Yesterday I was stuck in bed thanks to a migraine. It was one of those days when even the thought of getting and up and trying to get moving was accompanied by the onset of a panic attack/gastro-intestinal protest. But, I couldn't sleep either, mostly because of the helicopters incessantly beating their wings outside of my window for the ENTIRE DAY. I figured they were looking for a kidnapper or murderer, which is pretty much standard for Hollywood.
Finally, around 7 pm, I decided I was ready to face the world and dragged my roommate up the corner to Cantaloop for some frozen yogurt.
While I was self-serving myself a delicious mix of low-fat frozen yogurt flavors: birthday cake, pomegranate, watermelon, mint, and dutch chocolate, my roommate was standing quietly waiting when one of the workers asked us, "Did you see Lady Gaga?"
I laughed because it seemed random, but then I learned that she was playing a free concert at the Jimmy Kimmel Live studio. THAT'S what all the helicopters had been doing all day. Waiting for Gaga.
Roomie and I decided to take a little stroll down Hollywood Boulevard to see what we could see.
We were in for a treat. On the left side of the street at Graumann's Chinese Theatre, the premiere for the Rise of the Planet of the Apes had just gotten underway, so tourists were gathered in droves by the barricades, still hoping to catch a glimpse of straggling stars.
We walked by the Jimmy Kimmel studio doors, but they were closed, guarded by a sleepy Colonel Sanders in a black suit.
We watched the show from outside on a tv screen for a minute, but then kept walking.
To our right, there were lines of yellow tape blocking off an alley. And there was a crowd of people in the distance. And there were no security guards to be found.
My roommate can be shy, but when it comes to sneaking into industry events, she is fearless, so we side-stepped our way under the yellow tape and headed down into a little section that was partitioned off with metal barricades and slipped behind them.
As soon as we got behind there, a bunch of other people wandered down and were shooed away by cops or security. One lady tried to convince the guards that her car was in the parking lot, but when pressed for the make and color of her car, she was at a loss. By the time she came up with "black Prius" she didn't stand a chance.
There was an interesting mix of paparazzi, local teenagers, and foreigners in our little box. It was around 9 o'clock so I asked the group of Canadian boys next to us how long they had been waiting.
"Since 5 pm, they said, but most of these people have been here all day."
Ha. I don't wait that long for anything unless there is a ski lift or a roller-coaster at the end. Ok, the DMV doesn't count.
Allegedly, our little section was special because it was supposed to be Gaga's last stop before exiting to the parking lot to get into her car.
We chatted with our new Canadian friends about our cultural differences. We were interrupted by a huge cheer, because we all thought we had just seen Gaga, but then one of the Canadians said, "Wait, that's not Gaga." False alarm.
Finally, Jimmy Kimmel announced that it was time for Lady Gaga to perform, and the crowd went wild.
Of course we could only see the top half of the stage because of the giant fence blocking our view, but I was impressed by the resourcefulness of the paparazzi. One had a long pole that extended his camera about 10 feet in the air.
Roomie commented that they should make those for cellphones and I was like "Genius!" The Canadians said you can just make something out of cardboard. I argued that the whole basis of our economy is that people are stupid and will buy things they don't need and can make themselves. Silly Canadian.
Luckily, in the Middle of "the Edge of Glory," Gaga ran up to the top of the stage and we got to see her and her blonde wig on the edge of its glory. The cellphones and lighters were waving in front of us, teenagers were crying, small children were climbing on fences speaking Dutch.
Then, the emcee took the stage again to close the show, bringing boos from the audience, but Jimmy Kimmel, like a knight in shining armor, announced that there would be one more song. Huge cheers from the audience were then followed by another rousing performance of...
the same song.
Oh well, that's television for you. She repeated that performance, but it did seem stronger, and it hit me that the first one had been the dress rehearsal and this one was live.
And, afterwards, as a bonus, she did the song, "Free as my Hair," which seemed ironic to me because the wigs and extensions she wears on a daily basis probably cost the same as what it would cost to feed all of the paparazzi covering her show.
If we had waited, we probably could have shaken Gaga's hand, but it was time to move along. Our Canadian friends were getting ready to drive back to Vancouver and Roomie and I were tiring of playing tourist/fan and needed to get back to our normal lives.
As we walked back, the guests who had been watching the Planet of the Apes premiere were spilling out of the Chinese Theatre. People around us were screaming out to celebrities that I didn't recognize, who waved and sparkled back to their adoring fans. All I could think about was how I wished I could have seen the movie so I could talk about it objectively with other people who make movies for a living...and that I could be wearing a pretty dress on the red carpet. :)
Roomie said there was no shame on being on this side of the barricade right now. And I agreed, just like those kids in the old baseball movies that used to sneak into the stadiums to watch their heroes, and then grew up to play professional ball.
Right now, we're still kids.
Just waiting for Gaga.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
New Filmmakers LA!
Making movies is a collaborative art. Just look at the credits. Even for short films with $1000 budgets, dozens of names roll. Most people in Hollywood are here because they like to tell stories, and the cool thing is that each person has a unique approach to that. The director sees the big picture. Sound people add music and sounds to convey and enhance the mood. Cinematographers and lighting people specialize in manipulating the visual to achieve certain effects. Actors actually live out the story. When great people in all of these areas come together, it's like magic.
Personally, I would kill for a chance to work with Scorsese or the Coen Brothers, but I know that it's equally important to get to know talented directors and producers who are also just starting their journeys.
So, last night, I decided to attend the New Filmmakers LA red carpet event and screening. This two-night event is held several times a year on the the Sunset Gower lot, and features documentary and narrative shorts from up and coming filmmakers.
The bill for the evening included:
The Extraordinary Fight of Atticus Walker and the Monster in his Mind: , written by, directed by, and starring Michael Karman: A comedy about Atticus Walker, a talented writer who is perpetually tortured by a big green monster, which Atticus must overcome if he is to make anything of his life.
Marigolds, directed by Stephanie Zari: When her adult son calls announcing that he is coming for a visit and bringing his girlfriend, an English housewife must rouse herself from a depression caused by a loveless marriage and an unwillingness to accept that her son has grown up, and come to terms with change.
Cage Shift, directed by Philip Bache: A magician Houdini-like prowess is held hostage by a mobster who demands to know how the magician does his most astounding tricking in the hopes of using it to his own advantage.
Spectrum of the Sky, directed by Tami Tamar Sasson: An absolutely mesmerizing cello rock music video which paints the picture of a tragic love triangle between Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf, and a handsome but hateful prince.
Happy Birthday Michael Peck: As fourth-generation American auto-worker Michael Peck, who has lost his job with Chrysler and now his home, gives an interview to a reporter, we learn about the history of the auto industry and the devastating effects that its decline have had on its workers, who used to be proud members of a specialized industry, but who are now without purpose.
The Strange Thing About the Johnsons, directed by Ari Aster: This very black comedy--and I'm talking about the genre, not the all African American cast :) --tells the story of an aberrant relationship between a father and son. If I said anymore, I'd ruin it. Let's just say you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll throw up in your mouth a little bit...or a lot.
The movies were all awesome, but almost cooler was listening to the filmmakers talk about making their films.
When asked what the hardest thing about making films in LA is, Phil Bache, founder of New Philms, and director of Cage Switch, said, "The hardest thing about making films in LA is LA. The huge studios are right here, you can touch them, but getting on the other side of the wall is a challenge." Phil also shared that this was his first short, which he did on a budget of $1000. He said that he didn't see the points of shorts because with the amount of time on preproduction and, sometimes, money that one spends, you could just as easily do a feature. Philip has produced two features and has others in the words, and has managed to stretch low budgets into high production value.
