Less is more, more or less

Picking up where I left off last week, on Sunday I bundled Sophie onto a bus to the fabulous Getty art museum while I squeezed in a step class before rehearsing with Jerry again on his short film.  After a day of activity, in the evening we got too comfy to go out, instead improvising a hearty salad from leftovers in the fridge, washed down with a cold beer, trading travel stories with Gina.  Monday morning Sophie and I went to a diner for breakfast (french toast with bananas and walnuts - Sophie; blueberry oatmeal pancakes - moi) and then Gina took her on a tour of some of the leafy, monied parts of L.A. while I went to a Beaten Hearts rehearsal.  More fun with Murphy, finishing the choreography for Love Song in Black.  In the evening, Soph and I went out to the local Mexican bar, El Torito.  It's right across the parking lot from good old TVI (referred to by some as the Evil Empire), where I studied during my first visit to L.A., and is therefore a kind of personal, pop-cultural landmark.  Later that night I dropped Sophie at LAX from where she embarked on her next adventure. 

The rest of the week was a blur of rehearsals, production meetings and workouts, punctuated by a visit to my eyebrow lady for some maintenance.  Celebrity sighting for the week was Brian George, better known as Babu Bhatt from Seinfeld (he of the agile, finger waving admonishment).  He's looking more like John Mahoney these days than a hapless Pakistani, and "blessed" me when I sneezed - ah, hayfever!  On Sunday I completed my voiceover reel, thanks to the invaluable help of Regi; coach with flair, technician with mad musical skills, patient friend.  The reel sounds professional and pretty damn good; a mix of my natural accent and American samples with a variety of commercial copy from 'slice of life' to seductive to insanely, annoyingly happy.  Now the quest for a voiceover agent begins!

This afternoon - Sunday in L.A. - I attended a workshop with Alex, who had been invited by one of her acting coaches.  It was an on-camera class with a film director, a free sample experience before he begins a formal series of workshops.  He handed out two-person scenes, but due to the number of people in attendance and the time constraint (only two hours) not everyone got the chance to get up and work.  Alex and I did, however.  Now, I'm not a total novice to working on camera, but I've much less experience with it than on stage and I know I need more practice.  I sure felt it today!  The less you do, the better it looks - providing there is something active going on in your mind.  Thoughts read.  The audience might not know what the thought is, but they'll know you're thinking something, and that's intriguing.  Man, my face jumps all over the place; even when I think I'm doing nothing, it's too much.  At least it was today.  Alex, however, did great.  Unfortunately, in today's "sampler" class, we didn't have the opportunity of watching back tape of our work and seeing the adjustments made (as will be the case if we sign up for a series of classes) but we were able to watch everyone else who got up in front of the camera as it was being projected onto a sizable screen just above the actors' heads.  I want to sign up for this guy's class.

Rehearsals, thrills and a visitor

This week kicked off with a fabulous rehearsal for Beaten Hearts.  Cindy brought in a friend who is a professional actress/dancer/choreographer to choreograph 'Love Song in Black' and the transitions between each play.  Murphy was great; brimful of energy and ideas, working within the limits of our dancing abilities.  'Love Song' really came alive and we had a ball.  The transitions will also take the form of different dances, echoing the stories they precede and tying the whole show together.  We are truly privileged to have Murphy on board, adding to the collection of talents which will make this show - like it's first incarnation in Melbourne - so special.

Something else that made this week special was going to the screening of an independent film.  The film, called 'Blue' was written by Don Wallace, the husband of my roommate Gina's niece.  It's part boxing movie, part crime drama with a nod to Romeo & Juliet.  Produced on a micro-budget, it's an impressive piece of work; well-written and acted, tough and lean as a boxer.  The screening was to attract distributors and I hope it does because it deserves to find an audience.  The real thrill came from meeting Mathew St Patrick, one of the stars of Six Feet Under, who is an old friend of Don's.  He was very down to earth and lovely (not to mention weak-at-the-knees gorgeous), and I had a nice chat with both he and his assistant, a young British guy.  I didn't have my camera on me, so had to make do with the camera in my phone (hence the graininess of the image).  Did I mention I was thrilled?  I look like I'm about to jump out of my skin with delight.

This week I also had a couple of rehearsals for a new short film/pilot show written and directed by Jerry White, with whom I worked on 'Lost Girls' back in November.  Lovely to be invited to take part in his latest project, plus he's far more organised than the 'Don't Drink the Bong Water' guy - a project which has been delayed due to one of the leads pulling out, at this rate it will never get off the ground.  Jerry's idea for a TV show centres around an elderly man who decides after several years of celibacy to return to the dating scene.  You may be relieved to know I play a workmate, not a prospective love interest.

