i see my movie and learn two lessonsSo, my movie. It's so cool to say, my movie. My movie. My movie. My movie.
My movie kind of sucked.
The screening was at the Academy which is a really sterile sort of place, but very nice. It reminded me of a museum, but founded on the culture of the movies, rather than the culture of culture. It was catered and there was an open bar and everyone looked really snazzy. Basically, my producers spent a shitload of money, hoping to impress people enough with my flick that they'd get financing for a feature they're trying to put together. Only problem is, the movie kinda...well, sucks.
There were three showings (it's a 25 minute film) and friends Todd and Hilary showed up for the first one. I hadn't seen a frame so I was pretty nervous and excited. The thing started very well, with some neat freeze-frame effects a la Out Of Sight, but went quickly downhill. My main problem is the acting. This is going to sound like a truckload of sour grapes for this reason: I auditioned to play the male role in my own script, and lost out to this other cat. (Weird experience getting turned down for your own stuff. "I just don't feel you really get the character." "Hmmmm... well, that's strange cuz I WROTE it, jackass.") The chick was this vaguely slutty girl who, if I remember correctly, is best known for a few Showtime soft-core porn movies. The guy played the entire thing like Woody Allen, with um's and stammers and glasses and nebish written all over it. And god love the guy, but here's this hot soft-core porn chick falling for this stuttering little goob. It was just a bit hard to believe. (At least he's not 70, which makes Woody Allen's current on-screen parings with the likes of Elisabeth Shue and Julia Roberts not only unbelievable, but nauseating.) They also shot the thing in black and white and I swear had a Tin Pan Alley song over the top and end credits. I'll be the first to admit the piece isn't the greatest thing ever written, but for the theatre, I tend to write with a strong rhythm, and when lines are changed and transposed and cut willy-nilly, it tends to weaken the whole thing. And I would not have the ego to say this if it wasn't for the fact that as an actor, I'm incredibly strict about learning the lines, exactly. To the "um". Also (yes, I have lots of thoughts on the subject, but it was my first little film, so cut me some friggin' slack, people) the things was really written for and about the theatre, and I think it was therefore in a small way doomed from the beginning. Also, I tend to write in a rather muscular way, and wimpy actors just can't do my material. (Man oh man do I sound like a dickhead: "do my material".)
Anyway, while the film was sort of disappointing, I had a good time. A lot of my friends came out to see it and were very supportive. My girlfriend got off work early and made it just in time for the last screening. All the showings were packed. I just watched the first one and drank and chatted the rest of the time. My boss from the Very Big Production Company for which I read scripts even came and was really cool. Overall, a good time was had by all. I schmoozed a little but no one approached me for anything. (Like a good little boy I brought a copy of my screenplay just in case - I left it in the car, of course.)
I learned an interesting lesson yesterday. I'm vaguely thinking of moving. I've lived alone in my apartment for three years and it's great great place. Very cheap and I've done more than I ever have in the past to make it a home. However, as I'm not allowed to have a dog here, I'm on the lookout for a place with a yard. Well, a guest house just down the street from me opened up and yesterday, I went to look at it. It has its own yard and it's funky and cool, but I'm still undecided. It's more money than I'm paying now, and though I think I could afford it, I'm really really bad at making Big Decisions. Anyhoo, I was chatting with the owner who lives in the main house, and playing with her dogs, when this funky Indian (India, the country) woman who I've seen for the last three years but have never really talked to came by walking her dog. We were then all chatting when she asked me what I did. And I sheepishly mumbled something about acting and writing, as I tend to do because everyone out here is in the business and I'm not making a living at it yet. So this woman tells me that I should OWN what I am and goes on to say that she's a filmmaker and would also reply sheepishly to the same question until one day she started OWNING it. I actually thanked her for the advice as it is indeed true and I think important. We keep chatting and I find out she's a Big Indie Producer as she rattles off the impressive list of films she's made.
Lesson One: Don't be embarrassed to say what you are. Doctor, lawyer, porn star, actor - even if you are not yet successful at it.
Lesson Two: Don't be an introverted anti-social shit, because you never know who you've been snubbing for the last three years.
Tomorrow I turn 27. Today after a rehearsal with my comedy group, we're having a big ol' fiesta. Send money.
This is where I let Larry King take over my body for a few minutes.
Cats are very moody...I swear, during the Colorado shooting, a news radio station out here talked to an Air Touch Cellular saleswoman to get the angle on how victims having cell phones affects crime...Pringles potato chips are really really good...that chick on Providence is so fucking serene-looking all the time - what is she always looking at out in the distance?...whatever happened to the Spin Doctors...I can't wait for the new Paul Auster book to come out...Brittney Spears' breasts: real or fake?...