Whenever my friends ask me for advice on making important decisions, I always say there will never be an ideal time to pull the trigger. Risk-taking does not come nicely gift-wrapped with a security blanket and bow on top. So in the month of September, I finally practiced what I preached and set out to do what I have wanted to for the past few months: produce a play on my own. After reaching out to my contacts, and doing intensive research and legwork on the entire process, I have achieved what I thought was beyond my reach and will be producing and acting in a play in a Tribeca theater space in March 2012. An actor friend of mine with numerous film and television credits who has wanted to do theater in New York for quite some time will be flying in from Los Angeles for the duration of our show. From applying for performance rights of the play to budgeting to marketing, this is both extremely exciting and a huge learning curve.
Anyone who has ever auditioned can certainly relate to the frustrations of being at the mercy of a director/producer/casting director's whims as to whether or not we look "just right" for the part. Although going to school to continue honing one's craft is very important, I also realized that the best way to get myself out there and have artistic control over the work I want to be a part of is to not rely on others. In addition to tuition spent that would help me grow as an actor, investing in projects that can guarantee exposure for me is equally important.
With a minimal budget, my goal is to show that great artistic work can be done for a reasonable sum of money if all involved are willing to pitch in, roll up their sleeves, check their egos at the door, and learn about all the different facets that go into producing a play.
The months ahead will be daunting and humbling, but I'm confident it will be a rewarding experience unlike any other, especially when the lights are about to go on during opening night. My social life and hours of sleep will be sacrificed, but rarely are goals achieved otherwise. Though I am enjoying the process so much, sacrifice is not even the right word to use. The physical preparation for this project thus far has already given me the confidence to branch out to creating my own film work afterward—another venture I am excited about. My nightstand is stacked with books I recently purchased on producing plays and movies. My highlighters and Post-Its have not been used this much since I was in school, but as I continue assembling all the pieces, I can officially add to my closet a newly acquired item of clothing: a producer's hat!
Jenna Lamia, Los Angeles
This month I've been thinking a lot about casting. First of all, good luck to any actor auditioning for TV pilots, as it seems a healthy percentage are cast by modeling scouts, not people who appreciate skill and experience.
That aside, I have begun to notice a trend among the actors who audition for the show I write, and among my actor friends. Some people are just very "castable," and it's not because they are the most skilled actors. Some people just fit nicely into an easily recognizable type: the sullen Goth girl, the nerdy bookworm, the jock.... When it comes to guest-starring roles on television, these people have an advantage. TV shows often employ generic, identifiable archetypes in their supporting characters. These roles don't have an emotional arc. They are there to move the plot along and not to pull focus. They are the villain, the sexy librarian, or the bookish attorney, and the more easily they can communicate who they are with the least amount of dialogue, the more likely they are to get cast. If they are too noticeable or unique, they will distract from the story at hand, which is not theirs.
This is frustrating for the more asymmetrical, layered performers, who may be attractive but not drop-dead gorgeous, athletic but not super jocks, or blonde but not the ultimate dingbat. Of course, we all employ makeup and wardrobe to suggest the characters we audition for, but when the showrunners are looking for a "dumb blonde," the girl with the platinum curls and breast implants is going to book the job over the dishwater blonde who wears a Wonderbra to the audition. It is frustrating for the more middle-of-the-road physical types to watch (sometimes lesser) performers working constantly, when they always give great readings but can't seem to book a job. Their agents are calling them, not to tell them they need to work harder but rather that someone else was just "more right."
But, as a friend recently pointed out, these less-generic, more-original actors may not book guest-stars left and right, but they are the ones who eventually get their big breaks and book series leads and film work. Can you imagine Tony Shalhoub easily booking guest-star roles when he started out? I can't. He'd stand out too much. He'd pull focus from the series regular because he is so unique and interesting. And it's precisely because he's so unique that he went on to "Monk" success. So you originals out there, take heart. You don't have to look like you stepped off the pages of a magazine to work. It will take you longer to get there, but once you're there, you'll stay awhile.
Ed Stelz, New York City
Are you a left-brained or a right-brained individual? If you said right-brained, you and I have something in common. If you said neither, you're probably dead, and I don't know how you're reading this article.
I have been blessed with many acting gigs over the last few weeks: a pilot shoot, two commercial shoots (one of which is the currently running zombie ad for MyEducation.com, so keep an eye out for it or check it out on my website), and one shoot—of hopefully many—of a scene for my very empty legit reel. With each, my connection to the writer, director, or producer gave me power during the creative process. I commonly tossed on a headset, viewed playbacks of my performance, and collaboratively changed my choices according to what the director and I saw. This is not the norm, so I advise you to be careful of stepping on people's feet to get this opportunity. I solely knew, and had worked with, these artists before. Having this freedom allowed me to see the successes and failures of each of my choices. And that is advantageous to a person with right-brained dominance.
Since I can remember, I've always learned best by doing, whether it was tediously repeating individualized goalkeeping techniques on the soccer field or using a whiteboard to repeatedly write out information and equations for an organic chemistry test. I had to trust my body to feel and to see so as to soak in information to better my performances. Any other way was like trying to understand Shia LaBeouf's highly successful career.