On Friday I met with Cindy to discuss music for Beaten Hearts.  We spent a couple of hours listening to various tracks and discussing Cindy's ideas for the transitions between each play.  Then I had a Skype date with Tiffany, always a pleasure my dear!  Later that night, cousin Sophie from Ballarat arrived in L.A., on route to South America.  My first official visitor!  Sophie has been travelling in India, so she and Gina had lots to talk about.  We made a cosy bed for her on the sofa, where she was swiftly joined by Milo the cat.  On Saturday morning I dragged her out to Theatricum Botanicum, an open-air theatre in a beautiful wooded area about 30 minutes drive from home, where I auditioned for their summer repertory season; Midsummer Night's Dream, Hamlet, The Three Musketeers and Masterclass.  I did my temper tantrum Capulet monologue from R&J - "God's bread, it makes me mad!" - which was fun.  Fingers crossed!

In the evening we met up with another friend of mine, Tatiana, for a bite to eat on Sunset Boulevard.  We took the scenic route through the Hollywood Hills and along the famous strip, a neon-lit avenue of music venues, nightclubs, bars, restaurants and high-end fashion boutiques.  Then we continued along to the quieter end of Sunset for a drink at The Cat and Fiddle, an English pub with a fabulous, leafy courtyard augmented by fairy lights and surrounded by Spanish-style buildings that add to the atmosphere.  We've been enjoying delightfully warm weather over the past week, so although it was cool in the evening, it wasn't uncomfortably so and we happily sat in the courtyard with our cocktails.

Hello sunshine

Another week flown by; I can't believe I've been here six months!  Incredible.  The job hunt continues, still no joy there and I confess it's making me anxious.  Aside from that life is good; rehearsals for Beaten Hearts are a joy and the production side of things is keeping me busy.  I'm also proofreading my roommate Gina's novel, which is very interesting and engaging; in short, a good read.  I'm tidying up her punctuation and grammar along the way.  I like to take the manuscript to a cafe and sit in the sunshine with a double espresso and my red pen.  It's rather pleasant and a kind of advertising; after all, in this town, having a coffee can be a networking opportunity and I've had more than one person ask me what I'm doing and then we have a chat about writing and editing, and sometimes exchange cards.  You never know who might lead to what or what might lead to who.

On Friday I auditioned for a commercial agent, so fingers crossed.  There were lots of hopeful actors waiting in the lobby, and they whipped through us efficiently, calling three actors into the inner sanctum at a time.  Then one by one we were ushered into a very small room - really tiny, it may once have been intended as a bathroom - in which I had to stand right up against the closed door to deliver my audition to camera.  The audition was a piece of commercial copy provided by the agency, a unisex piece with a few nice beats/changes of thought and pace to play.  I went in with my best Standard American accent and I have no idea whether or not I fooled the guy, as no chit chat was engaged in.  He didn't even introduce himself, it was all business; got your headshot? ok, stand there, look at the camera, when you're ready; ok, thanks, profiles please (this means turning left then right, to display my regal profile) and goodbye.

Saturday night I went out with Gina for a bite to eat at the local Mexican restaurant, El Torito, and then on to the local cinema to see Tim Burton's take on Alice in Wonderland.  It was an enjoyable bit of escapism, although not as dark and twisted as I've come to expect from Mr Burton.  Helena Bonham-Carter absolutely stole the show as the Red Queen - Off with their heads! - and Johnny Depp was delightfully disturbed as the Mad Hatter.  Stephen Fry and Alan Rickman's velvety tones lent the Cheshire Cat and Blue Caterpillar, respectively, a delicious authority.  All in all though, the film felt like a mash-up of Lord of the Rings, Labyrinth and Charlie & the Chocolate Factory; lots of digital special effects, psychedelic dreamscapes and a Quest.  We've been here before and I found myself tiring of the computer generated scenery, longing for an authentic landscape and some genuine interraction between characters, uncluttered and undistracted by prosthetics and special effects.

We're back on Daylight Saving time in L.A., after what seems like only a couple of months without it.  Spring is in the air (and hayfever along with it) and summer will be here before we know it.

Oscar week

Well, hello March, what are you doing here so soon?  What did you do with February? Or more to the point, what did I do with February?  Well, the month sped by with auditions, classes, rehearsals and job hunting.  You know, actory stuff.  And Oscar research - at least as much of it as I was able to muster. 

**Spoiler alert: the ceremony has ended in Los Angeles and I cannot help but discuss the event.**

I confess, I still have not seen Avatar and perhaps never will.  Neither have I seen Precious; I think I'd like to at some stage but I fear it will be traumatic, so I want at least one friend to sit beside me with a bottle of wine so we can cry and gasp and drink away the pain together.  I did see The Hurt Locker and was happy to see it win over Avatar.  I was even happier to see Kathryn Bigelow win best director - the first woman EVER to do so.  Having Barbra Streisand (nominated best director for Prince of Tides about a hundred years ago - oh alright, maybe 15 years ago) present the award kind of gave it away.  Would they have dragged Babs out of seclusion to present the award to James Cameron (who, thankfully, has had a haircut since the Globes)?  I think not.  I still say District 9 was a better, tighter, edgier film than The Hurt Locker - which was pretty tight and edgy - but alas it never had a chance.  I eagerly await the next film from director Neill Blomkamp, though, whatever it may be.

