Good Followup – It Matters

Are you in a funk because of the audition you think you just blew? The agent who didn’t sign you? The part that seemed as if it was yours, you read for it six times, various Important People seemed to wink to you in the waiting room – and yet it went to someone else?

Throw shit at the wall, scream in your car, cry, sulk, indulge in a sundae, and then knock it off and do the following:

Write a polite and professional followup communication. In a e-world where receiving a handwritten note has become like a having a unicorn walk up to you, I might suggest breaking out the ol’ pen and thank you card, and work up a hand sweat. But the world is as it is, and if you think speed is of the essence, or you don’t trust the physical delivery, a nice email or, god forbid, Facebook message, will suffice. (I got a nice followup from an actress recently who auditioned for a play I’m directing – and even though it came on bloody Facebook, the fact is it landed, I received it, I appreciated it.)  Thank them for having seen you, express enthusiasm for the play / film / agency / project in question, and send it off. Try not to be clever or cute – just write a simple and forthright acknowledgment of the opportunity.

Not only will this help get you out of your sulkitudinous funk, but it does everything to increase your chances of being seen again for a different part later on. This shit matters. Professionalism and an upbeat sincerity does a lot for creating the relationship. Obviously each audition or meeting has the immediate hoped-for result of a job booked or agent landed, but the other result you’re going for is a longterm professional relationship. I’d bet most actors who seem to book more effortlessly than others will tell you that it was on the X’th time they met that casting person that they finally got the job. Not trying to be pollyannaish, but I think people instinctively want to help others, and good followup can help cement your presence in their minds, and they’ll gravitate towards rewarding the professionalism. So the “no” you received this time around can become a very important “yes” down the road, but you need to build the road. I’m overextending the metaphor, but good followup is the pavement for that road.

Get A Grip on Your Finances

OK – so…. Everyone’s got money problems, right? It seems that whether you’re making money or dead broke, there are still money problems. I know lots of people who make plenty of money, and they still have money problems, so it’s not as if making the money solves anything if you’re clueless about what to do with it. So, here’s a link:

http://docs.google.com/View?id=dhn8tb68_10dfp94zhd

It takes you to my renowned (in the small pond of the BHP) “Get a Grip on Your Finances” booklet. There’s nothing in this that I invented – it’s just a bunch of well-known financial principles put together in a sequence and written from a certain actor-friendly POV, since it came out of eight bazillion meetings over the years with cashflow-challenged students.

But since I don’t trust that anyone will click on the link and read it, here’s the Number One Important Item to Change Your Financial Life Forever (and you don’t need to send $19.95 or call an 800 number to get it)…:

SAVE TEN PERCENT OFF THE TOP OF ALL INCOME, AND NEVER TOUCH IT.

This should happen no matter what level of catastrophe you’re in financially. Most people don’t save because they feel they’re in such a fix that they “can’t,” or don’t deserve to, or whatever. But debt shouldn’t affect savings – and no I don’t care that the interest being charged on the debt is higher than the interest on the savings. Savings occurs no matter the fires burning around you. You can be fucked up financially and save 10%, or fucked up financially and not save 10%. Short term you’re still probably fucked up, but the difference is that the saver has decided this fuckedupitude will finally stop. If you owe an ugly world $10,000 and made $100 this week, save $10 and then face the world. It will still be ugly, but the $10 means everything to the future and very little to the present situation. The rest of this post is quoted directly from my “Get a Grip…” booklet.

I’ll just add in up front: Those who make the decision to do this and don’t flinch and don’t pull the savings out to handle an emergency will win. That doesn’t mean the converse is true, that those who don’t save lose – although I’ve observed those who don’t save or constantly blow it usually continue to exist in a month-to-month, year-to-year haze of financial stress, waiting to win a career lottery. On the other hand, those who are able to do this will win – “win” being defined here as “will get a grip on their finances and stop stressing out about it in fairly short order, usually within 12 months.”  Period. It’s just a statistical observation.

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Set up an automatic, recurring transfer from your checking account to your savings account. The transfer should occur once a week. The amount should be equal to roughly 10% of your weekly income. If your income varies from week to week, take an average.

If you get a bigger check along the way, or you have a great week, then you have to manually transfer an amount that reflects 10% of that great week. If you have a regular $40.00 transfer that is automatic, based on $400 a week income, and you suddenly get a residuals check for $1,000 – then you must ensure that you save an additional $100 in that week.

Notice that there is nothing here about a prerequisite that you make more than you spend. It doesn’t matter. Most people raise their eyebrows and say, “I have $500 a week in expenses, I’m making $200 a week. I’m $300 in the friggin’ hole, and you want me to save $20?”

YES. Savings occurs based on income. It’s not based on what you owe. It’s not based on you making more than you spend. It’s based on income. It’s based on any incoming money. You made $10 this week? Or you borrow $10 this week? Or you found $10 this week? Cool, cool, cool. Save $1.00, and then move on to your other issues. Pay yourself first.

