Cars and balls

Another week flown by. I took my car to the mechanic to check out an intermittent "gudoink gudoink" noise in preparation for a three hour odyssey to Visalia on Sunday (short film shoot). Naturally, all sorts of things were picked up that need attention, the most urgent of which was the tyres and a leaking coolant tank. Ouch. The gudoink is still occurring, so the car will have to go back for more work but it's been ruled safe to drive for the time being. Discovering all the faults that are going to cost money to fix, faults you were unaware of, or which turn out to be bigger problems than expected, are the reason why people put off going to the mechanic, or the doctor or the dentist. As if problems don't exist until we find out about them. Of course they can't be avoided forever, the sensible thing to do is get them checked and attended to promptly, but... did I mention the word Ouch? Cars suck, basically. The necessity of having and maintaining a car sucks. To coin a phrase from an American I've met, it "sucks balls".

Thursday night, my Norwegian friend Julie invited me to housewarming party of a Norwegian friend of hers, Olav, a director who has worked on TV docuemtary series in Norway and is looking to branch into feature films. Naturally, Hollywood beckons so he is here to check it out and network. I said housewarming, it was more like nice-box-warming. Olav has rented studio apartment in, aptly enough, Studio City, part of a gated complex with an abundance of security guys. His furniture consists of an inflatable mattress so Julie and her boyfriend Dag brought some chairs to aid the festivities. It was a small but pleasant party, with a few other friends of Julie's attending, plus Olav's neighbours who are in a band. What different creatures they are to actors! These guys were typical emo types, all skinny, slouch-shouldered and black-jeaned, peering out from behind long black fringes; the full stereotype.

Friday night I saw the Michael Jackson film, This Is It. The film comprises video footage shot of MJ's rehearsals for the tour he was barely more than a week away from embarking on when he died. What a strange experience, watching a ghost at work. And what a marvelous sight, too. The man lived and breathed music, and for all his oddness, his warped appearance, the drug dependency that led to his death, when he is singing and dancing you forget that and all you can do is marvel. I'm so glad that this footage was shot because it is a testament to his readiness to perform. I recall hearing rumours he was not up to touring, and thinking they could well be true; he seemed to have been on a downward curve for years, his best music behind him and his peculiarities receiving more attention than his art. But the film puts paid to that; the concerts would have been spectacular and his singing and dancing, even dialled back a bit for rehearsal, were as remarkable as ever.

This morning I attended the first of a series of 8 classes I've signed up for with Russell Boast and Rick Pagano. These guys are more than just casting directors. Russell hails from South Africa and is quite passionate about theatre, he directs stage shows frequently. Rick is a writer, and they both like working with actors (which can't be said for everyone in the biz). I haven't met Rick yet, as Russell took today's class. I met Russell last year when he taught a few classes at TVI, and I really like him. He has an easy sense of humour and a practical, encouraging approach to teaching, bringing with him all that he has observed and experienced in casting and directing over the years. He spoke about the need for us to not sit around waiting for the phone to ring but to get out there and put on shows or make films of our own. Well, he's preaching to the converted here. Part of the next 8 weeks will be about not just identifying our own strengths and individuality as actors, with a view to producing our best work and knowing how to market ourselves, but also planting the seeds of creating a show for ourselves. Awesome!