Michael Karman, who wrote and played Atticus Walker, when asked what are the challenges of writing AND directing AND acting in his film, he basically said, "Writing was ok because I knew the character really well and I knew the lines better because I wrote them, and the acting was fine because the character was kind of Schizo and paranoid, and this process made me that way, so that wasn't hard, but I wouldn't recommend doing them all. Acting is a 100% gig, and directing is a 100% gig." The film got a huge reception from the audience. The laughter was pretty much consistent throughout. Many of us who put ourselves out there as artists have our own giant green monsters to contend with, and this is a film that definitely hits home for a lot of us.
When asked how Tami Tamar Sasson was inspired with the idea and theme of her music video, first she admitted that she was prompted by an assignment for a pitch to get into a music video production class. But, once she made the decision to do the project, it took some imagination to get the wheels turning. She said, "I basically zoned out and listened to the song 1000 times and went back to my childhood and red-riding hood, and it grew from there."
James Breen, an AFI graduate, who wrote and directed Happy Birthday Michael Peck, is a native of Detroit and saw the effects of the changing auto industry had on the city and the workers, and just thought that it was a story that needed to be told. His goal was to entertain, but also educate people about the auto industry, unions, and protests.
Ari Aster,another AFI graduate and writer/director of The Strange Thing about the Johnsons, explained in his dry wit, that his film concept was sparked was sitting around with his college friends talking about what the worst, most taboo thing they could make a movie about would be, "and this was pretty much what we came up with." The relationship between Billy Mayo as Sidney Johnson and Brandon Greenhouse as Isaiah Johnson twists and warps the concept of what it means to be father and son.
The one thing that all of the filmmakers could agree on is that the best part about making films is working with good people. Ari and Brandon Greenhouse were students together at the University of Santa Fe, which is known for a studio used often by big budget Hollywood productions. Philip Bache and his producer Brian Manning were friends for a long time and this is their first project together. The process of creating a film is grueling and you want to make sure you like the people you're in the trenches with.
Tony Shaloub's line from Barton Fink about writers in Hollywood, applies to independent filmmakers too: "Jesus, throw a rock in here, you'll hit one. And do me a favor, Fink: throw it hard." But the six films from the New Filmmakers even last night have well earned their right to play on the big screen in tinseltown, and their makers are definitely players to keep your eye on.
Personally, I would kill for a chance to work with Scorsese or the Coen Brothers, but I know that it's equally important to get to know talented directors and producers who are also just starting their journeys.
So, last night, I decided to attend the New Filmmakers LA red carpet event and screening. This two-night event is held several times a year on the the Sunset Gower lot, and features documentary and narrative shorts from up and coming filmmakers.
The bill for the evening included:
The Extraordinary Fight of Atticus Walker and the Monster in his Mind: , written by, directed by, and starring Michael Karman: A comedy about Atticus Walker, a talented writer who is perpetually tortured by a big green monster, which Atticus must overcome if he is to make anything of his life.
Marigolds, directed by Stephanie Zari: When her adult son calls announcing that he is coming for a visit and bringing his girlfriend, an English housewife must rouse herself from a depression caused by a loveless marriage and an unwillingness to accept that her son has grown up, and come to terms with change.
Cage Shift, directed by Philip Bache: A magician Houdini-like prowess is held hostage by a mobster who demands to know how the magician does his most astounding tricking in the hopes of using it to his own advantage.
Spectrum of the Sky, directed by Tami Tamar Sasson: An absolutely mesmerizing cello rock music video which paints the picture of a tragic love triangle between Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf, and a handsome but hateful prince.
Happy Birthday Michael Peck: As fourth-generation American auto-worker Michael Peck, who has lost his job with Chrysler and now his home, gives an interview to a reporter, we learn about the history of the auto industry and the devastating effects that its decline have had on its workers, who used to be proud members of a specialized industry, but who are now without purpose.
The Strange Thing About the Johnsons, directed by Ari Aster: This very black comedy--and I'm talking about the genre, not the all African American cast :) --tells the story of an aberrant relationship between a father and son. If I said anymore, I'd ruin it. Let's just say you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll throw up in your mouth a little bit...or a lot.
The movies were all awesome, but almost cooler was listening to the filmmakers talk about making their films.
When asked what the hardest thing about making films in LA is, Phil Bache, founder of New Philms, and director of Cage Switch, said, "The hardest thing about making films in LA is LA. The huge studios are right here, you can touch them, but getting on the other side of the wall is a challenge." Phil also shared that this was his first short, which he did on a budget of $1000. He said that he didn't see the points of shorts because with the amount of time on preproduction and, sometimes, money that one spends, you could just as easily do a feature. Philip has produced two features and has others in the words, and has managed to stretch low budgets into high production value.
Michael Karman, who wrote and played Atticus Walker, when asked what are the challenges of writing AND directing AND acting in his film, he basically said, "Writing was ok because I knew the character really well and I knew the lines better because I wrote them, and the acting was fine because the character was kind of Schizo and paranoid, and this process made me that way, so that wasn't hard, but I wouldn't recommend doing them all. Acting is a 100% gig, and directing is a 100% gig." The film got a huge reception from the audience. The laughter was pretty much consistent throughout. Many of us who put ourselves out there as artists have our own giant green monsters to contend with, and this is a film that definitely hits home for a lot of us.
When asked how Tami Tamar Sasson was inspired with the idea and theme of her music video, first she admitted that she was prompted by an assignment for a pitch to get into a music video production class. But, once she made the decision to do the project, it took some imagination to get the wheels turning. She said, "I basically zoned out and listened to the song 1000 times and went back to my childhood and red-riding hood, and it grew from there."
James Breen, an AFI graduate, who wrote and directed Happy Birthday Michael Peck, is a native of Detroit and saw the effects of the changing auto industry had on the city and the workers, and just thought that it was a story that needed to be told. His goal was to entertain, but also educate people about the auto industry, unions, and protests.
Ari Aster,another AFI graduate and writer/director of The Strange Thing about the Johnsons, explained in his dry wit, that his film concept was sparked was sitting around with his college friends talking about what the worst, most taboo thing they could make a movie about would be, "and this was pretty much what we came up with." The relationship between Billy Mayo as Sidney Johnson and Brandon Greenhouse as Isaiah Johnson twists and warps the concept of what it means to be father and son.
The one thing that all of the filmmakers could agree on is that the best part about making films is working with good people. Ari and Brandon Greenhouse were students together at the University of Santa Fe, which is known for a studio used often by big budget Hollywood productions. Philip Bache and his producer Brian Manning were friends for a long time and this is their first project together. The process of creating a film is grueling and you want to make sure you like the people you're in the trenches with.
Tony Shaloub's line from Barton Fink about writers in Hollywood, applies to independent filmmakers too: "Jesus, throw a rock in here, you'll hit one. And do me a favor, Fink: throw it hard." But the six films from the New Filmmakers even last night have well earned their right to play on the big screen in tinseltown, and their makers are definitely players to keep your eye on.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
How's about a Double Feature at the New Beverly Cinema
I've recently been going through the Artist's Way workbook. The Artist's Way 12-week system is the brain child of Julia Cameron, an artist and screenwriter. Julia developed this process while trying to let flow her own creative juices, then helping her fellow frustrated artists do the same through consultation and workshops. (That sounds dirty...) Someone suggested she get it down on paper and thankfully for me, she heeded their advice.
I could talk forever about this book of baby-steps towards reconnecting with our inner-artist child, but today's topic is the Artist Date. This is actually a solo outing which is taken by completely giving over to what your inner artist wants. It could be to a craft store to get glue and glitter, or to Guitar Center to try out all of the $8,000 guitars with no intention of buying them, or to the LACMA for wine and cheese and a string quartet. The point is to indulge in whatever your senses crave.