Here’s the kicker: Do not touch your savings account. Ever. Don’t touch it. Don’t touch it. Don’t touch it.

DON’T TOUCH YOUR SAVINGS ACCOUNT.

We were all brought up at some point with the idea of “saving for a rainy day.” And this is why most savings accounts are so empty. Many people start the savings action, but the first time the brakes fail on their car, the savings is gone. “Rainy days” come to mean just about anything. Your savings account is not just a “rainy day” fund. Nor is it a new TV fund. It is your FUTURE. The idea is that you will never touch this money. In fact, let’s call it your future account, your prosperity account, your some-day-I-don’t-want-to-work-this-goddamned-job-and-be-able-just-to-pursue-my-friggin’-ART……..! account. Whatever we call it…

DON’T TOUCH IT.

Here is the biggest gut check of the whole program: Most are cool to this point, they get all jazzed up to save, they do it for a month or two, and then….. A rainy day hits. Dental work. Car repair. What do you do? Well…. If you come across a day when you have zero dollars in your checking, $1,000 in your savings/future account, and the rent is due, you will… borrow the money for rent. This is the hurdle. And once you cross it, you’re well on your way, because that means you’ve finally decided: your future is more important than whatever stupid bullshit is happening right now. (And don’t forget if you borrow $1,000, the first thing you will do is transfer $100 to your savings account!)

The concept here is that debt is managed. It may go up and down, but the one thing that NEVER stops, NEVER goes down, is your rate of savings. Ultimately, this savings can be transferred to an investment vehicle like stocks, bonds, real estate, a business that provides you income, etc. But for now, it’s just cash that sits in that account or CD or IRA and accumulates and earns a bit of interest. Don’t worry about investing in non-cash vehicles until you’ve got about $100,000. I’m not an investment advisor by a long shot – I just assume by the time you’ve got $100K in savings, you’ll have worked hard enough and know better what to do from there.

As things start cooking, you can raise the percentage that you save. But don’t get aggressive, save $500 in one week because you’re feeling swell, and then the next week go, “Ooops. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so manic! Part of my charm. I’m just going to remove that $500. That was a mistake.” NEVER TOUCH THE SAVINGS. Because if you touch it once, you’ll touch it again, you’ll go back to thinking that whatever bullshit is happening right now is more important than your future, and then your savings will be gone in no time flat.

Handling debt certainly has its place in getting a grip on your finances, but it’s simply not as important a priority as INVIOLABLE SAVINGS.

Cynema

It doesn’t quite work, because “Cynema” and “Cinema” are homonyms. Visually – okay. Aurally – needs to be “Cynical Cinema.”

Over the last year, I’d say I’ve seen about a dozen short video/film projects that have been conceived of and/or produced, directed, acted in by students or friends of mine, plus a few more via the “Check this out!” entreaty of a Facebook post or what-have-you. I’ve noticed in far too many of them a gravitational pull toward a glib, cynical tone – fully half of them are allied with the mockumentary style that reached its apogee first with Spinal Tap and then with Waiting for Guffman, and recently popularized on television by The Office, but depressingly absent a certain quality to be discussed below.

I think part of why the mockumentary is appealing to low-budget short film auteurs is that it offers relief from certain hoary technical considerations like “good lighting” and “camera moves” – the genre is defined by natural lighting, handheld camera, improvised lines, etc. But when you put poor lighting and jagged handheld camera moves on top of NO STORY and glib, improvised The Office-ish dry humor – this holds interest for about one minute  - if you’re really funny. My problem is that unless you’re going to be better and funnier than those two films or The Office, you shouldn’t attempt it. Those are professionally funny people, and in this business I think if you haven’t been paid to be funny, there’s an awfully good chance that if you tried, you simply aren’t funny enough to be paid for it. Ipso facto whatevero. And then there’s the common offshoot of this tired genre: The mockumentary about The Industry. One of the short films I watched was an industry insider mockumentary about a horrible actor who screws up audition after audition while thinking he’s Marlon Brando. Or the other one about, get this, The Awful Agent!  Ugh. If there’s anything worse than generalized cynical mockumentary tone, it’s that tone applied to the industry. It all just feels terrible irrelevant and clique-ish and narcisisstic. There’s a reason Unscripted didn’t make it past one season – and that was produced by George Clooney, who would seem to know a thing or two about creating successful work (the pilot was shot in one of our theatres, btw). And Extras as well – I think there are 12 episodes total. (Though among others, that one oft-Youtubeified scene with McKellan and Gervais is brilliance in this genre.)

