That's right, The Office. No, not the hit NBC series, the restaurant and bar in Santa Ana. I'll be performing as part of Improvisation Inundation.
May, 17 2008 - 8 p.m.
The Office Sports Bar & Grill
2106 North Tustin Avenue
Santa Ana , CA 92705
Cost: $10
[Map]
We suggest arriving by 7 p.m. if you’d like dinner before the show. Drinks and food will also be served during the show. Try not to chew too loudly.
I attended an AIDA acting class this week. If I had known we were going to be asked to take our shoes off, I would have been careful to wear matching socks. One thing we were supposed to work on in this class was sex appeal, and I'm not sure how sexy you can be wearing a pair of mismatched socks. Anyway, one of the exercises we did was a mock blind date. Now, if you think going on a blind date is awkward, imagine going on a blind date and being evaluated by a room full of near strangers. Then imagine that, halfway into the date, you hear the group leader ask,“Is he boring you?” Usually the voices like that are in my head and not audible to everyone. Yesterday, I appeared on The Sonny Bozeman Show as part of Improvisation Inundation, making our local public access television debut. It was my first time on live TV, but one of the hosts helped put me at ease by saying that the four people who usually watch the show are pretty nice. Anyway, all the games seemed to work and we got some very encouraging comments from the crew. Then I zipped up to Los Angeles to work in a short film starring Laura Dern and directed by Courtney Cox. I was a guest at a rooftop New Year's Eve party. In the attached blurry cell-phone photo you may be able to discern my “date,” the camera mounted on a boom behind us, the U.S. Bank Tower, and my enormous forehead.
I'll be appearing with Improvisation Inundation on a local cable program in Long Beach. Normally, I would include information such as the name of the show, the channel on which it will air, the time... stuff like that. But all I know for sure is that we're supposed to be... somewhere... between 3:30 and 5:30 p.m. on Friday. I think we can safely assume the show won't air before then. And my research seems to indicate that it will be on channel 65. Or 69. Unless it's on 95. So, my advice would be for everyone to move to Long Beach, subscribe to cable, hook up three TVs, and watch until we come on. You should probably begin preparations ASAP.
Yesterday I had the privilege of attending a special screening of Salomaybe?, an amazing film about Oscar Wilde's Salome, but really about so much more. About 12 years ago, Al Pacino made an acclaimed documentary film called Looking for Richard, in which he attempted to analyze and illuminate Shakespeare's Richard III and make it more accessible and significant to a modern audience. In this film he gives a similar treatment to a lesser-known play by a lesser-known playwright (well, less known than Shakespeare, at any rate). But it's not just a movie about a play. To get to the heart of the work, Pacino turns the spotlight on its creator and unravels the threads of pride, passion, and shame that tie the author and the work together. Along the way we get fascinating looks at the art and the business of theater and cinema. Inevitably, it also becomes a study of Pacino himself as he clashes (good-naturedly, mostly) with his collaborators, including stage director Estelle Parsons and leading lady Jessica Chastain. Early in the film, Chastain expresses concern that she looks like she's being difficult as she argues in defense of her vision of the character and the play, and the maneuvers of these three artists sometimes create interesting parallels and contrasts with the relationships at the center of Salome. But it is all justified by Chastain's performance of the play's climactic monologue, which is one of the most shattering performances I've seen recently on stage or screen. I don't know if the Academy would ever give an acting award for a performance in a documentary, but it's something to consider. I could keep writing about this movie, but since it was a private screening of a work in progress I probably shouldn't go into too much detail. After the screening, Mr. Pacino said he'd see us all in six months for the next cut. It's a complex film, and I suppose it's inevitable that the released version will be simplified somewhat, but hopefully not too much. As it stands it's a rich, multi-layered reverie on a sometimes difficult and perplexing play by a sometimes difficult and perplexing man.
First, last night I was in the best improv show I've ever been in. Thanks for inviting me into your club, Improvisation Inundation! We performed in "The Great Room" at Roderick's, and the turnout was larger than anybody expected, so the show was delayed while extra chairs and tables were brought in and the servers tried to catch up with everyone's food and drink orders. By the time we started, the early arrivals had had about an hour and a half to get liquored up, which may have increased the overall level of hilarity. But it was also a good show because everyone in the group was energetic, knew what they were doing, and worked as a member of a team instead of trying to be a star. I'd also like to thank my personal fan club for coming out to support me: My mother, my father, and Bart. OK, it's not a huge fan club, and Bart was actually coming to the group's performances before I joined so I'm not sure he counts, but hey, support is support.
