Because You Never Know Who Else Will Be Involved

I am back. After a hiatus of nearly two months.

Life has been crazy, that's part of it. We're still plenty overwhelmed with the day-to-day here. Managing life on this coast, managing our interests on the other one, figuring out which directions we're going in the future, trying to withstand the current financial tempests—it's a lot of stuff. A lot. But then again, everyone is dealing with most, if not all, of these same issues, so who am I to grouse?

The other reason for the long layoff is that it's just been D. E. A. D. dead here. Pilot season ended early, very few pilots this year, huge competition for them because production has been so decimated by the wake of the writers strike, the threat of the SAG strike, etc. Not to mention the influx of foreign actors. Since my 11th Hour audition on February 3, I have had five, count them, five auditions. I won't bore you with what they were for. I will say that I was not really right for four of them (Parade at the Taper? Yeah, I don't think I'm-a-gonna book that). Everyone is truly throwing the spaghetti on the wall to try to hustle up some work, and my agent is no exception.

In this climate, a casting director asked me if I wanted to take part in a reading at the Writer's Guild. It was a pilot presentation, less to pitch the pilot and more to celebrate its rather succesful author: Larry Gelbart.

Well, heck. Who wouldn't want to meet and work with one of the most brilliant writers of our time? Even though I only had six or seven lines. Even after one of my parts was cut. Even though I was playing a German mogul filmmaker in his late 50s. It was still going to be a chance to see something the world hadn't seen: a new pilot by Larry Gelbart.

Not new, as it turned out, because he actually wrote it on spec some time ago, and had no faith it would ever get produced. Perhaps he was pessimistic about its commercial viability because the pilot is about German filmmaking and the early days of the Third Reich: a time when Berlin was in direct competition with Hollywood as the cinema capital of the world, and when Goebbels was producing propaganda via UFA Film Studios (whose exiles eventually included Fritz Lang, Billy Wilder, and Peter Lorre) , while using his position there to have dalliances with young actresses.

It's easy to see why he didn't think anyone would touch it. But on the other hand, who can imagine the original pitch meeting for Hogan's Heroes? ("Well, it's set in this POW camp, ya see...And there's all these wacky foreign prisoners right?...and....") He also only envisioned it as a four- or five-part series, as after a period of time, all of his major characters would have either left Germany, or been imprisoned or killed. Yeesh. So, yeah, he's not had faith in the past that it would ever be picked up.

But I have to say, as befits a man of his genius, the pilot is pure gold. It's laugh-out-loud funny, it's topical, it's morally intricate, it's compelling, it makes you think without preaching or hitting you over the head. Would that there was more writing like this around! And Larry himself is one of the most gifted and charming men I've ever met. Just in his small bits of direction and notes he was giving us in rehearsal, the man was out-and-out funny......funny without even trying. Humorous lines fall out of his mouth like oranges off an over-ripe tree. It was truly astonishing. And it's not like Mel Brooks where he constantly seems like he's a comedian and he's going for a laugh. He's just intimately familiar with words, and has a knack for commenting on the present situation with le mot juste in a way that touches the heart and the funnybone at the same time. It's rare that I've ever met someone who has such a direct connection to the human condition.

Words are failing me here, so I'll stop with the hyperbole. Suffice to say it was a wonderful two days: a first read-through Saturday, a second rehearsal this afternoon, and a performance tonight in front of a sold-out crowd at the WGA building.

And the bonus was this: as a warm-up, Mr. Gelbart had decided to open the evening with a separate 10-minute play he'd written (a hilarious piece based on the Dick Cheney face-shooting incident). It's a two-hander, and in this case, the two hands were already cast with well-known actors; but he actually needed a third hand, someone play the "stage manager": to read the intro stage directions, and then step in at the end of the piece to "calm down" one of the characters. And he decided to use me in the role. And that is how tonight I found myself inexplicably playing a scene with Bradley Whitford, whose work I've admired since I saw him in Three Days of Rain 12 years ago. And then I got to share the stage with him again in the main reading, along with Carl Reiner, Cary Elwes, David Paymer, and a host of other talented folks.

So you see, you really never do know who'll show up at these things. :)

The whole experience pretty much rocked. It was like doing a play again! And while there are still no auditions on the horizon, at least my creative cup has been filled for a bit.

