Content Preview: rss
1262 days ago
I was standing there, as stand-ins tend to do, pretending to be Chris Evans, running lines and blocking with a woman pretending to be Scarlett Johansson. The cameraman trained his lens to our positioning; The Nanny Diaries lighting crew adjusted bulbs and shades from every conceivable angle. While pantomiming an exchange of roses, the assistant director called out over his walkie, "Let's get Dave some stunt flowers." Stunt flowers. You know the union situation is out of control when even the flowers have stand-ins. Who, incidentally, do their own stunts. You know, in case the script calls for the flowers to narrowly avoid a missile attack, catch on fire, jump from fifteen story building, land in a hotel pool, and then emerge from the water to flight a horde of sword-swinging ninjas and their combat trained shibu inus. On a side note, for those of you who secretly desire the chance to woo Scarlett: based on the one song that she sang ...
1279 days ago
In the course of my Soap Opera Intensive class (I'm not ashamed), I came to the realization that all permanent, contract player roles come with a breakdown akin to: Bril. Twenty-something male. Handsome, charming, and brilliant. He's the type of guy who was starting quarterback for the high school varsity football team and captain of the academic decathlon squad. He was voted most likely to bang a Gore daughter. But, behind his Clark Kent glasses and Gucci boxers, Bril harbors a deep and devastatingly dark secret: he's f*cking PSYCHO.
1288 days ago
While my wife continued her exhaustive exploration of Williams-Sonoma for the perfect yellow, white, and orange-striped kitchen towels, I wandered to the entrance of the store and stood my ground. A man's way of saying, "I know it's on sale, but I'm bored. This sucks. Let's leave." Ignoring the hint, Alicia disappeared into rows of kitchen utensils - some that, had they not been displayed in a store, could be classified as illegal instruments of torture under Protocol I of the Geneva Conventions. I turned on my Treo and surfed the latest news on Britney's baby dropping incident. I looked up, hoping to find Alicia at the check-out. Gasp. "Oh! Oh, ha! I thought he was a statue." Shirley MacLaine grabbed her friend's hand and gawked. Laughter. "I thought you were a statue, and then you moved!" Turning to her friend, "I thought he was a statue." "No, I'm alive," despite what the tabloids say. ...
1291 days ago
Samuel French pioneered the field of theatrical licensing and publishing in the late 1800's, together with British actor, playwright, and theatrical manager Thomas Hailes Lacy. Samuel French Inc., bearing the name of it's co-founder, embodies these entrepreneurial ideas of licensing plays and publishing scripts. Actors perform plays and memorize scripts licensed and published by Samuel French Inc. Thus, the words of playwrights published in scripts are fondly known by actors as the Samuel French . And all clues point to the fact that Professor Plum killed Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the lead pipe.
1298 days ago
I am nearly one-hundred percent positive that my wife is secretly happy that I did not land a role in the newest Joan Jett video. Not that my wife has anything against Joan, and I am sure that she has happily chanted the lyrics, "So put another dime in the jukebox, baby." However, had I landed the role of Rich Banker , I would have been required (I repeat: required) to flirt with Carmen Electra. This job is about sacrifice. Sometimes you have to make hard decisions. And had I been chosen for the role, I would have respectfully stood behind the art, the craft, and Joan's musical message. If that means flirting with the star of Erotic Confessions , Playboy: Cheerleaders , and Baywatch , well gosh-darn-it, I am an actor and I will flirt. I would sacrifice myself for the art. The art, I tell you!
