The Hustle

Week 88: Los Angeles, CA

Show business is really 90 per cent luck and 10 per cent being able to handle it when it gets offered to you.
--Tommy Steele


So, several of you have written inquiring about what I may be doing after "Spamalot" comes to a close, and the short answer is, I don't know yet. I also received a question about the business, and how actors go about drumming up work for themselves. So I thought it might be of interest if I write this week about some of that stuff. Hollywood is definitely a place where actors have to be adept at packaging, marketing and selling their product--themselves. It is a very different sort of a mill here, however, compared to New York. In New York, actors literally pound the pavement in their search for work. In L.A., the dance is different. I've learned quite a lot in my time here in Los Angeles and look forward to applying what I have learned to my own shuffle-ball-step.

Okay, so the basic process of the work search can't even be accomplished without a good agent. Your agent knows your abilities and your "type", has a good sense of your body of work, really appreciates your talent and knows what opportunities to pursue on your behalf. My agent is on the lookout for specific roles for me in projects under development. He has access to the industry "breakdowns" which are basically job listings sent out primarily to agents. But your agent can also help you, as mine has, get in and meet artistic directors of theatre companies, or to do a sort of general interview with casting directors, who can tell just from a half hour conversation with you how personable you are and what sort of roles you'd play. I have had a couple such meetings in LA--and this is something I have not encountered in New York. In New York, you meet a casting director when auditioning for a specific part; in LA, because so often your casting is based upon your personality and look, casting directors will invite you in for a "general," which really amounts to a pleasant conversation in their office.

Once I've been submitted to the casting director (the casting director works for the producer and director of a particular project, gathering a pool of actors for consideration), and I am invited to audition, then I receive material to study and rehearse for presentation at my audition. These short fragments of scenes from the play or film, or original song material, are called "sides." I study my sides, I learn whatever I need to learn, and then I go to my acting coach to try out my audition and get some feedback. The day of my audition, I show up at the appointed time and perform my few minute's material for the casting director, sometimes the director and producers of the piece. If they like what they see, they request that I return for a callback audition. This is another look at your stuff because they have selected you for final consideration amongst a field of several actors in the running. Everyone gives their best shot at it, and within a week or so someone receives an offer. Then salary and other specifics are settled via the agent, and contracts are signed. I expect to be doing all of these things myself very soon (especially the "getting the offer" part)!

Actors have to make large investments in themselves and their work search, because we are essentially freelance workers. This means subscribing to trade publications and websites that publish industry news and audition information; maintaining skills through class work or private acting coaching or singing training; and putting together really good head shots and resumes. The head shot is a photo of the actor which, with a performance resume attached to the back, is sent to casting people as a sort of introduction or "calling card" for the actor. Often the opportunity to be seen for a part depends on a favorable response to the photo, so these shots are of utmost importance. This week, I went in and had my head shots taken by a very fine LA photographer, John Ganun, who is also an actor and has a very impressive resume of Broadway musical theatre credits. John and I discussed the types of roles I might be appropriate for in film, in TV and commercials, as well as theatre, and then we chose "looks" which reflected these types. Once I have made my selections from the hundreds of frames that John took, I will take the few chosen shots, have retouching done if necessary, and then have them professionally reproduced. I can also send head shots and resumes via email, which is the way it's being done more and more these days. So, you can see that the process of searching for work can be an arduous and expensive one. Most people in most types of work interview for a job maybe once every few years, if that. We can sometimes "interview" a half dozen times a week, or more! Why do we do it? We love the work. I am reminded of a scene in the wonderful film The Red Shoes, in which the ballet impresario asks the ballerina, 'Why do you want to dance?' to which she replies, 'Why do you want to live?". His response is, 'Because I must," to which she says, 'That is my answer too.' Anyway, in the coming weeks, I will post one of my new head shots so you can see what we came up with.