But Holy Hypocrisy, Batman: I love Entourage. Huh? How is this possible? First off – it isn’t mockumentary style. It has a structured story line each season, it’s shot beautifully, and has at its heart a pulsating performance by Jeremy Piven as Ari. No Piven, no tickie, no laundry, no series. (Kevin Dillon’s hilarity runs a close second.) And I loved Spinal Tap and Waiting For Guffman. Huh? Why? Firstly, they are made by some professionally funny people. But I would offer that underlying successful mockumentaries and industry-insider comedies is the factor referred to in the title of this post: They aren’t Cynema.

cynical, adj., 1. concerned only with one’s own interests and typically disregarding accepted or appropriate standards, 2. distrustful of human sincerity or integrity

So a definition emerges: cynema, n., filmmaking motivated (too much) by cynical motives of what will move the creators’ careers forward, at the obvious expense of humanity or passion; cynema is often characterized by mockumentary style, poor craftsmanship, trying unsuccessfully to be funny (or just imitating others’ humor), hitting a visual punchline, trying to nail a tone without nailing a story.

To me, the reason Guffman, Spinal Tap, The Office, Entourage do well is because there is a palpable sense, quite simply, of  joie de vivre. There’s just a raw sense of fun underneath the really good ones. And most of the dozen or so shorts that I’ve seen that attempt the mockumentary style are bereft of joie de vivre. They’re cynical. There’s a nastiness underneath it, there’s a bitterness, and it resonates throughout like a stuck low note on a piano, its volume regenerated again and again because the hammer is not damped down. They’re trying too damned hard to be clever and to hit a tone. Why? Because they think that will be funny or will catch the attention of someone who will move the career forward. And when considerations of tone are overriding story, I think you’re heading down the chute to irrelevance. Without story, there tends to be an aimless non-energy, no forward movement, the pace lags, and thus the only thing you have left to elicit a response is friggin’ cleverness, and as result I feel pandered to. As the viewer, I start feeling ornery, as if I’m being commanded to laugh because…. Why? I don’t know. Because if I don’t, the poor specimen won’t make it onto www.funnyordie.com or some such thing…

But I must confess I think all this relentless glib cleverness and cynicism is undercutting the real potentials of the talent involved. The question I always have, similar to that of my “Shit Theatre” post….: What else could this person have spent the time creating? One of my most common rhetorical questions to actors is, “If someone gave you $1M to make the movie you want for you to star in, what would that story be? And who would you play?” It’s kind of scary how few people have the answers. But I would conjecture that only a small number would answer, “I would take the $1M and make umpteen cynical mockumentary short films, plus one narrative film about how bad my agent is.” I think we’d start to hear about a broader story arc, more in-depth character, more dramas would show up to balance out the comedy, the imagination would take flight, etc.

So the bottom line of all this rambling would be that whatever passion and thoughtfulness would fuel the feature film you’d make for $1M or more, have the same fuel all that you do. A strong story, believed in by all who are making it, told with humor and compassion and humanity, has far more potential to launch you than a cynical attempt to nail a tone or style that is popular.

Doing Shit Theatre

Okay, let me just ask it plainly: Why do so many actors involve themselves with such shit theatre projects? Because we’ve all been there, where we’ve gotten ourselves together to go see our Talented Friend in their play, and we are….. horrified. Right? About 20-30 hours a year at least go by this way. And we come up with something nice to say at the end, get in the car, and rip the experience all the way home, plus or minus what is by that time a necessary drink at a nearby pub. And the most common question is often Why did my friend purposefully associate him/herself with that shit?

Consider me  serious when I say I don’t mean to offend or diminish the efforts of the thousands of people every day who are trundling off to rehearse their latest play. I’m not trying to be cute. I truly respect the endeavor – it’s not easy, and much of the labors involved are motivated by a real camaraderie and enthusiasm.

But why….. why, oh, why….. ? Now this gets very tricky. It’s all in the eye of the beholder, right? I don’t think anyone goes to work thinking, “I’m gonna dedicate myself to creating a complete piece of shit today.” And certainly I’m vulnerable to the immediate comeback  - “Listen, I’ve seen some of what you directed and in my opinion it was shit.” So let’s hold on tight. I’m not talking about a group of primarily dedicated, experienced, professional people who set out to create a story and an experience, and for whatever reason it doesn’t work out  - and  obviously all is subject to Almighty Personal Opinion of the Beholder. No problem. Nor am I talking about a group of perhaps less experienced, less trained, not-quite-professional-yet people who are doing their level best, but that “best” is not yet developed. Beginning musicians still need to start performing at some point, and while it isn’t yet of a professional standard, you’d be an asshole to criticize the effort and thus shut down the possibility of encouraging further growth.

So let me rephrase: “Why do so many talented, professional actors, who should know better, involve themselves with what they know damned well is shit theatre, when they could be doing something else with that time and effort?” Because let’s say you’ve got 5 weeks of rehearsal, 4 hours a day at 6 days a week – plus 6 weeks of performances, admin, invitations, traffic, etc. – let’s add that up to a rough 300 hours or so of your life that will go into Play X. And in my humble opinion, for most of these really talented actors, who could easily be carrying part of a film or all of a good play or really making a difference in their career… That 300 hours is a waste. Now picture putting that 300 hours into training, or even into pure administration toward the film / television / theatre professionals with whom you really dream of working. Because I think if one of those industry professionals actually gets out to see you in this shit play, you’ll have done more damage than good. Even if you’re the only good thing in a shit play, I don’t believe that helps you – you will primarily be associated with a shit play, with amateurism. Better to hold off until you have a really good part in a really good play. Too often we have the spectre of Talented Person Z, doing Shit Play X, spending 300 hours on this thing at the opportunity cost of 300 hours spent on _______.

