And so it begins...
TVI Studios
"Auditioning For Primetime TV"
Andy Henry
4 classes/$225
Week 1
The first day of class is always nerve racking; I never know what to expect. I arrive a few minutes early and there are already two guys sitting in seats. The room isn't terrible big. It holds 20 people comfortably with an acting space in front - white walls, no windows, a TV, a VCR, grey carpet, the usual I guess.
People slowly trickle in. I would say half the class already knows each other. There's hugging and some "heys!". I feel out of the loop, but there's not much I can do. I'm surprised by amount of foreigners. Andy arrives on time. He's caring a plastic box full of papers. He turns around and greets the folks he knows. He recognizes five out of the nine people. Some students have taken his class multiple times.
He asks for our headshots and resumes. Luckily they tell you to bring these during your registration. One guy forgot his, but it seems like it doesn't really matter. Andy uses them to write notes on and take attendance with. The guy who forgot his simply wrote down his name on a sheet of paper. Andy goes through the pile and asks each person to elaborate on their "Special Skills" section. When it's my turn to speak, I mumble and fumble trying to figure out something which makes me unique other than my ability to speak with a British accent. I feel my face flush, but I come up with some bull shit about my double jointed hips.
The introductions are over. We discuss the basic plan for the class. First week, we'll get sides for those great 2 sentence parts, cold read them and then have a mock producer-casting session. Basically, half the class gets the same set of sides while the other half pretend to be producers. Each "actor" auditions for the same role and then the "producers" deliberate, choosing their favorite. Then we switch, the "producers" become the "actors" reading for a different part. Second week will be a cold reading of a guest role sized part. Third week will be the memorized sides from Week 2 put on tape and reviewed. Fourth week will be memorized sides given at the end of Week 3's class, also taped, also reviewed.
Andy decides that it will be guys against girls. The guys are first up. Andy digs through his box of papers and produces sides for the boys. They are all handed the same sides and exit the room to prepare in the hall. Andy gives them five minutes while he discusses what we should look for/be aware of. One by one the boys audition, some are better than others. We close the door and deliberate.
Round 1: We go through each guy, headshot by headshot, and offer our first opinions. The ones with bad reads (fumbling the words) were crossed off. Another guy was rejected because he awkwardly positioned himself (aka didn't set up the environment well).
Round 2: We've narrowed it down to two. We've weeded out the others because they were either lacking in energy, didn't take directions well or just didn't feel right. The "producers" are 3 against 2 right now. One of the guys is a typical pick, standard build, good read, everything you'd expect. The other one is more interesting to look at, he would stand out from the crowd.
Round 3: Further discuss what we as "producers" want. Do we want the expected or the unique? Vote #2: 4 against 1. I'm overruled.
The guys come back and we talk about each persons reading and why they weren't picked. Andy's good at remaining neutral on the subject of being good or bad. He offers a "good read" or "good choices", without sugar coating the critique. He's able to get the honest truth across like, "not enough energy" or "your body language set an odd tone" or whatever the reason is without sounding harsh.
The girls are up. We all shuffle out into the hall and prepare. After 5 or so minutes the first girl gets called in. I'm sitting there thinking three lines is nothing. I can do that, right? My turn. I enter the room. The sides are for a secretary who's being questioned by the police. First read blows. It's not a good read. I trip all over the words. GAH. Andy opens it up for notes/directions. Read #2. Better, but blah. Seriously, three sentences should not be this hard. I metaphorically kick myself as I exit the room.
The girls finish auditioning. I'm lounging on a wooden bench outside the room. I can hear some of the discussion. One gal apparently didn't take direction and both reads were the same. The field quickly gets narrowed down to their two favorites. One had an interesting, unexpected read. The other had a solid and typical read. Basically the same issue we had as "producers".
We're ushered back in. The boys picked the actress with the typical read. We all get feedback. My assessment was that I shared a similar look with the girl who got the part and she had the better read. C'est la vie.
And that was it for the first class. It lasted just over an hour.
Thoughts:
The first class was...meh, a little lackluster. It wasn't terrible exciting. I didn't learn much. Most of the information is common sense with a sprinkling of Andy's amusing anecdotes. I know I said this in an earlier post, but this TVI Studios is so NOT method.
BUT, it was helpful in the sense that I'm dusting off the cobwebs, getting comfortable acting again. It's one thing to play make-believe in private, it's another thing to stand up in front of a room and be judged by ones peers. I am one of those people who is perfectly calm up until the moment of truth, when I become overwhelmed and essentially short circuit. I would say everyone else in the class (aside from one?) is far more seasoned in this business than I am. I'm certainly going to utilize this class as a medium by which to brush off my rusty skills.
And the people are very friendly. I mention this because a good atmosphere is essential when it comes to a learning environment, especially regarding acting. Finding trust, confidence, patience, is not an easy thing to magically conjure up. It takes practice. Andy's class is easy going, though this probably has to do with his laid back demeanor. I heard that one teacher at TVI is particularly intense. The only intimidating part is that a lot of the people already know each other. There's a "boys club" or "actors club" that I am not a part of...yet.
First impressions: I wish there was more acting.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Story Time: Steve Burton 8:50 PM
I realize Story Time should probably include some "success" stories and snippets from more well know actors. Variety is good.
I found this 4 part video interview lurking on The Actors Reporter. Steve Burton, best known for his role as Jason Morgan on General Hospital (he's been playing this guy for 18 YEARS !), answers questions about finding his first job, pilot season, and lots of good stuff on the logistics of soap sets. It's pretty interesting, not mind-blowing, but certainly helpful.
*And he's not just a soap actor - anyone remember Taken (Steven Spielberg)? He totally represented as Captain Russell Keys, the first abductee. And Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, video game and film? He voiced the part of Cloud Strife.
Watch on.
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
I found this 4 part video interview lurking on The Actors Reporter. Steve Burton, best known for his role as Jason Morgan on General Hospital (he's been playing this guy for 18 YEARS !), answers questions about finding his first job, pilot season, and lots of good stuff on the logistics of soap sets. It's pretty interesting, not mind-blowing, but certainly helpful.
*And he's not just a soap actor - anyone remember Taken (Steven Spielberg)? He totally represented as Captain Russell Keys, the first abductee. And Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, video game and film? He voiced the part of Cloud Strife.
Watch on.
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Friday, August 21, 2009
Working: The Non-Acting Job, Part 1 2:53 PM
I'm sure most of you out there, actors or not, struggle with the conflict of conscience regarding paychecks and passions. In this world survival requires money, but happiness demands love, and it is our human condition to struggle to find the balance in between. Here's a little excerpt of my personal situation.
It's been almost four weeks since I moved to Los Angeles and admittedly, it was around the middle of the second week when I started to panic about money. This is not to say that I had run out of the green stuff or lost it or was wildly spending it about, but it's a crushing reality to watch money slowly trickle out without any coming in. Roofing, food, classes, transportation...life costs money and I realized that I really needed to start off-setting the cost of being a grown up with some income. The decision then became what type of job should I pursue?
It should be one which should facilitate or at least not hinder my acting aspirations. This realization didn't necessarily narrow down the job field, but it helped to focus it. I knew that ideally if I could get work doing anything pertaining to the entertainment industry I'd be in good shape. Since this town is heavily geared towards who you know instead of what you know, any contacts and any industry experience was going to be a good thing. It was this rational that led me to Casting Central, the opportunity to make money while getting some onset experience. Unfortunately, this grand plan proved more difficult than I originally expected. Now what?
I started looking at Craigslist postings in the tv/film/video and the part time sections. Most, if not all, the film/tv postings were trade based or just hella sketch. It was a bit frustrating, but that's why I broadened my scope to include the random part time job. I figured, making any kind of money at this point on a flexible schedule would still allow me time to do whatever I needed to do for my acting pursuits. Plus, in this economy, with all the competition, it's hard to know your value. Beggars can't be choosy. I emailed a couple of random admin/office/receptionist positions. And nothing. Nadda. Zilch.
Ok, onwards to the biggies, the big giant corporations that make all those expensive films and pay for our tv programming. They've got to be looking for people, right?
...Not qualified for any of those. Most of these listings are for executive positions. :-(
Broader we go.
Entertainment Careers is the most useful site I found. I don't think you have to register to get the listings, but I did anyways. It's free and I was able to find entry level positions that I was suited for. I sent out resumes to two places. No response. Getting discouraged.
