Bonhomie

Holiday season is upon us in all its festive glory. The streets are twinkling with fairy lights and adorned with baubles; billboards urge us to spend; and grocery stores seduce us with food and liquor sales. The faint waft of cinnamon is in the air. It struck me, all of a sudden, why people decorate with lights at this time of year; because it’s winter and it gets dark early. This is no doubt perfectly obvious to most people, but this little Aussie is used to Christmas at summertime, when the days are long and (usually) warm. Not that LA becomes a snowy wonderland. Last weekend it was even verging on hot.


UCLA closes for two weeks over the Christmas/New Year period, which happens to coincide with my roommates disappearing; one on vacation and the other to a new apartment. I’ll have the place to myself for a week before the new roommate moves in and I’m looking forward to getting all domestic and doing some cleaning, tidying and, best of all, baking! I’m going to throw a little party just to have an excuse to bake (and a means of preventing myself from eating EVERYTHING I bake). When I was in Melbourne I picked up a Donna Hay cookbook filled with delicious recipes, plus I’ve been soliciting recipes from friends and family in the wake of losing my precious recipe book somehow in the last apartment. Still a bit sad and annoyed about that. But it’s gone, I don’t know where, exactly when or quite how it happened, so I must simply start over. Bridgette, your ginger and spiced caramel slice is top of my list to try out!

On the weekend, I helped Alex shoot a scene for her showreel. It’s a little dramatic, slice of life moment in a car, which I wrote. With James behind his fancy, very neat, camera, and another friend behind the wheel of the car, we drove around for a few hours finding the best light and doing several takes. A fun afternoon hanging out with friends and creating something; what better way to spend your time! Looking forward to seeing the footage. I’m setting my webseries in a car, too. Why this preoccupation with cars? Must be an LA thing! With work being very quiet this last week or so, I’ve written three episodes and fleshed out a fourth in my head. I plan to write the remaining four eps over the next two weeks.

Sport of Acting finished up for the year on Tuesday night. We had a great class, during which Vinny encouraged me to deliver the whole St Monica monologue I’ve been working on in three parts. Last week I performed “Part 3” for the first time, so it is the section I’ve worked on the least (which I felt) but it was delicious fun to do the whole thing; like stretching out in a big bed, or hitting the freeway after traveling in stop-start traffic (there I go with the car thing again). Then the whole class hung out in the theatre and shared wine, cheese, chocolate and passionate opinions, not to mention wonderful bonhomie.

"Reflections" disturbed

What the hell is going on?  Checked in on my wee blog this morning to find that the insidious blank video link had once again attached itself to the blog entry formerly known as Reflections on a Holiday in my Favourite City.  I have therefore deleted the whole entry once again.

Quick entertainment review:  On the weekend I saw The King's Speech, starring the marvelous and thoroughly lovely Colin Firth, the rumpled and roguish Geoffrey Rush, and the sublime Helena Bonham-Carter.  An interesting episode in history involving the infamous abdication of King Edward (who chose the love of American divorcee Wallace Simpson over the throne), leaving his brother Albert (fondly known as Bertie, but formally referred to as George VI) to wear the crown.  Saddled with a crippling stammer, Bertie, thanks partly to his intrepid wife, starts working with an Australian speech therapist called Lionel Logue.  It's a classic tale of overcoming adversity which made me laugh and cry and applaud loudly.  Beautifully written and performed, it's an absolute delight.  Go see it!

I've also been watching new episodes of Misfits, an anarchic UK show that turns the superhero genre on its ear.  The show follows the exploits of a bunch of young offenders on community service duties who, in a freak storm, suddenly acquire supernatural abilities.  Do they go about saving the world?  Nope.  But they look after each other, and despite their prickly differences (and, in most cases, lack of social graces), form bonds as they try to hide their powers and half-heartedly perform their community service duties.  They have foul mouths, behave badly, but are not totally irredeemable (and the regional Brit accents are marvellous). The show is inventive, sharply written, hilarious and thrilling.  I'm told Season 1 is currently showing in Australia on ABC2.  Season 2 has just started screening in the UK, but no sign of it in the US (Netflix hasn't heard of it, either) so I've been resorting to YouTube!

Getting Sporty with it

December is here and with it, winter— LA-style winter—which means mostly cloudless blue skies and mild temperatures during the day followed by freezing cold nights. Weeelll, freezing is perhaps overstating it: quite chilly, might be a more accurate description. We’re thin-blooded devils here on the West Coast. Pity the poor fools languishing in snow drifts on the East Coast.


Financially, I’m feeling the pinch of my Aussie Odyssey, on top of Thanksgiving holidays. However, I also feel rested and re-energised. And the good news is I’ll be at UCLA until at least the end of January. We break for two weeks over Christmas (sigh, more penny pinching required!) during which I plan to lay low and write. And if I’m lucky I might score a few days work here or there through the temp agency. If I’m really lucky, I’ll be cast in a commercial!

Almost as soon as I got off the plane, I was back in rehearsals for the Sport of Acting’s class project: the performance of four short plays, written by the talented Jeffrey Addiss, and directed by friends of Vinny (also industry pros). The plays were each very funny, with a dark edge, which made them all the more satisfying. It was great to see everyone involved working together. It was especially wonderful watching the members of the class who have less stage experience; they worked so hard and really grew as actors. To use Sport terminology, it just goes to show that no matter how many practice sessions you have, some lessons are learnt out on the field. Performing for an audience puts you on your toes and increases your “match fitness.” OK, enough with the metaphors. Putting on a show and performing for an audience is very familiar territory for me. I must confess I was not particularly challenged (or nervous) but that’s not to say I didn’t get anything out of it. I had the fun—and honour—of working with an exacting director who made me think about the script in different ways, and playing with two of my classmates, both of whom did wonderful work. Plus, I love performing. Gimme a stage, I’ll get on it.

Gotta love Thanksgiving. With no religious connections, it is an occasion in which everyone can participate. Indeed, it is all about inclusiveness and sharing. This year I was once again embraced by some American friends and fed lots of yummy food. Thank you Amber and Jamie for your generosity and friendship. With a belly full of turkey, pumpkin pie and roasted marshmallows, sloshing around in some excellent pinot noir, I eventually rolled home to bed.

I had a big commercial audition last week in which I was able to use my natural accent. It was in fact a requirement. How lovely! Authentic Aussie accents were required because this is a commercial (or, potentially, series of commercials = serious money) being made to screen exclusively in Australia. How ironic to go all the way to LA to have a shot at a big Australian commercial. Aside from the accent, I felt this one was right in my milieu; slightly quirky, girl-next-door, comedy and improv background. So I was excited about it, and felt that the audition went well. However, I haven’t heard anything, so must assume I’m not in consideration. This is a real bummer. It makes me question what I’m doing. People keep telling me I have talent, that I should persevere, but sometimes I think I must be lacking something. That extra something special. Star quality? Pop? Zing? Call it what you will. And I am tired of living like a pauper, being a charity case! I shouldn’t despair at one audition, but I don’t know how much longer I can push on this without a return. I promised myself two years in LA to see what happens, then reassess. The next 12 months will be interesting.

Eating, drinking, and frocking

Melbourne rocks.  After a chilly start last week, this week has been full of sunny gorgeousness.  In fact, I'm wishing I had packed more summer clothes and a more practical, walk-around-town pair of sandals than the LA skyscrapers that I brought.  Not that I haven't had occasion to trot them out, but they're not really for walking in.  Today I found myself trying on a lovely pair of Filippo Raphael flat sandals in a favourite shoe store in Toorak Village.  Oooh, I really want them... but it's craziness to buy shoes in Australia (this pair are a cool $250) when they are so cheap in the US.  Italian brand, but they don't seem to be sold in the US.  In fact, even in Australia they seem to be retailed exclusively through Edward Meller stores.  Sigh.

There has been LOTS of catching up with friends over food and wine; damn, the food is good here.  OK, generally it is cheaper to eat out in LA but frankly most of the time you get quantity over quality.  It's so lovely to be on holiday in my favourite city.  Aside from eating and drinking, talking and laughing, frocking up (main event frocking to happen tomorrow - the wedding!), I've been working out at my old gym (Nada and Dr Soph are two of the best Step instructors in the world, bloody awesome routines), getting thoroughly massaged, and have lined up a facial next week, the day before I get on the plane home.  The idea of LA as my home is still a little alien (as am I, legally speaking); I guess I have two homes.

Last night I saw Electronic City, the new show by local theatre group Hoy Polloy.  It was preview night, and I'm so glad I happened to be in town to catch it.  Directed by Wayne Pearn (with assistance from Bridgette Burton), the show is in very good shape.  It's a challenging piece for actors, with a lot of chorus work creating vocal soundscapes of frenetic, madness-inducing chatter, robotic instructions, alarms and electronic white noise.  The effect is quite thrilling, even as it spins your head around and reminds you what you hate about travelling, and how paranoidly (is that a word?) reliant we are on electronic devices such as phones and computers, and the panic that can set in if we forget the charger, can't get online, or find ourselves in an interminable line at airport security.  The show officially opens tonight.  If you're in Melbourne, check it out.

Right, gotta dash.  Another lunch date.  Time to get out of this t-shirt and into a frock!