Oy Vey Iz Mir

It's been super-quiet on the acting front here for the past month. In fact, since my Eleventh Hour audition, which was February 3, I have had a grand total of TWO auditions.

That's right, two auditions in 6+ weeks. Woo-hoo! Both of them about three weeks ago.

The first was a pilot, my first and only pilot audition this year. Anecdotal evidence tells me that they saw pretty much everyone in town for this role. I know of three other actors (widely different types) who all went in for this same part, and that's a lot. It was an untitled sitcom in which I was to play the "divorced best friend in his mid-30s to mid-40s." Well, that's specific.

The CD kept telling me, "there's a lot of George Castanza in this role. A lot of Jewish neuroticism. You know how George Castanza has that angst?"

I resisted the urge to say, "Then why did you bring me in?" or maybe, "Perhaps you should hire Jason Alexander for this part."

(I say this not with bitterness, btw, just amusement.)

The other audition was for CSI:NY. It's funny, when I came out here, I thought I'd end up getting a lot of procedural auditions because of my Law and Order past; but it really hasn't been the case.

This part was something we almost skipped, and probably should have. It was T.I.N.Y. Two lines, playing the Jewish orthodox son of a watchmaker. Not the role I want I want for my one appearance on CSI:NY.

So we passed, and then they came back and said, "Does it make a difference that the watchmaker will be Ed Asner?"

We reconsidered. It was weird that they were kind of pursuing me. This didn't seem like a role that would be difficult to cast. But then we thought, maybe they're looking for someone with some training, because the script has a big moment at the end where the son sees his father being led off to jail for heinous crimes and basically disowns him in a long glance:

David looks up at his father: a myriad of emotions: shock, contempt, sadness..then simply gets up. Numb. Turns his back on his father and walks away.

Okay, we thought, this is a scene with Ed Asner and Gary Sinise. Maybe despite the low screen time, they are going to linger on this scene and are looking for a really solid actor to pull it off. Maybe they want someone who will have the presence to hold his own with these two heavyweights.

And I've clearly demonstrated I can play orthodox jews on TV. ;) So why not take a flyer?

So I went in for it, and SURPRISE! It was none of that.

They didn't even look at the end scene in the audition; instead they taped the only other scene, where the son is introduced and has two lines: "Everything all right?" and "Okay, Pop." They were running the session VERY quickly, about 2 minutes/person. Churning 'em through. There were 8 guys waiting when I came in, and probably another 10 waiting when I left. Not exactly a scenario where they were looking for the right actor for a "moment".

When you go in to read two little lines like that you realize they're truly casting about 95% based on the look. And as you all know, I can squeak by as Jewish on TV based on some acting and dialect work that I bring to the table, but when competing against, you know, actual Jewish actors, in a role that will be primarily about appearance, I don't even chart.

The role was for an orthodox kid who works with his dad in a watch repair shop. Not a hassidic kid from Crown Heights. So I literally stifled a chuckle walking into the waiting room. It was filled with guys getting their heavy orthodox vibe on for the day. Like a callback for the bottle dance in Fiddler on the Roof. There were black vests. There were yarmulkes. One guy was actually sporting tzitzis. I was half expecting the next to have clip-on payos or a shtreimel.

And from the lack of professional vibe out there (loud discussions of previous work and current temp jobs, nervous laughter aplenty) it was clear that most of these guys have not been in the big leagues yet. Or not for a long time. Many of them were comedians I think, based on the LOUD and COMEDIC energy in the room. Many of them were also guys who make a living out here doing extra work and co-stars, based on the conversations I heard.

So I kept my head down, went in and did my bit, and chuckled on my way out the door, knowing that this was three hours of my life that were gone forever.

"Tom, from the elevator, turns to Rachel, tears streaming..."

I'm back. It was a long layoff, I know. Basically, I got sick. And I was really busy at the same time. But lots of posts in the coming days, I promise...

...Starting with my shoot for Eleventh Hour, which took place the day after my last post. Warning, I'm still low on time, so this will be very stream-of-consciousness, just to get it out, and not the usual, refined writing you're used to. ;)

The title of this post refers to the lines in the script that were haunting me leading into the shoot. They wanted someone who'd be able to give a strong emotional performance on cue, and I'd been able to do that in the audition. But how would I fare on the set, with take after take after take, and about 50 people watching me?