*Insert slight, but noticeable mental collapse*
Research time. Click. Click. Click. Type. Type. Survival jobs for actors? Pay the bills while acting? Actress needs money! The most common source of employment is...you guessed it - WAITING TABLES. And...absolutely not. (A friend of mine asked me to fill in for her on New Year's Eve...I knew then that waitressing was NOT for me.) It may be a good gig for actors who audition during the day, but I just...can't. Also, as much as I want to be a working actor, I am not one yet. I'm still figuring out how to get auditions. Once I remedy this minor detail, then I deal with freeing my days up.
After waitressing, the list of actors day jobs gets pretty sporadic. It really depends on what your skills are. Start your own business; walk dogs, interior design, or landscape. If you're athletic, try personal training. If you can cook, catering is apparently a good option. Can you write? Freelance. Did you have a specialized day job before you started acting? Consult. Lot-o-options. (Check out this post, Actors weigh in on Day Jobs, over at The Casting Scoop for anecdotes on survival employment.)
Here's my problem. I don't have a specialty field. I've worked in offices and I've done a few writing things here and there, but nothing that employers can drool over. And keep in mind, I don't know anyone out here. My roommates have been extra sweet, introducing me to some of their friends, but I don't have much of a resource base when it comes to clout. It's who you know, not what you know...
Eventually, I happened upon Temping. The deal is you sign up with an agency that specializes in temporary work and they find you jobs all over the city. You might be in a different location each day, or you may be contracted to work for several weeks, but it's all temporary, no permanence, no commitment...perfect.
Looking into the temp option, I found that certain agencies specialize in specific fields, one of which happened to be entertainment. Cha-ching! I don't know how I happened upon The Comar Agency, but it magically appeared on my screen and it was love at first sight. The website states that, "To submit resumes for temporary, temp-hire, direct hire, or executive search consideration please email resume as a Microsoft Word attachment to: resumes@comaragency.com" and you'll hear back from them in about a week. They'll either bring you in for an interview or deny you because your not qualified.
A week - what a long time for my worrisome psyche to go haywire with gruesome nightmares of tragic failure! I kept searching the other sites. Click. Click. Send. Silence. Type. Nothing.
Then, a funny thing happened. I went to a barbecue and met stranger who turned out to be an actress. She was very nice and very amiable, but I didn't think much of the encounter. Then, the next day I got an email from her about a job posting for an acting studio looking for office help. The generosity of strangers is something else. I should buy her a drink.
The position was for a office/admin position, basic office duties, phones, some sales background, blah blah blah. The job listing specified a few computer programs which I wasn't familiar with, but I thought, being a technically proficient gal, I could probably fudge what I didn't know. I was slightly nervous about this, but what really made me worry was that they asked for a salary requirement. My first inclination was to utter the word "shit" several times. Deep breath. Thankfully the 21st century comes with global connectivity. I turned to interrogate my favorite resource - the internet - for the salary range of an office assistant in the greater LAX area.
I found the Salary Wizard and PayScale, which were both helpful in getting a sense of what my labor was worth. Make sure you put in the correct zip code/city because salaries will vary depending on whether your employed in Los Angeles verses Santa Monica verses Burbank. I decided on what I guessed was a medium-high number ($14/hr). I sent along a perky cover letter and my resume and really didn't expect to hear anything. It was to my utter shock and surprise that the next day (a Saturday, a WEEKEND) I got a call from the owner of the studio.
WHAT. We discussed what they were looking for and the 20 minute conversation concluded with the feeling that, if I really was who I said I was, I would be a great candidate. I was also informed that one of the benefits of the job was the option to take classes from the studio, but part of the agreement would also be that I would not be able to attend auditions/acting jobs during office hours. This didn't scare me as much as the 1-2 year commitment did. I've never held a job that long and commitment scares me in general. I told myself to grow up and get a back bone.
An interview/testing session was set up that day for the next week. Meanwhile, I heard back from The Comar Agency and they wanted me to come in for an interview.
Two interviews. This is a good thing right? What am I supposed to do now?
I guess you'll just have to wait and see in part 2. Oh the suspense!
It's been almost four weeks since I moved to Los Angeles and admittedly, it was around the middle of the second week when I started to panic about money. This is not to say that I had run out of the green stuff or lost it or was wildly spending it about, but it's a crushing reality to watch money slowly trickle out without any coming in. Roofing, food, classes, transportation...life costs money and I realized that I really needed to start off-setting the cost of being a grown up with some income. The decision then became what type of job should I pursue?
It should be one which should facilitate or at least not hinder my acting aspirations. This realization didn't necessarily narrow down the job field, but it helped to focus it. I knew that ideally if I could get work doing anything pertaining to the entertainment industry I'd be in good shape. Since this town is heavily geared towards who you know instead of what you know, any contacts and any industry experience was going to be a good thing. It was this rational that led me to Casting Central, the opportunity to make money while getting some onset experience. Unfortunately, this grand plan proved more difficult than I originally expected. Now what?
I started looking at Craigslist postings in the tv/film/video and the part time sections. Most, if not all, the film/tv postings were trade based or just hella sketch. It was a bit frustrating, but that's why I broadened my scope to include the random part time job. I figured, making any kind of money at this point on a flexible schedule would still allow me time to do whatever I needed to do for my acting pursuits. Plus, in this economy, with all the competition, it's hard to know your value. Beggars can't be choosy. I emailed a couple of random admin/office/receptionist positions. And nothing. Nadda. Zilch.
Ok, onwards to the biggies, the big giant corporations that make all those expensive films and pay for our tv programming. They've got to be looking for people, right?
...Not qualified for any of those. Most of these listings are for executive positions. :-(
Broader we go.
Entertainment Careers is the most useful site I found. I don't think you have to register to get the listings, but I did anyways. It's free and I was able to find entry level positions that I was suited for. I sent out resumes to two places. No response. Getting discouraged.
*Insert slight, but noticeable mental collapse*
Research time. Click. Click. Click. Type. Type. Survival jobs for actors? Pay the bills while acting? Actress needs money! The most common source of employment is...you guessed it - WAITING TABLES. And...absolutely not. (A friend of mine asked me to fill in for her on New Year's Eve...I knew then that waitressing was NOT for me.) It may be a good gig for actors who audition during the day, but I just...can't. Also, as much as I want to be a working actor, I am not one yet. I'm still figuring out how to get auditions. Once I remedy this minor detail, then I deal with freeing my days up.
After waitressing, the list of actors day jobs gets pretty sporadic. It really depends on what your skills are. Start your own business; walk dogs, interior design, or landscape. If you're athletic, try personal training. If you can cook, catering is apparently a good option. Can you write? Freelance. Did you have a specialized day job before you started acting? Consult. Lot-o-options. (Check out this post, Actors weigh in on Day Jobs, over at The Casting Scoop for anecdotes on survival employment.)
Here's my problem. I don't have a specialty field. I've worked in offices and I've done a few writing things here and there, but nothing that employers can drool over. And keep in mind, I don't know anyone out here. My roommates have been extra sweet, introducing me to some of their friends, but I don't have much of a resource base when it comes to clout. It's who you know, not what you know...
Eventually, I happened upon Temping. The deal is you sign up with an agency that specializes in temporary work and they find you jobs all over the city. You might be in a different location each day, or you may be contracted to work for several weeks, but it's all temporary, no permanence, no commitment...perfect.
Looking into the temp option, I found that certain agencies specialize in specific fields, one of which happened to be entertainment. Cha-ching! I don't know how I happened upon The Comar Agency, but it magically appeared on my screen and it was love at first sight. The website states that, "To submit resumes for temporary, temp-hire, direct hire, or executive search consideration please email resume as a Microsoft Word attachment to: resumes@comaragency.com" and you'll hear back from them in about a week. They'll either bring you in for an interview or deny you because your not qualified.
A week - what a long time for my worrisome psyche to go haywire with gruesome nightmares of tragic failure! I kept searching the other sites. Click. Click. Send. Silence. Type. Nothing.
Then, a funny thing happened. I went to a barbecue and met stranger who turned out to be an actress. She was very nice and very amiable, but I didn't think much of the encounter. Then, the next day I got an email from her about a job posting for an acting studio looking for office help. The generosity of strangers is something else. I should buy her a drink.