So, on Wednesday night, my senses told me I needed a night at the movies. I had already seen everything worth seeing in the mainstream theaters, so I checked the bill at the New Beverly Cinema, a refurbished theater on Beverly Blvd., just off of La Brea Ave. The New Beverly has a colorful history. It was originally a vaudeville theatre in the 1920s and featured such legends of Showbiz as Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, Jackie Gleason, and others. After 1950, it was converted into a movie theater and went through many phases in that capacity, including specializing in mainstream films, then foreign films, and then porn films, complete with live nude dancing acts.
Finally, in the 1970s, under the direction of Sherman Torgan, it seemed to find its identity, playing double features, beginning with A Streetcar Named Desire and Last Tango in Paris, both starring Marlon Brando. In 2010, Quentin Tarantino bought the theatre, but it is still operated by Michael Torgan, Sherman's son. Tarantino said, "As long as I'm alive, and as long as I'm rich, the New Beverly will be there, showing double features in 35mm."
The double bill that evening featured Barton Fink, a 1991 Coen Brothers picture, and Sunset Boulevard, a 1950 Billy Wilder film. The trailer looked cool, so I was like what the hell, and I went for it.
At a little after 6:30 pm, I arrived, as advised, about an hour before the 7:30 kick-off of the show, and parked a couple blocks north of Beverly. The neighborhood is predominantly Jewish, and as I walked south toward the theater, it seemed that everyone I passed was dressed in black and white and headed to Shul. But as I rounded the corner, going left on Beverly, I ran straight into a gaggle of hipsters in vintage t-shirts, skinny jeans, and flannel, and I knew I was in the right place.
As I waited for the box office to open, the line was well down the street by 7. I listened all around me to writers and film-makers discussing their projects, their day jobs, and obscure films as they leaned against the building or sat on the ground eating take-out.
At 7:15, the box office was open for business. Tickets are $6, cash only, or you can purchase them online. The inside foyer is tiny. You can't miss the concession stand and it's hard to deny yourself the pleasure of fresh popcorn.
The theater is sizeable and looks eerily like the movie theater from the last scene in Tarantino's 2009 film Inglorious Bastards. The seats filled quickly.
The great thing about the New Beverly is that there are constantly "surprise guests," famed writers and directors, and even Tarantino himself, on occasion. This evening was no different. Right after our emcee reminded us to turn off our cell-phones or she would, "punch you in the face," she introduced Thomas Lennon and Ben Garant, actors, screenwriters, and co-authors of the book, "Writing Movies for Fun and Profit," with the word Fun crossed out. You know them best as the tight-shorts wearing cops on Reno:911, and writers of the Night at the Museum movies and Herbie: Fully-loaded.
They were asked to choose two of their movies to show as the double feature, but they declared their movies unwatchable, and chose Barton Fink and Sunset Boulevard for their accurate portrayal of what it's like to write movies in Hollywood.
Before the start of the movie, the two guys decided to give away five copies of their new book to the lucky audience members that could pick the Barton Fink quotes that they had included in their books.
Some of the winners included:
"I'll show you the life of the mind."
and
"We're only interested in one thing, Bart. Can you tell a story? Can you make us laugh? Can you make us cry? Can you make us want to break out in joyous song? Is that more than one thing? Okay! "
and
"He's taken a interest, he's taken A interest!"
and
"Jesus, throw a rock in here, you'll hit one. And do me a favor, Fink: throw it hard," in reference to finding a writer in Hollywood.
Of course, every non-included quote that was offered elicited a major grown of regret from Ben and Thomas, who seemed to wish they could have put the entire movie in their book. When they asked for a show of hands as to who had NOT seen Barton Fink, half the theater sheepishly raised up. Ben said, "Ah! I hate you and I love you. Whenever I meet someone who hasn't seen this movie, I'm so jealous. It's like you have some super power because you get to see it for the first time!"
With that, the previews flickered onto the screen: the original Terminator from 1984, complete with robot Arnold, and Linda Hamilton's hair, and Jason Eisener's upcoming 2011 release, "Hobo with a Shotgun."
Finally, the movie began. I won't say anything about it, except John Torturro's Barton Fink had a vague, but uncanny resemblance to the Coens, which supports the story that the brothers had been stuck on a major studio assignment for months, got frustrated, decided to take a break, and wrote this movie in 3 weeks.
Every creative soul should see this movie. You will be on the edge of your seat. You will relate to the anguish and the drinking problems. You will love seeing the likes of John Goodman, Steve Buschemi, Tony Shaloub, and Frasier's Dad in supporting characters.
After the credits rolled, I tried to hang for Sunset Boulevard and the Q and A with Ben Garant and Thomas Lennon, but my artist child was past its bedtime. But, I didn't go to sleep without putting Sunset Boulevard at the top of my Netflix queue.
I could talk forever about this book of baby-steps towards reconnecting with our inner-artist child, but today's topic is the Artist Date. This is actually a solo outing which is taken by completely giving over to what your inner artist wants. It could be to a craft store to get glue and glitter, or to Guitar Center to try out all of the $8,000 guitars with no intention of buying them, or to the LACMA for wine and cheese and a string quartet. The point is to indulge in whatever your senses crave.
So, on Wednesday night, my senses told me I needed a night at the movies. I had already seen everything worth seeing in the mainstream theaters, so I checked the bill at the New Beverly Cinema, a refurbished theater on Beverly Blvd., just off of La Brea Ave. The New Beverly has a colorful history. It was originally a vaudeville theatre in the 1920s and featured such legends of Showbiz as Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, Jackie Gleason, and others. After 1950, it was converted into a movie theater and went through many phases in that capacity, including specializing in mainstream films, then foreign films, and then porn films, complete with live nude dancing acts.
Finally, in the 1970s, under the direction of Sherman Torgan, it seemed to find its identity, playing double features, beginning with A Streetcar Named Desire and Last Tango in Paris, both starring Marlon Brando. In 2010, Quentin Tarantino bought the theatre, but it is still operated by Michael Torgan, Sherman's son. Tarantino said, "As long as I'm alive, and as long as I'm rich, the New Beverly will be there, showing double features in 35mm."
The double bill that evening featured Barton Fink, a 1991 Coen Brothers picture, and Sunset Boulevard, a 1950 Billy Wilder film. The trailer looked cool, so I was like what the hell, and I went for it.
At a little after 6:30 pm, I arrived, as advised, about an hour before the 7:30 kick-off of the show, and parked a couple blocks north of Beverly. The neighborhood is predominantly Jewish, and as I walked south toward the theater, it seemed that everyone I passed was dressed in black and white and headed to Shul. But as I rounded the corner, going left on Beverly, I ran straight into a gaggle of hipsters in vintage t-shirts, skinny jeans, and flannel, and I knew I was in the right place.
As I waited for the box office to open, the line was well down the street by 7. I listened all around me to writers and film-makers discussing their projects, their day jobs, and obscure films as they leaned against the building or sat on the ground eating take-out.
At 7:15, the box office was open for business. Tickets are $6, cash only, or you can purchase them online. The inside foyer is tiny. You can't miss the concession stand and it's hard to deny yourself the pleasure of fresh popcorn.
The theater is sizeable and looks eerily like the movie theater from the last scene in Tarantino's 2009 film Inglorious Bastards. The seats filled quickly.
The great thing about the New Beverly is that there are constantly "surprise guests," famed writers and directors, and even Tarantino himself, on occasion. This evening was no different. Right after our emcee reminded us to turn off our cell-phones or she would, "punch you in the face," she introduced Thomas Lennon and Ben Garant, actors, screenwriters, and co-authors of the book, "Writing Movies for Fun and Profit," with the word Fun crossed out. You know them best as the tight-shorts wearing cops on Reno:911, and writers of the Night at the Museum movies and Herbie: Fully-loaded.