But how do we get around the subjectivity of it? How do you know a shit play from not? How is this whole entry not just an explosion of snobbishness? Well – again, this is directed toward talented, trained, professional actors – and I believe these people know. And they know early. They knew it was shit the first time they read the script. They know after one week of rehearsal. And then they double down on the bad investment. Why do I assert this? Because most have admitted the same to me on a million occasions when I’ve felt courageous enough to ask. If I know the person well enough, or they take extra effort to extract my honest opinion – I’ll tell them. And most often they know it, they admit they knew all along,  they are sheepish about it.

So it’s really not about an external, subjective, snobby viewpoint about my opinion of shit theatre. It’s about integrity. I believe the individual actor knows damned well they are diving into shit. But they somehow try to unknow this, or they use the ol’ “well it is acting work and all” justification, and I believe they brainwash themselves and violate their integrity for the next 300 hours of that play. So if you believe in the script, in this theatre company, in this opportunity – then go for it. Truly. That’s what we all do – we believe in something and then chase it. But if you know damned well it’s crap – then know it. Act on that. Walk away with the knowledge that better parts are coming your way, better scripts, and that your integrity is more important than this particular job. No one will ever have a shit-free career, but you can at least change the percentages. And when you stand up for your integrity – I believe that is part of this whole career advancement trip. (And shhhhhhh: You’ll act better.)

Opportunity Knocks, But Doesn’t Leave a Note

I detected a more-than-slightly moody vibe last Wednesday in class, and looking to debug the atmosphere, I noticed upon everyone’s return to the theatre after a break the following: three students, all veterans, easy on the eyes, talented, leading lights of the place, had spent the break sitting in their chairs, heads down, glued to their bloody iPhones, playing games. Hmmmm… Whether this was a symptom or cause of the vibe is immaterial. I believe the two exist symbiotically. (From Acting Class: “This computer jazz can affect you if you’re not careful, you can become this inert sponge – sitting for hours, ‘surfing,’ vacuous, soaking up millions of unrelated pieces of information, images, videos – jumbled, jangled and meaningless. Getting all into ‘data,’ rather than your imaginations.”) I believe that the general atmosphere of information hurled at you 24 hours a day, available in full-color megapixel glory via the iPhone (and its ilk), are affecting actual artistic ability and attitude. It’s tougher to get actors to dig in. But it also affects administration and common sense….

Recently, I’ve also witnessed four different script readings, two at the BHP and two outside. And at all four of these readings, there was a minimum of one actor on the stage, reading a lead part, who simply was not participating. Either they had clearly not read the script in advance, they weren’t giving their all, they weren’t enjoying it, they weren’t giving – or there was a very glib vibe where they were kind of entertained themselves by the humor (if the script was comedic), but not digging in with even 20% of the talent they have.  At each reading, actors on stage were whispering to each other or offering visual communication and jokes to each other during the reading. At each reading, there were actors who were late for the reading itself, and breezily unconcerned by that fact.

These two observations lead me to think about opportunity.  I think actors too often prepare for opportunity only when it wears a metaphorical t-shirt with “Opportunity” written on it: an audition, a meeting, something where clearly a job or representation is at stake. And outside that, there can be the tendency to check out. Some will check out because they’re with friends and so the standard of professionalism drops. But that’s where the standard should be raised.  Opportunity doesn’t put its name on a t-shirt. Opportunity doesn’t necessarily advertise on Actors Access. Opportunity doesn’t require a drive-on pass. Opportunity is often standing right next to you – you’ll only realize it in five years when the person you dismissed, ignored, the person you don’t meet or talk to because you’re playing a damned video game, or whose reading you fucked up by not really giving… this person is in charge of millions of dollars for a project. You must kill a script reading, so the director/producers remember you as someone who kicks ass in any circumstance. (Script readings should have no different ethic or participation than an actual performance – this seems to have eluded many actors in LA. I remember back in 2006 a reading of Burn This that was arranged by a friend of mine who wanted me to direct it. The two actors playing Anna and Pale – Katrina Lenk and Justin Cotta – were electric, sensational, eye-popping, and remained that way through rehearsals and production.  To this day, I think of Katrina and Justin every time I direct a show to see if there’s a role for them.)