The position was for a office/admin position, basic office duties, phones, some sales background, blah blah blah. The job listing specified a few computer programs which I wasn't familiar with, but I thought, being a technically proficient gal, I could probably fudge what I didn't know. I was slightly nervous about this, but what really made me worry was that they asked for a salary requirement. My first inclination was to utter the word "shit" several times. Deep breath. Thankfully the 21st century comes with global connectivity. I turned to interrogate my favorite resource - the internet - for the salary range of an office assistant in the greater LAX area.
I found the Salary Wizard and PayScale, which were both helpful in getting a sense of what my labor was worth. Make sure you put in the correct zip code/city because salaries will vary depending on whether your employed in Los Angeles verses Santa Monica verses Burbank. I decided on what I guessed was a medium-high number ($14/hr). I sent along a perky cover letter and my resume and really didn't expect to hear anything. It was to my utter shock and surprise that the next day (a Saturday, a WEEKEND) I got a call from the owner of the studio.
WHAT. We discussed what they were looking for and the 20 minute conversation concluded with the feeling that, if I really was who I said I was, I would be a great candidate. I was also informed that one of the benefits of the job was the option to take classes from the studio, but part of the agreement would also be that I would not be able to attend auditions/acting jobs during office hours. This didn't scare me as much as the 1-2 year commitment did. I've never held a job that long and commitment scares me in general. I told myself to grow up and get a back bone.
An interview/testing session was set up that day for the next week. Meanwhile, I heard back from The Comar Agency and they wanted me to come in for an interview.
Two interviews. This is a good thing right? What am I supposed to do now?
I guess you'll just have to wait and see in part 2. Oh the suspense!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Story Time: Tafting Her Hartley 11:12 PM
This story is courtesy of Backstage: Unscripted. It's a short anecdote about one gals unbelievable luck to strike Taft Hartley'd gold.
The breakdown was for a Bank of America webisode in which they’d be talking about student banking. I went in for an audition and they hired me. I was told to show up at California State University in Northridge at 8 am – on my birthday. I took the gig because hey, it was some money and I had nothing else to do that day. 22 isn’t that special anyways.
I didn’t know what to expect at all. All I knew was that I was getting paid $64 – not much, but who’s complaining? There were about 40 college age looking actors there. Half were SAG, half were non union. We were shuffled around a bit and treated like cattle. There were no bathrooms or water bottles in sight. What had I gotten myself into?
I quickly made friends with 2 other background actors. They began to tell me how they got into SAG – by doing extra work and getting vouchers. They told a story of how one friend they knew did her first job as an extra and was Taft Hartley’d. They were so jealous of her because she got to join right off the bat and they had to wait months.
One of the wranglers announced that they needed 12 people to sing a song for one of the segments. No one was raising their hand, and finally I decided to volunteer. I love singing and no one else seemed too eager to do it. She finally got her 12 and we were told that we would have to write a short song or rap about ways in which we’ve saved or spent money.
In the midst of us writing our songs and choosing the tracks we would sing with, a SAG representative dropped by the set to check things out. He stated that he never really comes out to these things, but decided to today. Someone in our group mentioned that we were asked to sing and could we get a bump – a salary raise – since we were doing something not in our contract.
The SAG representative made a call to the office and came back with the greatest news – we were now considered featured performers and would have to sign new contracts, SAG contracts, and those who were not in the union would be Taft Hartley’d. And my old $64 payday? Out the window. We’d be getting checks for $800! Was it fate that this man came to our set that day? I think so. He was like our guardian angel.
It turned out to be a wonderful birthday. I ended up being “that person” that gets Taft Hartley’d on their first day of extra work. The 12 of us were floating. If no one had spoken up, this would’ve gone under the rug and boy were the producers pissed when they found out we had talked to the SAG rep. Just shows you – always ask questions!
While I am still waiting to see the segment online, I have received my wonderful check. But how do I proceed about this Taft Hartley business?!
Backstage: Unscripted - Funny Story
The breakdown was for a Bank of America webisode in which they’d be talking about student banking. I went in for an audition and they hired me. I was told to show up at California State University in Northridge at 8 am – on my birthday. I took the gig because hey, it was some money and I had nothing else to do that day. 22 isn’t that special anyways.
I didn’t know what to expect at all. All I knew was that I was getting paid $64 – not much, but who’s complaining? There were about 40 college age looking actors there. Half were SAG, half were non union. We were shuffled around a bit and treated like cattle. There were no bathrooms or water bottles in sight. What had I gotten myself into?
I quickly made friends with 2 other background actors. They began to tell me how they got into SAG – by doing extra work and getting vouchers. They told a story of how one friend they knew did her first job as an extra and was Taft Hartley’d. They were so jealous of her because she got to join right off the bat and they had to wait months.
One of the wranglers announced that they needed 12 people to sing a song for one of the segments. No one was raising their hand, and finally I decided to volunteer. I love singing and no one else seemed too eager to do it. She finally got her 12 and we were told that we would have to write a short song or rap about ways in which we’ve saved or spent money.
In the midst of us writing our songs and choosing the tracks we would sing with, a SAG representative dropped by the set to check things out. He stated that he never really comes out to these things, but decided to today. Someone in our group mentioned that we were asked to sing and could we get a bump – a salary raise – since we were doing something not in our contract.
The SAG representative made a call to the office and came back with the greatest news – we were now considered featured performers and would have to sign new contracts, SAG contracts, and those who were not in the union would be Taft Hartley’d. And my old $64 payday? Out the window. We’d be getting checks for $800! Was it fate that this man came to our set that day? I think so. He was like our guardian angel.
It turned out to be a wonderful birthday. I ended up being “that person” that gets Taft Hartley’d on their first day of extra work. The 12 of us were floating. If no one had spoken up, this would’ve gone under the rug and boy were the producers pissed when they found out we had talked to the SAG rep. Just shows you – always ask questions!
While I am still waiting to see the segment online, I have received my wonderful check. But how do I proceed about this Taft Hartley business?!
Backstage: Unscripted - Funny Story
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Central Casting Registration 5:38 PM
GAH. I'm so far behind in life. Here I go abouts trying to remedy this situation.
Casting Central is the worlds (aka NY and LA's) premiere venue for supplying extras. All those bar scenes, crowd scenes, town scenes are filled primarily by this agency specializing in background actors. I'd heard about this place before and with my unemployed self, this seemed like a great opportunity to get on sets and make some nickles and dimes on the side. I did my research thing and figured out from reading the website that all an interested candidate needs is $25, some legal documents and 2 valid forms of ID to register. It's not clear how you go about getting work, but I figured they'd let me know when I arrived.
Here's the boring stuff. There are two types of registration - Union and Non-Union. Make sure you show up to the right one. They will turn you away and make you come back just to wait in the same ridiculous line. (I'm not speaking from experience, but I did overhear a conversation regarding this issue.)
Union Registration
Tuesdays & Thursdays
10:30am to 11:30am
Non-Union Registration
Mondays, Wednesdays & Fridays
10:30am to 11:30am
What to Bring
With all that boring paper work out of the way, I, clearly being non-union, planned my Monday accordingly to arrive at 10:30am. When I got there, I was surprised to see the front room FILLED with people. No one told me how...popular this place was. When I showed up at 10:27am, there were easily 40 people standing around. The crowd was fairly diverse; some people were there because they thought it'd be cool to be in a movie, others were doctors and lawyers secretly hoping to have their big break, the tan blondes were numerous along with a wide assortment of other quirky faces and types.
There was a long table in the middle of the room with people filling out the forms. Everyone else stood or sat on the perimeter waiting for things to get started. After a few minutes of shifting my weight around a woman walked to the front and started explaining the process. "Make sure you've filled out all the forms...make sure your identification hasn't expired...don't fill in this part...don't write on that half...don't guess your sizes...form two lines..." Basically for the next hour I stood in a long line and waited. I was behind a dentist who's wife was busy making "connections". The dentist had this portfolio of 20 different (or at least 7) headshots of himself dressed up as an assortment of characters.
Now, for a moment of digression.
It sort of brought things into perspective for me, looking at all the other faces in the room. The experience reaffirmed the notion that everyone in LA wants to find fame and fortune. It made me a bit queasy. Warning: Inserting mild rant of insecurities...
Actors always get a bad rep. It's probably because the whole concept of acting is based on the idea that a person is attempting to convince you that there is truth in a lie. Acting is, "living truthfully under imaginary circumstances," as Meisner once said. Yes, but it's so easy to say that great actors are simply great liars - something which society warns us against. Actors are fakes. It can be so narcissistic. It can be so selfish. And when I look at these amateurs, I fear that I'm looking into a mirror, that some how I'm searching for the same things they are. I hope I'm not. I still haven't figured out what draws me so deeply to the world of make believe, but I hope it's not for the selfish reason of getting noticed. This uncertainty makes me uncomfortable.