They were asked to choose two of their movies to show as the double feature, but they declared their movies unwatchable, and chose Barton Fink and Sunset Boulevard for their accurate portrayal of what it's like to write movies in Hollywood.
Before the start of the movie, the two guys decided to give away five copies of their new book to the lucky audience members that could pick the Barton Fink quotes that they had included in their books.
Some of the winners included:
"I'll show you the life of the mind."
and
"We're only interested in one thing, Bart. Can you tell a story? Can you make us laugh? Can you make us cry? Can you make us want to break out in joyous song? Is that more than one thing? Okay! "
and
"He's taken a interest, he's taken A interest!"
and
"Jesus, throw a rock in here, you'll hit one. And do me a favor, Fink: throw it hard," in reference to finding a writer in Hollywood.
Of course, every non-included quote that was offered elicited a major grown of regret from Ben and Thomas, who seemed to wish they could have put the entire movie in their book. When they asked for a show of hands as to who had NOT seen Barton Fink, half the theater sheepishly raised up. Ben said, "Ah! I hate you and I love you. Whenever I meet someone who hasn't seen this movie, I'm so jealous. It's like you have some super power because you get to see it for the first time!"
With that, the previews flickered onto the screen: the original Terminator from 1984, complete with robot Arnold, and Linda Hamilton's hair, and Jason Eisener's upcoming 2011 release, "Hobo with a Shotgun."
Finally, the movie began. I won't say anything about it, except John Torturro's Barton Fink had a vague, but uncanny resemblance to the Coens, which supports the story that the brothers had been stuck on a major studio assignment for months, got frustrated, decided to take a break, and wrote this movie in 3 weeks.
Every creative soul should see this movie. You will be on the edge of your seat. You will relate to the anguish and the drinking problems. You will love seeing the likes of John Goodman, Steve Buschemi, Tony Shaloub, and Frasier's Dad in supporting characters.
After the credits rolled, I tried to hang for Sunset Boulevard and the Q and A with Ben Garant and Thomas Lennon, but my artist child was past its bedtime. But, I didn't go to sleep without putting Sunset Boulevard at the top of my Netflix queue.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The Blessing of Boredom
When I was a kid, I spent the better part of the school year yearning for summer to come back around. This usually happened around the second week in September. When that last bell rang and we were unleashed on the suburbs, I felt pure freedom.
Yet, around the second week of summer, that freedom was usually coupled with pure boredom. This was heightened by the fact that television was strictly rationed in my house and I didn't have Nintendo. At the time, I resented the fact that EVERYBODY else got to watch the Simpsons and B-horror-films and play Duck Hunt, but from where I sit now, I thank God for that boredom.
While I was suffering, I learned to entertain myself. Little did I know it, but I was getting some hardcore basic training for my creativity. After I had spent my excessive ADHD energy playing outside or swimming at the pool, My mom would take me to the library and I would take out dozens of books. I murdered reading lists, and devoured as many mystery and fantasy novels I could get my hands on. Nancy Drew, Harriet the Spy, a Tree Grows in Brooklyn, the Martian Chronicles, A Prayer for Own Meany. Books that involved people and places light-years from my own existence, or kids just like me that got the chance to leave suburbia and go on an extraordinary adventure.
Even though I didn't have movies or TV or video games to watch visually, reading allowed my imagination to create its cinematic experience inside my mind. Being read to aloud was even better because my eyes didn't have to do any work and my mind was free to fly.
It was in these moments that my skills as both a writer and an actress were being carved. I lived vicariously through every character in those books. I saw different worlds and different times through their eyes, learned their motivations and points of views, and understood on a deep level people who were sometimes vastly different than myself. Now when I have to create characters that are different from me, I can just go back into the stores of people in my memory and pull up those vicarious experiences to use as the core of my existence.
I recently watched an interview with British Director Edgar Wright, who directed Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. Wright discussed his unique perspective when he said, "growing up in Somerset, England, while it was very idyllic and rural and beautiful, it was also very boring. Being a fantasizing teenager, I would frequently stare out the window and imagine all sorts of car chases and explosives." Now he is making millions of dollars creating all of those scenes that were rooted in these daydreams he had when he probably thought he was dying of boredom.
I was working on a shoot yesterday. It was a political rally and I was a political aide listening to a politician make a speech. It was all extemporaneous speaking, so we never knew what was coming, and at one point while outlining his imaginary platform, Mr. Cheesy Politician announced that he would be instigating a year-round school year. No more summer.
I was supposed to be a sycophant to this man, and it required ALL of my acting chops not to speak out in opposition to this blasphemy. School is important for some things. In an ideal world, school is a small microcosm of our society and it socializes us. We learn to play well with others in an organized setting. We learn to respect authority. We learn tools to help us navigate the world. We learn the story of our world, so we can understand where we come from so we know where we're headed. We make life-long friendships. We learn how to handle mean girls and bullies. We learn about things like sex and drugs from our peers instead of our parents. I could go on about the value of school, despite my own love/hate relationship with the academic system.
However, for creative people, in most cases, school is a place where our imagination is caged. We must stay at our desks and pay attention, even after the point has been made and received, when our brains really want to travel to distant lands and dream up characters or our bodies need to dance and move or our voices need to sing or our hands need to tinker with old computer parts.
Some of the names that will go down in history as the greatest innovators of our time: Einstein, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Michael Jordan, the Beatles, even Mark Zuckerberg...these people didn't make their contributions as part of a school project. They made them by having the quiet moments to hear the inspiration and then the time to follow the spark.
The more school there is, the more standardized it becomes, the less freedom the creativity has to exercise its muscles. It doesn't help that schools across the country are cutting the arts out of the curriculum altogether. This could have vast societal consequences: less innovation, a stagnation in the arts, and a rise in reality TV.
Don't get me wrong, I love movies. LOVE them. And, as for T.V., I watch Modern Family religiously. I can even get into video games. But, if I had never had those long stretches of boredom in my youth without every moment being filled with external sensory stimulation, I may never even have realized what my mind was capable of.
Thankfully, now that I'm an adult, at least in terms of my age, I've come to realize that boredom is just alerting us to the gift of nothing to do but dream.
Yet, around the second week of summer, that freedom was usually coupled with pure boredom. This was heightened by the fact that television was strictly rationed in my house and I didn't have Nintendo. At the time, I resented the fact that EVERYBODY else got to watch the Simpsons and B-horror-films and play Duck Hunt, but from where I sit now, I thank God for that boredom.
While I was suffering, I learned to entertain myself. Little did I know it, but I was getting some hardcore basic training for my creativity. After I had spent my excessive ADHD energy playing outside or swimming at the pool, My mom would take me to the library and I would take out dozens of books. I murdered reading lists, and devoured as many mystery and fantasy novels I could get my hands on. Nancy Drew, Harriet the Spy, a Tree Grows in Brooklyn, the Martian Chronicles, A Prayer for Own Meany. Books that involved people and places light-years from my own existence, or kids just like me that got the chance to leave suburbia and go on an extraordinary adventure.
Even though I didn't have movies or TV or video games to watch visually, reading allowed my imagination to create its cinematic experience inside my mind. Being read to aloud was even better because my eyes didn't have to do any work and my mind was free to fly.
It was in these moments that my skills as both a writer and an actress were being carved. I lived vicariously through every character in those books. I saw different worlds and different times through their eyes, learned their motivations and points of views, and understood on a deep level people who were sometimes vastly different than myself. Now when I have to create characters that are different from me, I can just go back into the stores of people in my memory and pull up those vicarious experiences to use as the core of my existence.
