I'm eating frozen blueberries out a cup right now. This means that in a few minutes, when I brush my teeth, everything will be purple. Also, my fingers might take on a slight blue-ish tinge, like I'm an ink-stained bluestocking who spends her evenings crouched in her garret, writing fascicles about leaves and carriages of death. I'm taking care to eat them with my right hand to underscore the effect.
Tonight I phoned 39 actresses to invite them to auditions for my film this term. Sorting out these few from the 161 who posted to my online call for submissions, it was shocking to see how actress-y lots of these actresses present themselves to be. I know what town I'm in here, but come on: how do you expect to get jobs with six photos of you in different poses that only seem to prove that you look good all painted up and shot with such high contrast that you appear to have no nose? I guess there is a fair amount of casting that goes on in which the quest is to find "a pretty lady", but really, isn't it smarter to show that you are a person with depth and ideas and identity and versatility and the ability to post a picture of yourself looking wrung out and crappy because maybe that's what the role calls for? This kind of straight-up shallow vanity is exactly what made me not want to be an actor, back when everything else about the profession seemed pretty darn right for me. I'm more about a vanity of a more complex, nuanced and (occasionally) well-hidden kind.
Maybe it all has something to do with how female characters are supposed to be "female" a lot of the time, whereas male characters often get to actually be characters. That's kind of what my movie is about (although I'm at the point in the process when it seems like everything is "what my movie is about").
Oh Vancouver, sorry 'bout that. Hope you feel better soon. Don't mean to rub it in, but there it is.
(PS: I thoroughly enjoyed talking to strangers about the weather when I was home for the holidays. It's so wonderful that we all have this topic to discuss that everyone agrees is usually trivial, but we all still keep track, especially when we hope it gets hotter in the summer and when we thrill that it might get even colder in the winter. Like the weather is our team and we all follow it and cheer it on. Here in LA, no one really gives a shit about the weather because it's always more or less the same.)
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4 comments:
Robyn:
Frozen blueberries are my favorite snack. I will eat bags at a time. I used to have a friend who swore by frozen peas. But she went into opera singing, as far as I know, which is vaguely related to being an actress. Still, sometimes I miss our days in the frozen foods aisle. Things change without us even realizing it. Maybe that's sort of what your movie's about too?
Love,
Kat
I'm excited that you figured out how to use the links. I mean, you did it before with that awesome Transformer car commercial, but now it's full on.
I have a job where a lunchroom is a part of the daily routine. Sometimes there is a potluck, sometimes there isnt. But because of this setting, I have to wholeheartedly disagree with you when you say LA people dont care about the weather. I would say that I hear comments about the weather on a consistent basis, several times a day, from patients, their families and my coworkers. Sometimes it is incessant! The rain for example - always notable, particularly when it kills people. Or when it's nice out, someone always says "God it's so nice out! or "The air smells so good, I had the best walk to work" or "I'm so glad it is sunny again!", etc, or "It's so hazy today!" or "Can you believe this smog?" Etc. I mean, we can always believe the smog but never want to own up to it.
"when faced with the urge to sing the pretenders, grab a double scotch and giver."
-me
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