrote articles frequently, and in the two months I had been with Aberdeen when the accident occurred I had already been published twice. And of course, I made a lot of money.
All that changed on March 3. I was in Boston for a week of training and a staff meeting, and it was unseasonably warm in Boston that Friday, so I decided to walk the ten minutes it took to get from my hotel to headquarters in downtown Boston. The air was brisk, and I remember how good it felt to get out and walk after being cooped up in the hotel all week. I had a sinus infection then, too - I get them almost every spring. Anyway, the sidewalks are cobblestone there, and my right ankle turned over on one of them. I had a briefcase in one hand, and a training manual in the other, and the sidewalk was going downhill, and suddenly I was picking up speed and falling, unable to catch myself. I remember thinking "this is going to be really bad" as I went down, and sure enough, it was. I hit hard on my right knee, and twisted back to my left, landing hard on my left hand. It hurt, bad, and I was dazed and suddenly surrounded by Bostonians, all full of ideas. "Do ya want me ta call an ambulance?" "Ya oughta sue tha city, with these damn sidewalks." I insisted I was fine, but I was bleeding at the knee and on my palms,and looking back, I should have gone to the hospital. But I didn't - I walked on to the meeting and even took the six-hour flight home that night! I saw my chiropractor on Monday, who insisted I file a disability report, and within five days I was in so much pain I couldn't walk.
It has been a long and difficult struggle back to where I am now. It took months of physical therapy to learn to walk normally again, and finally I starting getting epidural shots in my lower back on a regular basis to basically deaden the nerves around the ruptured disc so I don't feel so much pain. But in October of 2000, my year in hell, I was also diagnosed with Lupus, and my appendix ruptured, unrelated events, I think. After I had my surgery, I became a regular patient of the pain management clinic where I still go on a monthly basis for my pain medication and my discussion about what steps we can take to improve my quality of life. And it was this last question that led me to take the acting class in May of 2001 that ultimately brought me to LA and where I am now. I have reached the point of acceptance of my accident and subsequent illness, because I know I would have never had the courage to leave my cushy corporate world without being literally brought to my knees so that I couldn't do it any more.
I write all this to explain just how different my life is now. Being an extra, or "background actor" as we like to call it, is not a cerebral job, but that doesn't mean it is easy. First of all, the call times, when we have to be to the set and ready to go, are usually early. They can vary from oh-my-GOD early (5:00 a.m. is the earliest I've ever had) to a reasonable 9:00 a.m.; mine was 7:45 a.m. all four days on "The Office" which is fairly standard. The casting director tells you to plan on 10 to 12 hour days. We are paid based on an eight-hour standard, which goes to time-and-a-half for 8 to 12 hours, double time over 12 (this is known as "golden time" and does not happen very often). The non-union rate is currently only $64/8, or $8 per hour, so it's not very lucrative, but you do get fed ("craft services") pretty much all day, and it's incredible food, especially on hit shows. This week we could have had a custom omelet every day if we wanted, plus a choice of three entrees, potatoes, vegetables and a huge salad bar at lunch, and about six choices of desserts. On the last day we had Cold Stone Creamery ice cream! An actor can get really fat unless you exercise a lot of self-control on the set.
So what does an extra do, exactly? Well, first of all, it's important to understand that we are there to make the principles, the main cast, look good. We are there to support them and fill out the set so that the scene looks believable. We're not there to draw any attention to ourselves, unless the director tells us to. We are just "filler" - the people on the street, the patrons in the restaurant, the passers-by in the hallway - that without us, the scene would look unnatural and phony. Background actors can ruin a scene, by looking at the camera, by looking fake when they mime eating or talking, by NOT reacting when a cast member does something outrageous that a normal person would absolutely laugh at. There is an art to it, and there IS acting involved. It always annoys me when people say "background isn't real acting." That usually means that person was a bad background actor or has never done it. There used to be an Emmy and an Oscar for Best Background Actor; apparently the Academy considered it "real acting." A good background actor thinks about their character and where they fit in the scene, and why they are doing what they are doing. I usually talk to the people who will be in the scene with me before we shoot, and we agree what we mean to each other and what we are going to "mime" about. That way we at least have some sense of reality when we do that shot. I like to think that's one reason why I never have trouble getting background work, and why I get featured in a lot of shots. Because I think background is "real acting."
On this particular job, we were shooting "on location" at the Universal Studios' Hollywood Walk, which is an outdoor entertainment complex with a lot of shops and restaurants. We were at a restaurant with an arcade and a bowling alley, similar to a Dave and Buster's. The episode we were shooting is called "Happy Hour" and involved the entire cast of "The Office" going out together for a night of drinks and game-playing. This was fun for me because I love this show, and I got to see every single cast member. There is a rule that extras are not supposed to initiate any conversation with the principle actors, but if they talk to you it is okay to have a conversation. I had hoped that this cast might be friendly as had been the case with many of the shows I have worked on in the past, most notably "Arrested Development" and "Without a Trace" as the friendliest casts. But unfortunately, none of the cast members even made eye contact with any of us during the week, and the three big stars (Steve Carell-Michael, John Krasinski-Jim, and Jenna Fischer-Pam)were escorted around the set by bodyguards. Did they think we were going to ambush them for autographs? Good grief. This was disappointing for me.
Apparently, "The Office" normally shoots at their own office building in Burbank, but since we were on a location shoot that meant we had just a small "holding" area for the extras, separate from the "green room" that the cast was in. Our holding was actually the bar opposite the bowling alley, upstairs from the set, and when we went to the set we had to descend a long, winding staircase that more than one person - though, thankfully, not me - fell down during the week. Going up the stairs was tough on my back, since we were not needed all day every day and usually had to go up and down about five times each day. We also put in long hours, averaging nine each day excluding our half hour lunch. We aren't always "working" all that time - a lot of the time we are just waiting in "holding," which usually means talking (I call it "networking"), reading, making phone calls, or napping. This can get really boring. On this particular shoot, though, they must have liked my look - I wore black pants, a white collared shirt, and a lavender cashmere cardigan, for four days straight, folks, because it was all just one episode - so they used me in a lot of scenes. I was featured right behind "Angela," the very tiny
Angela Kinsey as she was "carded" at the door, and with my "date," at a table right in front of "Andy," played by Ed Helms, as he ponders his next move with "Erin," played by - some girl whose name I forget. I don't know if I'll show up in the final cut, but it was fun getting to "act" for the cameras with the principles.
