THE DWARF AUDITION
One of my dirty little secrets for the past dozen or so years is that, time permitting I audition and occasionally work as a commercial actor. I've done around 40 spots over the years and had some fun. I consider myself to be a uniquely untalented actor. But in a narrow space (usually playing nerds) I can, on occasion get a good joke or slice of improv off.
Given the fact that I mostly work as an advertising photographer and commercial director and the talent pool is so small, these auditions are rarely without an awkward exchange.
ACTORS & MODELS: Hey Scott! You're shooting this? I really hope we can work together.
ME: Hey no. I'm auditioning.
They always look at me like I'm fucking with them until they realize I'm rattling a cup for change and health insurance just like they are.
One of the funnier auditions was a same day casting email. It was for a Christmas car commercial. I was driving and quickly scanned the email for the time and the casting studio. I entered the studio and saw a sign that said "Volkswagen - Room 3". I sign in, grab a copy of the sides (script) and sit down and begin to learn the lines. As the area began to fill up, I noticed that everyone else in the waiting area were little people. Dwarves. It's not that unusual for multiple categories to be going at the same time, so I ignored it and went back to the dialogue. I felt some stares, but ignored them. Fuck em. Learn the shit. Book the job. Finally I heard a womans voice under her breath say...
BIKER CHICK DWARF: Motherfucker...
I look up and 10 or 12 little people were staring at me. The one vibing me was clearly the alpha. She had long dyed black hair. Bitch bangs. Pale skin. She wore tiny black leather pants, a chain wallet, sleeve tattoos, motorcycle boots, a white tank top with a black bra underneath and big breast implants. She's giving me the death stare. Unafraid, I looked her square in the eyes.
ME: Um... problem?
BIKER CHICK DWARF: (muttering and shaking her head) Oh fuck you...
Then one of the little guys walks over to me. He seems cool.
LITTLE GUY: Hey man. Sorry about my friend. I know you don't mean anything, but Christmas spots are the one time of the year that all of us little people get to work, and ever since motherfucking Lord of the Rings, they've been taking people your size and CG'ing them down.
I didn't even know what to say...
ME: Hey. My agent told me to be here, so I'm here.
I went in, did the audition. Felt ok.
Cut to 8PM that night, my phone rings.
AGENT: Hey. Asshole. When you confirm an audition, I expect you to be there and not embarrass me.
ME: I was there! Volkswagen. Did they say I didn't go?
AGENT: Volkswagen? This was for Hyundai.
ME: Fuck. I was wondering why I was the only person that wasn't a dwarf.
We both started laughing hysterically.
Next day.
AGENT: You have a callback for Volkswagen.
AND SCENE...
Dispatches and notes from the battlefield.
Showing posts with label LA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LA. Show all posts
Friday, June 22, 2018
Thursday, July 27, 2017
TINDER APP REVIEW
2012
My first tinder date was with a fine art painter by the name of Amy. 31, athletic, fun & talented. RISD grad. New York Times critics pick and a ginger.
We had a really fun slumber party on the first date. I like this app so far.
My 2nd Tinder date was a 1st Assistant Director named Sabrina. A cute, curvy, freckly brunette. She worked on some of my favorite films and was interesting to talk film making with. We went out twice in 3 days & had sex on the 2nd date.
The day after my 2nd date with Sabrina, I get a midday text from Amy.
AMY: Have you ever had a threesome before?
ME: Yes.
A ONE minute later, I get the exact same text from Sabrina.
AMY: How many times?
ME: I'm not sure. More than 50. Less than 100? I had an ex was really into them and was constantly wrangling friends.
They both ask if I knew anyone who might be down to play. Until that moment, I didn't. With nothing whatsoever to lose, I screenshot both of their profiles and send them to each other. They're both interested. This can't be that easy.
Amy thinks it would be funny for the three of us to meet at a strip club, but deliberately not a nice one.
We all Uber separately to this place in North Hollywood called "The Starlight Lounge" (or something like that). We order a plastic pitcher of draft beer and get to know each other between trips to the smoking patio. We're having a great time. Tipping dancers & drinking beer. This could actually work.
Spontaneously, the three of us start kissing at the table. Our table is just in front of the stage. Our faces are in a triangular configuration. Suddenly, I feel what I think is water or something being poured over the top of my hat & I flinch backward.