Opportunity comes from getting your heads up from the damned iPhone and participating with your fellows in class, rehearsal, wherever. Yes, you must be social. No, you cannot check out and bury your head. Bury your head and play iPhone games at home. (I have occasionally banned all phones from the post-class get-together at Dresden, and once quite literally wrestled a student to the ground to try to extricate the phone from desperate, texting hands…..) Get this: the likelihood that you will get a meeting with Spielberg or Eastwood is far less than the likelihood that someone you know right now, who is sitting with you in class, will write / produce / direct / be involved in a project, and will look over a class list for possible actors. You need to be in that person’s headspace, and you won’t be there if you check out. You won’t be there if you’re late. You won’t be there if you’re moody at the wrong moment.  You won’t be there if you are self-involved and nonresponsive. Judgments are being made all the time about you. I had a conversation with the director of one of those readings, and he quite clearly and irritably named three actors in that reading whom he dismissed from consideration for that script, and for all other projects. Will this guy end up doing something really important? Don’t know. Can you afford to be wrong about that? So I think you’d better bet on yes. It’s a win-win conclusion. And it’s not like he told them that they fucked up – he was polite, thanked them, goodbye, talk to ya soon, etc. Those actors will never know the opportunities that just disappeared from their future – they just simply won’t exist. Step back a moment from the endless fascination with apps and games and bullshit on your iPhone and the obvious may suddenly be dreadfully clear: The damned thing isn’t ringing.

Opportunity knocks, but doesn’t leave a note.

Do the Admin You Like

Had a chat with a student this week who ‘fessed up to what I’m sure is a common feeling: “I hate doing the breakdowns!” I get it. The exercise has a certain soul-sucking vibe to it that can wear down mere mortals. I sense that so much of actors’ administration  is too narrowly focused around the breakdowns and its generally low-level opportunities. If you get a queasy feeling from sending out headshots and other promo somewhat randomly, if you get sick at the contemplation of looking over breakdowns that rarely describe anything that interests you, and if you take into account that ideally your agent is already doing this chore for you, then…. DON’T DO IT. The administration of your career should not be a depressing activity! If it is, you’ll never do it!

Admin is sort of like eating vegetables. It’s a pedestrian simile, but downing some veggies will probably do some good things for your health, just as admin will do good things for your career. But if you hate peas (as I do with unadulterated passion), there are a lot of other vegetables to eat that you may like better. Ditto the admin. If you don’t like breakdowns and postcards and Actors Access notifications about a zillion jobs that somehow don’t excite you, then don’t eat the damned peas. You’re released! You’re free! Stop punishing yourself!

BUT….  You must do some admin that does excite you. My opinion is that the best and most effective admin centers around reaching to the actual artists (writers / directors / producers) whom you admire and want to work with. So get creative about that. Many actors who are busy “adminning” away cannot name 10 directors who are working in the business past the usual hit parade of Scorsese, Coppola, Eastwood, etc, and cannot name 5 writers at all. Producers? Forget it. So if you want a basic step to start with, then get the names of 10 directors, 10 writers and 10 producers who have been the creative force behind your favorite film and television work over the last 2 years. That’s thirty people to whom you can start writing, and trust me, you’ll have a lot more fun with that. Those 30 people will probably be creating 100+ jobs for actors in the next year, so you’ll be leveraging your communication toward future possibilities. Don’t just wait for and then wade through the current casting opportunities while remaining blind to how those opportunities were created – and by whom. Hit the creators of those jobs on a consistent basis and thus be on their mind when they create them!

One-itude

Spoke last night with a student who had finished an audition exercise. He sat down and said, with a vaguely pissed off tone, “Yeah, went in for this last week. From The Forgotten. Pretty much did what I did here. Didn’t book it. So.” Now, the fact of the matter was his reading was very good – I can’t tell you why he didn’t book it – I don’t think such ruminations are useful at all. I suspect he read better for me last night than he did in the audition, but it’s not as if I can prove it.

What I did think would be useful was for this actor to realize he’s one of the top guys at our school. In the city.  Funny as shit, angry as hell, can play blue collar, white collar, father, priest, crook, anything… He has created one of the funniest characters I’ve seen for a one-person show – so let’s add in “writer” to the actor part. He also happens to be a fantastic carpenter. Earlier in the year, when I directed The Real Thing, the BHP’s now ex-set designer showed up with my set a whopping 45 minutes before our first curtain, sticky from new paint, and looking like total crap. I called this actor, and over three days the following week, he worked nonstop to rebuild my set from scratch to make it look the way I wanted. Have I mentioned he’s a drummer as well? Yeah. So he’s a certified hyphenate.

And yet this rather kickass individual was moody broody about a fucking TV audition he didn’t get, and his view of life was colored negatively by not having booked this job. So I railed at him, lauding his many talents, his give, his responsibility level, the way the guy can hang a new door, making the point that all of those talents come from one person. One person. It’s not one person who is a brilliant carpenter, but some untalented idiot variant who goes in for a TV role. It’s the same guy. (Remember Harrison Ford’s now famous trip from carpenter to huge star……?) But because we are programmed by money, by the adage that “you are what you’re paid to do” – which, if you will note, has never been said in an effort to encourage someone – the actor will denigrate his or her entire life for not booking a particular job or set of auditions.

This actor emailed me a better sum-up than I could manage: “I realize I was looking at the different aspects of my life (carpentry, acting, drumming, writing) as each in their own box. Seeing that one are was going well while another was not. What you said made me look at it in a different way, that all these aspects are being generated by the same source and are all connected by talent. I also got the importance of enthusiasm, which I need to sustain whether I’m booking or not.”