But back to the line. At 11:30 they pull all the applications, registration is closed. The room is still packed with people, all of whom will be able to sign up, but any others wandering in will have to come back another day. I eventually get my turn to hand papers over to one of the two individuals registering people. The nice old man checks my documents, I give him my drivers license and passport, he writes some stuff down and I'm off to the next line.
This line is much shorter, we're waiting to get our picture taken. When my turn comes round, I hand my $25 to the cashier lady, stand in front of the white scrim and look onwards at the digital camera. The misses taking the picture tells me to move my hair and there is a flash. It's not a bad picture, not great, but acceptable. She asks if I want to smile. I HATE smiling. I haven't figured out the art of making them look genuine. We take another picture anyways. I look at the result and cringe. We pick the first one.
There's a box on the counter full of packets. They have all the magical information regarding calling in, work, regulations, and etiquette. I take one and leave. It's 12:30pm by now. I'm exhausted. Waiting in line in grueling work.
I find the Barnes & Noble in Burbank, plop myself down and begin reading. To get work you must call a hotline. There are several numbers; one for non-union females, one for non-union males, one for union females and one for union males. You call up this number and listen to pre-recorded messages that inform you of shows, dates and the types of people they're looking for. Sometimes the messages are incredibly specific - pale Caucasian, late 20's, female with a bald head and blue eyes, size 4 - but sometime they're vague - 20's to 30's, club goer. The messages constantly change throughout the day. They claim that the best time for calling is between 2pm and 8pm on weekdays. It's a hit or miss situation, you can't really predict when a new message will be recorded.
Most of the calls will be for the next day. Sometimes you'll get a stray, "This is for next week," or, "We're just taking submissions right now," but most of the work will be for the following business day. Don't bother calling in if you're not able to work the following day. Also, plan for a working day to be 8 hours. If you've got any other appointments or events during the day, cancel them, reschedule, or don't call. Compensation for non-union extras is $8/hr.
Along with the show, the date and people types, they'll give another number. If you think your right for the role, you call the second number and hope to get through in time. The lines are ALWAYS busy. You will be calling this second number for at least 5 minutes before you get through, but often it will be more like 15 minutes. If it's more than 20 minutes, check the first hotline again, the message may or may not have been taken down in that amount of time. If you get through, a person will ask for the first 5 digits of your social security number and your name. The two responses are either, "Yes, I can use you," or "No".
It's a game of luck. You've got to call in at the right time and then be able to get through the second switch board. There are calling services that one can pay for which will call the hotline for you and try to get you a part. Extras Management came around during registration and passed out flyer's of their call-in service which costs about $2.50/day.
----
A few days later...
It's hard work being an extra. I ended up checking the first hotline probably 15 times a day. Once at 9, next at 10:30, 11:30, 12, 12:30, etc. I would check it every half hour or so. You can skip the messages you've already heard which is good, but man, getting through to the second line is nearly impossible. In two days, I managed to get to three human voices. I got turned away all three times. They either had filled their quota or I wasn't right for the part. It's tough.
I also want to make mention of the frequency of parts. Being a standard brown haired, blue eyed, size 8, early 20's gal, there are between 2 and 3 messages for this type a day. Down side to being a typical extra is that a butt load of people are competing for the same spots. This means BUSY LINES. If you're a more specific type - a bald headed, tattooed female - you're not going to be needed as often, but you won't be competing with a giant pool of ladies who look just like you (aka increasing your odds of getting the role).
I haven't called in a week or so because I've been busy trying to find a steadier form of income. The good news is that my information will be good for another 2 years. I can still call in whenever I want. Honestly folks, I didn't think it was going to be quite so brutal, but being an extra takes dedication and lots of phone minutes. Be prepared.
Casting Central is the worlds (aka NY and LA's) premiere venue for supplying extras. All those bar scenes, crowd scenes, town scenes are filled primarily by this agency specializing in background actors. I'd heard about this place before and with my unemployed self, this seemed like a great opportunity to get on sets and make some nickles and dimes on the side. I did my research thing and figured out from reading the website that all an interested candidate needs is $25, some legal documents and 2 valid forms of ID to register. It's not clear how you go about getting work, but I figured they'd let me know when I arrived.
Here's the boring stuff. There are two types of registration - Union and Non-Union. Make sure you show up to the right one. They will turn you away and make you come back just to wait in the same ridiculous line. (I'm not speaking from experience, but I did overhear a conversation regarding this issue.)
Union Registration
Tuesdays & Thursdays
10:30am to 11:30am
Non-Union Registration
Mondays, Wednesdays & Fridays
10:30am to 11:30am
What to Bring
- Registration Sheet
- W-4
- I-9
- Harassment Policy
- 2 Valid forms of ID (Passport, Social Security Card, Green Card, etc)
- $25
With all that boring paper work out of the way, I, clearly being non-union, planned my Monday accordingly to arrive at 10:30am. When I got there, I was surprised to see the front room FILLED with people. No one told me how...popular this place was. When I showed up at 10:27am, there were easily 40 people standing around. The crowd was fairly diverse; some people were there because they thought it'd be cool to be in a movie, others were doctors and lawyers secretly hoping to have their big break, the tan blondes were numerous along with a wide assortment of other quirky faces and types.
There was a long table in the middle of the room with people filling out the forms. Everyone else stood or sat on the perimeter waiting for things to get started. After a few minutes of shifting my weight around a woman walked to the front and started explaining the process. "Make sure you've filled out all the forms...make sure your identification hasn't expired...don't fill in this part...don't write on that half...don't guess your sizes...form two lines..." Basically for the next hour I stood in a long line and waited. I was behind a dentist who's wife was busy making "connections". The dentist had this portfolio of 20 different (or at least 7) headshots of himself dressed up as an assortment of characters.
Now, for a moment of digression.
It sort of brought things into perspective for me, looking at all the other faces in the room. The experience reaffirmed the notion that everyone in LA wants to find fame and fortune. It made me a bit queasy. Warning: Inserting mild rant of insecurities...
Actors always get a bad rep. It's probably because the whole concept of acting is based on the idea that a person is attempting to convince you that there is truth in a lie. Acting is, "living truthfully under imaginary circumstances," as Meisner once said. Yes, but it's so easy to say that great actors are simply great liars - something which society warns us against. Actors are fakes. It can be so narcissistic. It can be so selfish. And when I look at these amateurs, I fear that I'm looking into a mirror, that some how I'm searching for the same things they are. I hope I'm not. I still haven't figured out what draws me so deeply to the world of make believe, but I hope it's not for the selfish reason of getting noticed. This uncertainty makes me uncomfortable.
But back to the line. At 11:30 they pull all the applications, registration is closed. The room is still packed with people, all of whom will be able to sign up, but any others wandering in will have to come back another day. I eventually get my turn to hand papers over to one of the two individuals registering people. The nice old man checks my documents, I give him my drivers license and passport, he writes some stuff down and I'm off to the next line.
This line is much shorter, we're waiting to get our picture taken. When my turn comes round, I hand my $25 to the cashier lady, stand in front of the white scrim and look onwards at the digital camera. The misses taking the picture tells me to move my hair and there is a flash. It's not a bad picture, not great, but acceptable. She asks if I want to smile. I HATE smiling. I haven't figured out the art of making them look genuine. We take another picture anyways. I look at the result and cringe. We pick the first one.
There's a box on the counter full of packets. They have all the magical information regarding calling in, work, regulations, and etiquette. I take one and leave. It's 12:30pm by now. I'm exhausted. Waiting in line in grueling work.
I find the Barnes & Noble in Burbank, plop myself down and begin reading. To get work you must call a hotline. There are several numbers; one for non-union females, one for non-union males, one for union females and one for union males. You call up this number and listen to pre-recorded messages that inform you of shows, dates and the types of people they're looking for. Sometimes the messages are incredibly specific - pale Caucasian, late 20's, female with a bald head and blue eyes, size 4 - but sometime they're vague - 20's to 30's, club goer. The messages constantly change throughout the day. They claim that the best time for calling is between 2pm and 8pm on weekdays. It's a hit or miss situation, you can't really predict when a new message will be recorded.