I Heart Melbourne

Halloween night, Mum and I took the Flyaway bus out to LAX, where we found ourselves in a queue for 2 hours before we reached the check-in counter.  There we were greeted by a swarthy young man wearing a very saucy serving wench outfit (complete with blonde wig and fake boobs bobbing out of a bustier), which was almost worth the wait.  By that time we had little more than 30 minutes to get through security before our plane was due to start boarding.  It's such an unnatural thing to climb into a machine that can hurtle through the sky, a crude emulation of a giant bird, and emerge 15 hours later on the other side of the world, tired, dehydrated, and slightly disoriented.  But worth it. 

For the record, I watch Dinner for Schmucks (although I snoozed through much if it, which shouldn't be taken as criticism, Jemaine Clements was HILARIOUS as the sexy beasty artist), SATC2 (the perfect thing to watch on a plane, because you don't need to hear most of the dialogue, the outfits are really pretty, and it's mostly a pile of luxury brand crap) and a couple of episodes of Nurse Jackie (a pity not to catch all the dialogue there, such a great show). 

We sat next to a very Grumpy Woman, who shall hereafter be referred to as Grumps, for that amuses me.  Grumps had the aisle seat, which meant Mum and I had to disturb her every time we wanted to stretch our legs or go to the toilet.  And it was always necessary to disturb her as she never got up of her own volition.  How does anyone sit in cattle class for 15 hours and not have a burning need at some point to stand up and move around, let alone relieve one's bladder?  Grumps was lumpy, avoided eye contact, never acknowledged a 'thank you' and complained about having to move.  Too bad, Grumps, you're in the aisle seat.  And it's not like Mum and I were up and down every 10 minutes.  It seemed Grumps was determined to be miserable.  And she smelt bad.  She should have stayed home.  Seeya Grumps, your couch will welcome you with open arms.

Oh Melbourne, how I love you.  I had a coffee at Melbourne Airport while Mum and I waited for our ride; even the takeaway brew at the arrivals terminal was better than the average excuse for a coffee one encounters in LA.  I'm beside myself with excitement to be here, busily making plans to catch up with as many friends as possible.  This morning I took a train into the CBD to meet a friend, and had a coffee and croissant for breakfast at one of my favourite little cafes.  Bliss.  Then a tram to Carlton to meet another friend, trundling past charming old terrace houses and shops with wrought ironwork verandahs and a local pub on every corner.

Anticipating Melbourne

October disappeared in what feels like a matter of hours, and now the Halloween fun is upon us. Shops, offices, homes and cars are decorated to varying degrees with Halloween paraphernalia from the ghoulish to the cute, and TV shows are screening their special holiday episodes. I must admit to delighting in Glee’s Rocky Horror tribute, and observe that Mr Schuester should take off his shirt more often.


I’m somewhat inured to the loopiness of the season, having already experienced it twice, but Mum has been running around taking photographs of giant pumpkins and animatronic zombies lifting their glassy-eyed heads on and off in purgatorial repetition. This last week, however, she has been visiting friends in Vancouver. We’ll be spending a lot of time at airports this weekend as I collect her on Saturday, and then we head to LAX on Sunday night for our 14 hour blind dash in a speeding tin can back to Melbourne. We land on Cup Day! Oh, how I’m looking forward to being back in Melbourne, albeit for barely more than two weeks. A flying visit indeed, with many catch-ups, dinners and assorted revelry on the agenda.

New York, New York

A couple of weeks ago, Mum and I spent a few days in New York. We flew in on a Thursday, landing in the early evening and greeted by fairly heavy rain and wind. After checking in to a boutique hotel on the upper East side, we walked to a nearby restaurant, one of several recommended by the hotel. Il Vagabondo is a little Italian joint, nestled just below street level in a former bocce alley. The bar, kitchen and coat check are at the front, and a narrow hallway leads to a small dining area running the length of a bocce alley, still intact and available to play on. The long, narrow dining arrangement called to mind the dining car on a train; not made for large groups, but quite cosy for two people. I ate delicious, hand-made agnoletti with butternut pumpkin (or squash, as they call it), sage, garlic and burnt butter. Yummy.


On the Friday we took ourselves off to the Guggenheim museum. Their current special exhibition is called Chaos and Classicism, and focuses on art produced between the First and Second World Wars. The (mostly) paintings on display include early works by Picasso, and are a mix of muscled bravado and idealised beauty. The human body is much on display, and the images are clean, quiet and orderly, as if artists wanted to return to a sense of calm and hope after the shock of the Great War (not knowing, of course, the world was headed for another within a generation). One of the most beautiful pieces was a golden sculpture of a woman’s head - the artist’s wife (or mistress, you know these artists). It is goddess-like and elegant in its simplicity. Check it out:

Head in Brass

After the Guggenheim, we took a stroll through Central Park to the West side, and headed south to catch up with an Aussie friend of mine who is now living in New York and pursuing a stand-up career. We feasted on bagels and then, having merrily chatted for an hour or so, suddenly realised we were going to be late for Memphis, the Tony Award-winning musical we had booked to see.

Which reminds me: when lining up at the Shubert Theatre box office to purchase our tickets that morning, we found ourselves an involuntary audience to quite a performance. The woman at the front of the line - hereafter known as the Obnoxious Brit - was pleading her case for free tickets for that evening’s show. She described the sad tale of the eight people she was traveling with “all the way from the south of France” who had bought tickets to the previous night’s show through an agent, only to have the tickets delivered to their hotel after the performance had begun. OB had got on the phone to the theatre straight away and was told to come to the box office first thing in the morning where, they promised, she’d be taken care of. After hearing her repeat her story countless times, three things were clear: (1) she had probably annoyed the person on the phone sufficiently (not getting the answer she wanted) until that person got rid of her by handballing her onto the box office; (2) she wanted to be given replacement tickets free of charge, although she didn’t exactly say those words; and (3) the theatre was not going to give them to her. I’ve got to give her props for trying, she threw it all out there, pled her case and was very persistent. But there comes a time when one must recognise that one has done all one can and it is time to stop. I don’t know when she reached that point. Perhaps as she was escorted off the premises by security.
That night, the theatre was packed to the rafters (which was pretty much where we were sitting) and I half expected to see OB there with her entourage, bullying her way into sitting in the aisles if necessary (something she offered to do during her box office performance). The show was terrific; telling the story of black music’s emergence into white popular culture through radio and television, it had great songs, choreography and dancing, performed at breakneck speed with joy and verve.

On Saturday we slept in and then headed to Greenwich Village. It was a lovely, sunny day, though windy. We strolled along Bleeker Street, lined up at Magnolia Bakery for some yummy delicious cupcakes, and had a late lunch at a funky fish café called Choptank. That night we saw another show, Time Stands Still, written by David Marguilies and starring the wonderful Laura Linney, the urbane Eric Bogosian, and the pixie-like Christina Ricci. Beautifully written and performed, it’s about two adrenalin-junkie war correspondents and what happens to their relationship after one nearly dies when a car bomb goes off, yet can’t wait to go back, while the other decides he has had enough and is ready for a “comfortable” life. Fabulous.

On Sunday we took the subway all the way to the southern tip of Manhattan to board a helicopter. After more than an hour of waiting in various lines, we got our 15 minute ride around the Statue of Liberty (aka “The Lady”), up the Hudson River and back again. I had been hoping the ride would take us right over the city, but I guess there are laws about that, so we stuck to the waterways. Nonetheless, it was rather exciting to be perilously airborne (yet feeling quite safe) and we got a good view of Manhattan in all its high-rise, metropolitan glory; Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, Ground Zero, Madison Square Garden, Central Park. We also got a birds-eye view of Hoboken, New Jersey and Brooklyn. By the time we got back to the hotel we barely had time to grab something to eat before the airport shuttle arrived to whisk us back to Newark. This journey introduced us to the second most obnoxious person in New York. The shuttle bus driver greeted us by yelling at us for making a double booking (we didn’t) and slammed the doors of the bus in our faces before we had a chance to load in our suitcases. He then proceeded to lean on his horn every few seconds, as apparently he was in a hurry and nobody in New York was moving fast enough for him. I was disinclined to tip him, but Mum’s a softie.

October update

So it seems this has become a once-a-month blog.  Not ideal, not my intention, and not to continue much longer.  It's been a very busy few weeks.  Mum arrived and has settled into the apartment I vacated at the end of September.  As luck would have it, there was a room available that she could rent for the month of October, so she grabbed it.  Certainly makes it easier for us to hang out when I'm not working.  Between work, classes and rehearsals I don't have much free time these days, and much of what I have I'm devoting to Mum.  She has been very intrepid finding her way around LA on the bus and rail system - and can aver that people do in fact use public transport in LA.  She has had quite some adventures and met several Characters.  She has also figured out what kind of coffee she likes and how to order it here.  She's been Downtown, where she was impressed with Union Station, and found Alvarado St where she browsed the Mexican market and bought a nice summery dress.  Despite my warnings, she was unprepared - coming from a cold and wet Melbourne winter - for just how hot the weather is here, even in Autumn.  Although, last week we had a few cold, wet days just to shake things up a bit!  This weekend, we're back to sweltering summer temperatures.

I've moved out of the dark little apartment that was my home for the last 8 months, upstairs into a 3 bedroom apartment with two other girls.  There is so much more light up here, and no creaking floorboards above my head.  Hallelujiah!  Downside is that it certainly gets much hotter, but that's a deal I can handle.