The end of this week turned suddenly beastly hot. The heat has been so extreme and the weather so dry that brush fires have started up in various areas around LA. This is not uncommon, but it makes for dehydrating conditions and filthy air quality. So, instead of my planned visit to the beach, I decided an indoor activity was in order for Friday, and I made a visit to LACMA, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Every great city should have a great art museum and LACMA is a sprawling campus of seven buildings, a sculpture garden (containing some famous and wonderful Rodin bronzes), a theatre, and a Japanese pavilion. I went specifically to see "Pompeii and the Roman Villa," an exhibition of art and antiquities unearthed at the sites of Pompeii and Herculaneum, which were buried when Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 A.D. The communities surrounding the Bay of Naples were enclaves for the rich and aristocratic in ancient Roman society; a sort of resort getaway for the elite of the time--similar to fashionable seaside resorts like Bath was in 18th Century England, or perhaps as Laguna Beach is today for the Hollywood crowd. In fact, as I strolled through the exhibition I was struck by the similarities to the lifestyles of the rich and famous of ancient Rome to those of modern day LA millionaires.
Lavish villas by the sea with extensive gardens and elaborate pools and fountains were the playgrounds of the Roman elite, and the excavations of these lost cities reveal a high level artistry and skill in the fashioning of marble sculptures, bronze fountains and adornments, silver implements and golden jewelry. The Romans, who had conquered Greece, nevertheless had a passion for Greek art, theatre and philosophy and this is reflected in the kinds of artistic expressions they chose when decorating their sumptuous abodes. Really beautiful exhibit. My favorite part was a gallery of artworks from the 18th century to the present which in one way or another pay homage to the world of ancient Pompeii. Most delightful were the photographs of Eleanor Antin-- monumental, richly colorful tableaux designed to mimic paintings with classical subject matter--but full of anachronism and witty commentary. Really fun stuff.

I wandered through as much of the museum as I could handle in one afternoon. It's a huge institution, and, like the Met in New York, is really a place best enjoyed over two or more visits. I passed through the European art collection, of course, checking out what they had for Renaissance and Italian Baroque works; the selection was small but there was a fine portrait by Titian and a few large pieces by Veronese. The modern art collections were far more extensive, with a whole gallery dedicated to Giacometti sculptures, with their long, thin, nubbly figures; there were also a great many Picassos and fine works representing all schools of modern art.
My favorite piece of the day, I think, was Rene Magritte's The Treachery of Images (This is not a pipe), which is a simple statement about the illusory and representational nature of art. It really made me chuckle. Which I think, thematically, brings us full circle on this blog post. The actors job, as well as the artist's, is to represent, reflect, and replicate life. But the actor also has the task of honing and projecting his own image in a way that will make him attractive and sellable to potential employers. The resume and head shot and a few minutes in an audition room can only give the smallest snapshot of the complexity and dimensionality of the person, the artist. The trick is to find a way to make the biggest and most positive impact in the shortest amount of time, with the hope that it will be enough to lead to a great job. Keeping one's feet on the ground, one's eyes on the horizon, and one's dream close to one's heart can help make the craziness of the quest for work much less excruciating! And so, friends, next week will be my last post from LA. More next weekend.

Crossroads

Week 87: Los Angeles, CA

Once again, I come to my computer without a clue what to write. This isn't really like me, but it has been something of a quiet, introspective week. I have become very fond of my now familiar routine here in L.A., and have not diverted from it much at all. I get up, make a smoothie, hit the gym or a yoga class, run errands, take care of the odd bit of business, make some dinner, and drive downtown for the show. My day off this week was blissfully serene. A close friend from grad school, who is renting a little bungalow in Malibu, went away for a few days and left her key under the mat for me. The secluded place is tucked away amongst lush tropical plants on a stepped hill rising just above the beach. The shuttered windows open out to a panoramic view of the Pacific, and the steady roar of the surf, moving in and out, like breathing, fills the otherwise silent little space. I bought a bottle of wine, some fresh peaches, and a few other odds and ends to nibble on, and spent the day in this hideaway, reading, contemplating, napping, walking the beach, soaking up the sun, and just being quiet. It was a welcome retreat, and an opportunity to survey the horizon, both literally and figuratively.

Life is full of crossroads. And for the actor, this feeling of transition always accompanies the ending of a project. What will my next job be? When will it come? What do I do until that next opportunity presents itself? "Spamalot" has been a transformative experience for me in so many ways. It has been by far the most significant job I have had as an actor, the best paying, the highest profile.
I have grown and grown up on this tour---learning about our country, meeting people from all walks of life, pushing myself to explore unfamiliar territory both in my travels throughout North America and in my inner understanding of where I have come from and where I have arrived as a human being. I have overcome some long held fears--my fear of driving, of being completely on my own and responsible for my well being and my success; I've learned to trust myself more, to be able to create and coexist with other people without needing their approval or validation. I've started to discover what real freedom is--freedom to explore, to welcome abundance into my experience, to take chances, to be strong in my convictions and my determination to bring light and joy into the lives of others through the words I speak, the thoughts I think, and the work I create. From this extraordinary place of expansion, I found, as I sat on the breezy sands of Malibu and watched the sun set, that I don't have to know just now what my next chapter will be. I know that as long as I stay in a place of hopeful expectation and pure intention, the creative work, the financial freedom and the personal satisfaction will continue to permeate my life and take me to unthought-of new levels of experience and happiness. And the best part is, that I still have eight more weeks of going out on stage with this show and making people laugh and forget their troubles. What a gift that is.