Costaritis

costaritis, n., a disease whereby normally intelligent, talented actors are suddenly reduced to a heap of blithering self-doubt over the inability to manifest the auditions for, and/or book, TV co-star roles.

Beware this dangerous and contagious disorder! Watch for these symptoms:

1) Secretly hoping for bad things to happen to your actor friends, who somehow, with magical effortlessness that eludes only you, get auditions for CSI: Boise.

2) Working for 10-12 hours to prepare fewer than 6 lines of mediocre TV dialogue – I will not be outworked for this role, you think, as you frantically pace back and forth into the wee hours, creating an extensive character biography and scintillating arc for your role. Thank god you blew off class tonight!

3) A sinking feeling as you drive 1.x hours to the audition in rush hour traffic… you secretly ban the thought from your head, Why am I doing this, exactly?

4) A further sinking feeling as you leave the audition that you came off no more distinctly than a can of soup on the shelf, and you ask yourself, Why the hell are they even auditioning people for this role? Doesn’t the director/writer/producer/DP have a friend they know who can do it?

5) Later that night after the audition: As you stare vacantly at a reality TV show,  you question your life, your choices as an actor, your choice to be an actor, your talent, your acting school, your agent, your manager, your family, your support system, your relationship, the efficacy of those casting workshops you’ve been attending so diligently…

What it the antidote for costaritis? Two tablets of belief and confidence, and a swig of context. I think part of the costaritic depression that affects so many comes from using so little of the relative wattage of your talent, or trying to apply the full wattage to a role that simply cannot stand the scrutiny. The adage is old and tried, and unfortunately true – go for the art of it all. Costar auditions should be comparatively unimportant little flakes of administration that come your way here and there, while you’re dreaming and scheming of far bigger fish to fry. Every time you get  that costar audition, prepare as much as necessary (could be 5 minutes or 50 – time doesn’t mean quality), go do your best for sure – be charming, confident, secure, and bold. Then leave. And go hit a museum, or watch a classic film, or read a good play, paint, make music, go dancing, or…. write a single page of material along the lines of a part you would want to play if they were writing them for you.

There is nothing so tragic as to watch terrific, talented, bright actors of all ages go into a full outbreak of costaritis. There is no known vaccine, but fortunately, it is easily cured!

My Day at SAG

OMG. Yesterday was the date of my meeting with SAG regarding my nefarious (and unpaid) participation in a mini-DV short film, back in friggin’ 2002 (yes, the 2002 that was seven years ago), a film on which no money was spent nor made. I had expected to walk in and, once they realized that no money was made on this film (“Martine,” directed by Mark Gantt), I’d be dismissed with an apology for having been brought in at all. Wrong.

I sat down in a conference room at the SAG building opposite two lawyers, some SAG executive, some actress I didn’t know, and none other than Elliot Gould and Adam Arkin, the latter with whom I had worked for a day back in 1993 on the pilot of Chicago Hope, and the former who had starred in the film Rules of Marriage back in 1982, directed by Milt0n. Introductions were made, and they hand me a printout of screenshots from IMDB, listing “Martine” and various festivals in which it was entered – seven years ago.

First question from Arkin: How did I get involved in this project? My response: “My friend called me and said he had an idea for a little short film and wanted me to play a part – was I free that weekend? I was. I went. We shot it. He’s among my best friends – he was standing next to me at my wedding. To be honest, if he called me again, I’d go again and do the same thing.” Well! This set Elliott Gould afire. “Great attitude. Just great!” he huffed, folding his arms and looking at me as if I killed babies for a living. “This just pisses me off, you coming in here with this attitude! This is bullshit!” he continued. The SAG exec turned her head to him: “Elliott…..”

“Well I’m sorry, but Jesus!”

Arkin: “If you came in here trying to help yourself out in this situation, you’re not doing a good job of it.”

Me: “I didn’t come here to help myself or not help myself. I assumed we’d be having a respectful chat, but if you want, I can play the part you want, go back out, and come back in and apologize profusely, and be all mea culpa. Is that what you want? It certainly seems to be what you’re expecting.”