Work has been going well, and I'll be there until at least the end of October.  Maternity leave lady had indicated she might be back as soon as the 11th, but has postponed her return until November 1st.  I'm kinda hoping she decides to take the next 12 months off work to spend it with her baby son.  However, in the meantime, I have applied for another job at the University which sounds interesting and would be part time.

Yesterday Mum and I took a drive up to Santa Barbara, a very cute town populated largely by students attending the university, and wealthy retirees.  A friend of mine is living there (for the record, she is neither a student nor wealthy) so it was a good opportunity to catch up while doing some sightseeing.  It happened to be the Harbor Festival, with lots of seafood (especially lobsters and crabs) on show.  You could buy them, still wriggling and snapping, out of wading pools off the pier, or dine on them from one of the restaurants or temporary stalls.  The place was teeming with people (and lobsters), and it was a glorious, sunny day.  We took a walk along the beach, which aside from being plagued by sandflies and seaweed washed up on the shore, was beautiful; lined by palm trees, framed by distant mountains, the water was cold and blue and speckled with brightly coloured boats and windsurfers.

Ex-squeeze me? Mexican food?

Holy guacamole, it’s September! Ladies and gents, it has been a year since I landed on this crazy town. So let’s take stock: what, pray tell, have I learned and achieved?

1. Produced, performed in, and promoted my own show, which was a resounding success.

2. Successfully navigated the black hole of creepiness that Craigslist can be to find the nuggets of genuine people, and found somewhere to live.

3. Learnt that living with two cats in an apartment with no outside access is a BAD IDEA.

4. Successfully navigated the black hole of creepiness again, and discovered that Melrose Place-style living (complete with swimming pool and sex scandals) really exists.

5. Got my Californian drivers license (on the second attempt - sigh), after facing the fact that 20 years driving experience counts for little when taking the Californian drivers license test. Being able to back up 30 feet in a straight line is considered more important than demonstrating you can reverse park.

6. Got a job (eventually).

7. Got an agent.

8. Auditioned for several commercials (and counting…).

9. Cast in several short films.

10. Wrote for and performed in original sketch comedy show.

11. Discovered that LA drivers are TERRIBLE.

12. Despite daily contact with said terrible drivers, maintained a clean driving record: no traffic violations, no accidents (touch wood).

13. Insurance is HORRIBLY expensive.

14. Wages are PITIFUL (no wonder everyone complains about taxes).

15. The weather is GORGEOUS (but very dry).

16. You have to drink LOTS of water.

17. Lots of water is WASTED in LA (it’s a desert, people, wake up and turn off the hose).

18. Although most coffee is crap, it is possible to find excellent espresso.

19. Americans are really friendly.

20. Americans go weak at the knees in the presence of an Aussie accent.

21. Developed and polished my skills in various classes and workshops.

22. Made some really good friends.

Hmm. Not bad.

I’ve been uber busy at work the last couple of weeks, but sliding into some downtime now before things get busy again next month. In Sport of Acting-related news, we’ve started rehearsing some short plays, all written by the same guy - Jeffrey Addiss - a friend of Vinny’s. The plays each tell very different stories, but all have great characters and are sharply written. Meanwhile, in our regular class, I’m working on a kick-ass monologue from the play “The Last Days of Judas Escariot,” by Stephen Adly Giurgis. If you haven’t encountered this play, go find it, it’s fabulous. I’m working on Saint Monica’s monologue, which is a whopper. I chose it because it’s not obvious casting for me, and it has a high degree of difficulty; when I first read it I loved it but thought “I don’t know how to do this,” at which point it became essential that I tackle it. I love a challenge, and believe that some of my best performances have been in roles that I was daunted by to begin with. Acting challenges make me grow, exploring new territory, making me a better actor. It’s like at the gym, sometimes you need a personal trainer to push you harder than you thought you could go, in order to get fitter and tone muscles you didn’t know you had. A tough role in a good play, with the right director, can be like a personal training session.

To celebrate my LA anniversary, on Friday night Alex and I went out for a drink at the poolside bar on the rooftop of the W Hotel in Hollywood. Swanky! We got there early, so it was pretty chilled out and quiet when we arrived. Heading poolside, we first passed through a lounge area decked out with big booths made from gold leather, nestled into a shiny stage area graced later in the evening with very bored pole dancers (not the naked kind, but nonetheless providing glimpses of panties beneath mini-skirts fluffed out with tutu-style petticoats). Outside, the LA skyline was visible on two sides as dusk settled in. Palm trees and daybeds lined the pool (yes, on the roof), and Hot Young Things milled about taking photos of each other. The guys wore designer shirts and lots of hair product; the girls wore short’n’tight dresses and skyscraper heels.

Mum flew in on the weekend, escaping from Melbourne’s winter blues into the embracing warmth of LA’s autumn sunshine. It’s great to see her and we’re making plans for various activities over the next few weeks.

P.S. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the AFL Grand Final (Friday night, LA time). CARN THE PIES!!!!!!

Less rant, more news

Wow.  I just read my last entry.  It's pretty feisty.  The culmination of a few things that I guess have been simmering for awhile.  Anyway, moving along!  Can you believe I'm just three weeks away from my one year anniversary in LA?  Which happens to coincide with my Mum coming to visit - really looking forward to seeing you, Mum.  Maybe it's my recent birthday, maybe the impending anniversary, maybe the growing anticipation of visiting Melbourne in just a couple of months' time, but I'm suddenly homesick.  Last night I watched a terrific Aussie film, made in Melbourne, which was released a couple of years ago; Noise.  It was critically acclaimed but had a brief run in cinemas and I never saw it on the big screen.  It's a tense, quiet, drama about a reluctant cop (played by the very talented Brendan Cowell) suffering tinnitis (a constant ringing in the ears) on the periphery of an investigation into the slaughter of seven people on a train.  The Lilydale line.  It was excellent; tautly written and beautifully acted.  And I got such a kick out of seeing the familiar green and yellow-striped silver train, recognising scenes shot in the city loop, hearing those laconic, lilting Aussie accents. 

The latest news is that I'm moving house again.  Not far though, just into an apartment upstairs.  Hooray!  No more creaking floorboards cracking and groaning in the middle of the night as my restless upstairs neighbour walks around in circles just to torture me.  Yes, I'm taking it personally.  When my sleep is disturbed I'm known to become a little irrational.  Even murderous (not that I've ever gone through with it, but I have passed the time, while otherwise prevented from sleeping, in fantasies of jumping repeatedly on his head).  So, at the end of September I'm moving out of this dark, noisy little apartment into a lighter, brighter place upstairs sharing with two other girls.

During the week I auditioned for a Chevy commercial.  From the brief notes I received about the commercial, it was all about the working people; they wanted "real, interesting faces" and the guys didn't need to shave.  Generally when I go in for these auditions, I don my American accent, giving them no reason to think I might be from anywhere else.  This time was different.  I was ushered into the casting room with two other women, about the same age.  One was Asian, the other strawberry blonde.  We were lined up in a row facing the camera and then one by one asked a few questions, an on-camera "chat" with the casting director.  I was third in line.  It transpired that the blonde was French and the Asian was in fact Japanese, and neither had an American accent.  It was surely no coincidence that we three foreigners were brought in together.  I therefore decided not to hide my natural accent when it was my turn to "chat."  I have no idea what any of this had to do with a Chevy Silverado. 

The audition was conveniently timed late enough in the afternoon that I was able to go after work.  And it was in Santa Monica which then gave me the perfect opportunity to catch up with Frankie, a former IBIS colleague who doesn't have a car and therefore has apparently not ventured far beyond the Santa Monica/Venice ghetto.  We shared a drink and shot the breeze, compared dating stories (she declares having completely given up on American men) and remarked on the fact that she has just reached her one-year anniversary in the United States.  My how time flies.  I miss you, Melbourne.

Date rant

OK, what is it with men in LA?  Is it just that most of the ones I meet are actors?  I'm sick of actors: flakey, self-absorbed, iPhone-addicted, waiting-for-the-best-offer, bozos!  Ugh, I'm so bored with shop-talk, so sick of this inability to commit to anything further in the future than a couple of hours - I'm not talking about marriage, let's start with coffee!  Good grief.  Maybe I'm being too tough on actors, maybe it's an LA state of mind.  Make a date and wait for the "running late" or "sorry, something came up" text message.  Traffic is usually blamed; I'm sorry, we're all aware how bad the traffic can be, make allowances for it!  Yes, yes, I'm generalising.  And, thankfully, I have friends who are not flakey at all (even though most of them are actors).  But I need to get this off my chest.

Many people have complained to me about the crappy state of the dating scene in LA.  I've been surprised to discover several very attractive, very sweet young women who have resorted to online dating.  And while I've been asked out on more dates here than a year in Melbourne, they've gone nowhere (in one case, because it turned out the guy had a girlfriend - cue eye-rolling and the obvious questions) or been cancelled before they took place.  Hence, I declaim: what is it with men in LA?  Grow some balls, guys.  Not all the women here are superficial, money-grasping, fake-tanned, fake-boobed, botoxed predators.  Some of us are worth getting to know.  Some of us will enrich your life, if you'll just let us in.