Darling, deserving Jeff Bridges won best actor - and our hearts, if he didn't already have them - and gave a lovely, warm speech in which he acknowledged the influence and encouragement of his parents, and the talents of the other key players in the film, Crazy Heart.  Which I have seen and loved.  Bridges is magnificent in it.  Sandra Bullock was the hot favourite for best actress and indeed clasped the small, golden bald man by the end of the night.  I really wanted Meryl to win, but you gotta love Sandra.  Possibly the most interesting moment of the night was when the director of the winning best short documentary film began his humble acceptance speech, he was suddenly steamrolled by a large, determined woman who proceeded to garble her own Very Important Message.  Since she was not removed from the stage, and the man holding the statuette did not verbally protest, one must assume she had some close association with the film.  But it was weird and rude.  The man was clearly surprised and none too thrilled by the interruption so it had presumably not been planned that she would join him onstage.  With the strict time limits on speeches, he never got another word in.  Shortly afterwards, Ben Stiller appeared in elaborate Avatar-style blue make-up (complete with shiny, black wig and long blue tail) to present the make-up award.  The delicious irony of this was that Avatar was not nominated for make-up (I guess it was mostly CGI).  Even better was Stiller's ad-lib that he promised to stand at a respectable distance from the winner so as not to diminish their moment of victory.  It was clearly a swipe at the party-crashing woman.  These moments enliven an awards show, which is a good argument for alcohol to be served to attendees; loosen things up a bit.

My favourite addition to the Oscars - I think it was introduced for the first time last year - is the tributes made to the best actor and actress nominees by past winners and colleagues.  There is something genuine and moving about they way they speak of and to these talented people which always brings a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye.  And often to the eyes of the nominees. 

My Oscar research this year was aided and abetted by Netflix.  I am officially addicted to this super-convenient service!  Pick a film or TV show online and have it delivered to your door.  Better still, some of them are available to stream and watch instantly on your computer (or TV if you've got a fancy one all tricked out with the latest gadgets and connected to the net).  So I watched Up, another triumph from Pixar; and In the Loop, a whip-smart British political comedy; went back in time to watch Streisand and Redford in The Way We Were, a charming film of a kind that doesn't seem to get made anymore - what, a romantic drama in which the protagonists don't end up with each other? Actually, come to think of it, that's one of the things I liked about Up in the Air; the execrable modern rom-com The Ugly Truth, watchable only due to the charisma of its stars and occasional flashes of fast, funny and surprisingly rude dialogue amidst the quagmire of tired cliche and ritual humiliation of the female star - vibrating underpants worn "accidentally" to a business dinner? Oh, what comedy riches!  And the final clinch takes place in a hot air balloon? Puh-lease!  I can't believe I stuck with it to the bitterly silly end.  I blame Gerard Butler for being so damn attractive; he's like Russell Crowe-lite, circa Gladiator without the Big 'Tude.  I've also watched the entire first season of Californication, am making headway through the second season of Weeds, sampled BBC classic Elizabeth R, and am eagerly awaiting delivery of The United States of Tara.

During the week I caught up with a theatre acquaintance from Melbourne.  Chris lived and worked in the U.S. about ten years ago, even established a successful independent theatre company, and is back in town to check out the scene again and try to extend his green card which comes up for renewal shortly.  We enjoyed a beer in Burbank and spoke of all things theatrical and Hollywoody.  It was great to hear an Aussie accent.  Surrounded by American accents all day, I don't often hear an Aussie one but it warms the cockles of my ears when I do.

Cindy, Alex and I also checked out the Sidewalk Studio Theatre together, the venue for Beaten Hearts, and met with our lighting designer, Morgan.  We're thrilled with the space.  It was great to walk in there again and feel the same warmth and sense of  intimacy and "rightness" that this charming little theatre has for the show. 

Big celebrity spot for the week was the beautiful Minnie Driver who was in my yoga class.  She's tall and quite bendy.

Oh, and I've been cast in a short film for which I auditioned a couple of weeks ago; the one which was a bit of a shamozzle, where the actors waiting to audition seemed more organised than the filmmaker.  Well, I got the part and accepted it.  Why?  It's a two-page bit, so I won't be needed for long, and it's comic and American.  I want to add more American-accent material to my reel, and it wouldn't hurt to have more comedy on it too.  It's called Don't Drink the Bong Water.  That's all you need to know.

Over and out, chickadees, till next time!