Some notes on the production: "The Office" uses two hand-held cameras on all shots. This is very unusual for TV. The traditional set-up is a three-camera fixed set on a sound stage, with or without a live audience (Seinfeld, Frasier). Some shows now use a single camera and are not filmed with an audience; most of these use dollies or tracks when they need to move the camera. Using hand-held is much more difficult to keep it in focus, but it allows the operator to whip the camera back and forth much more quickly, which if you watch closely they do a lot during this show. I believe they use the same technique on "Parks and Recreation" which I worked on in December. It's very innovative. Perhaps because of this, I have never been on a TV show that did so many takes of each shot. It was excruciating! There must have been 20 takes of every shot! And when Ed Helms or Steve Carell were doing solo shots, they improvised freely, changing the words, the phrasing, the expressions. It was fascinating for me, as an aspiring sitcom actor, to watch these men at the top of their game practicing their craft. It was like an acting master class. And that in a nutshell is one of the key reasons I do background work.
There are two other reasons I do background work. One, of course, is for the money. I made over $400 this week, which is not bad for an actor who lives pretty cheaply in Hollywood. The other is for the chance to get a SAG voucher or two or three, which unfortunately didn't happen this week for me. There are two unions for film and TV actors: the Screen Actors' Guild (SAG), and the American Film, Television, and Radio Association (AFTRA). AFTRA allows any actor who can pay the admission fee and quarterly dues to join, so I am a member. SAG, however, has no set rules about who gets vouchers. The first assistant director is the one who makes the decision to hand them out on the set, and it can be as arbitrary as: he thinks you're pretty, he knows you'll sleep with him (not making this up), or he was told to by the director because he knows your father. Or it can be legitimate: you were featured in a scene for more than 30 seconds; you had special skills (in "The Office" episode this week, it was playing pool); or you got a line, in which case you were "Taft-Hartley'd" which means you got an exemption under the Taft-Hartley Act and are now automatically eligible for SAG membership. It costs twice as much to join SAG as it does AFTRA, and the dues are twice as much. SAG actors are paid about eight times as much per day as non-union actors are, but I'm told they only work about half as much. Still, I'd love to be eligible. I need three vouchers, and I haven't gotten any yet. Or I need a line in an AFTRA production and I'm automatically eligible. I'm off to work ten days on an AFTRA web series called "Held Up." Right now, I don't have any lines, but I'm going to plead my case. Wish me luck!
Til next time,
Jennie
Sunday, February 28, 2010
A Few "L" Words: I Lost my Lead because I was Late
Last week, I was feeling pretty good about my career in Hollywood. I had just gotten a lead in the first audition I had done for the Underground Theater Company, of which I had just become a member. I had taken a stand against a bullying acting teacher and dropped his course. And I had just had a wonderful first day with my new acting coach, Joseph Pearlman, who had called me a “very special” actress in our first session together.
What a difference a week makes.
Our first rehearsals for the play were to begin on Friday, February 19, at 6 p.m. I had spent the previous week in San Francisco, where I had worked as an extra on “Trauma,” auditioned for a student film, and auditioned for another commercial to run overseas – this one was for Australia. The casting director who called me in wrote, “Wow. Great eyes, great smile, great look.” I thought, how can I not get cast in this? The answer? By being late.
I have had a problem getting to places on time all my life. I don’t know why. My theory is that I have never gotten quite enough sleep. I’ve spent my life being tired, and I remember even as a little girl in elementary school lying in bed with aching arms and legs, experiencing the pains that were later diagnosed as fibromyalgia (or perhaps lupus-related). Because we didn’t know better at the time, Mom would give me a Coke with my bedtime snack, and then the caffeine would keep me awake for hours. I was late for home room almost every day in high school, but my teachers indulged me because I made straight As and was a good kid. I guess that gave me a sense of entitlement, in a way.
I did better in college, and on my first job, but once I got into sales at AT&T, being on time at work was not that big of a deal as long as you were a top performer, and I always was. It didn’t get to be a big deal again until I was working for a man in Nashville who was always waiting for me to screw up. Lateness was a top priority in his book, and I got in big trouble for not being at work at the crack of dawn – 8:00 a.m. to everybody else. I was going to Vanderbilt full-time by this time, and my health had gotten very bad, to the point that I could barely function every day. All I wanted to do was graduate and get away from the boss from hell who was fixated on my being on-time for work.
So I did get away, by moving to New Jersey six months after graduation. This move saved my life, maybe literally. My new boss was very understanding about my health problems (I was completely up-front about them), and he and I worked out an early form of “telecommuting” that was seen as pioneering (this was in 1993) and made me very popular with our customer, as our main office was 60 miles away and I was just nine miles down the road, living on the ocean. My health improved dramatically, and whenever I was late my boss would counsel me that I just tried to do too much in too little time. Wise words that I try to heed whenever I can, because everything really does take longer than you think it is going to.
When Keith and I moved out to the San Francisco Bay Area in 1996, I no longer was able to telecommute, and I had a 26-mile drive to get to my office. Plus, I was managing a global team which meant we had video conferences at least once a month that began at 7:00 a.m. and lasted for three hours, with me as the chair. Plus, the traffic in the Bay Area was nightmarish. It was a constant struggle to get to work on time for the next four years that I was able to work. And since I have been acting in LA, I never seem to estimate the travel times correctly. Every hour here is rush hour, every day of the week.
All of that is a very long-winded way of saying that I have a problem with being on-time. It’s not usually anything personal; it’s just that I don’t feel well enough to get out of bed, or something traffic-related – an accident for example. Several times I was involved in the accident! I used to get lost a lot, but since I got my GPS (global positioning system) in my Toyota Prius, that doesn’t happen nearly as often - which brings me to my commercial audition. I have come to depend on the GPS probably more than I should. I wrote down the address for the audition, and left my house only giving myself 45 minutes to go 25 miles – not nearly enough for San Francisco, but I was running late that morning because, well, I was tired. I made it to the city with 10 minutes to park, which I did, and then walked to the address, which was right smack in the middle of – Chinatown?
Now, Chinatown in San Francisco is a very densely populated area, with a rat’s maze of streets and a rabbit warren of small shops and apartment buildings filling the small area. Tourists love it, but casting agencies do not. They may film movies in Chinatown, but they don’t cast them there. I knew immediately I had made a mistake. Sure enough, when I took out the note from my purse, I realized I had left out a digit on the address, and the agency was ten blocks away!
I was already ten minutes late, and I had to walk (uphill) back to the parking garage, get my car, pay $2 for parking for only ten minutes, and then try to race ten blocks to the agency. I would have called them, but they hadn’t given the auditioners a number, which happens frequently (maybe it's a test). And being late is just the kiss of death for an audition. I don’t know that I have ever been cast in anything that I have arrived late for, even if I did call from the road. Anyway, I figured I might as well go, so I drove the rest of the way, nearly running over a group of Chinese residents in the process (I waved "sorry," but they yelled at me anyway). I got there nearly 30 minutes late. Fortunately, both the cameraman and the director were very nice, and no one else was there. They said it was fine, and told me to tell them what happened on-camera, which I did. They said I looked great and had a beautiful smile. I thanked them very much and apologized about 20 times, and although I did get a very nice e-mail saying they liked my work, they did not cast me. Of course. Because I was late.