Most of the calls will be for the next day. Sometimes you'll get a stray, "This is for next week," or, "We're just taking submissions right now," but most of the work will be for the following business day. Don't bother calling in if you're not able to work the following day. Also, plan for a working day to be 8 hours. If you've got any other appointments or events during the day, cancel them, reschedule, or don't call. Compensation for non-union extras is $8/hr.
Along with the show, the date and people types, they'll give another number. If you think your right for the role, you call the second number and hope to get through in time. The lines are ALWAYS busy. You will be calling this second number for at least 5 minutes before you get through, but often it will be more like 15 minutes. If it's more than 20 minutes, check the first hotline again, the message may or may not have been taken down in that amount of time. If you get through, a person will ask for the first 5 digits of your social security number and your name. The two responses are either, "Yes, I can use you," or "No".
It's a game of luck. You've got to call in at the right time and then be able to get through the second switch board. There are calling services that one can pay for which will call the hotline for you and try to get you a part. Extras Management came around during registration and passed out flyer's of their call-in service which costs about $2.50/day.
----
A few days later...
It's hard work being an extra. I ended up checking the first hotline probably 15 times a day. Once at 9, next at 10:30, 11:30, 12, 12:30, etc. I would check it every half hour or so. You can skip the messages you've already heard which is good, but man, getting through to the second line is nearly impossible. In two days, I managed to get to three human voices. I got turned away all three times. They either had filled their quota or I wasn't right for the part. It's tough.
I also want to make mention of the frequency of parts. Being a standard brown haired, blue eyed, size 8, early 20's gal, there are between 2 and 3 messages for this type a day. Down side to being a typical extra is that a butt load of people are competing for the same spots. This means BUSY LINES. If you're a more specific type - a bald headed, tattooed female - you're not going to be needed as often, but you won't be competing with a giant pool of ladies who look just like you (aka increasing your odds of getting the role).
I haven't called in a week or so because I've been busy trying to find a steadier form of income. The good news is that my information will be good for another 2 years. I can still call in whenever I want. Honestly folks, I didn't think it was going to be quite so brutal, but being an extra takes dedication and lots of phone minutes. Be prepared.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Story Time: A Pirate's Booty 11:11 PM
I'm gonna try a new thing here - other actors telling their stories. I love Stumbling around the web and some of the stuff to be found is quite fascinating. I think the knowledge and the entertainment should be rebroadcast here for your reading pleasure. What else does a "working" actor do in their spare time, but commiserate with the rest of the population about all the shit we go through for a dream.
This story is courtesy of the June 2008 addition of the Los Angeles Magazine. It's about an ex Jack Sparrow recounting his tales of Disneyland.
Like everyone, I grew up going to Disneyland. Even as an adult I loved it there and went at least once a month. I was an annual pass holder, though not like the freaky ones you may have heard of. I’d see the park’s characters and think, “It’d be so cool to work here.” But there was never a character I really wanted to play. I had a role on the television show Veronica Mars and was working at Coco’s when a friend told me Disneyland was casting a Jack Sparrow character. I had already played Jack as a hobby at San Diego’s Comic-Con and the Renaissance Faire.
Thirty-seven actors showed up that day, four of us in costume. Only eight were chosen for the next round. We were told we would be auditioning the next day at Disneyland. When I showed up, there were now 23 guys—15 that had been pulled from in-house auditions. There was this assistant who would come in and pull people one by one—“Steve, can you come with me?” Then you’d never see Steve again. Finally I was sitting all alone in the room. After 15 minutes they pulled me into another room where two other guys were sitting. They told us we were going to be Disneyland’s first Jack Sparrows.
Disney warned us we were going to have a lot of horny women coming on to us. They were also worried about girls. I heard Disneyland had an Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. She was very flirtatious, and they finally pulled her because men found her too sexually arousing and were acting out.
The male character they had pulled was Tarzan. He moved around the tree house dressed in just a butt flap. Disney had hired these good-looking, muscular guys—even airbrushing abs on—and apparently there was excessive pinching of Tarzan’s ass by the park’s female visitors. Knowing all this, and also knowing what women were like around Jack at the Renaissance Faire, I told the other guys, “Don’t complain if girls flirt with you too much. If you do, they’ll pull the character from the park.”
Disney wanted us to tone Jack down, so they put us through an acting class to discover reasons why Jack walks and talks the way he does. Obviously he is based on Keith Richards, who’s always messed up, which is why they came up with the class. “Don’t be flirtatious,” they told us. “See women as trouble.” And they said as far as alcohol goes, don’t even mention drinking. But the Pirates of the Caribbean song is all about drinking, and they’re drinking all along the ride. So I eventually broke that rule, because it would have taken me out of character. When parents took pictures, I’d say, “Everyone say ‘rum,’ ” and the parents loved it. The kids would just ask, “What’s rum?”
When training started, I found out the park allowed mustaches but had a no-facial-hair policy for all employees. I had the Jack goatee, and I threw a small fit. No facial hair for this character? Why would you want to glue on a mustache in summer? You can see the glue! I took a day to consider whether I wanted the job. I walked the park, and suddenly I saw the most amazing Belle I’d ever seen. Beautiful. She was coming out of the characters’ entrance near Star Tours and bantering with Push the Talking Trash Can. An entire crowd was being entertained, and that just sold me. I thought, “I want to work here.”
I had a MySpace page as Jack Sparrow, and I asked if I could keep that. They said no. Two days later an assistant found a blog I’d written about auditioning. They said, “You need to take that blog down in two hours or you’ve lost your job.” They said, “You cannot give out information about auditioning for Jack Sparrow.” I also had to sign documents that stated if I was in the park and out of costume, I could not tell people that I played Jack Sparrow. I was told that the thing for employees to say was, “I am friends with Jack Sparrow.” I was worried I couldn’t do the character at Renaissance Faires anymore. But as long as I didn’t make money, I was told, I could put on my own costume outside the park.
It took over an hour to get Disney’s suit on. In the dressing room there is one long makeup table and a wall with a long mirror. I think over 100 character actors were there. You had face characters like Jack, Aladdin, the Mad Hatter, and you had fuzzies, the characters in costumes. The face characters and the fuzzies dressed apart. There was a ranking system in the dressing room: If you were a princess, you pretty much got that long mirror wall. For some reason the Jacks always ended up in the back corner.
As Jack, I had four hour-long sets a day. We worked in New Orleans Square. I would find a place I liked, and the hosts would set up my line. A host is someone who helps run the line of people that forms to meet you. They’re basically your security. When we started, Disney thought they wouldn’t give us a host. They thought we’d mingle. I laughed at that. I said, “I don’t mean to be the guy that knows it all, but from Renaissance Faires I can guarantee you this character will have the park’s longest line.” Disney had invented a Jack Sparrow autograph the three of us learned, and immediately the line for autographs was gigantic. The Jacks ultimately got two hosts.
We were the Johnny Depps and the Jack Sparrows of Disneyland. People called you either “Johnny” or “Jack.” They wanted to talk with you or ask for your autograph. It took me a while to get my rhythm down. I could figure out five or six different things to say to kids, so that by the time the sixth kid was gone, the next group in line hadn’t heard what I’d said to the first kid.
You never knew when the casting department was going to come into the park and watch you—they came out of nowhere—or something might end up on YouTube. If a character does something a parent believes is wrong, that’s the video that ends up on YouTube. I was on YouTube after I sat in a lady’s stroller. It’s something I often did, and parents would laugh and take pictures. But management came to me and said, “It looks like you’re sitting down on the job, and we can’t have that.”
There is a big thing in the park about not being visually linked to another character. You’re told to stay in your area. But Pluto was a friend of mine, and one day he came over to see me. We posed for photos, and the next day he told me it was on YouTube. Eventually he got fired.
I'll be honest: I didn’t follow all the Disney rules. I played Jack like he was real, and if a woman flirted, I would flirt back. Women loved it. But there were also women who would have too many beers at California Adventure or smuggle in alcohol you could smell on their breath, women who were clearly sloshed.
Here’s a napkin someone wrote on for me: “I will give you a blow job on your break, so sexy! Kim—714-XXX-XXXX.” I would also get offers from women in my ear: “Anything you want, just find me.” I had a girl who had turned 18 the day before. She was with a high school group, and she wrote down her room number at the Downtown Disney hotel. I had a lady hump my leg one day in the park.
Annual pass holders—eventually you would become the favorite of certain ones. Most characters were weirded out by the pass holders. Weird was a mother having her kids ditch school so she could come see me. Or coming to every set I did and walking the line over and over again just to talk to me. But I didn’t mind them. I built up about eight solid regulars that came for me. My biggest fans were a mother-daughter team that would talk a little, walk to the end of the line, and then come around again. I could see them twice a week, every week, every set.