Birthdaze

I’ve been considering what the theme of the last couple of weeks has been. My impulse is to say sexual frustration but then I recall that my parents read this blog and that might be awkward. What about birthday anticipation? Yes, perhaps that’s more accurate. I believe birthdays are something to be celebrated; I mean, you either embrace it or you get hung up on numbers and time ticking ever onward (ever more speedily) and all the things you wish you’d done or wish you had, and soon enough you’re in a complete funk about the whole thing. Boo hoo! Well, how lovely that I now have some awesome friends in LA to help me celebrate, and I’ve still got awesome friends in Melbourne and Paris helping me celebrate long-distance – with the bonus of different time zones extending the warm fuzzies – congratulations from three continents!

Fabulous hamper from BB, Tiff and Lee - thanks ladies!

Work has been busy the last couple of weeks and I’ve got some acting projects on the boil. For a start, we’ve begun a class project at Sport of Acting, rehearsing some short plays (all written by the same author – not me) under the guidance of some director friends of Vinny’s. The plays are very well-written, delightful little numbers with some great characters so this is shaping up as a fun project. I’ve also approached a couple of directors (including Beaten Hearts’ Cindy) about helming a short film from one of my plays. On the weekend I met with a girl who cast me in a TV project at USC earlier this year. She has since graduated and is looking to take the next step in her career as a writer/director. We had a great chat and she took away some scripts to read. Hopefully, she’ll like one of them enough to come on board.

In other news I’ve invested in some personal training sessions, to ensure an extra hard workout once a week now that, as a working woman, I’m unable to get to the gym as often as I did when unemployed. The PT sessions (three so far) have been awesome butt-kicking workouts with the added bonus of a hot, flirty trainer (well, aren’t they all!). In fact, he went so far as to ask me out but then cancelled. Twice. I mean, really, what was all that about? Just as well he’s such a good trainer. So the flirting continues, safe in the knowledge it ain’t going anywhere. I’m still getting along to a step class once a week, which is fun. Although I do miss Nada and Sophie’s classes at Genesis, Prahran, which were faster and the choreography changed more frequently. We do the same thing every week at Bally, with the same music. Every now and then she’ll throw in a new sequence, but more often than not, she’ll resurrect an old sequence that we did ad nauseum two months ago. But I think this is what the other regulars like about the class; most of them are over 50 and have been regulars for 15 years. They like doing what they’ve always done, are comforted by the familiarity. Bless them.

Enjoyed some impromptu birthday business last night (the evening of the 17th in LA) when acting class was cancelled, suddenly freeing up the whole evening. A few classmates joined me at my local bar where we had a jolly time with laughs, beer, prosecco, calamari and profiteroles. More drinks planned for this weekend – oh dear, we Aussies do equate celebrating with drinking, don’t we?

L to R: Alex, Summer, CC

Flanked by James and Mark

Write On!

I’ve been writing! Sketches mostly. I know I’ve been irregular with the blogging, mea culpa.


The little sketch comedy show I was in finished up last week to an appreciative audience of two plus a homeless man who wandered in about halfway through to take a nap in between random muttering. Perhaps we were disturbing him. Or perhaps he had just shown up early for the AA meeting which took place after the show. Suzanne, dear friend that she is, came along to the final performance, laughed loudly and dragged me off to a bar afterwards where a friend of hers was having a party. There we got chatted up by a couple of middle-aged lawyers: Roy and Randy (“He’s the rest and I’m the relaxation”), I kid you not. They were nice enough fellows, but no thanks. Sometimes I wish I had it in me to be rude enough to say at a certain point “I have to talk to someone else now, bye!” They both gave me their card. I guess I know who to call if I ever need legal advice… especially with regards to real estate dealings… ace.

Everyone is talking about Inception. I’m over it. What a heap of hyperbolic hoo-ha. Hey, I enjoyed it, it’s very entertaining, but it is NOT the greatest film ever made. Basically, it’s little more than a heist film with arresting visuals, but it seems to have a lot of people hoodwinked into thinking it’s deep and philosophical and complicated. It’s not really. As far as films that play with ideas of memory and dreams (and the manipulation of both), then Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind goes a lot further, has richer characters and ultimately a point to make about the importance of memories in shaping who we are and how we learn from our experiences. Come to think of it, so does Hitchcock’s Spellbound (which comes complete with Salvador Dali dream sequence). That being said, I applaud the making of a film that is not based on a TV show or video game and that does not rely on the star power of its actors for success. I’m glad it is doing so well and hope that the Hollywood power-brokers recognize the value of investing in original scripts.

Finally - a job

I've been put to work as the editorial assistant and office coordinator for the UCLA Law Review.  It's a temporary assignment, replacing someone who is on maternity leave and expects to be back at work in October.  It's also full-time, which is less than ideal as far as my acting pursuits go, but it doesn't completely stifle them and hey it's only a few months.  I'm being paid an insultingly low wage, but it's just enough to squeak by on.  I do not understand the wages in this country.  Minimum wage is something like $7 an hour, which nobody can live on, unless they're working 80 hour weeks.  Which I suppose some people do.  Money gripes aside, the job itself is quite enjoyable; it's detail-oriented, which is one of my fortes, the material is interesting and the location is great.  UCLA is a big beautiful campus in Westwood  (a VERY nice part of LA) with great old buildings, lots of gardens and shady nooks in which to sit.  It's also a short drive from home, up and over the Hollywood Hills; I can get there in 30 minutes, which in LA is fantastic.  I've now completed two weeks of work, the first of which was spent training with Ann, the woman I'm filling in for.  Given the nature of publishing, and my particular role in the production process, sometimes there's a lot of work to do, sometimes very little.  I had two really quiet days this week, which was great as it afforded me the time to poke around and get familiar with the job and best of all, the time to write.  I'm basically working unsupervised at the moment - although I have fairly consistent contact by email with some of the editors throughout the day - with an office to myself and the ability to play music to my heart's content.  The university is quiet at the moment because it's the summer break, but the students come back next month so I can expect more human interaction then.

The other item worth noting is the availability of good coffee on campus; basically, there is none.  The staff kitchen has a coffee machine (Starbucks brand) that grinds beans per serving at the touch of a button, but the coffee is too watery for my taste.  I've been making do - it's insipid, but not offensive - but I knew I had to kit myself out with a little french press so I could make my own brew (with Supreme Bean's heavenly Nocturne blend).  The quest for what Bodum calls its 3-cup french press (but really, it's one mug's worth) proved more challenging than anticipated.  I've come to the conclusion that the average American taste in coffee is quantity over quality; weak coffee and lots of it.  I went to four places that sell tea and coffee accoutrements, and none of them stocked the baby Bodum.  Going online, I found that some Target stores stocked them, but none that were nearby, so I ended up ordering one from Amazon.com of all places!  It arrived on Thursday afternoon, so on Friday I took it in to work and was one blissed-out little proofreader.

Comedy Ha Ha

So, I've been doing this little sketch comedy show on Friday nights.  It's called 'Lo-Carb Comedy' and the material is all based around health and fitness and alternative lifestyles; a rich vein from which to draw comedy blood.  This has been an interesting and in some ways challenging experience.  Anyone who is familiar with Baggage Productions knows the quality of script, sharpness of performance and attention to detail of our shows.  Our budgets have always been tiny, but that matters less when you are working with great scripts and wonderful, talented, dedicated people.  We put a lot of work in, typically devoting several months to writing, development and rehearsal. 

Lo-Carb Comedy is a different beast because this is a bunch of people I haven't worked with before and we threw it together in two weeks.  Nothing is slick in two weeks, but I suppose there is a sort of knockabout energy to the show which is appealing.  Given the very short lead time, I dug up some old Baggage sketches that fitted thematically, and Will (who is a comedian and the driving force behind the show) contributed some stand-up.  Two other young women - JJ and Julian - plus JJ's hubby, John (that's a lot of J's) round out the cast.  JJ and Will wrote some other sketch material and John does an on-target Christopher Walken impersonation.  The best thing about the show is that it has got me writing again.  After hearing about the range of insane extreme diets that Julian has personally sampled (and continues to seek out), I wrote a sketch about the topic.  Since the show has been up on its feet, I've been working on another sketch; the juices are flowing. 

We've performed the last three Friday nights at the Next Stage Theatre, a pokey little place in a strip mall in the heart of seedy Hollywood.  It's a busy venue, with multiple shows each running one night a week.  Lo-Carb Comedy is on right after The Vampire Chronicles; we're sharing a dressing room with an assortment of nubile young things in bustiers (some are vampires, some are victims).  The low hum of muted chit-chat in the dressing room is punctuated by blood-curdling screams on-stage and dramatic music. 

Outside in the parking lot one encounters hipsters heading to The Woods - a bar which, typical of LA, looks utterly nondescript (even daggy, being in a strip mall) on the outside but is actually pretty cool and jam-packed on the inside (you could be anywhere from New York to Berlin) - or families stopping in at Mashti Malone's for some ice-cream, or a homeless man selling a rabbit (as a pet or a meal, your choice).

Special guest stars

I'm a bad, baaaad blogger.  Sorry folks, been a bit blue over the last week or so; the jobhunt is getting me down.  Suffice to say, I'm still looking and have started approaching cafes, retailers and supermarkets.  A glimmer of hope on the horizon today: one of the recruitment agencies I have signed with is submitting me for a 4 month full-time contract job in an editorial/administrative role for a company that publishes legal journals.  I can handle the idea of full-time on a short term basis.  Four months is pushing the boundaries a little, but I would be making a decent wage and I can bite the bullet for four months.  So fingers crossed.  Otherwise, keep your fingers crossed for a cafe job; I've approached both Aroma and M Street (my two fave coffee joints) and had a positive response from both, they're just not hiring at the moment...