"Painfully shy Tom, from the elevator, turns to Rachel, tears streaming...."

This is after painfully shy Tom has killed Hailey, his supermodel neighbor, and is now perched on her balcony overlooking Eighth Avenue.

Of course, by the time we did the episode, I was no longer Hailey's neighbor; I was now her doorman. And we no longer had an awkward scene in an elevator; it was now a creepy scene where I followed her upstairs to "give her mail to her" and then forced my way into her apartment.

The script changes came at the eleventh hour (ha ha, get it?), literally the night before, and they changed my day somewhat, that's for sure. Starting with trying on an ill-fitting doorman's outfit at 8am. And then psyching myself up to be "creepy guy" all day, instead of "painfully shy geek" which I was before. I threw on a little Brooklyn accent (much more polished than the one I did for LIE TO ME) and proceeded to set.

Where I encountered something I've never dealt with before: two directors. The episode director whispering in one ear, and the executive producer in the other one. And not always agreeing. The exec producer was a Scottish expat and had a THICK accent, and it was hard to take him seriously sometimes as he gutturally said, LAYTS NOOT MEK IT ALL HAWLYWID, YAH? LAYTS MEK IT REAL!

I did okay for the main scene, except I had to close the door behind me when I forced my way in to the apt., and the E.P. kept giving me alternate lines to end the scene with. (Original line: "Aren't you going to invite me in?" Alternates: "Maybe you should invite me in." "Shhhh, shhhhh, don't be afraid Ms. Vaughn." CREEPY!) And I'd say on about HALF of the takes, I forgot to close the door because I was trying to remember which line I was doing this time, and the director had to remind me a couple of times, and that sucked. I'd remember to shut it twice and then forget the third time, and about the 4th or 5th time this happened, I shouted "GodDAMNit!" after the take ended, and startled half the people on the set.

But it was a good creepy scene, and I was psyched that we got a nice shape out of it.

"Painfully shy Tom, from the elevator, turns to Rachel, tears streaming...."

So then I had a couple hours to kill. For one, we had lunch, and for another, they were shooting a quick intervening scene before my big breakdown. During the latter, I met Rufus Sewell, who was lovely, and was to be in my next scene. We talked a while about what it's like acting in Stoppard plays (Mr. Sewell originated the role of Septimus in Arcadia, and I had also recently seen him in Rock 'n' Roll on Broadway), which was a total trip.

I had spent some time trying to get mentally in shape for bawling. I had a full-on deep tissue massage the day before just so my body would be loose, with all the tense spots released—I wanted to be fully available to myself, as it were. I also made a playlist on my iPhone called "weepies", which had 7 or 8 tracks on it of songs that really move me emotionally. These included (in no particular order), the Finale from West Side Story, Albinoni's Adagio in G minor (which you may know from Gallipoli), Barber's Adagio for Strings (which you may recognize from Platoon), Górecki's Lento e Largo, andSunday and Finishing the Hat, both from Sunday in the Park With George. Last, but certainly not least, Judy Collin's masterpiece, Suzanne, which wound up being my key for the day.

But first, let me talk about the fun part. In this scene, I was to be seen on the balcony ("tears streaming"), and after a couple of lines, over I go. Suicide. Having just been shot the previous week, I was really looking forward to another yummy death scene.

I'd originally assumed this would be shot outside with an airbag or something. Ha! Not in the world of tee vee. When I found out we'd be shooting it in the studio, I wondered how they'd fake it and still assumed I'd be 3-4 stories in the air. Nope. My 16th-floor balcony was on the ground floor of the studio. The camera, which I guess would have had to have been on a crane otherwise, was on the floor a few feet away.

To give you an idea, here's the balcony I'll be appearing on, complete with its view of 45th ST and the Majestic Theater. (Try to imagine a few taxis honking below):


Now take another look at that same shot with a slightly wider view:

Pretty funny, huh? Pretty magical at the same time. I like how if you look closely at all the apartments across the street there's no one actually visible in any of the windows. Just sofas, plants, weird shapes. No people though.

"Painfully shy Tom, from the elevator, turns to Rachel, tears streaming...."