We were told Disney prefers that the characters don’t date, and the characters even have a slogan: “Don’t Date Disney,” or DDD. Dating at Disneyland is difficult. But I already had a thing for the Ariels when I arrived. They have red hair, and I love red hair. After I met my girlfriend, an Ariel, and we started dating, we would need to talk to each other backstage under our coats because employees would try to snap photos with their phones—Ariel and Jack together.
One problem about playing a character at Disneyland is that you are the Hollywood of the park. For the most part, ride operators and the people making the food love the characters, and they treat them like royalty. But the leads—the park’s assistant managers—every character had problems with them. The smallest rule broken, they call upper management and complain.
For the most part, if you’re not in trouble, you don’t see management. It wasn’t until the end that I started seeing them a lot. I had a lady who wrote on a comment card that her son had seen me and said, “Look, it’s Jack Sparrow!,” and Jack Sparrow had turned around and said, “No shit.” My manager said, “I don’t think you would say this, but where’d they get the idea?” I said if they’re in a stroller I say, “Nice ship.” She told me to say “Nice boat” from now on.
What people typically get suspended or fired for is a hugely flawed point system. If you’re part-time and you build up 24 points, you can be fired. Points come from things like clocking in late—even only a minute late. That’s one-and-a-half points on your record. You call in sick the day of work? Three points.
I was driving from L.A. and traffic in the morning was awful, so I started coming in at six because I was so worried about being late. I’d arrive early, get breakfast, and then forget to clock in on time. I never heard anything about it until seven months later, on a day when I actually was late and they told me I had 23 points. At that time I was working five days a week. Now every day I had to worry about hitting that clock because I was up for being fired if I missed it.
We were also not allowed to post pictures of ourselves in costume on MySpace. But I had a picture of Ariel and me kissing backstage, a photo I kept on my private page. I was warned by friends to take it down, and I did, but not before someone made a copy of it and turned it in to Disney. Management pulled me in and talked to me about it.
Then I got a good amount of money back on my tax return, and the Make-A-Wish Foundation was holding a fund-raiser where, for $1,500, you could see the premiere of the third Pirates film at the park. My girlfriend and I bought tickets. People who had worked earlier premieres said attendees came in costume. I had my own pirate costume, and I thought, “Let’s go in costume.” I was playing with danger, but my contract said I could dress up if I wasn’t being paid. They closed the park early that night and showed the movie over the river by the ride on a huge screen. It was amazing.
A week goes by. I think nothing of it. Then I see another Sparrow is scheduled the same day I’m on. I didn’t know what was happening until a manager came and said, “We got to take you down and talk to you.” At the premiere some foreign press outfit had done an interview with me. They asked my name. I didn’t give my real name, Pinto; I gave my stage name, Hillock. But someone behind the camera also filmed the interview, and they put it on YouTube. Management said, “We saw the video. You went to the premiere, you gave your real name, and we’re letting you go on that.” I said I wasn’t working that night, but they told me that I still represented the company.
They had a manager walk me off the property. She told me she felt bad. She took me past security and then asked for my Disney ID. I asked when I could come back. She said in five years I could reapply.
You’d hear that it sucks to work for Disney. They’re Nazis in Mickey hats. But I’d thought, “How bad could it be?” By the time I got fired, half of me was relieved. I was getting sick of constantly being barked at about what to do. It was a month before I went back to the park. I missed it. At first I thought it would be a Walk of Shame, but everyone was very nice.
Not long after that I went back to stand in my girlfriend’s Ariel line on Valentine’s Day and give her flowers. I was wearing a beanie and a sweatshirt, but the parents in line were asking me, “Are you Jack Sparrow? You’re him, aren’t you?” I looked to the line’s host, who was a friend of mine. He said, “You don’t work here anymore—do what you want.” But I did what I was trained to do. I said, “Jack Sparrow and I are just friends.”
June 2008 - Pirates Booty - Los Angeles Magazine
This story is courtesy of the June 2008 addition of the Los Angeles Magazine. It's about an ex Jack Sparrow recounting his tales of Disneyland.
Like everyone, I grew up going to Disneyland. Even as an adult I loved it there and went at least once a month. I was an annual pass holder, though not like the freaky ones you may have heard of. I’d see the park’s characters and think, “It’d be so cool to work here.” But there was never a character I really wanted to play. I had a role on the television show Veronica Mars and was working at Coco’s when a friend told me Disneyland was casting a Jack Sparrow character. I had already played Jack as a hobby at San Diego’s Comic-Con and the Renaissance Faire.
Thirty-seven actors showed up that day, four of us in costume. Only eight were chosen for the next round. We were told we would be auditioning the next day at Disneyland. When I showed up, there were now 23 guys—15 that had been pulled from in-house auditions. There was this assistant who would come in and pull people one by one—“Steve, can you come with me?” Then you’d never see Steve again. Finally I was sitting all alone in the room. After 15 minutes they pulled me into another room where two other guys were sitting. They told us we were going to be Disneyland’s first Jack Sparrows.
Disney warned us we were going to have a lot of horny women coming on to us. They were also worried about girls. I heard Disneyland had an Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. She was very flirtatious, and they finally pulled her because men found her too sexually arousing and were acting out.
The male character they had pulled was Tarzan. He moved around the tree house dressed in just a butt flap. Disney had hired these good-looking, muscular guys—even airbrushing abs on—and apparently there was excessive pinching of Tarzan’s ass by the park’s female visitors. Knowing all this, and also knowing what women were like around Jack at the Renaissance Faire, I told the other guys, “Don’t complain if girls flirt with you too much. If you do, they’ll pull the character from the park.”
Disney wanted us to tone Jack down, so they put us through an acting class to discover reasons why Jack walks and talks the way he does. Obviously he is based on Keith Richards, who’s always messed up, which is why they came up with the class. “Don’t be flirtatious,” they told us. “See women as trouble.” And they said as far as alcohol goes, don’t even mention drinking. But the Pirates of the Caribbean song is all about drinking, and they’re drinking all along the ride. So I eventually broke that rule, because it would have taken me out of character. When parents took pictures, I’d say, “Everyone say ‘rum,’ ” and the parents loved it. The kids would just ask, “What’s rum?”
When training started, I found out the park allowed mustaches but had a no-facial-hair policy for all employees. I had the Jack goatee, and I threw a small fit. No facial hair for this character? Why would you want to glue on a mustache in summer? You can see the glue! I took a day to consider whether I wanted the job. I walked the park, and suddenly I saw the most amazing Belle I’d ever seen. Beautiful. She was coming out of the characters’ entrance near Star Tours and bantering with Push the Talking Trash Can. An entire crowd was being entertained, and that just sold me. I thought, “I want to work here.”
I had a MySpace page as Jack Sparrow, and I asked if I could keep that. They said no. Two days later an assistant found a blog I’d written about auditioning. They said, “You need to take that blog down in two hours or you’ve lost your job.” They said, “You cannot give out information about auditioning for Jack Sparrow.” I also had to sign documents that stated if I was in the park and out of costume, I could not tell people that I played Jack Sparrow. I was told that the thing for employees to say was, “I am friends with Jack Sparrow.” I was worried I couldn’t do the character at Renaissance Faires anymore. But as long as I didn’t make money, I was told, I could put on my own costume outside the park.
It took over an hour to get Disney’s suit on. In the dressing room there is one long makeup table and a wall with a long mirror. I think over 100 character actors were there. You had face characters like Jack, Aladdin, the Mad Hatter, and you had fuzzies, the characters in costumes. The face characters and the fuzzies dressed apart. There was a ranking system in the dressing room: If you were a princess, you pretty much got that long mirror wall. For some reason the Jacks always ended up in the back corner.
As Jack, I had four hour-long sets a day. We worked in New Orleans Square. I would find a place I liked, and the hosts would set up my line. A host is someone who helps run the line of people that forms to meet you. They’re basically your security. When we started, Disney thought they wouldn’t give us a host. They thought we’d mingle. I laughed at that. I said, “I don’t mean to be the guy that knows it all, but from Renaissance Faires I can guarantee you this character will have the park’s longest line.” Disney had invented a Jack Sparrow autograph the three of us learned, and immediately the line for autographs was gigantic. The Jacks ultimately got two hosts.