Now, you would think that after an incident or twenty like this that I would learn my lesson, right? Well, maybe. I AM doing much better. You can never be late for background work – if you are, more than 15 minutes or so, the assistant director checking people in will call Central Casting, and if it happens more than once, you will “never work in this town again.” Literally. If you can’t get work with Central, you pretty much won’t get work with any of the other agencies either. So obviously, I CAN be on time when I know I have to be. But sometimes, for auditions and rehearsals and classes, I just don't seem to allow enough time for the problems that always come up, like no parking spaces, traffic jams, accidents, and etc. And that’s really the story for today.
On the night of the first play rehearsal, I made it to Hollywood from the Bay Area right at 6 p.m., but I was still ten miles from the director’s home where we were to meet. I called him and said I’d be there in about 20 minutes. And I swear, it took me an hour to go ten miles, get parked, and get to his house, because of the Friday night traffic! I was fit to be tied but there was nothing I could do. I apologized profusely but he said no worries, and we had a great read-through. The next rehearsal was the following day, at 1:00 p.m. I had an 11 a.m. rehearsal for my Sunday class with my scene partner, who lives about 12 miles from the director. We rehearsed until 12:30, and then it took me 45 minutes to get there and parked! This time, the problem was due to the fact that there is NO street parking allowed in West Hollywood on Saturdays, something the director had neglected to tell me. This time, I could tell he was pissed off, although I was not the last person to arrive, but we proceeded and again, the rehearsal went fine.
Then, on Monday, all five cast members were to get together in the theater to do the first “blocking” rehearsal. Blocking is when the director places the actors on stage and tells us where he wants us to be at certain times during the play. It is the beginning of stage directions, and it’s a very important part of the theatrical directing process. I wanted to make sure I was there on time. The director had sent us an e-mail stating we only had the theater for an hour and a half, and I thought he said 5:45 to 7:15, when in fact it was 5:15 to 6:45. I know I sound really stupid, but my lupus has caused some memory problems and I do make mistakes like people much older than me do. It’s very embarrassing because I used to have a razor-sharp brain. I should have double-checked but I didn’t, and I thought I was right on time as I was driving to the theater at 5:30 when my cell phone rang. It was the director, livid. I said, “I’m on my way,” wondering why he was so upset. When I arrived five minutes later, I realized the other four cast members had been just sitting there, waiting for me, since 5:15. We started immediately, but I knew he was mad.
Then, the real bombshell dropped. I received a text message (from my extras’ calling service that books me for my background jobs) that I had been booked for four days of work on “The Office!” I was thrilled, for several reasons: I needed the money, because Keith expects me to make a certain amount every month and I was way short so far in February; I had never worked before on “The Office,” my favorite show and a great sitcom with terrific writing and acting; and getting that many days in a row might, just might, give me a chance to get a SAG voucher (you need three to be able to join the Screen Actors Guild, and I don’t have any) or get a Taft-Hartley upgrade (one speaking line in the show which would have immediately given me SAG-eligible status). I’m in AFTRA (the American Federation of Television and Radio Actors), but not SAG, and in order to even start getting considered for work on the types of shows I want to work on, I need to get into that union. But that is a discussion for another day. So I was thrilled, and I went to tell the director that I might have a problem with some of the earlier rehearsals that week (one started at 5 p.m.).
He looked at me like he wanted to strangle me, and said, “You have to be at every rehearsal. You can’t take that job.” I looked at him incredulously and told him very nicely that background work is the way I pay the bills, and that I couldn’t turn it down. I mean, I was surprised I got booked for ONE day, much less four – I’d submitted my availability to my service three times earlier in the month, and only gotten one day of work, and the most days in a row I’d ever gotten before, in eight years of doing background work, was two. I reminded him that background rarely goes longer than ten hours, and we were starting at 8 a.m. so that meant we should be out by 6 p.m., fine for 7 p.m. rehearsals, but he wasn’t buying it. I pointed out that he could use the early rehearsal to do the scenes I’m not in (there were two of them), and that seemed to really set him off. As I left, he was headed over to talk to the bullying acting teacher, who also happens to be the Artistic Director of the Underground Theater Company, the one who has a zero-tolerance policy on lateness. Uh-oh, I thought, I’m in deep doo-doo.
So I called the director, who is about 24 and has never directed a play before, about 15 minutes later. I told him I was not happy about what had happened, and that I was sorry about the background job but that I had to take it, for the reasons I stated earlier. I said it appeared obvious to me that he was going to replace me with someone else, and if that was the case, I wanted him to go ahead and do it. He said he would think about it and call me in about an hour. I proceeded to go to my workshop scheduled for that evening with the Casting Director for “The Office,” completely separate from the background job. I did a fun scene playing “Michelle” Scott in the scene where she talks with Oscar about his being gay. The CD said she enjoyed every minute of it and believed every word I said, which is hard to do because, if you watch “The Office,” you know that this character is a total idiot. And then, when I got to my car, I had a voice mail from the director, "releasing me" from the play, when I got out.
I called him back, and I got mad, unfortunately. Because I knew it wasn’t really about the background job. He told me he didn’t consider background work “real acting” (theater snob, I called him) and that he could see that I was “only in it for the money” (no one in their right mind is in acting for the money; I would starve if I were!) and then he basically got down to the real reason: that I had been late to all three rehearsals. Never mind that I had legitimate reasons, except for perhaps the Monday one were I just lost my mind and got the time wrong. In the world of the Underground Theater Company, apparently there are no excuses for being late.
I said some things that I probably shouldn’t have, but basically I told him that this play is free theatre, and background pays the bills; I want to get in SAG and working background gives me the possibility of getting vouchers (I didn’t get any, but again, another story); I want to work in sitcoms and "The Office" lets me work with the best in the business; and if I had known he was going to f-ing fire me for missing one rehearsal (which is all it turned out to have been) I wouldn’t have taken the lead in the first place. And when he said, piously, “I hope you can learn and grow from this experience,” I replied, “Well, in the interest of learning and growing, you could have started without me on Monday, rehearsing the scenes I wasn’t in.” He lost it at that point and said, “I find it highly offensive that you are trying to tell me how to run my rehearsals when YOU were the one who was late.” And at that point I realized that this conversation was over, and said so, but wishing him "all the best."