In the meanwhilst (Dad, please don't question the legitimacy of that word, it's an obscure Monty Python reference), I've been roped into doing a sketch comedy show - two performances only, unless our adoring public demands more more more.  It's been pulled together mighty fast  - over the course of little more than a week - so I dived into the Baggage archives for a few tried and tested beauties (hello Diandra, you sweet, daffy thing).  I've also written some new stuff.  It will be a bit of a scrambly, scratchy show; I'm looking on it as an opportunity to try out some sketch comedy in LA, an experiment, and hey, what else am I doing right now?

Last week we had a special guest teacher at Sport of Acting.  Tom McLoughlin is a film director with a list of credits as long as your arm.  Providing your arm is really REALLY long.  Oh, just IMDb him, go on click on his name, I've linked it.  He and Vinny go way back.  Anyway, so everyone in class got to work with him as if on set, on a moment from a scene of our choice (something we've been working on in class).  Tom has an acting background so he really understands the actor's process and knows how to get what he needs from us.  He worked quickly in figuring out a suitable set-up/camera angle and blocking for each scene, and then gave each of us quite a lot of time - maybe three takes - to capture the 'moment'.  He also had a few choice anecdotes about some of the megastars he has worked with, such as Kirk Douglas and Marlon Brando.  Seriously privileged to have worked - however briefly - with him.  On a side note, he also happened to be one of the people who came to see Beaten Hearts.

Another highlight of the last couple weeks was seeing Billy the Mime.  Billy (not his real name - it's actually Steven Banks, and among other things he is the head writer on Spongebob Squarepants) is another old mate of Vinny's and he is a superb, inspired and ruthlessly cynical artist.  Amongst his ambitious, brilliant, hilarious and frequently dark set were such gems as: "The African American Experience" in which he mimed key phases and historical moments from slavery to Rosa Parks to Rodney King to Mike Tyson to Obama; "David Carradine's Last Night"; "Dinner with Jeffrey Dahmer"; and "The Priest and the Altar Boy."  If you ever get the chance to see him play, GO!  He trained with Marcel Marceau, he performs in traditional garb (white face paint etc) but there is nothing old-fashioned or daggy about this mime.  As Vinny puts it, yeah you might see him mime going downstairs - but he's going down there to kill someone.

Luv a duck

Summer has arrived in LA and so have the ducks.  Yes, ducks in our swimming pool.  Don't you have some? 

Ducks fly in, neighbours emerge from their caves/apartments, BBQs are fired up and gin & tonics mixed with a slice of fresh lime and a sprig of mint.  Delightful.  Oh, and the sport of the season is basketball - apparently the Lakers are playing off for a shot at the golden hoop... or something... and of course the World Cup is playing.

And my activities?  Well, I've got two more phone interviews lined up for corporate copy editing type jobs I applied for - yay, I really need something to click into place by the end of the month - and I've started a new blog.  Not to replace this one, which will continue to document my activities and occasional rants, but an outlet for the imperfect wisdom I'm accumulating about life in LA.  It's called 'An Aussie Guide to Surviving LA' and I'm aiming to post every two days (three articles up so far); there's a link to the left, check it out, email it to your friends, make me a cyber-phenomenon.

Aside from bloggery and job applications, what did this li'l Aussie get up to this week?  Well, last weekend I participated in a 4 and a half hour meditation workshop.  It was held at my yoga studio, was led by a woman called Sally Kempton who is regarded as something of a guru, and altogether came highly recommended.  I haven't really done meditation before so I thought I'd poke my nose in and inhale.  So to speak.  Hmm, seemed like a good metaphor at the time and now I'm not so sure.  But I digress.  It was quite interesting; Sally spoke about her experiences, her teachers, her philosophy, and led us through several group meditations.  She spoke about the power of collective consciousness, when a group of people are focused on the same thing, thinking the same way; and I thought that's what happens at live performances - be they music, comedy or theatre - at least when they're good, it's exhilarating.  As for the meditations, I had trouble staying focused on her voice and the imagery she was creating; when my mind didn't wander, I felt sleepy, not more conscious of my consciousness. 

Out of my mind and into my body, on Wednesday I scored a personal training session at the gym - gratis - involving a very large truck tyre.  Close to a metre in diameter, this was a solid chunk of rubber which Mike (my PT) made me flip over and over.  Simple and very effective full body workout; I had to squat deeply, grab the bottom edge of the tyre, lift it up (using legs, keeping back straight) and push it over - SLAM!  Repeat.  Buttocks, quadriceps, abdominals, biceps all engaged.  This activity was mixed up with lots of other deep squats and ab crunches.  My legs felt like enormous sandbags by the end of the session, and I was still feeling them two days later.  It felt great though, I certainly don't push myself that hard working out on my own. 

You beauty, mate

June!  Where the hell did you come from?  Caught up with some Melburnians over the last week.  Bridge, it was so good to see you.  She was in San Diego for 5 days for work, so I drove down on Wednesday afternoon.  Theoretically, one can drive from LA to San Diego in a little over 2 hours; that would be if nobody else is on the road and you can do the speed limit the whole way.  Ha!  After two hours driving in bumper to bumper traffic I was not even halfway there and slowly going insane.  When you're on a freeway with 6 lanes in each direction and the traffic is so heavy you never get above 20 miles per hour - and that only in spurts - you know you're living in a big city with a LOT of cars.  Thankfully, shortly after the 2 hour mark, the traffic thinned out (and perhaps the freeway got a little wider, too) and I was able to hit the 65mph speed limit the rest of the way.  All up, the trip took 3.5 hours.  I felt very bleary by the time I reached the cute little hotel in Del Mar where Bridge was staying.  Still, nothing like seeing a dear friend for the first time in 8 months to perk up one's spirits.  We set off for the evening to the Hotel Del Coronado, a really beautiful old hotel on an island just a short trip across a bridge from downtown San Diego.  We were so hungry by the time we got there that we just headed straight for the wine bar and didn't stop to take any photos along the way.  In fact, I left my camera back in Del Mar anyway.  A small regret; it would have been nice to get some happy snaps of us with that magnificent hotel in the background.  For those of you unfamiliar with the place, it was where the classic film Some Like It Hot was shot.  Here's a link to the website so you can appreciate its gloriousness:

Hotel Del Coronado

I vow to return and stay a few nights!  Of course, I'll have to be rich in order to do that.  Or dating someone rich, that could work.  Maybe I should take up pole dancing, apparently those girls make hundreds per night.  One can but dream.  But back to Wednesday night.  The bar - called Eno (as in oenophile, presumably) - had a special deal on food; everything 50% off.  The food choice wasn't broad but it was very appealing; cheese platters, marinated olives, charcuterie platter, chocolate.  Sounds like a balanced meal to me!  We ordered one of each plus a flight of champagne and another of pinot noir to share.  Each flight contained 3 x half-glasses of wine from different regions.  The bubbles were all very good, but I can't recall where they were from; wait, maybe I can.  One from France, one from Germany (I think), one from California.  The pinot's had one outstanding winner, while the other two were pleasant but forgettable.  The standout was Thorne, from the Santa Rita hills outside of Santa Barbara.  I don't recall which vintage.  For the oenophiles out there, here's a link to the company website:

http://thornewine.com/wine.html

At the bar we got chatting with a woman, who, hearing our accents, naturally couldn't resist talking to us.  Such is the power and charm of the Australian accent.  Well, she was lovely - and also indulging in the Thorne Pinot Noir - and we found ourselves having quite an in-depth discussion about relationships, career goals and the pressure on women (much of which we put on ourselves) to retain the appearance of youth (as in equalling beauty in this youth-obsessed culture), pressure many begin to feel acutely as we approach our forties.  Our American companion was in her mid-40s so this is something she is experiencing and has observed amongst her friends, and indeed I too have friends broaching the big four-oh and considering a touch of botox in the forehead.  No!!! I cry.  It's a slippery slope; where does it end?  There are so many freaky looking women walking around with frozen faces who seem to have lost all sense of normalcy.  Actors, especially, I think should resist botox and extreme cosmetic surgery; yes, they are under the microscope and blown up on huge screens in HD magnifying their every imperfection - I understand the pressure - but by freezing their faces, through which, frankly, 90% of a screen performance is expressed, they are diminishing their most important tool.  Cate Blanchett once described wrinkles thus: they are the songlines of your body.  Botox is a short term, illusory solution to an inevitable change.  You can't hide your age forever, and there comes a point when you simply look weird - if not absurd - trying to do so.  All hail ageing beauties (and phenomenal actresses, to boot) such as Helen Mirren and Meryl Streep!

The next Melburnian in town was Kelly, another green card recipient, who stopped in LA for a few days en route to Chicago where she's going to study improv with Second City.  She and her boyfriend had been doing the touristy things in LA, and getting around mostly by cab - an expensive way to travel.  It was my pleasure to pick them up from their Hollywood motel and take them to the good old reliable Cat and Fiddle, where we sat in the lovely courtyard surrounded by trees and Spanish-style buildings, relaxed with a beer and chicken pot-pie, and talked comedy, LA and the biz.

