East, west home’s best…

Back from the luxuries of LA, and four days of film acting. I appeared in my friend Richard’s short as an up and coming model, interviewed by a slightly manic female reporter. I’ve done a tiny bit of stage acting, and been in a couple of other films but I was curious to experience a genuine shoot. Evidently this is one that was going well and there is something very impressive about a group of professionals getting together in an ad hoc way and doing their jobs. I quickly found out that Josh, the makeup person was a fellow LJer – http://www.livejournal.com/users/alternacub/ . He also has an impressive braided goatee and does an uncanny Jennifer Tilley imitation. The shoot was mostly one location, the house I was staying in so I would wake up at 6, eat the catered breakfast and then get in costume and makeup, shoot through to 1, quick lunch and then shoot through to 7 pm. The main sensation as an actor in it was disconcerting: I was the focus of much attention but in an abstract way – a thing to be lit, or powdered or blocked. Then suddenly Richard would call action and I was supposed to do something. Luckily, the part didn’t call for any real sort of emotional range or invention, I just had to get through it without looking too wooden or weird, which hopefully I did. During the down time the set is like any other workplace – sudden slight dramas flaring and dying, problems posed, problems resolved, people renewing friendships, the assistant director urging people to move faster, people cracking jokes through walkie-talkies. It was not a huge production, but all the specialization makes for many people working on it. By the end, it was shocking to see what had been 11 pages of paper turned into four small boxes of digital tape, ready for editing.
In the evenings I caught up with a couple of my friends in LA: Judie Bamber and Robert Crouch. More on that later, as well as some general LA things.
Worst news: I a particular shot I had to run down the street, and in doing that I fell and fucked up my right hand, pulled tendon or something, which is making it difficult to do much of anything (including type). Motrin, take me away!

0 Comments +

  1. Anyway you could Friendster me, or just reply into my LJ about your filmography? I had no idea you had the acting bug in you. Tell me, have you been typecast just as a model?

  2. I’m ready for my closeup, Mr DeMille

    When I fell down the subway stairs last winter and broke my shoulder, the doctor at my hmo offered me prescription strength ibuprofen (2xs the otc dosage). I smiled sweetly as my good hand squeezed her ample slavic throat and I barked “GIMME VICODIN, BITCH!”

    I hadn’t had my caffeine that day either.

  3. [ donning auteur spectacles ]

    is there a working title? what’s the short film’s plot trajectory and denouement, or is it just 20 minutes of you being objectified? (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and what were you running away from or toward? who, or what, was chasing you?

    pass the popcorn — extra butter, of course!

    (oh — and I have stronger drugs, if you need them)

  4. Re: I’m ready for my opiate, Mr DeMille

    Tell me about it!!! What is it with all this namby pamby perscribing these days? Just because I get instantly addicted to something doesn’t mean I don’t need it. It used to be you had to struggle to get OUT of the Valley of the Dolls.

  5. I want more Dolls!

    Gotta get off, gonna get
    Have to get off from this ride
    Gotta get hold, gonna get
    Need to get hold of my pride

    When did I get, where did I
    How was I caught in this game
    When will I know, where will I
    How will I think of my name

    When did I stop feeling sure, feeling safe
    And start wondering why, wondering why
    Is this a dream, am I here, where are you
    What’s in back of the sky, why do we cry

    Gotta get off, gonna get
    Out of this merry-go-round
    Gotta get off, gonna get
    Need to get on where I’m bound

    When did I get, where did I
    Why am I lost as a lamb
    When will I know, where will I
    How will I learn who I am

    Is this a dream, am I here, where are you
    Tell me, when will I know, how will I know
    When will I know why?

  6. Re: I’m ready for my opiate, Mr DeMille

    Tell me about it!!! What is it with all this namby pamby perscribing these days? Just because I get instantly addicted to something doesn’t mean I don’t need it. It used to be you had to struggle to get OUT of the Valley of the Dolls.

  7. It’s only a cameo in the novel. Dodie the narrator (and possibly Dodie the author) *is* Mina, having not been saved by Van Helsing from an eternity of vampirism.

    Dodie does Los Angeles where she meets Dennis Cooper. And guess who is sleeping on the sofa?

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