My inner thoughts this week have also been taken up with really looking around me and sorting out how I feel about Los Angeles. It's impossible to do this, of course, without comparing the experience of being here with that of being in New York. The two places could not be more different.
The landscape of LA is all freeways, beaches, sun drenched neighborhoods full of brilliant flowers and foliage; the lifestyle is an easy one, in which people can pursue their own agendas and schedules without really bumping into anyone else (except of course, in the maddening maelstrom of the absurd traffic that one finds oneself in daily). The energy here is laid back, almost detached, but the consistently glorious weather seems to keep people on an even emotional keel. New York is a landscape of concrete and glass and steel, of soot and noise, constant movement, hustle and bustle. It is impossible not to be continually colliding with other people, as everyone pushes and scrambles to make something happen, get something done, be someone and accomplish something.
The high energy of that place can be exasperating, suffocating; but it can also be exhilarating, addictive. There's so much to see, so much to do, and the diversity of cultures and personalities of this great human experiment can make for a rich and stimulating existence. My feeling about both cities is that one needs to have a purpose in putting down even temporary roots in either place. These are cities where things are getting done, where people are trying to create exciting, lucrative careers and make something of themselves. As such, they are demanding environments, can be very expensive and can ask much of those who take on the challenges of life in the big city. I must say I am seduced by the fluidity of the LA lifestyle, the proximity to beaches and other natural environments of great beauty, all only a brief drive away; the knowledge that oodles of money are being made in the film and television industry for those lucky enough to break in, and the reassurance that when one wakes up each morning chances are it will be another sunny, beautiful day just like the last. New York has it's own siren call--the astonishing cultural life of the city, with art, fashion, theatre in abundance; the style of the place, the beauty of the architecture, the changes of season--crisp walks through Central Park ablaze with autumn foliage; bustling along crowded, snowy avenues in the last days before Christmas; children jumping about in the gushing streams from open fire hydrants on hot, muggy Manhattan summer afternoons. The fact that one can walk almost anywhere one needs to go, if one has the will and a good, sturdy pair of boots. Of course, both LA and New York are places best enjoyed, I suppose, by the wealthy. These cities, for those fortunate enough to have luxurious incomes, are very different places--places full of beautifully appointed homes, fabulous restaurants, shopping excursions--comforts that take the sting out of the freeway tangles or the dirty sidewalks teeming with life.

Have I drawn any conclusions? No, and I think that's okay. I interviewed with a casting director this week and she asked me where I saw my career going next. I told her I felt like I had unfinished business in New York, some long cherished goals to reach in my work as a stage actor. I told her I was excited to try my hand at film and television work; to see what my niche might be in the lucrative realm of commercials. My goal has always been to make a solid living as an actor and to do that I feel that I have to diversify my avenues of opportunity. But these many months of travel have also taught me that I can adapt to new places and new experiences. Whether the work and the joyful, abundant lifestyle I want to live keep me at home in Manhattan, bring me back to LA, or make it possible for me to jaunt back and forth cross country, I am open to what is best for me and for my creative future. When we allow ourselves to just relax and be open to all sorts of opportunities that will bring us the realization of our dreams, there is great comfort in knowing that we are limitless. Geography is just geography; each of us has our own unique path. The trick is to believe in your dreams and to stay open to the possibilities.

You Used To Be Big...

I AM big. It's the pictures that got small.
--Norma Desmond, "Sunset Boulevard"

Week 86: Los Angeles, CA

My week started with a rare Sunday night off and an opportunity to see the final LA performance of the "Fiddler on the Roof" tour.
I went because two friends are in the company, but the experience was far more exciting than I had anticipated. First, the theatre itself, the Pantages, is a legendary venue. Built in 1930 as a vaudeville theatre and movie palace, it is one of the most riotous and splendid art deco interiors I have ever seen. The building underwent a renovation in 2000, and the restoration of the gold, bronze and copper encrusted deco panels, statues and ornaments is breathtaking. It's like stepping into the world of the old silent film "Metropolis." This venerable auditorium was the site of the Academy Awards ceremonies from 1949-1959, and has been one of LA's premier venues for touring productions since the late 70s.