Second, I want to warn everyone against trying to wash their phones with Dr. Pepper. Oh, sure, it's a delicious tonic that restores vim, vigor, and vitality, but it's not so good for integrated circuits.
I have a new Motorola Razor now, which means I'd be really cool if this were a year ago. But I've lost most of my contacts. If you want to keep in touch, please send me at least one phone number where you can be reached. You may also include alternate phone numbers and e-mail and postal addresses.
Otherwise, it was nice knowing you and have a nice life!
Cheers,
Keith
For the first time since last time, I will be appearing in an improv troupe on an OC stage this weekend. As an added bonus, there will be full food and beverage service! The more you drink, the funnier I get.
I will be appearing as part of Improvisation Inundation at:
Roderick’s Restaurant
14131 Red Hill Ave., Tustin
(right off the 5 freeway at Redhill)
Saturday, April 19
Doors Open at 6 p.m. for Dinner & Drinks
Show Time: 7 p.m.
Admission is $10 at the door, but be one of the first 5 people to contact me ahead of time and I'll get you a $2 discount! (Limited time offer.)
My improv career began with a workshop and productions at the late, lamented Second Stage in Anaheim, where I met all kinds of wonderful people. (Hi, Bart, Caitlin, Cambria, Carolyn, Celeste, Dino, Jasper, Joey, Mary Margaret, Robert, Susyn, Theresa, Toni, and Vern, in alphabetical order), but my first really structured classes were at The Second City in LA. (Hey, Booter, Fairly, Megan, and Wendy.)
For about a year now I've been acting exclusively in shows with scripts, but the fine folks of Improvisation Inundation have convinced me to once again cast away the crutch and venture into the deep end without a net. Who knows what hilarity might ensue or what metaphors may be mixed?
Yesterday I worked on a short film addressing some of the issues surrounding human trafficking. It's being produced by members of a Korean-American Christian ministry for a film festival and DVD distribution. I'm pretty sure it's the first time I've been an active part of a Korean-American Christian ministry of any kind, but who knows what the future may hold.
Doing it in a minivan can be awkward. Doing it in a minivan with a stranger, while another stranger crouches inches away evaluating your performance and giving you instructions, another films every move, another records every sound, and people outside the minivan shine bright lights at you and watch the proceedings on a video monitor, really kills some of the romance, and by hour 6, the thrill is largely gone. No, I am not doing porn. It was a short comedy film, with no nudity. The monkey business was implied. But it did require assuming and holding some rather awkward positions, and I'm more than a little sore this morning.
A couple of days ago I got this very personal e-mail on behalf of a local theater: “I wanted to let you know personally that we enjoyed your callback the other week. Even though we weren't able to cast you this time, I highly encourage you to come back and audition for future productions... To start working with us and give us the opportunity to get to know you better, click [link deleted] and tell us how you'd like to get involved.” In other words, we didn't cast you this time, but come work for us for free and we might consider casting you next time. Still, it was nice of someone to let me know personally that they enjoyed my callback. Except that it wasn't personal, it was sent to multiple recipients. Oh, and one other detail: I didn't have a callback at that theater.
The audition was going very well, I thought. I felt energetic, confident, and I had them smiling and laughing in all the right places. Then they asked me to sing. I guess I knew it was a musical when submitted myself for an audition, but the notice didn't say anything about preparing any music, so I thought they were just casting non-singing roles. But there I was being asked to sing, so I stood up tall and straight, threw back my head and belted out a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday, Mr. President." So far, they haven't called, but at least I stepped up to the plate and took a swing. Today, I auditioned for an amusement-park commercial. They auditioned actors in pairs, and when they asked my partner if she would be OK riding roller coasters all day, she actually said, “Can I think about that a while?” Can you think about it? No, you can't think about it. If you have a medical condition that makes it unsafe for you to ride roller coasters, than there's nothing for you to think about. Otherwise, the correct answer is you bet! I told them they'd have to drag me off the roller coaster, and then we became a happy, loving couple having a great time at the amusement park. But as we left the audition room, I was thinking, I did the best I could, but they're never going to pick us as their couple. Can I think about it? What kind of answer is that? Just say yes!