So, was I wrong to take the background work? Well, from his perspective, yes, although he could have handled it differently. End times on background days are notoriously unpredictable, and on Thursday I had to miss an important audition for Home Depot because we weren't finished, and I had expected to be done before 6:45, the time of the audition. But since the play was free theater anyway, meaning they were not paying any of us, he could have gotten an understudy for the week, in case I was not able to make it. As it turned out, Thursday’s 5-7 p.m. rehearsal was the only one I would have missed, and I couldn’t resist sending him an e-mail telling him so when we were done. But I also sent him a letter of apology, copying the directors of the theater company, as well as my agent, just to cover my butt.
I also did something in hurt and anger that, looking back, was probably a bad idea. Normally I never send e-mails like that until 24 hours have passed – a very good rule that I violated this time. I have never been dropped from any kind of production before, and my ego had really taken a blow. So I sent a letter of resignation late that night to the Company Director, a woman who I don’t know well yet but like so far. Knowing that the bullying acting coach is the Artistic Director of the company, and also knowing that he had told the director unequivocally that he should have fired me after just one time of being late, I was sure that I would be dropped from the company. Given that my priorities are on serious acting study, now (a change from earlier this year!), in auditions, sitcoms, and improv, and hoping to work as much as possible doing comic films, sitcoms, and commercials, rather than theater, I decided to resign from the theater company before they could fire me.
She responded to my e-mail the next day expressing surprise and disappointment that I had resigned. Stating that “the company does not share [the bullying teacher’s] position on lateness; you would not have been dropped from the company,” she informed me that the play would have been treated as a director’s workshop only. Great – now she tells me! I wrote back that perhaps I had been too hasty, and that although paid jobs would always take top priority, I expected that there would be time for me to do workshops and plays, especially in the summer, and asked for re-instatement. But she has not replied, so I guess I screwed that up too. But I may be breaking my old boss' advice again, of trying to do too many things in too little time, so maybe this is all for the best.
So, what went well this week? I did have a great time on the set. I was featured twice in relatively long scenes which, if I am recognizable, will allow me to appeal to SAG for at least one voucher. I made several new contacts and got referrals to a new commercial casting agency and a new talent agency. I made friends with the first and second assistant directors (there are usually four assistants to the actual director, who usually does not interact with anyone but the principal cast), who allowed me to take a long lunch on Wednesday so I could audition for a lead in an independent film (another one about zombies). And the food was fantastic! All of these are part of the reasons why background work is so much fun. Oh, and I made pretty good money too, meeting my commitment to my husband. And I have to ask myself – which is more important? Having fun, and doing what I say I will do for my husband? Or always being on time to auditions? Because I don’t kid myself. He fired me for being late.
Til next time,
Jennie
What a difference a week makes.
Our first rehearsals for the play were to begin on Friday, February 19, at 6 p.m. I had spent the previous week in San Francisco, where I had worked as an extra on “Trauma,” auditioned for a student film, and auditioned for another commercial to run overseas – this one was for Australia. The casting director who called me in wrote, “Wow. Great eyes, great smile, great look.” I thought, how can I not get cast in this? The answer? By being late.
I have had a problem getting to places on time all my life. I don’t know why. My theory is that I have never gotten quite enough sleep. I’ve spent my life being tired, and I remember even as a little girl in elementary school lying in bed with aching arms and legs, experiencing the pains that were later diagnosed as fibromyalgia (or perhaps lupus-related). Because we didn’t know better at the time, Mom would give me a Coke with my bedtime snack, and then the caffeine would keep me awake for hours. I was late for home room almost every day in high school, but my teachers indulged me because I made straight As and was a good kid. I guess that gave me a sense of entitlement, in a way.
I did better in college, and on my first job, but once I got into sales at AT&T, being on time at work was not that big of a deal as long as you were a top performer, and I always was. It didn’t get to be a big deal again until I was working for a man in Nashville who was always waiting for me to screw up. Lateness was a top priority in his book, and I got in big trouble for not being at work at the crack of dawn – 8:00 a.m. to everybody else. I was going to Vanderbilt full-time by this time, and my health had gotten very bad, to the point that I could barely function every day. All I wanted to do was graduate and get away from the boss from hell who was fixated on my being on-time for work.
So I did get away, by moving to New Jersey six months after graduation. This move saved my life, maybe literally. My new boss was very understanding about my health problems (I was completely up-front about them), and he and I worked out an early form of “telecommuting” that was seen as pioneering (this was in 1993) and made me very popular with our customer, as our main office was 60 miles away and I was just nine miles down the road, living on the ocean. My health improved dramatically, and whenever I was late my boss would counsel me that I just tried to do too much in too little time. Wise words that I try to heed whenever I can, because everything really does take longer than you think it is going to.
When Keith and I moved out to the San Francisco Bay Area in 1996, I no longer was able to telecommute, and I had a 26-mile drive to get to my office. Plus, I was managing a global team which meant we had video conferences at least once a month that began at 7:00 a.m. and lasted for three hours, with me as the chair. Plus, the traffic in the Bay Area was nightmarish. It was a constant struggle to get to work on time for the next four years that I was able to work. And since I have been acting in LA, I never seem to estimate the travel times correctly. Every hour here is rush hour, every day of the week.
All of that is a very long-winded way of saying that I have a problem with being on-time. It’s not usually anything personal; it’s just that I don’t feel well enough to get out of bed, or something traffic-related – an accident for example. Several times I was involved in the accident! I used to get lost a lot, but since I got my GPS (global positioning system) in my Toyota Prius, that doesn’t happen nearly as often - which brings me to my commercial audition. I have come to depend on the GPS probably more than I should. I wrote down the address for the audition, and left my house only giving myself 45 minutes to go 25 miles – not nearly enough for San Francisco, but I was running late that morning because, well, I was tired. I made it to the city with 10 minutes to park, which I did, and then walked to the address, which was right smack in the middle of – Chinatown?
Now, Chinatown in San Francisco is a very densely populated area, with a rat’s maze of streets and a rabbit warren of small shops and apartment buildings filling the small area. Tourists love it, but casting agencies do not. They may film movies in Chinatown, but they don’t cast them there. I knew immediately I had made a mistake. Sure enough, when I took out the note from my purse, I realized I had left out a digit on the address, and the agency was ten blocks away!
I was already ten minutes late, and I had to walk (uphill) back to the parking garage, get my car, pay $2 for parking for only ten minutes, and then try to race ten blocks to the agency. I would have called them, but they hadn’t given the auditioners a number, which happens frequently (maybe it's a test). And being late is just the kiss of death for an audition. I don’t know that I have ever been cast in anything that I have arrived late for, even if I did call from the road. Anyway, I figured I might as well go, so I drove the rest of the way, nearly running over a group of Chinese residents in the process (I waved "sorry," but they yelled at me anyway). I got there nearly 30 minutes late. Fortunately, both the cameraman and the director were very nice, and no one else was there. They said it was fine, and told me to tell them what happened on-camera, which I did. They said I looked great and had a beautiful smile. I thanked them very much and apologized about 20 times, and although I did get a very nice e-mail saying they liked my work, they did not cast me. Of course. Because I was late.