This production of "Fiddler on the Roof" is the farewell tour for Topol, the great Israeli actor who portrayed the starring role of Tevye in the wonderful film version of the musical, directed by Norman Jewison, in 1971.
Topol created the role in the London production (Zero Mostel was the original Tevye on Broadway) and over the years has performed the part over 2,500 times. So much for my crowing about reaching 600! The excitement and energy in the packed, mostly Jewish audience on Sunday night could be compared to that of a rock concert audience--an excitement generated by both the feeling of pride Jews have about "Fiddler," which has become such a part of Jewish cultural life, and also the respect and admiration they have for Topol. And this wonderful actor did not disappoint. In fact, it was a brilliant, vivid, powerful performance every bit as splendid as his film performance 28 years ago. At almost 75, Topol is nimble, rich-voiced; his comic timing and ability completely undiminished, relaxed and in command. In short, I got to witness a star performance of the kind that we rarely ever see anymore. I liken it to seeing someone like Richard Kiley do "Man of La Mancha," or Yul Brynner do "King and I" (neither of whom I ever got to see, alas), and I feel privileged to have been in that audience, clapping along with him, cheering for him, and secretly, praying that someday I am granted as rich and glorious a role that I can put my personal stamp on. All in all, the production was terrific, and I urge you to see it if it comes to your town. The theatre has so few real stars left; don't miss your chance to see Topol.

Before the show, I had some time to kill so I took a stroll up and down Hollywood Boulevard and its legendary walk of fame. Pink granite stars embedded in the sidewalk are emblazoned with the names of actors, actresses, radio personalities, musicians, directors, producers and other celebrated people whose contributions earned them a place on this elite walkway. Hollywood Boulevard itself is in transition. While lots of investment has been made in recent years to revitalize the area, including the Hollywood and Highland shopping center, the Kodak Theatre, and tourist attractions like Madame Tussaud's and Ripley's Believe It Or Not, there is still a seedy element. Grimy hot dog joints, tacky souvenir shops and sex emporiums abound, and the alleyways off the main drag reek of urine and are home to all manner of undesirable types. This gritty aspect of the street added a sort of pathos to my stroll, as I read the names of stars, coated in grime, that are largely forgotten today.
Names like Ramon Novarro, the Mexican actor who rivaled Valentino as the heart throb of silent films, who starred in the original "Ben-Hur", and who acted with Greta Garbo, Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford; or Sabu, the East Indian actor who won the hearts of America as the star of the great fantasy classic "The Thief of Baghdad" and who distinguished himself as an air force hero for the US in the Second World War; or even more obscure names like Slim Summerville, a gangly comedian who started in pictures as a "Keystone Kop" and played character roles in films like "All Quiet on the Western Front."
All of these stars were important enough and famous enough in their time to be granted a permanent star in the sidewalk firmament of Hollywood Boulevard. Yet most of the tourists and residents of LA that trudge across their names every day will never know who they were, never see a film they were in, never remember them. As Hollywood's perhaps most iconic star, Marilyn Monroe, once said: "Fame is fickle, and I know it." I think about my spine tingling experience of seeing the great Topol perform and I think, how many people even know who he is, this living, working actor--and how many will remember his magical contributions when he is gone? I guess it is up to those of us who cherish the work of these people (and theatre and old movie dorks like myself) to keep the flame alive in our memories of them. For we too, shall pass, someday. This is a keen and profound thing to contemplate, especially for an actor whose work has been mostly on the stage--no celluloid record of the things I have created exists, only the memories of those who have witnessed my efforts. We think of motion pictures as being somehow immortal, yet many have been forgotten, along with the artists whose passion and labor brought them into being, and countless old movies lie crumbling in dusty warehouses. Shakespeare wrote a great deal about the immortality of his poetry and how it would live forever--how could he have known that? And by declaring it, did he somehow will that immortality into being?

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.


Continuing in this introspective vein, this week I have to say farewell to one of my favorite people and best friends on this tour. Tim Connell, one of our ensemble knights and my understudy, is departing the "Spamalot" tour to pursue the continuation of his education in New York.
Tim has decided to train to be a drama therapist and his talent and his unique sensitivity and compassion more than qualify him for the work. When I joined the tour, Tim was my first friend, reaching out to me at a time when I felt overwhelmed by the work and out of step with the company. Since then, we have forged a true friendship. He has been a confidante, a generous helpmate and someone I have shared much laughter and good times with. Tim was even my first driving teacher, giving of his time and patience to help me get over my driving phobia. Even with the tour coming to an end in a couple months, I will miss Timmy's positive energy and gentle spirit. I know that we will be friends for years to come. Happy trails, Tim, and best of luck in your new endeavors. More from Los Angeles next week.