On the job front, I have started reading scripts for an agency - unpaid but interesting and a lovely way to spend a couple of hours in a cafe, 'working' - and was interviewed this morning for an assistant job I applied for with a small, up and coming production company which specialises in documentaries.  Cross fingers for that one I'd love to do it!

Well, there you have it, enough bloggery for now methinks.   See you in a few days!

Felines, photos and BBQs

Gina moved out during the week so I have the apartment almost to myself - Milo the cat remains in my charge for the time being.  He is a bit out of sorts without Gina, but not too much since he is still king of the castle; cruising around the building, visiting his human 'girlfriends' who play with him and feed him treats, and terrorizing the building manager's cat, a fluffy white princess called Penelope who mostly stays indoors.  Just as well, too, since Milo has been known to attack her.  Does he simply dislike her that much or is he like little boys in the schoolyard who don't know how to talk to a girl they like so they just punch her and run away?  I've had some territorial battles with Milo myself.  He likes to sleep on my bed, especially now with Gina gone, which is fine so long as he sticks to the end of the bed on a blanket I've laid out for him.  He knows the rules but he likes to test what he can get away with.  More than once I've caught him settling down up near the pillows, whereupon I've moved him firmly to the blanket where he pretends to settle, only to come back 5 minutes later to see he has moved back to the pillows.  When he does that, flouting his second chance, he gets kicked out altogether. 

My new roommate, Shannon, will be moving in tomorrow, although she will then be off on holiday for a couple of weeks. 

Some ripples on the job front - finally! - over the last week.  I had two interviews - one a phone interview, for an arts admin job which I would LOVE to do (cross fingers I make it to the next round of in-person interviews), and the other with a recruitment agency after I responded to an ad for a temporary proofreading job.  It pays peanuts, but that would be better than nothing right now.  This week I have an interview to intern (aka unpaid work experience/slave labor) at an agency reading scripts and writing coverages (summary and assessment); this is something I'd love to do long term and would be able to work from home primarily but like so many entertainment industry jobs it's hard to get a foot in the door without some kind of personal recommendation.  Doing an internship will help and of course I'm hoping that donating my time, two days a week for three months, might lead to an offer of ongoing, paid work.  Will be interesting either way.

On Thursday I had some new headshots taken.  They are primarily commercial, meaning I was aiming for a few specific looks/character types (such as Mom, cop/detective, cute/quirky/comic, business suit/lawyer/reporter etc).  The photographer, Patricia, is one of my new LA friends; an actress I met in a workshop - kept meeting in workshops actually! - who also happens to be a pro photographer.  I was really comfortable and relaxed with her (which makes a huge difference) and she was always quick to spot when I was unfocused or 'faking it' - "Fake smile!" she would yell - and great at getting me back on track.  We toured around a few spots locally, using natural light and taking advantage of several different background textures and colours.  Here's a few highlights:

It's Memorial Day today (Monday in LA) which means a three-day weekend for the average American.  BBQs abound and I have already attended two.  On Saturday my Aussie friends Nicola and Mike threw a good old Aussie barbie at their home, complete with snags and home-made burgers, beer and cheesecake.  You beauty, mate!  Most of the guests were either Aussie or English; I haven't been surrounded by that many non-American accents for quite awhile.  Yesterday one of my neighbours threw a barbecue to which the whole building - Melrose Place style - was invited.  It has been a very warm weekend, so it was lovely to sit around (and in) the swimming pool, sipping on a beverage and chatting with some of the neighbours with whom I've previously only exchanged waves and polite greetings.  Very convivial.

This week Bridgette will be in San Diego - hooray! - and I'm looking forward to seeing her.  Unfortunately she'll be working most of the time, but we'll squeeze in a good catch up and yes, photos will be posted!

Powder blue shorts

What are the ingredients of a typical week in LA?  Depends who you ask, I suppose, but sunshine and sitting by the pool would be on a lot of people's lists.  Then for the actor there are (hopefully) auditions, classes, meetings, learning scripts and having coffee (ahem, networking).  Then there's the human, social stuff like catching up with friends and seeing movies.  I can pretty much tick all those things off my list this week. 

Tuesday night with Vinny we had a special on-camera class specifically playing with those oft-featured moments in film and TV where a character wakes up - at home, in a hospital, on the beach, in an alley - perhaps slowly, perhaps suddenly, and must take in and adjust to their circumstances.  Another common scenario is a character receiving a phone call that forces them to stop what they are doing and decide to take action - perhaps its great news, perhaps terrible.  Little or no dialogue, this exercise was about creating that inner monologue or narration that can help the actor through a series of discoveries leading to action, without rushing through it.  That was the key; everyone rushed their first take.  Our minds work so fast that we jump from one thing to the next before it registers to the camera (or the audience) and time seems to slow down in silence, which also prompts us to rush things because 10 seconds can feel like a minute.  Very interesting class.

On Wednesday, I was supposed to drive 3 hours to San Diego for a commercial audition; it's a hell of a long way to go for maybe 5 minutes with a casting director, but I was prepared to make a day of it.  However, a reprieve came in the form of two other auditions I got for the same afternoon in Los Angeles.  Can't do all of them, so sacrificed San Diego.  Felt fabulous to find myself juggling all those auditions in one day!  Being a woman of a certain age means I'm squarely in the range of "young mom", unavoidable I'm afraid.  I went shopping for a couple of items to add to my audition wardrobe.  Ross is a big clearance store where fashion (and various homewares) goes to die; there are racks of clothing, including some designer stuff, hugely marked down.  You need to know what you're looking for or you could be overwhelmed.  I came away with a pair of knee-length, powder blue shorts - Greg Norman's women's label no less - which originally retailed for $60 but I snaffled for a mere $9.  Yes sirree!  I also picked up a navy blue polo short and a cute orange t-shirt for about $6 each, and some new pillows for about $8 each (my neck is already thanking me for the investment, I've been sleeping on some really cheapo awful pillows).  All up a very satisfying expedition.

Wednesday evening I had dinner with friends at their not-quite-fully-renovated-but-looking-pretty-slick home in Hawthorne, which is anywhere between a 35 minute or hour and 35 minute drive south of the valley, depending on traffic on the dear old 405 freeway.  'Twas a very convivial evening, bordering on riotous when we started in on vampire fiction.  Thanks Amber and Jamie.  They introduced me to School House Rock, a series of short, animated songs designed to teach kids about everything from grammar to basic systems of government.  Here's a link to the oh-so-catchy "Conjunction Junction (what's your function?)" -

SchoolHouseRock-ConjunctionJunction

On Thursday I hung out with Regi.  We went to see Tina Fey and Steve Carell in Date Night, a very funny comedy (seemingly a rare thing these days) about a nice married couple from Jersey having a night out in Manhatttan and getting into all manner of unlikely (but very entertaining) scrapes.  Being a beautiful, warm day we decided to go to the Getty for lunch.  We knew the view would be far superior to the cafeteria food - correct - but it was worth it.  The Getty is spectacularly located up on a hill with 360 degree views of the eccentric urban sprawl that is the City of Angels.  And there's some quite good art there too. 

Today is Friday and I have applied for a part-time admin job and filmed an audition for another commercial.  Had to do this at home using the webcam (not ideal, but useful in a pinch) as the commercial will be shot in Washington state (north of California and the home of Seattle - not to be confused with Washington city, home of US politics) and presumably the casting house is located there too.  If I get the gig, my travel and accommodation will be paid for on top of the fee for the commercial.  Fingers crossed, would be lovely to earn some money AND get to see a part of the States I haven't yet ventured to.

Still beating; my heart, my drum

Mea culpa, huge apologies for being a lazy blogger.  OK, so my last post was boasting about how well the opening week of Beaten Hearts went.  The second week went equally well - although, alas, we failed to break even.  Great houses, lots of warm and wonderful feedback, goodwill all round and a rave review in the local paper, the Burbank Leader.  I've been splashing this link around liberally, but in case you haven't seen it yet...

http://www.burbankleader.com/articles/2010/05/10/entertainment/blr-hearts050810.txt

Please note, however, that direction was incorrectly credited to me.  Beaten Hearts was (brilliantly) directed by Cynthia Kania (pictured below at the cast party).

I couldn't have hoped for more from this show; from the ease with which the cast and crew came together, to how well everyone clicked, their passion and talent, to the audience response, right down to being reviewed (no guarantee, especially with a short two-week run - the Melbourne show wasn't reviewed) and reviewed so glowingly; I have much to be proud of and thankful for.  We are now seriously looking at options to extend/revive the season, and even investigating the possibilities of touring it to New York where Alex has some contacts.  When and how this might happen will depend on the availability of the cast, recruitment of understudies and whether or not the show continues to attract an audience.  However, I think it is definitely worth trying; there is more life in this show yet and the possibilities are tantalising.

L to R: Morgan (lighting designer and operator extraordinaire), Suzanne (in Madonna circa 1986 mode), CC

We video recorded the final night performance (sadly the camera battery gave up the ghost about 25 minutes from the end) and the dress rehearsal.  Neither are really for public consumption - the show is designed to be seen live - but they serve as a record, something of interest to the cast and certain people in Australia.  We had a merry two weeks at the Sidewalk Studio Theatre; most of us went out for a drink after each performance, lots of friends saw the show and it was bags (or Baggages) of fun.  My favourite bit of indirect feedback over the last week came from someone who was overheard in the theatre foyer after the show criticising my bad British accent (what they actually heard was my natural Aussie accent).  I take that as a compliment once again to my American accent and must assume that they had not read the program notes!