Now, you would think that after an incident or twenty like this that I would learn my lesson, right? Well, maybe. I AM doing much better. You can never be late for background work – if you are, more than 15 minutes or so, the assistant director checking people in will call Central Casting, and if it happens more than once, you will “never work in this town again.” Literally. If you can’t get work with Central, you pretty much won’t get work with any of the other agencies either. So obviously, I CAN be on time when I know I have to be. But sometimes, for auditions and rehearsals and classes, I just don't seem to allow enough time for the problems that always come up, like no parking spaces, traffic jams, accidents, and etc. And that’s really the story for today.
On the night of the first play rehearsal, I made it to Hollywood from the Bay Area right at 6 p.m., but I was still ten miles from the director’s home where we were to meet. I called him and said I’d be there in about 20 minutes. And I swear, it took me an hour to go ten miles, get parked, and get to his house, because of the Friday night traffic! I was fit to be tied but there was nothing I could do. I apologized profusely but he said no worries, and we had a great read-through. The next rehearsal was the following day, at 1:00 p.m. I had an 11 a.m. rehearsal for my Sunday class with my scene partner, who lives about 12 miles from the director. We rehearsed until 12:30, and then it took me 45 minutes to get there and parked! This time, the problem was due to the fact that there is NO street parking allowed in West Hollywood on Saturdays, something the director had neglected to tell me. This time, I could tell he was pissed off, although I was not the last person to arrive, but we proceeded and again, the rehearsal went fine.
Then, on Monday, all five cast members were to get together in the theater to do the first “blocking” rehearsal. Blocking is when the director places the actors on stage and tells us where he wants us to be at certain times during the play. It is the beginning of stage directions, and it’s a very important part of the theatrical directing process. I wanted to make sure I was there on time. The director had sent us an e-mail stating we only had the theater for an hour and a half, and I thought he said 5:45 to 7:15, when in fact it was 5:15 to 6:45. I know I sound really stupid, but my lupus has caused some memory problems and I do make mistakes like people much older than me do. It’s very embarrassing because I used to have a razor-sharp brain. I should have double-checked but I didn’t, and I thought I was right on time as I was driving to the theater at 5:30 when my cell phone rang. It was the director, livid. I said, “I’m on my way,” wondering why he was so upset. When I arrived five minutes later, I realized the other four cast members had been just sitting there, waiting for me, since 5:15. We started immediately, but I knew he was mad.
Then, the real bombshell dropped. I received a text message (from my extras’ calling service that books me for my background jobs) that I had been booked for four days of work on “The Office!” I was thrilled, for several reasons: I needed the money, because Keith expects me to make a certain amount every month and I was way short so far in February; I had never worked before on “The Office,” my favorite show and a great sitcom with terrific writing and acting; and getting that many days in a row might, just might, give me a chance to get a SAG voucher (you need three to be able to join the Screen Actors Guild, and I don’t have any) or get a Taft-Hartley upgrade (one speaking line in the show which would have immediately given me SAG-eligible status). I’m in AFTRA (the American Federation of Television and Radio Actors), but not SAG, and in order to even start getting considered for work on the types of shows I want to work on, I need to get into that union. But that is a discussion for another day. So I was thrilled, and I went to tell the director that I might have a problem with some of the earlier rehearsals that week (one started at 5 p.m.).
He looked at me like he wanted to strangle me, and said, “You have to be at every rehearsal. You can’t take that job.” I looked at him incredulously and told him very nicely that background work is the way I pay the bills, and that I couldn’t turn it down. I mean, I was surprised I got booked for ONE day, much less four – I’d submitted my availability to my service three times earlier in the month, and only gotten one day of work, and the most days in a row I’d ever gotten before, in eight years of doing background work, was two. I reminded him that background rarely goes longer than ten hours, and we were starting at 8 a.m. so that meant we should be out by 6 p.m., fine for 7 p.m. rehearsals, but he wasn’t buying it. I pointed out that he could use the early rehearsal to do the scenes I’m not in (there were two of them), and that seemed to really set him off. As I left, he was headed over to talk to the bullying acting teacher, who also happens to be the Artistic Director of the Underground Theater Company, the one who has a zero-tolerance policy on lateness. Uh-oh, I thought, I’m in deep doo-doo.
So I called the director, who is about 24 and has never directed a play before, about 15 minutes later. I told him I was not happy about what had happened, and that I was sorry about the background job but that I had to take it, for the reasons I stated earlier. I said it appeared obvious to me that he was going to replace me with someone else, and if that was the case, I wanted him to go ahead and do it. He said he would think about it and call me in about an hour. I proceeded to go to my workshop scheduled for that evening with the Casting Director for “The Office,” completely separate from the background job. I did a fun scene playing “Michelle” Scott in the scene where she talks with Oscar about his being gay. The CD said she enjoyed every minute of it and believed every word I said, which is hard to do because, if you watch “The Office,” you know that this character is a total idiot. And then, when I got to my car, I had a voice mail from the director, "releasing me" from the play, when I got out.
I called him back, and I got mad, unfortunately. Because I knew it wasn’t really about the background job. He told me he didn’t consider background work “real acting” (theater snob, I called him) and that he could see that I was “only in it for the money” (no one in their right mind is in acting for the money; I would starve if I were!) and then he basically got down to the real reason: that I had been late to all three rehearsals. Never mind that I had legitimate reasons, except for perhaps the Monday one were I just lost my mind and got the time wrong. In the world of the Underground Theater Company, apparently there are no excuses for being late.
I said some things that I probably shouldn’t have, but basically I told him that this play is free theatre, and background pays the bills; I want to get in SAG and working background gives me the possibility of getting vouchers (I didn’t get any, but again, another story); I want to work in sitcoms and "The Office" lets me work with the best in the business; and if I had known he was going to f-ing fire me for missing one rehearsal (which is all it turned out to have been) I wouldn’t have taken the lead in the first place. And when he said, piously, “I hope you can learn and grow from this experience,” I replied, “Well, in the interest of learning and growing, you could have started without me on Monday, rehearsing the scenes I wasn’t in.” He lost it at that point and said, “I find it highly offensive that you are trying to tell me how to run my rehearsals when YOU were the one who was late.” And at that point I realized that this conversation was over, and said so, but wishing him "all the best."