I recently watched an interview with British Director Edgar Wright, who directed Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. Wright discussed his unique perspective when he said, "growing up in Somerset, England, while it was very idyllic and rural and beautiful, it was also very boring. Being a fantasizing teenager, I would frequently stare out the window and imagine all sorts of car chases and explosives." Now he is making millions of dollars creating all of those scenes that were rooted in these daydreams he had when he probably thought he was dying of boredom.
I was working on a shoot yesterday. It was a political rally and I was a political aide listening to a politician make a speech. It was all extemporaneous speaking, so we never knew what was coming, and at one point while outlining his imaginary platform, Mr. Cheesy Politician announced that he would be instigating a year-round school year. No more summer.
I was supposed to be a sycophant to this man, and it required ALL of my acting chops not to speak out in opposition to this blasphemy. School is important for some things. In an ideal world, school is a small microcosm of our society and it socializes us. We learn to play well with others in an organized setting. We learn to respect authority. We learn tools to help us navigate the world. We learn the story of our world, so we can understand where we come from so we know where we're headed. We make life-long friendships. We learn how to handle mean girls and bullies. We learn about things like sex and drugs from our peers instead of our parents. I could go on about the value of school, despite my own love/hate relationship with the academic system.
However, for creative people, in most cases, school is a place where our imagination is caged. We must stay at our desks and pay attention, even after the point has been made and received, when our brains really want to travel to distant lands and dream up characters or our bodies need to dance and move or our voices need to sing or our hands need to tinker with old computer parts.
Some of the names that will go down in history as the greatest innovators of our time: Einstein, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Michael Jordan, the Beatles, even Mark Zuckerberg...these people didn't make their contributions as part of a school project. They made them by having the quiet moments to hear the inspiration and then the time to follow the spark.
The more school there is, the more standardized it becomes, the less freedom the creativity has to exercise its muscles. It doesn't help that schools across the country are cutting the arts out of the curriculum altogether. This could have vast societal consequences: less innovation, a stagnation in the arts, and a rise in reality TV.
Don't get me wrong, I love movies. LOVE them. And, as for T.V., I watch Modern Family religiously. I can even get into video games. But, if I had never had those long stretches of boredom in my youth without every moment being filled with external sensory stimulation, I may never even have realized what my mind was capable of.
Thankfully, now that I'm an adult, at least in terms of my age, I've come to realize that boredom is just alerting us to the gift of nothing to do but dream.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Being in the Now at Runyon Canyon Yoga
Yesterday morning, despite the imposing white clouds blanketing Los Angeles, a symptom of the infamous June Gloom, I dragged myself out of bed and headed up the street to Runyon Canyon, a beautiful park with a couple loops that take you up to one of two peaks, overlooking a vast stretch from sea to mountains and the entire Los Angeles metropolitan area.
At 8:00 am on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Donna DeCoster leads a half hour meditation before teaching her 8:45 yoga class. You can visit her site, linked above, or friend her on facebook.
It had been a while since I had just sat still with myself without any distractions and the life of an actor trying to start a career and make ends meet can make any sane person, well...crazy. Meditation is a way to observe all of thoughts racing through your head, acknowledge them, and let them pass you by, like ships on the sea or butterflies in the sky. It's a cleansing that few people take advantage of in our information-bombarded society.
So, I got to the green field nestled in the bottom of the canyon, off to the left if you enter the gate on Fuller, two blocks north of Franklin, and set down my mat and sat. Donna led us in a little stretch and started us off, but then our half hour began and all of us were still and silent.
It took a minute to find a position that I could hold for longer than a few seconds. I felt my muscles shaking, as for all the working out that I do, I rarely stay in a cross legged seated position, or Siddhasana, if you want to go all Sanskrit. Finally, I was ready.
My tactic for staying present in the moment was based on sensory awareness. Specifically, I listened to the sounds, taking each one uniquely as it came. I was amused when I noticed that it was like being blind and watching a movie with surround sound. It's funny that my way of relating to nature was by paralleling it to something technological. I heard birds calling to each other, one in one ear, one on the other-side. I heard pieces of conversations and I longed to hear the rest of them, but that was not being in the moment, so I had to let them pass by. When I had observed the sounds and tactile stimuli, I turned my attention inward, to the observer, to the self. I separated myself from all that was around me, from my thoughts of responsibility and recollection, things that put me in either the future or the past, taking me away from the Now. Eckhart Tolle is a wonderful philosopher that discusses different spiritual paths and talks about how, no matter what religion or spirituality you call your own, being present is the key to contentment and peace. Indeed, I felt peace and calm that I had not experienced in sometime.
Before I knew it, Donna was gently calling us out of our meditations. When we were all back into reality, she asked us to share. Many people talked about the difficulties of sitting and being present. At least we're not alone in our restlessness. One girl was very organized in her dealings with her thoughts. As she had a thought, she categorized it as either a past or future dwelling, and visualized her past thoughts passing her by her left shoulder, and her future thoughts by her right as she imagined herself staying between the buoys in the present. Donna said the sharing is her favorite part because hearing other peoples' techniques can help us find new ways to connect with ourselves.
After meditation, many more people came out with their mats and we started a yoga practice. There are several donation-based yoga classes held each day. The teachers are very different, some teach a very fast flow, which can be a great cardio work-out. Donna teaches a Vinyasa, which connects movement to breath, that is a beautiful balance of strength-building and relaxation. She goes at a nice pace, fast enough to work up a light sweat, but slow enough that you can explore your edge and go deep into your body, feeling every tight spot in your muscles and connective tissue and work out of it.
Donna has a radiance that permeates the space and her light seems to ignite the light in others. I felt so cleansed and alive when I was done. I knew my own light was shining brightly too, as I got a big Namaste and hug from another yogi that I had never met before. Doing yoga on the uneven terrain of the green is wonderful practice for developing balance. Afterall, that's what our bodies are designed to do. Sometimes with the shoes we wear and our flat pavement and floors, our bodies don't have to use those balancing muscles and they get a little rusty. The fresh air and sensory variety cleanse the lungs and activate different parts of the brain. Being surrounded by green is proven to have a calming effect on people.
One of my favorite quotes is this:
"Having spent the better part of my life trying either to relive the past or experience the future before it arrives, I have come to believe that in between these two extremes is peace."-anonymous
Getting a good meditation and yoga practice in in the morning is one of the best ways to recharge the battery so you can be productive and avoid being overwhelmed by the daily grind. And what better way than in a gorgeous outdoor setting with a wonderful group of people. You can even get your cardio in afterwards with a hike up the mountain.
You can find more information about Runyon Canyon Yoga by joining their facebook page at:
Namaste :)
At 8:00 am on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Donna DeCoster leads a half hour meditation before teaching her 8:45 yoga class. You can visit her site, linked above, or friend her on facebook.
It had been a while since I had just sat still with myself without any distractions and the life of an actor trying to start a career and make ends meet can make any sane person, well...crazy. Meditation is a way to observe all of thoughts racing through your head, acknowledge them, and let them pass you by, like ships on the sea or butterflies in the sky. It's a cleansing that few people take advantage of in our information-bombarded society.
So, I got to the green field nestled in the bottom of the canyon, off to the left if you enter the gate on Fuller, two blocks north of Franklin, and set down my mat and sat. Donna led us in a little stretch and started us off, but then our half hour began and all of us were still and silent.
It took a minute to find a position that I could hold for longer than a few seconds. I felt my muscles shaking, as for all the working out that I do, I rarely stay in a cross legged seated position, or Siddhasana, if you want to go all Sanskrit. Finally, I was ready.