Love Song in Black (L to R): Alex, Max, Suzanne, James.  CC prostrate.

A new roommate has successfully been found to replace Gina who will be moving out by the end of the month.  The search took longer than anticipated - we advertised for about a month - but finally we have someone.  Shannon seems like a nice girl and will just be staying short term - two or three months - which may just work nicely.

Alex and I finished up our four week on-camera technique course with John Swanbeck.  We got a lot out of it, a few new tools for our actor kits, a different way to use our imaginations in our work to focus, create and fascinate.  This morning I audited a Masterclass at the Beverly Hills Playhouse.  An Aussie colleague, Jasper, has recently arrived in LA and is taking this series of workshops in which the actors prepare a fairly lengthy scene to the best of their ability and present it for the group (today Jasper presented a juicy scene from Kiss of the Spiderwoman).  What follows is a detailed discussion and critique by the director/teacher on the challenges faced by the actors when working on the scene, how they met those challenges, how they felt about it and what they could do to improve their work "in the first take".  Like Vinny, and to some extent John, the teacher in this masterclass spoke about finding the behaviour of the characters; in other words, DOING is more important than FEELING, in the sense that it doesn't matter how much the actor might feel authentic or moved or 'in the moment' if it's all on the inside and the audience doesn't see it.  And what was illustrated - as I have seen and experienced time and again in Vinny's class - is that sometimes doing a certain action can help create the feeling the actor is looking for.  Working from the outside in.

Big Beaten Hearts Week

Huge week.  Rehearsals every day and we opened on Thursday night to a full house, lots of laughs and rapturous applause.  I really couldn't be happier or prouder.  Then in the blink of an eye we sold out Friday and Saturday nights too!  Beaten Hearts is a special show; for a start we have great, smart, witty scripts; add an ensemble of versatile actors and mix with an excellent director and fabulous choreographer (who also happens to be a Tony Award winner!); stir in a talented young lighting designer, a charming and intimate venue, and a sexy publicity image and bing bang boom we have a winner.  I always had confidence in the show, but didn't know how it would be received in Hollywood, the land of TV, film and short attention spans.  To sell out the first three shows has exceeded my expectations.  Now of course I expect to sell out the next three shows.

http://www.examiner.com/x-40043-Burbank--Pop-Culture-Examiner~y2010m4d29-Beaten-Hearts-Opens-at-the-Sidewalk-Studio-Theater

As you see, we got some local press and on Friday night we had a reviewer in from one of the local papers.  Unfortunately, on Friday we also had a persistent, high-pitched beeping noise through the entire show.  It was most annoying and quite distracting, especially during the quieter moments (not that there's many of those) and we simply couldn't figure out what was causing it.  The best theory is that it was someone's hearing aid; a delicious irony as apparently it's owner couldn't hear the beeping.  Anyway, all clear on Saturday night when we had a bumper crowd (Cindy, our divine director, sacrificed her seat for a paying customer and instead stood at the back) and we can't wait to jump back onstage next week.  One of the biggest compliments I've had from a number of people (apart from praise for the writing and overall execution of the show) is how good my Australian accent is.  That's right, my American accent was so convincing (I adopt it in 3 out of the 4 plays I appear in) that they assumed I was American!  It wasn't until they spoke to me after the show and a look of surprise flashed across their faces as they realised I'm an Aussie - they obviously hadn't read the programme!

The biggest drama of the week, however, had nothing to do with a high-pitched beep, although I was close to emitting something like it when my laptop suddenly came under attack from a virus just two days before the show opened.  Watch out for Drew's script-o-rama, folks.  It's a site I've visited before, looking for movie scripts and monologues, but I'll never go there again.  You have been warned.  Yes, I have a virus protection program, but these trojan bastards got through.  I've never been under attack like this before; my computer went ballistic with window after window popping up, a series of warnings and recommendations to download this or that virus protector, error messages declaring it impossible to perform such an action, and scary "you have violated copyright" messages.  Some of the words in some of these windows and warnings were misspelt, a sure sign they were not to be trusted.  Meanwhile, my computer desktop got flooded with links to porn sites, the colour changed to black & white and crime scene tape was emblazoned across the whole mess.  I freaked out just thinking about having to recreate the programme for the show, let alone all the other vital information, documents, photos and so forth that are stored in my little pink laptop's memory.  I called James, one of the actors in Beaten Hearts, and a man of many talents.  I brought my poor little PC to his house - and he fixed it!  Miraculous!  And then Alex and her sister cooked dinner and they fed me.  And then we watched an episode of United States of Tara (starring the amazing Toni Colette) and all was right with the world once again.

After three kick-ass shows, the computer panic seems like a distant memory.  This afternoon I auditioned for a short film, which went pretty well I think.  In other news, the hunt for a roommate continues.  Gina will be moving out within the week, so we are both hopeful of finding someone suitable in the next couple of days!  We've had a few people look at the room, but out of two we liked one flaked completely and the other found something else; another guy came to look and he's a possibility but I'd prefer another girl so fingers crossed for someone fabulous this week! Oh, and I've applied for what looks like the PERFECT part-time job proofreading business and technical writing for "a large entertainment company" - fingers and toes crossed, people!

Foxy Friday night reflections

Friday night at Fabs.  It's been awhile. Or as the locals would say, it's 'bin' awhile.  Pronunciation joke.  Nevermind.  My seventh month in Los Angeles has sped past, Beaten Hearts opens in less than a week and May is barely a heart beat away.  I awoke this morning to a text message from friends in Paris announcing the birth of their first child.  Congrats, Marit and Elias!  I wish I could be there but I have my own (stage) baby to deliver.

Ah, the jazz band has arrived - a Friday night fixture at Fabs - I'd forgotten about that.  Groovy.  Or grouse, as I might have said when I was fourteen.  I went on the public record with 'grouse', back when I was in the Royal Children's Hospital having spinal surgery and was interviewed by Today Tonight's predecessor, Day by Day (oh dear, that'll date me).  I was asked what I thought of the hospital and the nurses.  "Oh, they're grouse," I affirmed, smiling.  That was in the first two weeks when it all still seemed like a big adventure.  Somewhat discombobulating to consider that I have now lived longer since those back operations than I had up to that point.  Don't ask me how much longer!  No woman in L.A. over the age of 30 will admit to anything above 32.  OK, so I'm 29.  Prove me wrong if you dare!

I'm rambling, but so what.  Deal with it readers, this is my blog.  Had a fight with my Fox news-watching roomie the other night.  I usually avoid the living room when she's watching it, but I was hanging out my laundry on a clothes rack to dry so I was stuck there for a few minutes.  Tried to close my ears and keep my mouth shut.  Failed.  You know, I don't even really remember what they were talking about, but it was the same old shit.  Something about the amount of money Goldman-Sachs contributed to Obama's election campaign and how he should give it back.  Like they didn't hedge their bets and give just as much to the Republican party.  Whatever.  All in that obnoxious, bullying, self-congratulatory tone of voice; I simply have a visceral reaction to it.  They could be saying chocolate is delicious and I would be grinding my teeth at their tone.  Anyway, Gina quite fairly had a go at me for spoiling her enjoyment of a program she likes.  She's right, I should have kept my mouth shut; there's no way to argue a point when in essence I'm objecting to a tone of voice and instinctively bucking against some of the broad statements being made.  Don't worry, we made amends.

Thank goodness for Jon Stewart, an antidote indeed.  Here is his hilarious, uproarious riposte to Fox stalwart Bernie Goldberg's response to Stewart's show, in which he - Stewart - makes as much fun of himself and his audience as he does of Goldman and Fox News.
Jon Stewart - The Daily Show

Which, apart from making me laugh long and loudly, also made me wonder if there are any right-wing comics out there.  Common sense tells me there must be.  But where are they?  Certainly the likes of Hannity, O'Reilly and Goldberg seem unable to laugh at themselves or tolerate being laughed at.  Not that they are are comics (although I can hardly take them seriously).  They seem mostly to laugh smugly about how clever they are, but the smile soon twists to an uncomfortable smirk when criticised or questioned.  Horrifying to think that this show is apparently one of the most popular across the United States.  What the hell am I doing here?  I guess I'm just a raging liberal with my head in the clouds.  Which is probably why I watch Weeds.  Mary Louise Parker is so AWESOME.  So is Justin Kirk.  Such a smart, funny, subversive show.  I'm currently watching season 4 on Netflix.  Instant download rocks.

Alex and I have signed up for a series of four workshops with film director, John Swanbeck.  He is specifically teaching creative acting techniques for camera.  Very interesting and effective.  He talks about how the camera creates illusion and we as actors need to know how to collude with that; how to use our imagination to create active imagery in our heads - visualisations - which instantly make an on-camera performance more alive, more focused and more intriguing.  He doesn't discount the importance of scene analysis and other actor preparation, but shows us shortcuts and tools for enhancement.  Very useful, especially when you consider that due to the nature of TV and film making (and auditioning), you don't always have the luxury of the other actor - perhaps the star of the show - being right in front of you feeding you lines when it comes time for your close-up.  So your performance can't rely on what the other actor gives you - such as in stage work, where that live exchange is part of the electricity that is created.  So Alex and I are acquiring a few more tools for our actors' toolkit.  It's an abstract way of working, quite a mind-bender for someone like me with a predominance of theatre training and experience.  However, it also ties in with what Vinny teaches us about being active in a scene, finding a preoccupation through which to filter our intentions.  Sometimes you can't be physically active, so you have to find a way to be mentally active.  John is teaching us a few new tricks; the trick to the tricks though, is choosing very specifically.