So all afternoon I'm pacing around, feeling mopey and listening to my iPhone. All of the songs above have led me to cry at one point or another. I respond very viscerally/kinesthetically to music, and I knew it was going to be my ally today. I pictured Mel Gibson arriving one second too late to stop the charge. I pictured Maria shouting at both gangs, "How many bullets left, and still have one for me?" I think of that quote and it gives me chills, even as I type this. I also shamelessly used what life has dealt me in recent years. You all know the various tragedies we've had to stare down and I went there. Thought about all Jody and I have been through, and what my worst fears had been on some of those days. I worked myself into quite a miserable state. And I tried to envision having just unexpectedly snapped and killed someone I knew (as in, the "event" of the scene), although, truth be told, that didn't trigger a whole lot.

We did a rehearsal of the shot for lighting, and when it was done, I turned on Suzanne. This song is a gorgeous and melancholy 70s ballad written by Leonard Cohen. And it has a powerful effect on me.

Sometime in his last year or so, my dad had figured out iTunes and was downloading songs from his past that he'd always really loved. He picked me up at Amtrak for a particular visit, and proudly popped a CD in the car's player, telling me it was the first CD he'd ever "burned". Suzanne came on and he told me how it was a song from back when they WROTE SONGS, not just crap, and how it TOLD A STORY, and how there was COMPLEXITY, and it MADE YOU THINK. And then we listened to the song all the way back to my parents' house, not a word spoken between us. I remember seeing the dashboard of the car and the smell of Barry's shampoo, and listening to this song. It's a cutting and profound and timeless memory for me.

And here I was on set, playing it over and over again, and thinking about all of our last moments, and his last moments with my mom, and of course I just let loose. Except I needed to try to harness all that. So I'd get to the brink, and then stop. And get up and turn off the music and go get a cough drop (I was already coughing that day), and chat with my stand-in. And when the feeling was going away, I'd restart the song from the beginning. And summon up the memories again. And so on.

When it came to shoot the scene, I had to have fake blood all over my hands, which meant no hanging onto the iPhone and then stowing it in my pocket until the last minute. I had to surrender it completely. But by then I was walking this fine line between cool actor on set and complete basketcase breakdown. So I hoisted onto the balcony with my bloody hands in front of me, and as they called the regular sequence of the shot—"picture's up......rolling!......speed!.....xxx scene 26 take two!"—I was summoning those opening chords in my head and picking one new memory of the last three years to focus on (mostly Barry, but stuff about Jody's dad as well, and my mom, and even some stuff that Jody and I dealt with).

And the tears came powerfully, and I sobbed, and we'd shoot the scene, and at "CUT!" I would just cut it off and hitch it back and STOP. Which was not too hard, because the scene ended with me pitching over the side of the balcony, falling a distance of about a foot and a half, and landing with a quiet "thud" on these two gymnasts' mats they'd stacked up. And that sideways "thud" was a weird enough sensation that it jogged these other thoughts right out of my head. And it was a bit of a relief to stop crying each time, but I was going so hard to the well that there was a lot more that wanted to come out, so it hurt a little bit to keep it in as well. But stopping each time was the way to go, because we did 9 takes from one angle and 3 from the other, and I was able to start it up again at the top and sob through every damn one.

I felt guilty the whole time. I asked myself if I was betraying someone—it certainly felt like I was cheapening my father's death or the like. But at the same time, I thought, "this is my job, I have to get there, anything is fair game." I'm sure Barry would have told me USE IT! USE YOUR LIFE! So I made my peace with it.

And then I was wrapped, and the director came over to personally thank me for giving him what I did for the scene. It's going to wind up being all of three seconds on camera, but I hope they pull in close for those three seconds. A lot of work went into them. Plus, I really hate watching TV and seeing someone making fake crying noises and they're not really crying. It's not an easy thing to do, and that's fine, but if you're not in that state, either GET in that state, or else play the scene the way you're actually feeling.

Okay, off my high horse now.

I was keyed up for the rest of the night, probably because I never let it all out. After being in that manic state for over an hour, letting out and then pulling it back, my body really wanted that final release. I could have sat in my trailer and blubbered, but it felt bizarre to try to trigger it at that point, and I was so tired, besides. So I called Jody as I was leaving the lot, and THAT triggered some of it, just telling her about the day, and I cried over the phone to her for a bit. And then she wisely took me out for a burger and a serious martini. The latter of which finally brought me down.