My tactic for staying present in the moment was based on sensory awareness. Specifically, I listened to the sounds, taking each one uniquely as it came. I was amused when I noticed that it was like being blind and watching a movie with surround sound. It's funny that my way of relating to nature was by paralleling it to something technological. I heard birds calling to each other, one in one ear, one on the other-side. I heard pieces of conversations and I longed to hear the rest of them, but that was not being in the moment, so I had to let them pass by. When I had observed the sounds and tactile stimuli, I turned my attention inward, to the observer, to the self. I separated myself from all that was around me, from my thoughts of responsibility and recollection, things that put me in either the future or the past, taking me away from the Now. Eckhart Tolle is a wonderful philosopher that discusses different spiritual paths and talks about how, no matter what religion or spirituality you call your own, being present is the key to contentment and peace. Indeed, I felt peace and calm that I had not experienced in sometime.
Before I knew it, Donna was gently calling us out of our meditations. When we were all back into reality, she asked us to share. Many people talked about the difficulties of sitting and being present. At least we're not alone in our restlessness. One girl was very organized in her dealings with her thoughts. As she had a thought, she categorized it as either a past or future dwelling, and visualized her past thoughts passing her by her left shoulder, and her future thoughts by her right as she imagined herself staying between the buoys in the present. Donna said the sharing is her favorite part because hearing other peoples' techniques can help us find new ways to connect with ourselves.
After meditation, many more people came out with their mats and we started a yoga practice. There are several donation-based yoga classes held each day. The teachers are very different, some teach a very fast flow, which can be a great cardio work-out. Donna teaches a Vinyasa, which connects movement to breath, that is a beautiful balance of strength-building and relaxation. She goes at a nice pace, fast enough to work up a light sweat, but slow enough that you can explore your edge and go deep into your body, feeling every tight spot in your muscles and connective tissue and work out of it.
Donna has a radiance that permeates the space and her light seems to ignite the light in others. I felt so cleansed and alive when I was done. I knew my own light was shining brightly too, as I got a big Namaste and hug from another yogi that I had never met before. Doing yoga on the uneven terrain of the green is wonderful practice for developing balance. Afterall, that's what our bodies are designed to do. Sometimes with the shoes we wear and our flat pavement and floors, our bodies don't have to use those balancing muscles and they get a little rusty. The fresh air and sensory variety cleanse the lungs and activate different parts of the brain. Being surrounded by green is proven to have a calming effect on people.
One of my favorite quotes is this:
"Having spent the better part of my life trying either to relive the past or experience the future before it arrives, I have come to believe that in between these two extremes is peace."-anonymous
Getting a good meditation and yoga practice in in the morning is one of the best ways to recharge the battery so you can be productive and avoid being overwhelmed by the daily grind. And what better way than in a gorgeous outdoor setting with a wonderful group of people. You can even get your cardio in afterwards with a hike up the mountain.
You can find more information about Runyon Canyon Yoga by joining their facebook page at:
Namaste :)
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Be who you are and be that well.
I recently had a chance to visit my grandparents, Tutu and Grandpa, who live in Pennsylvania and whom I get to see about once a year. These two people are probably the greatest role-models I know. A doctor and nurse duo, their romance was and is something of a fairytale. Honestly, having that to live up to is more of a gauntlet for any of my prospective suitors than the influence Disney movies have had on my hopelessly romantic notions.
They met while she was in nursing school and he in medical school. They were married a week before my grandfather was to ship out to a tour of duty in the Philippines as an doctor in the Army during the Korean War. They spent their honeymoon driving cross-country to California before she kissed him goodbye, and, then, they didn't see each other for a year. My grandmother took six planes from Buffalo to Philippines and they finally could be together.
They have been inseparable ever since. They had two kids, my uncle and my mom, and settled on a tranquil estate overlooking Lake Erie with a pool and a cabin and an orchard and a garden and tons of trees and places to explore. That place was paradise to us. It was a warm and welcoming home-base for nieces, nephews cousins, grandparents, and friends.
When they decided to sell their home in 2002, I was 18. I was the only kid in any generation that had spent exactly my entire childhood there, and having to say goodbye was one of the most painful losses I've ever endured. Even my own childhood home did not have that effect on me.
But if it was hard for me, I can only imagine how much it hurt my grandmother. And I can only imagine it because she keeps it all inside. Not in an angry way or a trapped way, like we can witness in a lot of people, but a sort of acceptance and faith that the pain is part of a grand plan and we just have to trust it, no matter how bad it hurts.
I recently had a chance to visit my grandparents and spend a precious couple days with them all to myself---for the first time since I was a kid and I got in trouble for convincing them to take me to McDonald's for chicken nugget Happy Meals, which was strictly forbidden by my mom who produced a show called, "The Health Show" on ABC.
We had one big day out while I was there. We went to an award-winning IMAX movie called "Wild Ocean" at the Tom Ridge Environmental Center. A few minutes into the film, I heard snoring on both sides of me, but didn't have the heart to wake either one of them. To be fair, my assessment of the film was that it really should have been titled, "Mild Ocean: a Sardine Story."
For lunch, we went to Sara's Diner and sampled curly fries and onion rings and hot dogs and milkshakes. Towering above us was the Blue Streak roller coaster at the Waldameer Amusement Park, where I took my first ride as a kid.
We picked up some donuts at H & K DO Nut Shop--another thing we just don't do when my mom rules the roost.
It was all going pretty well, but I could feel the winds begin to change. My grandfather turned down the country road toward their old house. When my grandmother realized what he was doing, she simply said, "I don't want to go there, Chuck," and when he pressed, she said, "We're not going there."
With that, he turned around. He asked if she'd like to go visit her parents. She said yes. Now, I have always had a major problem with cemeteries. The last time I had to visit one to see one of my relatives, I was 12, and my grandmother had died the year before. I threw a tantrum and refused to get out of the car. But, I wasn't 12 anymore, so I had to suck it up and be a grown-up.
We pulled up on the side of the rode, and immediately the tears began to stream from my eyes. It was literally like there was a faucet on behind my eyeballs that I couldn't turn off. So, I didn't fight it. I just kept my sunglasses on.
My grandmother got out of the car and shuffled, light blue pant suit, purse over forearm, across the grass to the flat twin stones of her mother and father, who had both died before I was born. The way she moved was so peaceful and quiet. She knelt down and touched the stones with her arthritic, but beautifully manicured hands, it was so gentle, almost like a child examining a butterfly.
Then, she began to clear off some weeds and grass clippings that had been scattered across the graves. Although I felt almost crushed by the sadness I could feel coming from her, and certainly couldn't stop my own flow of tears, I knelt down and helped. Though I felt the sadness, I could also feel the love that she had for her parents, felt how much she missed them, but also felt her faith that someday they'd all be together again in a happy place. And at that moment, I felt happy too.
Today, I was having a conversation with a dear friend of mine about losing loved ones, and for some reason, even though I've always been a skeptic, I have the same kind of view of death as my grandmother. I miss those that I've lost so deeply and I can't help but cry, but I have faith that their spirits are free and happy and flying. I feel peace in cemeteries, even though it hurts.
Now, I can talk about visiting that cemetery, as well as the cemetery where my grandparents will have their final resting place, which was also part of our Grand Day Out, with almost a giggle. As Charlie Chaplin said, "What is tragedy in a close-up, is comedy in a long-shot." Never did I imagine that after a morning of milkshakes, donuts and movies would end with a visit to two different cemeteries.
Tonight, when recounting the tale, I had the urge to jump up and re-enact that scene with my grandmother in the cemetery. I assumed her cute little shuffle, and did just as she has done, kneeling and gently touching the inivisible stones and brushing them off. When I looked over, my friend's eyes were brimming with tears, which shocked me at first, because I thought of it as kind of silly.