600

Week 85: Los Angeles, CA

When I embarked upon this journey, I never imagined that I would be reaching my 600th performance as Sir Robin, but here it is. I have been counting the shows in hundreds, but following this week I will only have another 70-odd performances, and nine performance weeks, to go. It truly is the final stretch. I don't feel blue about this, or anxious. I actually just feel proud--a real sense of accomplishment for not only the work I have done, but the growth I have achieved as a person in the past nearly 20 months. I am sure I will be reflecting a lot on this in the weeks to come. Truth is, the adventures continue. I am meeting so many fascinating new people, reconnecting with folks from all the different chapters of my life to date, and finding out new things about myself as I go along. LA is an education in many ways and has given me a new outlook in terms of what is possible for me as a working actor; a new sense that there are many more choices available to me than I had imagined.

I started the week with a relaxing day off in the Pacific Palisades/Malibu area. I took a nice drive to the Getty Villa first. The site of the Villa was purchased by J. Paul Getty in 1945 and served as the location of the original Getty Museum.
In 1968, Getty decided to build a reproduction of a 1st century Roman country house, the Villa dei Papiri, on this stunning property overlooking the Pacific in Malibu. It now houses Getty's magnificent collection of Greek and Roman antiquities, and has been expanded to incorporate not only the stunning villa, but a beautiful outdoor amphitheatre, a lovely cafe, and gorgeously landscaped grounds and formal gardens. The marbles, the mosaics, the olive groves and lush plantings of roses and exotic plants, and the collection itself--replete with magnificent specimens of ancient sculpture, gems and jewelry, and rare artifacts, all make for a feast for the senses. The featured exhibits during my visit included a special showing of a rare Etruscan bronze sculpture, the Chimaera of Arezzo, which once was the centerpiece of the Renaissance collection of the great Medici family; also a marvelous exhibition of golden artifacts unearthed relatively recently from an excavation of the graves of the nobility of the ancient kingdom of Colchis (which was the destination of Jason and the Argonauts in their quest for the golden fleece). The artistry and imagination of these ancient civilizations was the foundation for what we now think of as Western culture. I was especially delighted by the gallery dedicated to Dionysos and the great theatre tradition of ancient Greece.

From ancient relics to contemporary creations. On Thursday I took myself to the MOCA, or Museum of Contemporary Art, in downtown Los Angeles. The museum is currently running an exhibit of choice pieces from the permanent collection as well as recent acquisitions. I have to say that I feel that contemporary art is a mixed bag. It seems that creating something beautiful and aesthetically pleasing is old hat. Most of the very new pieces at MOCA seem to me to be more political or personal statements, many of them appropriating everyday objects and presenting them in an ironic fashion in order to amuse, shock, provoke thought,or simply provoke. Some of them are interesting, others startling, and some just rather juvenile and confrontational in a way that lacks thought or subtlety. Fortunately, amidst the crumpled pieces of foam rubber and upended commodes were some real masterpieces of modern and contemporary art. MOCA owns some wonderful early Lichtensteins and Warhols, showing the pop masters as they found their voices and before they polished up their styles; they have Jackson Pollock's first, revolutionary spatter canvas, Number One, from 1949; and for me, the most beautiful and exciting part of the current exhibition was a gallery full of canvases by Mark Rothko. Rothko is considered a pioneer of abstract expressionism in painting, although he himself rejected this classification. Like many modernist painters in his circle, he was inspired by primitive art and he felt that it all started with color. His mature works are large fields of color and light; rectangular blocks of contrasting hues that seems to bleed, glow, expand and deepen as you look at them. As much a fan of Baroque art as I am, I really love Rothko. His paintings seem to breathe and express a primal sense of emotional depth and a fascination with space.

And so, lest you think that LA is all red carpet events, botox injections and anorexic starlets, there is a real presence here of art and culture--and I am so glad I got a taste of it this week. My time here has also been enhanced by the reemergence of old friends and fellow students from college and grad school days who live here and have reconnected with me. It's been really great to see these people and learn about the great lives they have made for themselves out here. I hope you are enjoying the dog days of summer, wherever you are. Until next time.