So, was I wrong to take the background work? Well, from his perspective, yes, although he could have handled it differently. End times on background days are notoriously unpredictable, and on Thursday I had to miss an important audition for Home Depot because we weren't finished, and I had expected to be done before 6:45, the time of the audition. But since the play was free theater anyway, meaning they were not paying any of us, he could have gotten an understudy for the week, in case I was not able to make it. As it turned out, Thursday’s 5-7 p.m. rehearsal was the only one I would have missed, and I couldn’t resist sending him an e-mail telling him so when we were done. But I also sent him a letter of apology, copying the directors of the theater company, as well as my agent, just to cover my butt.
I also did something in hurt and anger that, looking back, was probably a bad idea. Normally I never send e-mails like that until 24 hours have passed – a very good rule that I violated this time. I have never been dropped from any kind of production before, and my ego had really taken a blow. So I sent a letter of resignation late that night to the Company Director, a woman who I don’t know well yet but like so far. Knowing that the bullying acting coach is the Artistic Director of the company, and also knowing that he had told the director unequivocally that he should have fired me after just one time of being late, I was sure that I would be dropped from the company. Given that my priorities are on serious acting study, now (a change from earlier this year!), in auditions, sitcoms, and improv, and hoping to work as much as possible doing comic films, sitcoms, and commercials, rather than theater, I decided to resign from the theater company before they could fire me.
She responded to my e-mail the next day expressing surprise and disappointment that I had resigned. Stating that “the company does not share [the bullying teacher’s] position on lateness; you would not have been dropped from the company,” she informed me that the play would have been treated as a director’s workshop only. Great – now she tells me! I wrote back that perhaps I had been too hasty, and that although paid jobs would always take top priority, I expected that there would be time for me to do workshops and plays, especially in the summer, and asked for re-instatement. But she has not replied, so I guess I screwed that up too. But I may be breaking my old boss' advice again, of trying to do too many things in too little time, so maybe this is all for the best.
So, what went well this week? I did have a great time on the set. I was featured twice in relatively long scenes which, if I am recognizable, will allow me to appeal to SAG for at least one voucher. I made several new contacts and got referrals to a new commercial casting agency and a new talent agency. I made friends with the first and second assistant directors (there are usually four assistants to the actual director, who usually does not interact with anyone but the principal cast), who allowed me to take a long lunch on Wednesday so I could audition for a lead in an independent film (another one about zombies). And the food was fantastic! All of these are part of the reasons why background work is so much fun. Oh, and I made pretty good money too, meeting my commitment to my husband. And I have to ask myself – which is more important? Having fun, and doing what I say I will do for my husband? Or always being on time to auditions? Because I don’t kid myself. He fired me for being late.
Til next time,
Jennie
Monday, February 15, 2010
On Acting Classes and "Brutal Honesty"
I haven't had much formal acting training in my life. When I was a child, I took dance lessons for eight years (ballet, tap, and jazz, dropping ballet when it was obvious that I was not going to have the body for it), and piano lessons for ten, showing real aptitude there (my teacher begged me to study music in college, and later, when I met my husband, who has a computer science major AND a music major, I realized that this could have been a possibility. C'est la vie.). But even though I loved to sing, my parents never sent me to voice lessons, although I did sing in youth choir for a couple of years in middle school. And we never even considered acting lessons, although I did act in three plays in high school as I've mentioned previously. But the drama department in high school was for weirdos at our school, and I was already very active in band, flag corps and in my senior year, dance team. I also was in two sororities and had a full-time boyfriend all four years, so I had a very active social life (my senior year I went to 14 formal dances!). Taking acting lessons never occurred to me.
But there were two episodes early in my life that indicated I might have more aptitude for the theatre then my family suspected. The first happened in the summer before fifth grade, when I staged a full-scale production of a Scholastic play, "Princess Pat Will be Wed in the Fall," starring most of my neighborhood friends. Curiously, I gave myself a very small part, and chose instead to direct, showing early evidence of my natural tendency to lead which would show up in my business career. The rush that this successful production gave me (about 40 neighbors attended) emboldened me to adapt the Thanksgiving story for Mrs. Killen's fifth grade class, in which again, I gave myself a very small part, proud to be the writer. But the acting bug had bitten me, and it was to surface again, many years later, and take hold of me for good.
But still, when I began to act, I was often told I was "a natural," and since I got work easily from my first audition, I didn't think too much about classes. When I first moved to the Bay Area, I had started an "Acting for Singers" class on weekends that was supposed to be for ten weeks, but I dropped out after two weeks because I thought the teacher was abusive and insulting (remember this!). I didn't study acting again until five years later, in 2001, when I took my first class in musical theatre, which prompted me to start auditioning at the encouragement of my non-abusive, nurturing teacher. But as I began to add credits to my resume, sometime in the second year of my acting career, directors at auditions began to ask me about what acting training I had. Since the aborted "acting for singers" class and one in musical theatre no longer seemed adequate when I was auditioning for dramatic films and commercials, I decided to give some of the short courses offered at local casting agencies a try.
My first on-camera training was Auditioning for Commercials at Beau Bonneau Casting. BBC is probably the premier agency in SF; they handle almost all of the extra work for any TV shows and movies that shoot in the area, and a fair amount of commercials. Like most casting agencies, they also offer on-going classes in Auditioning, Cold Reading, Scene Study, and On-Camera Acting, to name a few. My first experience was eye-opening for me. We were given a "side" (a page with the script on it) and were told to take it and memorize it, then come back in five minutes to read on camera. This was my first time being taped for review, and I was horrified at how much I needed to refer to the text. I looked like a bobblehead. The teacher wasn't unkind, but he didn't need to be. I learned a valuable lesson about keeping my head still just by watching the tape.
More classes and workshops followed, mostly in weekend or one-night form. My first class in LA was with Kirk Baltz, a well-known acting coach who teaches a weekend-long "Actors' Intensive" that focuses on getting actors to reach deeply into their memories and bring out painful emotions in order to be able to access them for scenes later (it's called the Meisner technique). It's a great method of acting, but unfortunately I was still pretty sick with Lupus and the intensity was just too much for me. I only lasted one day. But I still use the basics of this technique to access emotions, especially when I need to cry for a scene.
Recently I have been attending one Casting Director Workshop a month at a place called The Actors' Collective in Hollywood. There are several acting studios around LA that offer these with some of the top casting directors on a regular basis. It is a great way to get seen by the people who cast the types of shows you are looking to be on. For example, I want to be on "The Office" (like nearly every other actor in Hollywood). The Casting Director is Dorian Frankel. She makes the rounds at most of the studios, and I actually did a Scene Study with her back in 2006. So far this year I have met the CD for "Chuck," and "How I Met Your Mother," another who casts Lifetime movies, and another who is casting a new pilot with Alyssa Milano, "Romantically Challenged." One of them said he casts as much as 70% of his co-star and guest star roles from the people he meets from these workshops. I haven't been called yet, but I am hoping!