And so ensued a 45-minute meeting with these people. Back and forth and round and round we went. Some of the lines were amazing. At one point, Gould lost it and yelled at me: “Your loyalty is to US! Your UNION! Not your friend  in the middle of the night, whoever he is! To US! And What we’re FIGHTING FOR!” I made the point that if the Union was in a de facto state of war with its own members, and prevented said members from easily doing what it is they do, which is act and tell stories, and then investigated said members as if they were criminals for not following protocol – well, then the union had lost its focus. I spoke about my life as a pianist, and that I take a good deal of satisfaction from the fact that my music is downloaded all over the planet every day using various digital distribution channels, and that my CDs would never have a shot at being in a CD store, both because how can I compete with box sets of Horowitz, and oh, by the way, there are no more CD stores! I get a whopping $500 a year for these downloads. But on the other hand, I’m having exponentially larger impact and reach with my music. Fair tradeoff to me. Classical piano is not something you chase because you think you’re going to get rich. And that this analogy served for actors – never has there been a technological breakthrough in mankind that did not INCREASE employment in the very area it improved. Yes, the sewing machine replaced seamstresses, but how many people now work in the combined manufacture and operation of sewing machines throughout the clothing industry? Exponential amounts of higher employment – including seamstresses! Does the business model change? Yes. But you can’t stop progress, and I felt that for me to be sitting in a conference room with these people (how much is SAG spending on lawyers and staff for this bullshit – $10K? More?), arguing about a mini-DV short from seven years ago that made no money – this was moronic. There are huge issues facing the traditional  business model in film and TV – why don’t you get to it? I see that ultimately there will be massively MORE employment for actors, and the business model will change, but bottom line is that production will increase. That’s the target. If you’re acting to get a pool in the Hollywood Hills, that’s the wrong reason. If you’re resourceful and smart and hard-working, you can act and make money from other means (as well as from acting), and have a fruitful, rewarding existence in your chosen field. Welcome to the top of the food chain on Planet Earth.

Arkin and Gould insisted that Rule One is Rule One, and seemed AMAZED that Mark Gantt could have called me to go shoot something, and no one thought to themselves to call SAG for permission. Madness! The actress over to the left offered that I was opening myself up to “exploitation” by having done what I did. Whatever. “Mark is not exploiting me,” I replied simply. She countered: “What if Mark had shot that film, and you were unhappy with your peformance? And then it was all over the world? What about that?”

Huh? I thought to myself – you mean I can call up TV producers and film directors now and talk about my performance, and what take I prefer they use? “I’m happy with the performance,” I replied.

“How did this get on IMDB, then?” they asked. “I have no clue,” I replied, and I don’t. I have no idea how IMDB works, don’t care.

“How did this get into festivals?” they asked. “I have no clue. On one them, a friend of ours was the director of the festival, and just accepted our film because we were friends. Scandalous.”

I told them I had posted to Facebook in the morning that I was on my way to SAG and the basic reasons – and had received numerous comments, from SAG members all, about how ridiculous this was. “That is a problem,” I said, “But it’s a problem for you. That’s a perception problem amongst the members of the union against the union. That’s a big problem. No one understands why you’re doing this, why a single dime of their dues is being spent chasing actors from a 2002 mini-DV short film that earned no money.”

They seemed really steamed for a good half hour  - still based on the fact that I led off by saying I would do it again. Finally, I offered, “Look – factually? If Mark Gantt called me today, I would probably say, Hey, Mark, if I do this little film for you, it would be nice that in 2016 I don’t end up in a conference room being yelled at by Elliott Gould, so can we look up the SAG website and figure what to do? Does that help? Because that’s true. I don’t like Mr. Gould yelling at me.” That at least got a laugh, and tensions eased. I continued, “I’m not trying to piss people off, but maybe because I’m not really acting that much anymore, I direct, I write, I teach, I play piano…. Maybe that allows me to be more honest about it all. But I like Elliott Gould. He was a friend of my mentor.”

That stopped him. “Who’s your mentor?”

“Milton.”

“Jesus.”

“I run his school.”

Pause. Then, “You run the Beverly Hills Playhouse, which is probably one of the best acting schools in the country, and you don’t think you should set a better example to your students?!!!”

“You know the book I’ve assigned to my students this year? The Long Tail, by Chris Anderson.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a book that discusses what infinite and nearly-cost-free data storage matched with instantaneous worldwide digital distribution does to various businesses. Including ours. That’s the book I’ve been assigning. That’s what actors need to know. I have not assigned them to read the SAG bylaws. You guys are shoeing horses, and the car is coming.”

“What a minute,” Gould suddenly broke in. “At Milton’s memorial at the DGA, was that you who played the piano?” He was alluding to my performance at said event of Ravel’s pavane pour une infante defunte, one of Milton’s favorite pieces.

“Yes.”

“Oh, that was beautiful. That was beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“How old are you? You have a family?”

I replied with relevant facts, including the existence of my 2-year-old daughter, Zoe.

“I have two sons and a daughter, and a grandchild….” Long pause. “That’s what counts, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Long pause, somewhat peaceful. A connection made – as a director, I loved it. The SAG exec broke in and ended the meeting, dismissing me to wait outside while they discussed my fate. I figured that might take 5 minutes, tops. I waited 15 minutes. To me, that means someone in that room wanted to hang me or suspend me or kick me out of the union or whatever. I was called back in, and told that they had found me in violation of Rule One, but that no disciplinary action would be taken.

That’s what SAG is busy busy busy doing on a Wednesday morning in September, 2009.

“Build Your Own Door and Walk Through It” (Reposted from March)

Apparently I said that to a student a couple years ago. If I recall, she was frustrated on the career front, and this was a response to her saying, “I’m having trouble getting through the door.” My answer was recently quoted back to me by a different student, Mark Gantt, who wrote it down and used it to some degree to inspire him to build his own door. More on what he did below.