Okay, this is an absolute TOME, thanks for reading this far, I hope it's not too self-indulgent, but it actually helped me to write it all down. And as I said, more posts in the coming days, promise. :)

Catching Up

In Brief:

• The same casting director who cast me as the co-star videographer on Lie To Me called me in for a sweet guest-starring role on The Unit. I was to play a dickish father who selfishly puts others in danger during a chlorine gas leak situation. An amazing part with a great arc. Great audition, made it to producers, did not book the role. But this office clearly likes me, so that's good
• Was also called in for a comic role ("Kevin James type"—aka the King of Queens) on a new comedy, Better Off Ted. Felt I had to make a strong choice, and did. Showed up to the audition to see a room full of guys who actually look like Kevin James (i.e., blue collar, balding, 300 lb. types). Realized halfway through the audition that my strong choice was not remotely funny to the casting directors. They were very sweet, but I tanked. Oh well. It's gonna happen. I didn't lose my cool, and I didn't apologize. Sitcoms are just not going to be my strong point
• Took Jody to Sundance for a belated surprise birthday weekend. Saw nine films in three days. Two of them sucked, one was so-so, three were very good, and three were breathtaking. Not a bad batting average. Park City was beautiful and amazing—I really want to ski there now. Bonus points: The entire trip is a write-off for me! Keep your eyes open in the future for Amreeka, Afghan Star, and Mary and Max.
• Lastly, saw the premiere tonight of Loving Leah, the Hallmark TV movie I shot in September with Lauren Ambrose. On the down side, most of my scene (originally about 3 minutes) was cut. Or "slashed" is perhaps the better word. Down to about 10 seconds! On the good side, I am still in the movie, and when I appeared onscreen, the entire theater cracked up. The sight gag is that good. Bonus points: the director apologized, said the decision to cut came from Hallmark (they were afraid it might offend). He's going to try to get me the whole scene for my reel. Yay! Loving Leah airs Sunday night on CBS at 9pm eastern. Reprising my Law and Order success of a few years ago (Bible Story), I once again play an orthodox jew. But this time I'm actually a rabbi:

I'm Baaaaaack

Okay, it took a looooong time to settle. And to be honest, I'm not really settled yet; more like "less chaotic".

But December has finally brought some cooler weather, so I don't feel as guilty for being inside. My days have become a little more manageable as boxes have been unpacked and the blizzard of bills and tasks involved with the move out here have slowed to a trickle. And I figured if I can waste half an hour on facebook every day, the least I can do is get back to writing here at bLAg.

So hey there again.

It's late, so I'll save the catching up stuff for the next few days. But I'll leave you with one present.

Whenever possible, I'm trying to snap shots of anything unique to LA (thanks, iPhone!). So here's the first pic in this series....

It was taken at The 101 Coffee Shop, a cool retro diner next to (you guessed it) the 101 highway. Great milkshakes and fries, amazing lattes.

And I guess the point of showing this image is this: living in NYC or LA, you are bound to run into celebrities pretty frequently. Most locals will ignore a star as they are walking by as a point of pride:not to be a jackass, but to give the person his or her privacy and to preserve a kind of, "Oh yeah, I hang with the kool kidz all the time" vibe.

But I guess some people still get starstruck:

Dude, Weren't You On "Viking Quest"?

Driving home from an appointment today, I was hightailing up Fairfax towards the Hollywood hills when I got behind a Jeep with this license plate:

      J DRAMA

I thought to myself, "There's only one person that could be." I pulled alonside the Jeep and, sure enough, Kevin Dillon (a.k.a. Matt's younger brother) was driving.

If you have no idea how I knew it was him, then you need to be watching this show.

Celebrity sightings! Just like New York!

__________

Rough day. Woke up with a touch of a cold, so I decided to wait a few hours to run, then made the mistake of going out in the heat of the day. On the plus side, started at a great pace, and that felt really good; but on the minus side, I hit a long stretch of full-on sun about ten minutes in (82°, and me without so much as a hat), and it squashed me like a bug. I more or less melted and had to stop in the middle and walk back to the car. Realized I probably wasn't hydrated enough when I started, either. Ug. Live and learn.
1.7 miles, 17 minutes.