We were the Johnny Depps and the Jack Sparrows of Disneyland. People called you either “Johnny” or “Jack.” They wanted to talk with you or ask for your autograph. It took me a while to get my rhythm down. I could figure out five or six different things to say to kids, so that by the time the sixth kid was gone, the next group in line hadn’t heard what I’d said to the first kid.
You never knew when the casting department was going to come into the park and watch you—they came out of nowhere—or something might end up on YouTube. If a character does something a parent believes is wrong, that’s the video that ends up on YouTube. I was on YouTube after I sat in a lady’s stroller. It’s something I often did, and parents would laugh and take pictures. But management came to me and said, “It looks like you’re sitting down on the job, and we can’t have that.”
There is a big thing in the park about not being visually linked to another character. You’re told to stay in your area. But Pluto was a friend of mine, and one day he came over to see me. We posed for photos, and the next day he told me it was on YouTube. Eventually he got fired.
I'll be honest: I didn’t follow all the Disney rules. I played Jack like he was real, and if a woman flirted, I would flirt back. Women loved it. But there were also women who would have too many beers at California Adventure or smuggle in alcohol you could smell on their breath, women who were clearly sloshed.
Here’s a napkin someone wrote on for me: “I will give you a blow job on your break, so sexy! Kim—714-XXX-XXXX.” I would also get offers from women in my ear: “Anything you want, just find me.” I had a girl who had turned 18 the day before. She was with a high school group, and she wrote down her room number at the Downtown Disney hotel. I had a lady hump my leg one day in the park.
Annual pass holders—eventually you would become the favorite of certain ones. Most characters were weirded out by the pass holders. Weird was a mother having her kids ditch school so she could come see me. Or coming to every set I did and walking the line over and over again just to talk to me. But I didn’t mind them. I built up about eight solid regulars that came for me. My biggest fans were a mother-daughter team that would talk a little, walk to the end of the line, and then come around again. I could see them twice a week, every week, every set.
We were told Disney prefers that the characters don’t date, and the characters even have a slogan: “Don’t Date Disney,” or DDD. Dating at Disneyland is difficult. But I already had a thing for the Ariels when I arrived. They have red hair, and I love red hair. After I met my girlfriend, an Ariel, and we started dating, we would need to talk to each other backstage under our coats because employees would try to snap photos with their phones—Ariel and Jack together.
One problem about playing a character at Disneyland is that you are the Hollywood of the park. For the most part, ride operators and the people making the food love the characters, and they treat them like royalty. But the leads—the park’s assistant managers—every character had problems with them. The smallest rule broken, they call upper management and complain.
For the most part, if you’re not in trouble, you don’t see management. It wasn’t until the end that I started seeing them a lot. I had a lady who wrote on a comment card that her son had seen me and said, “Look, it’s Jack Sparrow!,” and Jack Sparrow had turned around and said, “No shit.” My manager said, “I don’t think you would say this, but where’d they get the idea?” I said if they’re in a stroller I say, “Nice ship.” She told me to say “Nice boat” from now on.
What people typically get suspended or fired for is a hugely flawed point system. If you’re part-time and you build up 24 points, you can be fired. Points come from things like clocking in late—even only a minute late. That’s one-and-a-half points on your record. You call in sick the day of work? Three points.
I was driving from L.A. and traffic in the morning was awful, so I started coming in at six because I was so worried about being late. I’d arrive early, get breakfast, and then forget to clock in on time. I never heard anything about it until seven months later, on a day when I actually was late and they told me I had 23 points. At that time I was working five days a week. Now every day I had to worry about hitting that clock because I was up for being fired if I missed it.
We were also not allowed to post pictures of ourselves in costume on MySpace. But I had a picture of Ariel and me kissing backstage, a photo I kept on my private page. I was warned by friends to take it down, and I did, but not before someone made a copy of it and turned it in to Disney. Management pulled me in and talked to me about it.
Then I got a good amount of money back on my tax return, and the Make-A-Wish Foundation was holding a fund-raiser where, for $1,500, you could see the premiere of the third Pirates film at the park. My girlfriend and I bought tickets. People who had worked earlier premieres said attendees came in costume. I had my own pirate costume, and I thought, “Let’s go in costume.” I was playing with danger, but my contract said I could dress up if I wasn’t being paid. They closed the park early that night and showed the movie over the river by the ride on a huge screen. It was amazing.
A week goes by. I think nothing of it. Then I see another Sparrow is scheduled the same day I’m on. I didn’t know what was happening until a manager came and said, “We got to take you down and talk to you.” At the premiere some foreign press outfit had done an interview with me. They asked my name. I didn’t give my real name, Pinto; I gave my stage name, Hillock. But someone behind the camera also filmed the interview, and they put it on YouTube. Management said, “We saw the video. You went to the premiere, you gave your real name, and we’re letting you go on that.” I said I wasn’t working that night, but they told me that I still represented the company.
They had a manager walk me off the property. She told me she felt bad. She took me past security and then asked for my Disney ID. I asked when I could come back. She said in five years I could reapply.
You’d hear that it sucks to work for Disney. They’re Nazis in Mickey hats. But I’d thought, “How bad could it be?” By the time I got fired, half of me was relieved. I was getting sick of constantly being barked at about what to do. It was a month before I went back to the park. I missed it. At first I thought it would be a Walk of Shame, but everyone was very nice.
Not long after that I went back to stand in my girlfriend’s Ariel line on Valentine’s Day and give her flowers. I was wearing a beanie and a sweatshirt, but the parents in line were asking me, “Are you Jack Sparrow? You’re him, aren’t you?” I looked to the line’s host, who was a friend of mine. He said, “You don’t work here anymore—do what you want.” But I did what I was trained to do. I said, “Jack Sparrow and I are just friends.”
June 2008 - Pirates Booty - Los Angeles Magazine
Monday, August 10, 2009
TVI Studios: Orientation 11:20 PM
TVI Studio's, as you may have read previously, is the acting school I picked to catapult me into stardom (joke) or at least move me in a forward-ish direction. From all that handy dandy research I did, I learnt that in order to take a class one must first make an orientation/evaluation appointment. I did this last week for Friday at 11:30am.
This is my story...
I bus it on up to Sherman Oaks and arrive a half hour early. It's always safer this way because even though my buses and subways were on time, it took me a bit of wandering to figure out that the studio is located in a little outlet-shopping mall. The door lacks any signage, but there is an address that matches the scribbles in my notebook. I plop down at the deli on the corner, have a beverage and attempt to calm my nerves. There aren't any butterflies or incessant twitchings going on, but it's been a while since I've actively sought judgement from professional peers.
11:24am, I walk through the doors and up the stairs to suite 200.
It's a small office with headshots plastered everywhere. There are white erase boards detailing classes. The boards also include their working alum and the shows they're on. The front desk is unmanned which means I awkwardly shuffle around looking lost hoping someone with ask if I need help and direct me to the right office. Eventually a woman emerges and asks who I'm here to see.
"It'll be just be a few minutes. She's with another client."
I sit on the wooden bench in the small lobby. My head bobbles about having nothing better to do than look at all the pictures. I recognize some of the faces. I think for a moment they are alumni. Nope, just publicity material for the photographers.
Five or so minutes later a nice young lady opens a door and escorts me to the back office. She's a blonde, bronzed and blue eyed, but in that "I wake up looking this good," not "Look at my damaged hair and caked makeup". The room is set up in a cramped, cubicle fashion. I take a seat next to her desk and we get down to business.
I hand her my resume. She asks what I'm looking to accomplish here in LA. "To be a working actor." She seems relieved that I'm not delusional about the logistics of acting in this town. We talk about the ways of getting into the business - extra work, SAG vouchers, Soaps - covering a lot of the pesky union rules. I learn that there are essentially three ways to get union status,
1. Pay AFTRA the $1000 registration free
2. Accumulate 3 SAG vouchers
3. Be ushered into SAG via the "Taft-Hartley" method
I'll go into detail about the unions and their quirks at a later posting, but my friendly TVI counselor does a good job of explaining my options. She recounts her experience of getting into the unions. She was lucky enough to know an AD (Assistant Director) which gave her first dibs on the SAG vouchers.
We talk some more about the best ways to get speaking parts. Soap Operas are more willing to work with unknown actors. They're in production 5 days a week, 52 weeks a year. They need a constant stream of talent to fill their acting quota. Commercials can be good and offer extra royalties.