But then, I realized, that she was having the same reaction to my representation of my grandmother as I had had when the moment first occurred. I had embodied my grandmother in that moment and had triggered emotion in someone who has never even met her.
And it dawned on me is that that is exactly what we do as actors. When we first get a role, we learn about these characters that have either lived or been created from the imagination of a writer. We observe them or imagine how they move, talk, dream, think, behave.
In these observations, we have these visceral reactions--we feel pain, joy, sorrow, hilarity. We make judgments and choices. Our combinations and interpretations are endless, but the thing that all of our characters have in common is that they are human. Even the monsters and animals in movies and books have aspects of humanity, and that is why we care.
And then, after we've had our cries or our laughs at the expense of these characters, we must stop being the observers and the watchers, and become the observed. Embody the character. Our job is not to make sure the audience feels a certain way about our characters, but to relinquish that choice to the audience. If the viewers believe us, believe what they are seeing, the character will appeal to some aspect of their humanity and they will have a visceral reaction of their own. But, that is out of our hands.
As someone who has always been very aware of peoples' feelings and reactions to my own actions, a problem I've had is being too concerned with whether the audience approves of my interpretation of a character. Whether I'm doing it right.
But I realize that there is no way I could possibly make sure that every audience member had the same reaction to what I was doing, and that trying to somehow control their reaction as a whole or please everyone is just plain stupid.
So, that little moment really made me realize that as actors, we must politely say, "With all due respect, right now, I don't give a damn about what you think. I'm just living my life here. Make of it what you will." Otherwise, our objectives will to be please the audience, rather than to fight for what our character needs and wants and craves. And that is a lose, lose, lose situation for everyone--actor, character, and audience.
As St. Francis de Sales, the patron saint of my high school said, "Be who you are, and be that well."
I think he's got something there.
They met while she was in nursing school and he in medical school. They were married a week before my grandfather was to ship out to a tour of duty in the Philippines as an doctor in the Army during the Korean War. They spent their honeymoon driving cross-country to California before she kissed him goodbye, and, then, they didn't see each other for a year. My grandmother took six planes from Buffalo to Philippines and they finally could be together.
They have been inseparable ever since. They had two kids, my uncle and my mom, and settled on a tranquil estate overlooking Lake Erie with a pool and a cabin and an orchard and a garden and tons of trees and places to explore. That place was paradise to us. It was a warm and welcoming home-base for nieces, nephews cousins, grandparents, and friends.
When they decided to sell their home in 2002, I was 18. I was the only kid in any generation that had spent exactly my entire childhood there, and having to say goodbye was one of the most painful losses I've ever endured. Even my own childhood home did not have that effect on me.
But if it was hard for me, I can only imagine how much it hurt my grandmother. And I can only imagine it because she keeps it all inside. Not in an angry way or a trapped way, like we can witness in a lot of people, but a sort of acceptance and faith that the pain is part of a grand plan and we just have to trust it, no matter how bad it hurts.
I recently had a chance to visit my grandparents and spend a precious couple days with them all to myself---for the first time since I was a kid and I got in trouble for convincing them to take me to McDonald's for chicken nugget Happy Meals, which was strictly forbidden by my mom who produced a show called, "The Health Show" on ABC.
We had one big day out while I was there. We went to an award-winning IMAX movie called "Wild Ocean" at the Tom Ridge Environmental Center. A few minutes into the film, I heard snoring on both sides of me, but didn't have the heart to wake either one of them. To be fair, my assessment of the film was that it really should have been titled, "Mild Ocean: a Sardine Story."
For lunch, we went to Sara's Diner and sampled curly fries and onion rings and hot dogs and milkshakes. Towering above us was the Blue Streak roller coaster at the Waldameer Amusement Park, where I took my first ride as a kid.
We picked up some donuts at H & K DO Nut Shop--another thing we just don't do when my mom rules the roost.
It was all going pretty well, but I could feel the winds begin to change. My grandfather turned down the country road toward their old house. When my grandmother realized what he was doing, she simply said, "I don't want to go there, Chuck," and when he pressed, she said, "We're not going there."
With that, he turned around. He asked if she'd like to go visit her parents. She said yes. Now, I have always had a major problem with cemeteries. The last time I had to visit one to see one of my relatives, I was 12, and my grandmother had died the year before. I threw a tantrum and refused to get out of the car. But, I wasn't 12 anymore, so I had to suck it up and be a grown-up.
We pulled up on the side of the rode, and immediately the tears began to stream from my eyes. It was literally like there was a faucet on behind my eyeballs that I couldn't turn off. So, I didn't fight it. I just kept my sunglasses on.
My grandmother got out of the car and shuffled, light blue pant suit, purse over forearm, across the grass to the flat twin stones of her mother and father, who had both died before I was born. The way she moved was so peaceful and quiet. She knelt down and touched the stones with her arthritic, but beautifully manicured hands, it was so gentle, almost like a child examining a butterfly.
Then, she began to clear off some weeds and grass clippings that had been scattered across the graves. Although I felt almost crushed by the sadness I could feel coming from her, and certainly couldn't stop my own flow of tears, I knelt down and helped. Though I felt the sadness, I could also feel the love that she had for her parents, felt how much she missed them, but also felt her faith that someday they'd all be together again in a happy place. And at that moment, I felt happy too.
Today, I was having a conversation with a dear friend of mine about losing loved ones, and for some reason, even though I've always been a skeptic, I have the same kind of view of death as my grandmother. I miss those that I've lost so deeply and I can't help but cry, but I have faith that their spirits are free and happy and flying. I feel peace in cemeteries, even though it hurts.
Now, I can talk about visiting that cemetery, as well as the cemetery where my grandparents will have their final resting place, which was also part of our Grand Day Out, with almost a giggle. As Charlie Chaplin said, "What is tragedy in a close-up, is comedy in a long-shot." Never did I imagine that after a morning of milkshakes, donuts and movies would end with a visit to two different cemeteries.
Tonight, when recounting the tale, I had the urge to jump up and re-enact that scene with my grandmother in the cemetery. I assumed her cute little shuffle, and did just as she has done, kneeling and gently touching the inivisible stones and brushing them off. When I looked over, my friend's eyes were brimming with tears, which shocked me at first, because I thought of it as kind of silly.
But then, I realized, that she was having the same reaction to my representation of my grandmother as I had had when the moment first occurred. I had embodied my grandmother in that moment and had triggered emotion in someone who has never even met her.
And it dawned on me is that that is exactly what we do as actors. When we first get a role, we learn about these characters that have either lived or been created from the imagination of a writer. We observe them or imagine how they move, talk, dream, think, behave.
In these observations, we have these visceral reactions--we feel pain, joy, sorrow, hilarity. We make judgments and choices. Our combinations and interpretations are endless, but the thing that all of our characters have in common is that they are human. Even the monsters and animals in movies and books have aspects of humanity, and that is why we care.
And then, after we've had our cries or our laughs at the expense of these characters, we must stop being the observers and the watchers, and become the observed. Embody the character. Our job is not to make sure the audience feels a certain way about our characters, but to relinquish that choice to the audience. If the viewers believe us, believe what they are seeing, the character will appeal to some aspect of their humanity and they will have a visceral reaction of their own. But, that is out of our hands.
As someone who has always been very aware of peoples' feelings and reactions to my own actions, a problem I've had is being too concerned with whether the audience approves of my interpretation of a character. Whether I'm doing it right.
But I realize that there is no way I could possibly make sure that every audience member had the same reaction to what I was doing, and that trying to somehow control their reaction as a whole or please everyone is just plain stupid.