What made me decide to start studying in earnest was two things: One, I noticed that my booking percentage rate (the number of jobs I get) from auditions is less than those I book straight from my head shots without auditions. This tells me that I am doing something wrong in my auditions, either with look, etiquette, or technique. And two, I was invited to become a member of the Hollywood Underground Theatre Company, and classes in On-Camera Acting, which focus on audition technique, were offered at only $25 a class, are a benefit of membership. So as of February 1,
I signed up for the first month with enthusiasm.
I was a little wary about the instructor when I received the confirmation and the writer said, "Don't be afraid of him - he's not mean, just honest!" She also told me that if I did not arrive before 7:30, when the class began, I would be locked out, and not to bother to try to come in. Okay, I thought, he must be really good. There were seven of us in the class, three of whom were ongoing students, and four of us who were new, all company members. The newbies seemed nervous, the old ones seemed submissive. My wariness intensified.
The instructor began class with a lengthy discourse about his methods which included the admonishment about being late. He then warned us, ominously, "I am not a nurturer. I am brutally honest. I will tell you the truth, and if you can't take it, you don't belong in this class."
I always wonder about people who use the term "brutally honest." I am all for honesty. I am a proponent of truth and open communications. But I don't believe honesty has to be brutal. I don't believe the truth has to hurt. I have found that, almost 100% of the time, people who use this phrase generally do so in order to have an excuse to act like jerks and to say whatever insulting comment that comes to mind in the name of "the truth." It's like Christians who criticize others at church and then say "I'm just saying this out of love." No, they're not. They are saying it to hurt you, most of the time.
So the class proceeded. The students who had chosen to continue with the [abuser] instructor read their scene first, then were evaluated. He told one young man that his new hair cut made his head look like he had a condom on it. He told a woman having problems memorizing her lines that she sounded less like a moron than she had last week. Then, with no direction or guidance, he had the four new students (including me) do our scenes, all shot in tight close up. After we finished, he smirked and said, "Well, I can see I have my work cut out for me." He asked if any of us had ever gone out on any auditions. When we tried to answer, he cut us off and said things like "I'm not talking about the crap that they post on-line, I'm talking about the real stuff, you know, that's on the alphabet, ABC, NBC....Any monkey can do commercials, don't tell me about commercials....Student films don't count. Theatre doesn't count....I wouldn't send any of the four of you out on auditions right now, and I would advise your agents not to send you out."
See what I mean? "Brutal honesty" as a license to act like a jerk, or as one of my friends who has a delightful way of getting to the point put it, "a monkey's nut sack." Another problem with these guys is that they can dish it out, but they can't or won't take it. Whenever any of us tried to respond to a criticism with anything other than an agreement, he would cut us off with another insult. He told one new student that he "mugged" for the camera; the student said "I know," and the instructor, appearing to be furious, said "I never want to hear that phrase again in this class. Because if you 'know' you do something that is wrong, then why are you still doing it?" He told me that I moved around too much on camera and asked if I was just nervous. I said no, thinking "why would I be nervous for this class?" In truth I had busted my butt to get to LA on time, and I was shaky from exhaustion but I wasn't going to get defensive with him, so I just agreed with everything he said.
I left the class feeling as though I had been in a boxing match and I had been TKO'd.
I felt demoralized for the next three days, and then I had a great audition after which the director told me my work was "lovely" (I later got the part, a lead in a play). That helped somewhat. And the next day, after a Casting Director workshop, I was offered the last spot in an Audition Technique workshop taught by Joseph Pearlman, the in-house acting coach at Creative Artists' Agency (CAA), the most prestigious agency in LA. Although this class was $50 per session, I jumped at the chance to study with the acting coach of such notable young actresses as Amy Adams and Zoe Deschanel. (By the way, I had researched the career of the brutally honest instructor; he has never cast anything but documentary shorts and has no teaching credits listed on his website.)
We started the class with Joseph on Sunday morning. He too began his class with a short introduction about his technique. He was warm and friendly, pointing out that he wanted all of us to succeed, and that it was his job to give us tips and technique to do so. He said that it was his style to "nurture actors," and to "help us learn in a nurturing environment." Hallelujah! This could not have been more different from the previous class. None of us were taped, but he had all 20 of us read the same monologue, then he asked us how it felt. Then he would help us work through whatever difficulties he observed. In my case, he said I seemed "tentative, a little stiff, a little fearful." I said yes, I was fearful, because of last week's acting class, when the teacher said that I moved around too much! He said, "Did that feel right to you?" And I said, "NO! No one has ever told me that before." He replied, "So then, throw it out. Just take what works and leave the rest." And then he said these magic words: "You have something very special, Jennie Floyd, and I can help you get to where you need to be." Music to my ears, balm to my wounded soul.
So I dropped the brutally honest instructor's class. Because I can't work with an instructor who treats their students that way. I can't learn that way. And the lesson I've learned is that I don't have to take that kind of crap from anyone. There are plenty of teachers out there who will treat their students with respect and get great results. And I found one when I wasn't even looking. "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."
Til next time,
Jennie
But there were two episodes early in my life that indicated I might have more aptitude for the theatre then my family suspected. The first happened in the summer before fifth grade, when I staged a full-scale production of a Scholastic play, "Princess Pat Will be Wed in the Fall," starring most of my neighborhood friends. Curiously, I gave myself a very small part, and chose instead to direct, showing early evidence of my natural tendency to lead which would show up in my business career. The rush that this successful production gave me (about 40 neighbors attended) emboldened me to adapt the Thanksgiving story for Mrs. Killen's fifth grade class, in which again, I gave myself a very small part, proud to be the writer. But the acting bug had bitten me, and it was to surface again, many years later, and take hold of me for good.
But still, when I began to act, I was often told I was "a natural," and since I got work easily from my first audition, I didn't think too much about classes. When I first moved to the Bay Area, I had started an "Acting for Singers" class on weekends that was supposed to be for ten weeks, but I dropped out after two weeks because I thought the teacher was abusive and insulting (remember this!). I didn't study acting again until five years later, in 2001, when I took my first class in musical theatre, which prompted me to start auditioning at the encouragement of my non-abusive, nurturing teacher. But as I began to add credits to my resume, sometime in the second year of my acting career, directors at auditions began to ask me about what acting training I had. Since the aborted "acting for singers" class and one in musical theatre no longer seemed adequate when I was auditioning for dramatic films and commercials, I decided to give some of the short courses offered at local casting agencies a try.