Frank and Larry return, but this time Frank is a TV anchorman and Larry is a striking writer. Or is that the other way around? Oh just watch it your own damn self and see. Thank you.
Going on a lot of auditions means opening yourself up to a lot of rejection, so it's tempting to beat the other guys to the punch and reject yourself first. It's really easy to come up with reasons you won't get the part before the audition ever starts: they'll go with someone taller, or younger, or better looking, or more closely related to the casting director, or something. On one recent audition, I was actually a little upset with my agent for sending me. The role: a retarded inbred hick. I mean, come on. I know my type, and that's not my type. What a total waste of time. So, naturally, I had a callback Tuesday. Apparently, retarded inbred hick is my type. Live and learn. Since the callback location was close by my agent's office, I decided to drop in, because I'm that important; OK, because I help out around the office once in a while. Anyway, while I'm there the call comes in for an audition that afternoon. This time, I'm supposed to be a businessman. Of course, I look like a hick. My agent reminds me that I should always have a suit in my car. I tell her that it's a very good idea that unfortunately is of no use to me today. But I do have a somewhat rumpled blazer from a previous job, so I rush to the casting office and give my best, although I'm sure my rumpled appearance is counting against me. But Wednesday morning, I get the callback for the afternoon. So I ran around like a crazy person getting my shoes and car keys — the poor dog was running after me, thinking we were going to go somewhere really exciting — and dashed out the door. Fortunately I didn't have to take time to change clothes — I was still wearing the outfit I had auditioned in. Yep, I had fallen asleep in my clothes. I was the only actor there who wasn't wearing a dark, pinstriped suit, but I didn't let that throw me. I just kept telling myself I was good enough to get the callback in my jeans, boots and blazer, so I should be good enough to get the job in my jeans, boots, and blazer. It would have been nice if I'd had time to wash my clothes, though, or least take a shower. Then again, it's television, not smell-o-vision.
My friend Summer, who previously tapped me for Caesar and Otto in the Summer Camp Massacre, asked me Thursday night if I would be interested in being in another project she was working on. It would be a bit part, delivering a pizza to the protagonist, but I enjoy any opportunity to practice my craft, I happened to be available, the production was about 10 minutes from my current residence, and there was the distinct possibility I'd get to eat some of the pizza when we wrapped. But soon after I arrived on location today, the director decided he could use me in a different role with a little more screen time and a couple more lines. Sweet! It was like ordering a pizza and having them throw in a side of wings! I even got to improv a little, and I ate three slices when we were done.
I know a lot of people out there have been craving a sweet follow-up to the recently posted video, even though you're too shy to come right out and ask for it. (In fact, you're too shy to say anything.) But that's OK. Here's another course for you. Everybody loves pie.
Here's a little something I worked on in December. Despite how it may look, I am not a little person. Not that there's anything wrong with that. The big guy and I were in a previous short film in which we basically provided annoying background noise for the principal characters. The director enjoyed our inane chatter so much that he came up with a project just for us. It's just two guys talking on a light-rail platform. Maybe I can use it as an audition reel for The Hobbit.
When you're auditioning with another actor, and the session runner has said,“Don't hurt each other,” it might be a good idea not to hurt the other actor. In fact, it might be a good idea even if no one actually says don't hurt the other actor. Just take it for granted that you aren't supposed to whomp the other guy upside the head. On the brighter said, I had two auditions today in which I did not get whomped upside the head, so I guess on average I did pretty well.
Here's a picture of me with Stetson. No, not the hat - you think I can afford Stetson hats? Stetson is the name of the Australian shepherd. At least, that's what he's rumored to be, although he's awfully tall for an Aussie and kind of rangy looking. I'm not too sure he's only 3 years old, either. He's awfully mellow for a 3-year-old Aussie. But hey, who hasn't fudged a little on a resume? Anyway, I think we complement each other nicely. Our hair is the same colors. And with all the auditions I've been going on lately, it's nice to interact with someone who won't reject me and whose needs are pretty easy to figure out. Walk me, feed me, pet me. That's about it. I wish casting directors were that easy.