Feeling and seeing my performance during takes has taught me so much more about my acting faults and strengths than any class ever has. Not to say my education wasn't highly beneficial, but it just served a completely different purpose. And we, as actors, are lucky to be living during the technological boom, in which the access to hundreds of thousands of movies and TV shows is only a couple convenient clicks away; in which we can compare amazing performances with our own performances in a matter of minutes; in which we can see why what we did wasn't as good as what they did and where we will be able to adjust it accordingly so that one day it is as good, if not better. So I challenge you, my friends: Take out your HD phones/cameras, and film scenes with your friends. Then compare your takes, your performances, with those on your favorite shows. See how they compare, and openly discuss the differences. It may be an eye-opening experience for you. And it may mean you and I have just one more thing in common.
Deborah Strang, Los Angeles
Each day for 19 years, up to seven days a week and sometimes twice a day, I have made my way over the Hyperion bridge that spans the freeway between Silverlake and Atwater Village. The Angeles and the San Gabriel mountains spread out before me as I drive up Brand Boulevard—known in Los Angeles as the Boulevard of Cars—to the old Masonic Temple at Colorado Boulevard (of Rose Parade fame). It is early fall, and for the past month, the crape myrtle trees have put on the best show yet along the way. I first took this route in 1993 to see the love of my life, Joel Swetow, in a production of "The Way of the World" at A Noise Within. It was the first time I had driven through Silverlake as well, a place that enchanted me then and to which we moved in 1997.
Any day now, my route will change. After 19 years of dreaming, three years of a capital campaign in the midst of a recession, sweat and tears over permits and contractors and politics and mind and body, and backbreaking labor, A Noise Within is coming home to our permanent residence in east Pasadena.
I find the new drive very beautiful. I take the 2 freeway, one of my favorites. I sail toward the mountains, then east to Pasadena, and pull into the Metro station just north of the 210 freeway at Sierra Madre Villa Avenue. I walk to Foothill, turn toward the beautifully landscaped fountains and Edward Durell Stone's 1958 filigree screen wall, enter the lobby, and walk down the grand staircase to the theater, which sans seats feels at this stage like a Greek temple.
Last weekend I met up with brave, generous volunteers and Henry, our new production manager, and together we unloaded one of the first trucks to arrive. The elevators were not yet in operation, but we still managed to maneuver the heavy sewing machines down the stairs to the new costume shop. We stored the lighting equipment in a terraced section beside the state-of-the-art production booth. We roped cable around our shoulders and carried it loop by loop to pile beside the lights.
In the next few weeks the seats will go in, the painting will be completed, the server and computers and phones will be hooked up. Plans are under way for a free public open house on Oct. 23 and a Gala Opening Night on Oct. 29.
This week I begin rehearsals for "Twelfth Night," our first production in our new home in our 20th season in our inaugural year in Pasadena. It has been a long time coming.
KC Wright, Los Angeles
This month has been all about planting seeds. I started a fantastic actors' marketing course, booked a lead in a short thriller, and continued a trend that I started before my big vacation: attending casting workshops and showcases at least once a week.
Let's start with the workshops. I held some reservations about in essence paying to meet casting directors; I was afraid I'd seem amateur, that it would belittle the craft, and that I'd feel like an outsider looking in on the profession. It honestly didn't occur to me that these workshops aren't really about networking but rather learning. There's a lot to be said for getting up in front of people, be it a theater full of patrons or a classroom full of actors, and performing once or twice a week in a workshop format has kept me sharp in a way that rehearsing on my own cannot. It has simultaneously demystified the casting process, made me more engaged with projects in production, and given me a place to focus my creative energy.
The networking aspect of workshops is great as well, but there's really no point in meeting casting professionals if I don't have the confidence to follow through with that connection. That's where Dallas Travers' marketing course comes in. The class consists of weekly call-in lectures, question-and-answer sessions, an extremely active online forum, a binder full of tools to help establish goals, and an overall "can-do" attitude from everyone involved. It's a safe way of engaging with the business side of my career, and it has motivated me to really stretch myself. I have always been an extremely hard worker, and it's unendingly frustrating when my hard work doesn't turn into shiny new acting gigs or amazing agents. But, over the last couple of weeks, I've realized that I have a skewed perception of "hard work," especially when it comes to show business. It's not always about how many hours I put in, how far I drive, how quickly I memorize. Success in this job is much more driven by courage than stamina; I have to be willing to risk asking for what I want. I can't be afraid to follow up with industry contacts. I can't avoid making goals just because I'm afraid I will fail.
It helps that I'm already starting to see results. I booked this short film with a combination of luck, preparation, and follow-through. I loved the script right off the bat, connected with the character, and felt great about my work in the audition room. But it wasn't until I followed up—I sent a very uncharacteristic note to the director and producer about a week after my callback—that I was offered the part. Of course it's not a course I would always take, depending on the project and the people involved, but in this case I truly believe that being unafraid to name what I wanted got me the job.