She warned me against getting an agent right off the bat. First off, rarely will they sign an unknown without any major (FOX, NBC, ABC, Disney, etc) credits. You must prove you are bookable before they'll want you. Also, for a newbie to the professional landscape, it's best you screw up on your own. Fucking up auditions on the agents good name is never a good thing.
Next, she pulls out two over stuffed folders crammed full of sides. She extracts some papers, offers me the copies and we were off.
We move into one of the studios so that I can rehearse. One of the sides is from a procedural drama - a woman is being questioned about her supposed motive for killing an ex-boyfriend...he infected her with AIDs. The second scene is a quick back and forth between a man and a woman focusing on why the dude couldn't get past his blind dates "large" ears. She leaves for 15 minutes. I mumble the scenes in a hushed whisper. A few people wander in and out. I think they're looking for rehearsal space. I mumble some more. I feel confident.
The moment of truth.
She returns and we read. She plays the casting director. We do the dramatic scene first.
It starts out well, but oh how the tides do turn. Of course I get all mentally flustered and flub up four word sentences. My rhythm is sporadic. I'm reading to the back wall. It's awkward. She immediately gives feedback. "Look at me, not the wall." I want to kick myself in the pants, but I appreciate the criticism. We proceed to the next set of sides. It starts off too slow. She stops after four lines and tells me to pick up the pace. I listen and we do it again. Much better. I do stumble on the last sentence, but this reading was much better.
Her final analysis is that I'm border line good. She calls me out on my nervousness which I readily admit to. Basically, I can act, but I haven't figured out how to audition properly. She wants to put me in a particular class, but she also wants me to go in being hirable, not in learning mode. Apparently the teacher's intense, but well known for casting people from her class to put on the Bold and the Beautiful. There's another class about auditioning/cold reading for television. We go back to her cubby to discuss.
She ends up finding two more classes as options. One she shows me just because she is supposed to be promoting this specific teacher/casting director. The other one she prefaces with, "Don't judge your ability by the other actors taking the class," aka this will be their first time acting ever and they won't be very good. The Soap class (the one she does, but doesn't want to put me in) is 7 weeks for $450, the Auditioning class is 4 weeks for $225. She also suggests I sign up for the TVI Membership. (Here's what's included.)
I came in knowing I'd probably sign up for a class. I figured out that I could spend $250 and be perfectly safe from starving and what not. I want to sign up for the membership, but I know I'm not ready to put it into a cost worthy use. I desperately want to rush into things, but I hold back and register for the Audition class.
My credit card number gets put in the computer. I sign something. Done. And that's it. In a few days I will arrive at my first LA class ever. WHAT?
----
Here's what I got from the experience.
Overall, the whole thing was pleasant. I found that the interview or the audition or whatever you want to call it was surprisingly informative. It was low-key (not scary serious) and my agent was very friendly. I can also say that TVI Studio's is not for the "I AM METHOD" actor. The people are very laid back. It's very...LA. I get the vibe that they're more focused on the networking side of the business than the training side. I have no problem with this. I've been here for less than 2 weeks and I need to start somewhere. No shame, no gain!
And now I wait...tick tock...tick tock...for the learning to begin.
This is my story...
I bus it on up to Sherman Oaks and arrive a half hour early. It's always safer this way because even though my buses and subways were on time, it took me a bit of wandering to figure out that the studio is located in a little outlet-shopping mall. The door lacks any signage, but there is an address that matches the scribbles in my notebook. I plop down at the deli on the corner, have a beverage and attempt to calm my nerves. There aren't any butterflies or incessant twitchings going on, but it's been a while since I've actively sought judgement from professional peers.
11:24am, I walk through the doors and up the stairs to suite 200.
It's a small office with headshots plastered everywhere. There are white erase boards detailing classes. The boards also include their working alum and the shows they're on. The front desk is unmanned which means I awkwardly shuffle around looking lost hoping someone with ask if I need help and direct me to the right office. Eventually a woman emerges and asks who I'm here to see.
"It'll be just be a few minutes. She's with another client."
I sit on the wooden bench in the small lobby. My head bobbles about having nothing better to do than look at all the pictures. I recognize some of the faces. I think for a moment they are alumni. Nope, just publicity material for the photographers.
Five or so minutes later a nice young lady opens a door and escorts me to the back office. She's a blonde, bronzed and blue eyed, but in that "I wake up looking this good," not "Look at my damaged hair and caked makeup". The room is set up in a cramped, cubicle fashion. I take a seat next to her desk and we get down to business.
I hand her my resume. She asks what I'm looking to accomplish here in LA. "To be a working actor." She seems relieved that I'm not delusional about the logistics of acting in this town. We talk about the ways of getting into the business - extra work, SAG vouchers, Soaps - covering a lot of the pesky union rules. I learn that there are essentially three ways to get union status,
1. Pay AFTRA the $1000 registration free
2. Accumulate 3 SAG vouchers
3. Be ushered into SAG via the "Taft-Hartley" method
I'll go into detail about the unions and their quirks at a later posting, but my friendly TVI counselor does a good job of explaining my options. She recounts her experience of getting into the unions. She was lucky enough to know an AD (Assistant Director) which gave her first dibs on the SAG vouchers.
We talk some more about the best ways to get speaking parts. Soap Operas are more willing to work with unknown actors. They're in production 5 days a week, 52 weeks a year. They need a constant stream of talent to fill their acting quota. Commercials can be good and offer extra royalties.
She warned me against getting an agent right off the bat. First off, rarely will they sign an unknown without any major (FOX, NBC, ABC, Disney, etc) credits. You must prove you are bookable before they'll want you. Also, for a newbie to the professional landscape, it's best you screw up on your own. Fucking up auditions on the agents good name is never a good thing.
Next, she pulls out two over stuffed folders crammed full of sides. She extracts some papers, offers me the copies and we were off.
We move into one of the studios so that I can rehearse. One of the sides is from a procedural drama - a woman is being questioned about her supposed motive for killing an ex-boyfriend...he infected her with AIDs. The second scene is a quick back and forth between a man and a woman focusing on why the dude couldn't get past his blind dates "large" ears. She leaves for 15 minutes. I mumble the scenes in a hushed whisper. A few people wander in and out. I think they're looking for rehearsal space. I mumble some more. I feel confident.
The moment of truth.
She returns and we read. She plays the casting director. We do the dramatic scene first.
It starts out well, but oh how the tides do turn. Of course I get all mentally flustered and flub up four word sentences. My rhythm is sporadic. I'm reading to the back wall. It's awkward. She immediately gives feedback. "Look at me, not the wall." I want to kick myself in the pants, but I appreciate the criticism. We proceed to the next set of sides. It starts off too slow. She stops after four lines and tells me to pick up the pace. I listen and we do it again. Much better. I do stumble on the last sentence, but this reading was much better.
Her final analysis is that I'm border line good. She calls me out on my nervousness which I readily admit to. Basically, I can act, but I haven't figured out how to audition properly. She wants to put me in a particular class, but she also wants me to go in being hirable, not in learning mode. Apparently the teacher's intense, but well known for casting people from her class to put on the Bold and the Beautiful. There's another class about auditioning/cold reading for television. We go back to her cubby to discuss.
She ends up finding two more classes as options. One she shows me just because she is supposed to be promoting this specific teacher/casting director. The other one she prefaces with, "Don't judge your ability by the other actors taking the class," aka this will be their first time acting ever and they won't be very good. The Soap class (the one she does, but doesn't want to put me in) is 7 weeks for $450, the Auditioning class is 4 weeks for $225. She also suggests I sign up for the TVI Membership. (Here's what's included.)
I came in knowing I'd probably sign up for a class. I figured out that I could spend $250 and be perfectly safe from starving and what not. I want to sign up for the membership, but I know I'm not ready to put it into a cost worthy use. I desperately want to rush into things, but I hold back and register for the Audition class.
My credit card number gets put in the computer. I sign something. Done. And that's it. In a few days I will arrive at my first LA class ever. WHAT?
----
Here's what I got from the experience.
Overall, the whole thing was pleasant. I found that the interview or the audition or whatever you want to call it was surprisingly informative. It was low-key (not scary serious) and my agent was very friendly. I can also say that TVI Studio's is not for the "I AM METHOD" actor. The people are very laid back. It's very...LA. I get the vibe that they're more focused on the networking side of the business than the training side. I have no problem with this. I've been here for less than 2 weeks and I need to start somewhere. No shame, no gain!
And now I wait...tick tock...tick tock...for the learning to begin.