So, that little moment really made me realize that as actors, we must politely say, "With all due respect, right now, I don't give a damn about what you think. I'm just living my life here. Make of it what you will." Otherwise, our objectives will to be please the audience, rather than to fight for what our character needs and wants and craves. And that is a lose, lose, lose situation for everyone--actor, character, and audience.
As St. Francis de Sales, the patron saint of my high school said, "Be who you are, and be that well."
I think he's got something there.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Better Luck Next Time
During my intensive actor training, I had the pleasure of playing some unbelievable characters. Cold-hearted villainesses, widowed queens, champions of the wrongly accused. These women--Lady Anne, Natalya Petrovna, Evelyn from the Shape of Things, to name a few--were complicated, with layers of secrets, motivations and wants. After the gauntlet of emotional jumping jacks and squat-thrusts they put me through at the Academy, I am confident that I can tackle any dramatic challenge that you can throw at me.
So, when I got an invitation to audition for "Sassy/Fun woman who gets excited when she wins money at the Casino table," I was like, piece of cake, right? Let's see. I'm already Sassy/Fun. And, I'm a woman. Uh-oh...I have never won money at a casino table. But, I KNOW I'd be excited if I did!
Homework, Done.
So, I put on my most adorable high-rolling attire and headed to Beverly Hills for the audition. They had made it very clear to me that it was important that I be punctual, as they had chosen me as one of an elite group of Sassy/Fun girls. So, I left super early, which turned out to be a good instinct because traffic on Santa Monica was horrendous. It didn't occur to me just how horrendous til I noticed the driver sitting in the car next to me staring at me and I looked down and realized that I was SLAMMING the edges of my steering wheel to the beat of Santana's "Oye Como Vas." Ok, Breathe in pink, Breathe out blue, Shannon.
Anyway, finally, I got to Nic's Martini Bar, where the audition was being held. I noticed a giant gaggle of women, all of whom looked like they could be right at home on a cruise ship.
My heart sunk. They had said I had been chosen specifically out of THOUSANDS of girls and I had felt, well, special. Now, I felt...NOT special. Ugh.
When the free parking lot was full, I almost considered turning around and heading home. But that is just not my spirit, and besides, I looked adorable. Was I supposed to let that go to waste?
So luckily, I found a meter a few blocks away, put on my sunglasses and my straw floppy Sienna Miller Bo-ho hat, and Walked up North Canon drive. It was kind of cool to see people trying to figure out who I was. I'm nobody, I laughed to myself. Silly people :)
But it was I who felt silly when I got up to the massive throng of women. They looked ridiculous packing themselves up like sardines towards the door of the restaurant. And, now I was one of them.
Again, I almost turned around, but they started taking large groups of about 15 in at a time, so again, I was like, ok, I'll stick around for a minute. Ok, 45 minutes.
Finally, it was time to see what was behind door #1.
I filed in with my group of women and we lined up, much in the same way prisoners line up to be executed. The casting assistant immediately ran down the line and picked out all of the shorter, ethnically ambiguous girls, all of them gorgeous, and asked them to go into another line. "I'm looking for a very specific type," she said.
These were the chosen ones who got to go over to the imaginary casino table and cheer about their imaginary winnings. Although, if you think about it, the buy-out was a thousand dollars, so for one lucky girl, it would be a jack-pot of sorts.
But for me, it was the end of the line. I kicked myself for being not ethnically-ambiguous enough. The casting girl, Andrea, did a little "meet-and-greet" for the rest of us, saying "thanks for coming out" to most people, a thinly-veiled consolation prize. She asked a couple people to tell her something about themselves, but when the woman before me launched into her life story, Andrea said, "Um, one sentence, honey."
I had been nervous about that question, so in my head, I scrolled through my entire database of life experience and, I came up with, "I'm from Virginia and I'm a singer," which I held onto for dear life.
Alas, I never got to share my sad story, as Andrea simply asked me for my headshot and told me I had beautiful eyes, before thanking me for coming and kicking my ass to the curb.
Well, luckily that little crumb of superficial encouragement was enough to keep my ego intact, and I exited, giving the well-accessorized mob a wink and a mischievous smile, wishing them luck. I then put back on my dark glasses and floppy hat, and marched, head held high, back to my car, which thankfully, did not have a ticket on it.
Well, the house may have won this one, but in the end, I plan on cracking the nut. :)
So, when I got an invitation to audition for "Sassy/Fun woman who gets excited when she wins money at the Casino table," I was like, piece of cake, right? Let's see. I'm already Sassy/Fun. And, I'm a woman. Uh-oh...I have never won money at a casino table. But, I KNOW I'd be excited if I did!
Homework, Done.
So, I put on my most adorable high-rolling attire and headed to Beverly Hills for the audition. They had made it very clear to me that it was important that I be punctual, as they had chosen me as one of an elite group of Sassy/Fun girls. So, I left super early, which turned out to be a good instinct because traffic on Santa Monica was horrendous. It didn't occur to me just how horrendous til I noticed the driver sitting in the car next to me staring at me and I looked down and realized that I was SLAMMING the edges of my steering wheel to the beat of Santana's "Oye Como Vas." Ok, Breathe in pink, Breathe out blue, Shannon.
Anyway, finally, I got to Nic's Martini Bar, where the audition was being held. I noticed a giant gaggle of women, all of whom looked like they could be right at home on a cruise ship.
My heart sunk. They had said I had been chosen specifically out of THOUSANDS of girls and I had felt, well, special. Now, I felt...NOT special. Ugh.
When the free parking lot was full, I almost considered turning around and heading home. But that is just not my spirit, and besides, I looked adorable. Was I supposed to let that go to waste?
So luckily, I found a meter a few blocks away, put on my sunglasses and my straw floppy Sienna Miller Bo-ho hat, and Walked up North Canon drive. It was kind of cool to see people trying to figure out who I was. I'm nobody, I laughed to myself. Silly people :)
But it was I who felt silly when I got up to the massive throng of women. They looked ridiculous packing themselves up like sardines towards the door of the restaurant. And, now I was one of them.
Again, I almost turned around, but they started taking large groups of about 15 in at a time, so again, I was like, ok, I'll stick around for a minute. Ok, 45 minutes.
Finally, it was time to see what was behind door #1.
I filed in with my group of women and we lined up, much in the same way prisoners line up to be executed. The casting assistant immediately ran down the line and picked out all of the shorter, ethnically ambiguous girls, all of them gorgeous, and asked them to go into another line. "I'm looking for a very specific type," she said.
These were the chosen ones who got to go over to the imaginary casino table and cheer about their imaginary winnings. Although, if you think about it, the buy-out was a thousand dollars, so for one lucky girl, it would be a jack-pot of sorts.
But for me, it was the end of the line. I kicked myself for being not ethnically-ambiguous enough. The casting girl, Andrea, did a little "meet-and-greet" for the rest of us, saying "thanks for coming out" to most people, a thinly-veiled consolation prize. She asked a couple people to tell her something about themselves, but when the woman before me launched into her life story, Andrea said, "Um, one sentence, honey."
I had been nervous about that question, so in my head, I scrolled through my entire database of life experience and, I came up with, "I'm from Virginia and I'm a singer," which I held onto for dear life.
Alas, I never got to share my sad story, as Andrea simply asked me for my headshot and told me I had beautiful eyes, before thanking me for coming and kicking my ass to the curb.
Well, luckily that little crumb of superficial encouragement was enough to keep my ego intact, and I exited, giving the well-accessorized mob a wink and a mischievous smile, wishing them luck. I then put back on my dark glasses and floppy hat, and marched, head held high, back to my car, which thankfully, did not have a ticket on it.
Well, the house may have won this one, but in the end, I plan on cracking the nut. :)
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