Gushing and rushing

Whoa dudes, I totally owe you an update! 

The last couple of weeks have been a blur, what with filming, job hunting and Beaten Hearts business.  I also scored a short contract job writing letters and editing web content for a local interior designer.  Never rains but pours!  Oh, and I've signed with a commercial agent - yay! 

And Gina is moving out in May so I'm seeking a new roommate too, which is great cos I didn't already have enough to do.  Actually, Gina has been helping with that; she doesn't want to leave me in the lurch and the apartment will remain leased in her name - I'll be subletting - so she has an interest in seeing the room successfully occupied.  She's been a delightful roomie, apart from her attachment to Fox News.  For a well-travelled, liberal, crystal-loving Californian, she is pretty conservative in her politics.  Fox News (I use the term 'news' lightly) drives me BONKERS; the presenters yell and talk over each other like a bunch of bullies, they hammer away at the viewer with their opinions - big government is bad, Obama is fiscally irresponsible and inexperienced and is responsible for the recession (excuse me?? how short term are your memories??), the new Health Plan is a disaster - and they edit video footage in such a way as to support their viewpoints, often completely misrepresenting the truth.  It's obnoxious and I simply have to stay out of the room when it's on.

But onto happier topics.  As anyone who has been seeing my status updates on Facebook might be aware, Beaten Hearts is a constant delight; my director, choreographer and fellow actors are enthusiastic awesomeness personified; I'm really excited about the show - gushing much? - and can't wait to show it to everyone.  So, dear LA-based readers, get a wriggle on and reserve your tickets now!  Go on, don't drag your heels like a recalcitrant teenager, pull your finger out and use it to call our booking line (818) 902-9818.  It's a teeny tiny theatre, reservations are already rolling in and you'll kick yourself if you miss out.

Must dash, apologies for the brief - albeit action-packed - blog today but Beaten Hearts is all-consuming.  So I could keep raving about the show and give you a list of things on my To Do list, but why bore you with the drudgery of producing?  Anyway, most of you are in Australia so you're no help whatsoever. Still love youse though.

Ciao for now!

Character study

Gotta tell you about some of the characters at my gym.  It's in the heart of Studio City, so there's a lot of industry types around; tough-looking old guys who look like former boxers (or actors who play former boxers or mafia heavies), diminutive blondes of indeterminate age, buff trainers and goofballs.  They mostly keep to themselves; hey, we're all just there to work out, we're all a little sweaty and dishevelled, we're all checking out our form in the mirror to a greater or lesser extent.  And then there's the Chatty Brit.  I see her there every time, on the cardio equipment, giving her lungs a workout.  Chat chat chat.  Non-stop.  Chatting to the person next to her, chatting to someone walking past.  Sometimes she finds herself with a temporary absence of audience and she looks around, like a meer cat, eagerly seeking out eye contact with her next set of ears.  No mean feat while keeping up a cracking pace on the treadmill.

Sometimes a little old man or little old lady will wander through with a little wheelie gym bag, looking a little bit lost on their way to the change room.  I've never seen them wander back out again; whether this is because it takes them so long to change and make their way out to the cardio room, or they just get completely lost on the bowels of the building (there is a rather intimidating, underground cave-like weights training room into which I've never ventured beyond the stairs before scurrying back up into the light), I guess I'll never know.  There is a tiny, white-haired lady - let's call her Birdie, for that is what she brings to mind - who I've seen a few times, bright eyed and just as talkative as the Chatty Brit.  Birdie, however, doesn't wait to catch your eye before she starts talking to you, she just commences with whatever is on her mind.  On my way out of the change room one morning, she started telling me all about her exercise routine.  Today she spent 20 minutes on the treadmill, but yesterday she did some light weights and is feeling a bit stiff, so just the treadmill today, but not too fast, she likes to come three times a week and on the other days she goes for a walk...

The guy on the desk is another kind of character.  He's a black dude in his 40s or possibly 50s.  It's hard to tell; afterall, black don't crack and he never even cracks a smile.  It's like he can't believe he's been reduced to the indignity of sitting on a reception desk and he's annoyed at everyone who comes in because that's yet another person to witness him in this humble position.  And then there's big buff Mike, the friendly personal trainer, who is also in his 40s and who loves to rant about the young guys who want to look as fit as him without doing the work.  The regular attendees of my weekend step class are another breed.  I think I'm the only one under 40, possibly the only one under 50; they've been doing this class for 15 years or more and woe betide anyone who attempts to take their spot in the room.  They're a friendly bunch who cheerfully acknowledge their obsessive need to stand in the same place in the room week in week out. 

Lastly, there's the meaty dude with a gormless grin and a double chin who just has to say hello to everyone; he quite gregarious, let's call him Greg.  He doesn't seem to actually work out much, he just stands around the cardio equipment, trying unsuccessfully to chat up the chicks.  Most just keep their eyes on the video screens and their iPods plugged in until he waves down an ill-prepared woman, or gets lucky with the Chatty Brit.

Cougar town?

No, not the execrable Courtney Cox sitcom (sorry Courtney, it's not you - you're darling - it's the show).  I have an issue with the word, to being with, something which has been loudly debated among friends, male and female.  The weird thing about the adjectival noun 'cougar' is that young men regard it as a compliment, while some women - myself included - find it vaguely offensive.  It's aggressive, predatory.  To me it implies a sexually voracious woman who seduces men at least 20 years her junior.  Seduces?  Devours.  It also calls to mind a woman trying hard to look half her age.  Perhaps these are outdated notions of the older woman/younger man pairing, somehow considered less acceptable (and less common) than the older man/younger woman pairing which we see all the time, sometimes to positively creepy degrees.  Michael Douglas, I'm looking at you.  You too, Hugh Hefner - just because you've made an industry out of it, doesn't make it right.  Maybe I should just 'get with the program, sista'.  But wait a second, here's another bugbear; there's no equivalent term for men of a certain age on the prowl for much younger women.  Because that's still considered more 'normal' and therefore doesn't warrant a special name.  AND, it seems now that a woman needs only to be over 30 to be described as a 'cougar'.  Hot and over 30.  Good grief.  So I still don't know whether to be flattered or annoyed to be described as that particular type of feline.  Both.

Ok, rant over, let me backtrack.  It's been a VERY busy week for this little displaced actress.  Three Beaten Hearts rehearsals, including one in the theatre - yay!  We took some happy snaps: ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce The Cast!

L to R: Max, Suzanne, CC, Alex & James

Yes, I am wearing a tiara.

The show is coming together beautifully, thanks for asking, and we'll have our sexy postcards within the next few days.  Watch out, Los Angeles, Mrs Bosoms is coming!

On Wednesday I drove to Long Beach, about 35 minutes south of Los Angeles on the freeway (with light traffic) to film - finally - Don't Drink the Bong Water.  It's a comedy about a couple of stoners trying to light their bong and being visited by an assortment of crazy characters, including yours truly playing a possible call girl/Super Nanny type.  If there is such a thing.  Anyway, Delilah (for that is her name) terrorizes one stoner into the corner like the naughty boy that he is, while paralyzing the other with a spiked cup of tea and then stealing his trousers.  None of it makes much sense but it's enjoyable nonsense.  The two guys playing the stoners were very cute and one of them was outrageously flirty.  I mean, really.  Let me give you a mental image: olive skin, green eyes, luxuriantly long brown hair, tattoos on his back, roughly my height (if not shorter), 25 years old.  A cheeky urchin.  I was flattered and highly amused.  He described me as a total c-word (NOT the four-letter one, the one discussed at length in the first paragraph!) except for the bit where I turned him down.  Hence my confusion about the term.  Never in a million years would I describe myself that way.  He meant it as a compliment, so I'll take it as such, but what the??

Friday night I headed downtown to a supermarket to film a couple of scenes for Greeters, the latest project of USC film student Jerry, who cast me in his short film Lost Girls last year.  Greeters is about an old codger who works as a greeter at a Walmart-style store who decides, 20 or so years after his divorce, to get back on the dating scene.  I play one of his workmates.  It was a late night shoot because we had to wait until the store was officially closed before we could get in there.  Funny playing a supermarket supervisor, recalled my days at Safeway!

L to R: Garrett (old codger #1), Jerry (our gigantic director - no, he's not standing on a box, he's really that tall), CC and Geoff (old codger #2)

The sign in the background reads "Liquor & Health Care" - a curious combination.  Shelves of shampoo and shower gels faced off with wine, beer, spirits and a variety of awful-looking concoctions calling themselves flavoured wines.  That's right, merlot with a dash of blackberry syrup.  Or strawberry syrup.  Or chardonnay with mango.  Hideous, awful, stomach-churning.  I'd rather clean the shower with it than drink it.  Anyway, this was a really fun shoot.  We've another scene to shoot next week, which was actually scheduled this week but was cancelled when Garrett got delayed on the set of a commercial where he was employed as High Hefner's stand-in.  Yep, Old Codger #1 himself is Hef's size and height.  As you see, he's only about my height.  Garrett had a lovely time out at the Playboy mansion, although the only birds he snapped were the feathered variety.