My first on-camera training was Auditioning for Commercials at Beau Bonneau Casting. BBC is probably the premier agency in SF; they handle almost all of the extra work for any TV shows and movies that shoot in the area, and a fair amount of commercials. Like most casting agencies, they also offer on-going classes in Auditioning, Cold Reading, Scene Study, and On-Camera Acting, to name a few. My first experience was eye-opening for me. We were given a "side" (a page with the script on it) and were told to take it and memorize it, then come back in five minutes to read on camera. This was my first time being taped for review, and I was horrified at how much I needed to refer to the text. I looked like a bobblehead. The teacher wasn't unkind, but he didn't need to be. I learned a valuable lesson about keeping my head still just by watching the tape.
More classes and workshops followed, mostly in weekend or one-night form. My first class in LA was with Kirk Baltz, a well-known acting coach who teaches a weekend-long "Actors' Intensive" that focuses on getting actors to reach deeply into their memories and bring out painful emotions in order to be able to access them for scenes later (it's called the Meisner technique). It's a great method of acting, but unfortunately I was still pretty sick with Lupus and the intensity was just too much for me. I only lasted one day. But I still use the basics of this technique to access emotions, especially when I need to cry for a scene.
Recently I have been attending one Casting Director Workshop a month at a place called The Actors' Collective in Hollywood. There are several acting studios around LA that offer these with some of the top casting directors on a regular basis. It is a great way to get seen by the people who cast the types of shows you are looking to be on. For example, I want to be on "The Office" (like nearly every other actor in Hollywood). The Casting Director is Dorian Frankel. She makes the rounds at most of the studios, and I actually did a Scene Study with her back in 2006. So far this year I have met the CD for "Chuck," and "How I Met Your Mother," another who casts Lifetime movies, and another who is casting a new pilot with Alyssa Milano, "Romantically Challenged." One of them said he casts as much as 70% of his co-star and guest star roles from the people he meets from these workshops. I haven't been called yet, but I am hoping!
What made me decide to start studying in earnest was two things: One, I noticed that my booking percentage rate (the number of jobs I get) from auditions is less than those I book straight from my head shots without auditions. This tells me that I am doing something wrong in my auditions, either with look, etiquette, or technique. And two, I was invited to become a member of the Hollywood Underground Theatre Company, and classes in On-Camera Acting, which focus on audition technique, were offered at only $25 a class, are a benefit of membership. So as of February 1,
I signed up for the first month with enthusiasm.
I was a little wary about the instructor when I received the confirmation and the writer said, "Don't be afraid of him - he's not mean, just honest!" She also told me that if I did not arrive before 7:30, when the class began, I would be locked out, and not to bother to try to come in. Okay, I thought, he must be really good. There were seven of us in the class, three of whom were ongoing students, and four of us who were new, all company members. The newbies seemed nervous, the old ones seemed submissive. My wariness intensified.
The instructor began class with a lengthy discourse about his methods which included the admonishment about being late. He then warned us, ominously, "I am not a nurturer. I am brutally honest. I will tell you the truth, and if you can't take it, you don't belong in this class."
I always wonder about people who use the term "brutally honest." I am all for honesty. I am a proponent of truth and open communications. But I don't believe honesty has to be brutal. I don't believe the truth has to hurt. I have found that, almost 100% of the time, people who use this phrase generally do so in order to have an excuse to act like jerks and to say whatever insulting comment that comes to mind in the name of "the truth." It's like Christians who criticize others at church and then say "I'm just saying this out of love." No, they're not. They are saying it to hurt you, most of the time.
So the class proceeded. The students who had chosen to continue with the [abuser] instructor read their scene first, then were evaluated. He told one young man that his new hair cut made his head look like he had a condom on it. He told a woman having problems memorizing her lines that she sounded less like a moron than she had last week. Then, with no direction or guidance, he had the four new students (including me) do our scenes, all shot in tight close up. After we finished, he smirked and said, "Well, I can see I have my work cut out for me." He asked if any of us had ever gone out on any auditions. When we tried to answer, he cut us off and said things like "I'm not talking about the crap that they post on-line, I'm talking about the real stuff, you know, that's on the alphabet, ABC, NBC....Any monkey can do commercials, don't tell me about commercials....Student films don't count. Theatre doesn't count....I wouldn't send any of the four of you out on auditions right now, and I would advise your agents not to send you out."
See what I mean? "Brutal honesty" as a license to act like a jerk, or as one of my friends who has a delightful way of getting to the point put it, "a monkey's nut sack." Another problem with these guys is that they can dish it out, but they can't or won't take it. Whenever any of us tried to respond to a criticism with anything other than an agreement, he would cut us off with another insult. He told one new student that he "mugged" for the camera; the student said "I know," and the instructor, appearing to be furious, said "I never want to hear that phrase again in this class. Because if you 'know' you do something that is wrong, then why are you still doing it?" He told me that I moved around too much on camera and asked if I was just nervous. I said no, thinking "why would I be nervous for this class?" In truth I had busted my butt to get to LA on time, and I was shaky from exhaustion but I wasn't going to get defensive with him, so I just agreed with everything he said.
I left the class feeling as though I had been in a boxing match and I had been TKO'd.
I felt demoralized for the next three days, and then I had a great audition after which the director told me my work was "lovely" (I later got the part, a lead in a play). That helped somewhat. And the next day, after a Casting Director workshop, I was offered the last spot in an Audition Technique workshop taught by Joseph Pearlman, the in-house acting coach at Creative Artists' Agency (CAA), the most prestigious agency in LA. Although this class was $50 per session, I jumped at the chance to study with the acting coach of such notable young actresses as Amy Adams and Zoe Deschanel. (By the way, I had researched the career of the brutally honest instructor; he has never cast anything but documentary shorts and has no teaching credits listed on his website.)
We started the class with Joseph on Sunday morning. He too began his class with a short introduction about his technique. He was warm and friendly, pointing out that he wanted all of us to succeed, and that it was his job to give us tips and technique to do so. He said that it was his style to "nurture actors," and to "help us learn in a nurturing environment." Hallelujah! This could not have been more different from the previous class. None of us were taped, but he had all 20 of us read the same monologue, then he asked us how it felt. Then he would help us work through whatever difficulties he observed. In my case, he said I seemed "tentative, a little stiff, a little fearful." I said yes, I was fearful, because of last week's acting class, when the teacher said that I moved around too much! He said, "Did that feel right to you?" And I said, "NO! No one has ever told me that before." He replied, "So then, throw it out. Just take what works and leave the rest." And then he said these magic words: "You have something very special, Jennie Floyd, and I can help you get to where you need to be." Music to my ears, balm to my wounded soul.
So I dropped the brutally honest instructor's class. Because I can't work with an instructor who treats their students that way. I can't learn that way. And the lesson I've learned is that I don't have to take that kind of crap from anyone. There are plenty of teachers out there who will treat their students with respect and get great results. And I found one when I wasn't even looking. "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."
Til next time,
Jennie
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)