You think you've seen how pathetic a dog can look when she's watching you eat and hoping for just one tasty morsel, but that's nothing. When that same dog is to weak to move and finding it difficult to even breathe, then you see what those eyes can really do. Now before anybody who might happen to read this feels the need to send me condolences, I'm not talking about my dog. This dog and I didn't have a particularly close bond. In fact, I first realized something was seriously wrong with this dog when I walked into her yard and heard only a muffled woof, instead of the loud, angry barking. There was something not right about the way she was lying on the ground, not stretched out or curled up in typical fashion but like a used dog someone had crumpled and discarded. Her labored breathing was another clear sign, and the distress showed in her face. This would be the morning I helped my mother transport her dying dog to the vet. It turned out the dog had bleeding masses in her spleen and liver. The spleen she could have lived without; the liver, not so much, and every lobe appeared affected. The veterinary surgeon said their were procedures that she could do, but she couldn't in good conscience recommend any of them. So we watched as the vet administered a lethal injection. Within just a couple of seconds the dog stopped struggling to breathe.
That night was the final performance of A Tuna Christmas, in which I played, among other roles, an animal lover named Petey Fisk who adopts a dog/coyote hybrid he names Fresno. In this production, Fresno was played by a standard poodle. It was a strange experience being greeted by Grendel, who sniffed my jeans with particular interest that night - the same jeans I had worn to the vet. And acting with him on stage, having just said goodbye to one dog and knowing I also might well never see him again had a peculiar poignancy. Now this would be the appropriate place to say I gave an incredibly moving performance that reduced the house to tears, akin to Kathryn Hepburn's character in Stage Door when she talked about the calla lilies, but it wasn't anything that outwardly dramatic, just something I felt while playing a goofy little comedy. Afterward there was a cast party, which was nice because I got to say goodbye to the rest of the cast and hang out with some friends who came to the show, but I stayed a little too long because the conversation somehow turned to dead pets. And it wasn't me.
And here's where I give a shout-out to friends who came to the show: Glen Hardy, Spenser Coates, and Bart Weil. Glen and I met in Much Ado About Nothing, Spenser was in Love's Labors Lost, and Bart and I have done improv together on several occasions. Thanks for the support!
Among this week's auditions, the real standout in my mind was a dog-food commercial. During the audition I got to talk to a big stuffed dog as if it was real. Naturally, I kept seeing those big brown eyes staring at me like they had Saturday morning. Made for a real happy pitchman, I'm sure.
Last night was the last theater Christmas party ever at the Second Stage in Anaheim, home of many fabulous theatrical productions of note over the years. The party had some raunchy and raucous moments, largely related to a twisted white elephant gift exchange, but it also had a melancholy tinge because it was a fair well to a place where I had some personally significant experiences and met some pretty important people in my life.
Today I got a call from someone who would like me to audition for a gig hosting a new series. (The series is about animals, naturally.) Well, the audition's something to look forward to in the new year. Getting the gig could make for a very happy 2008.
I pushed a terrified man against the wall today and threatened to violate his wife in a degrading and violent fashion. It was all in a day's work. I had an audition for an anti-drug PSA, and I was playing a meth-addicted teenage thug. And if you think that's a strange role for a mild-mannered middle-aged man, you're right. I was actually there to try out for the part of the terrified guy, but the session runner brought us in three at a time and had us take turns being the hoodlums. It was totally unexpected, but that's what keeps it interesting.
There might be a flying fish joke somewhere in there, but it's been a long day. Anyway, if you see a little picture of the flyer over there on the right, click on it for a larger version. In case you don't, here's the gist of it: December 1 through 15; Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 4 p.m.; reservations and additional information at http://plays411.com/atunachristmas.
A large man in a blood-stained shirt grinned at me as I walked along the canyon road. I sure hope I'm in the right place, I thought. My friend Summer is working on an indie film, and based on her recommendation, some performance clips and a headshot or two, the director had cast me in a small (but memorable!) role. I hadn't seen the full script and didn't really know what the movie was about. Fortunately, the big bloody man turned out to be a friendly guy who had come to guide me to the location. It's a horror spoof, and it turned out to be a fun shoot. The writer even added a scene for me that every actor has dreamed about, in which I Gave the Director a Wedgie. And we did multiple takes! In other news, my interaction with another actor on the train movie mentioned in the previous post seems to have inspired the director/writer. He's working on a new script written around our characters!