I’ve been recommending the book The Long Tail by Chris Anderson to anyone and everyone I’m running into lately. It is an excellent and down-to-earth analysis of the ramifications of broadband internet for commerce and distribution. Why should actors care? Because conventional thinking about acting careers is TOAST. It’s finished. Turn the page. Move on. Witness the current battle between SAG and the producers (which I believe SAG will lose). The world has moved on, and to a certain degree, we can’t be heaving deep sighs about how horseshoe makers are going out of business. The car cometh.

I’d say the vast majority of actors are still operating under the following conventional assumptions regarding career:

1) I will get an important agent and/or manager to rep me.
2) I will be sent out on an important audition for a big role / recurring role / guest star / etc. I will book said job.
3) Said job will be seen by Someone Important, and I will be brought in for another, more important job, and so on and so on….
4) Fame and/or money and/or a career of regular acting work will ensue.

So the actor, even when he or she is trained and has ability (and this is not exactly the norm), is still waiting around for the agent to call them for an audition, and their career administration is geared towards improving that agent and networking with casting directors. The problem is that both the agent and the casting director are gate-keepers whose gates are melting around them. There will soon be no gate to keep.

Actors must become not only masters of conventional career administration (which, while it is still here, should be chased dutifully), but also far more entrepreneurial about creating content. Milton used to bemoan the fact that he wasn’t directing movies any more – he wanted to. But in his mind, directing a movie meant a script being mailed to him, the approval of millions of dollars of expense, and a line of white production vehicles stretching for blocks. I told him once that if he wanted to direct a movie, get a camera, invite his favorite actors to his beautiful home, and start shooting. They could probably improvise something under his guidance that would be better than most scripted films. Hire a guy with Final Cut on his Mac and some skills, and he’d have a feature in 6 months. He looked at me as if I was insane. Ah, well…. I think a large part of his frustration was that he wanted validation, he wanted courtship, he wanted to be wanted, he wanted the romance and the money and the various accoutrements that come with “making a movie.” But when I suggested he could simply bypass all that and just make a movie, it just didn’t indicate to him at all.

I think this is the case with actors as well. Underneath, under much protest to the contrary, there is the irresistible allure of trailers, money, fame, attention. We have to get past the idea of millions of dollars – either for film budgets, or for our own compensation. The fact is with broadband digital distribution on the web, the amount of money to be made will be fragmented over the millions and millions of content generators – so the money you’ll make will be less. But let’s face it – most aren’t making any money now! So instead of the dream of $1 million per movie, how about the idea of a steady $20-50 thousand per year, spread over many products? I think this is good. Let’s see who’s interested in telling a story, as opposed to interested in a Ferrari. If you’re interested in the art form, in telling the story, in moving people or entertaining people with your performance, then the opportunities are only going to explode exponentially. The cost of that opportunity will be demand for higher responsibility – the individual performer’s responsibility to come up with a story to tell. The performer will have to be skilled not only as an actor, but possibly as a writer, as a motivator of others and of organization, and of business, and potentially of other areas of life so they can pull together the rent and car insurance in a regular fashion while they consistently pursue the art as well. The romantic and almost-impossible-to-achieve dream of $1 million a year for your acting services is being replaced by the far more achievable, but you-have-to-work-for-it-and-create-it, $1K-100K for your abilities across the artistic spectrum.

Sometimes when I come up against an actor who’s frustrated about career, I’ll posit the following: “Okay. Let’s make it really bad. No one will ever hire you to act in film or television, ever. Now what? You’re free. No need ever to attend another agent or CD workshop – your employment has been banned. Now what? Are you an actor? What is your Slingblade? Tell me a story.” And it’s amazing how few actually have a story they want to tell. Or a role that comes to mind that would give them everything they’ve ever wanted to play. To me it’s an indication of the innate passivity of most actors. It’s an inertia that must be crushed.

So, back to Mark Gantt. He partnered up with Jesse Warren, a friend from class, and created a web series called The Bannen Way. (www.bannenway.com) Mark used his contacts from years of prop work on sets to pull together many of the production elements. They both collaborated on the writing. They had a RED Camera donated. Jaguar donated one of their hottest cars. Mark played the lead. Jesse directed. They shot two five minute episodes that looked as good as The Bourne Identity in terms of style and visuals. Everything the BHP teaches was applied – acting, administration, attitude. All of it. Major talent was applied. Acting lessons applied. Administration applied. Attitude? My god, no question. When they were done, they spent months sweating over the editing and the creation of a trailer. Pretty much the same day they sent out the trailer (not on DVD, but by link to a website), they had interest from agencies and studios. Then after months more of negotiation and bullshit, Sony has picked it up and will give them a very decent payday, as well as shoot another 18 episodes, with Gantt still playing the lead, and Jesse directing.

The day they signed the contract, that’s when Gantt called me, and quoted a critique I gave to another actor from two years ago. That felt pretty good. “High cotton,” as my southern college roommate would say.