It's been a few days since my last blog entry and I've been wrestling with what purpose this blog will serve long-term (if any). It was never meant to be a day by day account of my life and my thoughts, anyway that's what Twitter is for, so that means that this space has to be reserved for bigger, more complex issues. Perhaps I will use this space to campaign against arts cuts, or maybe I'll have a space where I can enter the debate about actors, professional actors, people with years of training being expected to work for nothing other than the opportunity of working with a "really talented crew/director" or on a "really exciting" project which may, at some vague point in the future, perhaps determined by the removal of all reality shows from our screens, lead to some work on some future project.
Perhaps I'll use this space to talk about how being an actor is not all about what you do on stage or on screen but also includes the business side of things, and then maybe include the steep learning curve that that necessitates.
Maybe I'll ramble on endlessly about the quality of the paper you use to print your business cards on actually, really, being a matter of importance and then wax lyrical about the subtle off-white colouring, the tasteful thickness of it, and Oh my God, if it has a watermark.
The thought even struck me that I should perhaps mention that the "casting couch" is alive and well in London in 2011 and go into detail, without mentioning names of course, about the audition I had with a female producer of uncertain years who made it clear to me that if I wanted a big part then so did she. But I thought that might not appreciate that sort of salacious story. I even thought about taking that and running sideways with it into the minefield of delights that can be the "showmance" but then I thought long and hard about what I would write and decided I will write whatever comes into my head and make no apologies for doing so. All of which brings me to write this....
What hope is there for an actor when the casting calls that land on his desk include wonderful ones such as "man, heavy breather, white, decadent, sleazy haircut" and this comes the week after I go to a casting for "Man.. Not Albert Einstein." Seriously guys, is this really the way you want to conduct your castings?
"Hello Easy Casting Services. How can I help you?"
"Well I'm trying to cast a project and need your help."
"Sure, what's the breakdown?"
"Man. Oh and can you make sure he isn't Albert Einstein please?"
"That it? Age? Height? Hair colour? Size? Any of that important?"
"Erm... no. No. Not really. Just make sure he isn't Albert Einstein."
How on earth can you cast something when you have no idea what it is you're looking for?
I'm not meaning to be obtuse here but I really don't understand the thought process that goes from seeing a character take shape on a page and ends up being "oh anyone who isn't Einstein". Just for the record, I'm not a virgin to the casting process as I've assisted in casting an increasing number of short and feature films.
(I apologise for this now turning into a bit of a rant but I'm in my groove and going with the flow here!)
And whilst I'm on the subject of casting I've just come back from a play (which shall remain nameless but my review of which will appear tomorrow on a certain fringe theatre listing website) in which the casting choices were just odd. The youngest actress, playing the youngest character, was a dream. The middle one... so so... and the one playing the mother.. well.. ahem... erm... I'm reminded of the "nice buttons" review that Coward is reported to have given once to the son of a friend after his lamentable performance in a play that Coward had the misfortune to sit through. At this point I'm about to mention my mother who, when I saw her last week and after talking her through all the projects I've completed whilst she's been cruising around the seas in the some boat or other, and then going through the meetings and the various fires which currently have irons of mine in turned and said, "That's all very interesting dear but it's not real theatre is it? Or real films are they?"
According to the world my parents live in, for they are both as bad as each other sometimes, but it's just mum that says things, it's not "real" theatre unless it's within Zone 1, has tickets for sale at TKTS and garners at least a 4 star review in that most august of newspapers the Daily Mail, and similarly it is not "real" cinema unless it has posters in the Tube advertising it, Redd Pepper voicing the trailer, and preferably Colin Firth in it too.
Parents! Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. At least not until I know for sure where the will is!
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