There are two drunk guys "Making it rain" dollar bills over the top of us. The three of us start laughing. The stripper on the stage is scowling and the cocktail waitresses was visibly pissed. I order us an Uber black car.
ME: We should leave.
The girls are in agreement. We gather all of the dollars around us, lob them onto the stage and book it out of there.
We spent the next couple of days at my place.
Beginners luck I guess.
Think the app store will accept this as a review?
My first tinder date was with a fine art painter by the name of Amy. 31, athletic, fun & talented. RISD grad. New York Times critics pick and a ginger.
We had a really fun slumber party on the first date. I like this app so far.
My 2nd Tinder date was a 1st Assistant Director named Sabrina. A cute, curvy, freckly brunette. She worked on some of my favorite films and was interesting to talk film making with. We went out twice in 3 days & had sex on the 2nd date.
The day after my 2nd date with Sabrina, I get a midday text from Amy.
AMY: Have you ever had a threesome before?
ME: Yes.
A ONE minute later, I get the exact same text from Sabrina.
AMY: How many times?
ME: I'm not sure. More than 50. Less than 100? I had an ex was really into them and was constantly wrangling friends.
They both ask if I knew anyone who might be down to play. Until that moment, I didn't. With nothing whatsoever to lose, I screenshot both of their profiles and send them to each other. They're both interested. This can't be that easy.
Amy thinks it would be funny for the three of us to meet at a strip club, but deliberately not a nice one.
We all Uber separately to this place in North Hollywood called "The Starlight Lounge" (or something like that). We order a plastic pitcher of draft beer and get to know each other between trips to the smoking patio. We're having a great time. Tipping dancers & drinking beer. This could actually work.
Spontaneously, the three of us start kissing at the table. Our table is just in front of the stage. Our faces are in a triangular configuration. Suddenly, I feel what I think is water or something being poured over the top of my hat & I flinch backward.
There are two drunk guys "Making it rain" dollar bills over the top of us. The three of us start laughing. The stripper on the stage is scowling and the cocktail waitresses was visibly pissed. I order us an Uber black car.
ME: We should leave.
The girls are in agreement. We gather all of the dollars around us, lob them onto the stage and book it out of there.
We spent the next couple of days at my place.
Beginners luck I guess.
Think the app store will accept this as a review?
Friday, December 18, 2015
MY GIRLFRIEND THE SLAVE TRADER
A few years back I was taking a Wednesday off to play golf with a friend at Brentwood Country Club in Los Angeles.
My longtime girlfriend at the time was delightfully antithetical to L.A. A sweet girl from Virginia. Natural, almost hippie ashy blonde with sparkly green eyes. Age appropriate. Mayflower type. Creative, talented, and never discussed boring celebrity gossip.
When you're in a relationship in L.A. you have 2 huge payoffs. Built in dinner plans and someone to keep you company while sitting in soul crushing traffic.
She's at work and we're chatting away on this beautiful morning. I pull up to the white, wooden gate house at the club, in my white shoes, white trousers & white cricket sweater.
Me: Hey baby. I'm pulling up to the gate, & cell phones aren't allowed in the club, so I'll need to get off in a minute. I have my ear buds in, so just hang for a sec.
GF: OK babe.
Guard: Morning sir. May I have the members name you're playing with today?
Me: I'm playing with Mr. Brown.
This guard is old. African American. Late 70's, early 80's with a snow white beard. As I'm looking him over, gold buttons, brocade like a Park Avenue doorman. I also notice he has the same last name as my girlfriend. "Ragland"
ME: Baby, you're not going to believe this! This gentleman here at the club here has the same last name as you.
GF: Oh my God. Is he black?
At the EXACT SAME TIME, the guard asks...
GUARD: She white?
GF: Baby. Stop talking. Please. Don't say another word and just drive through.
Me: Wait? What? I mean don't you think that's amazing? (To guard) I mean, what are the chances that you & my girlfriend have the same last name?
GF: Seriously Scott, I'm begging you. You need to stop talking RIGHT NOW.
Guard is fuming. I'm confused.
Gate opens and as I'm pulling up to the valet/ bag drop…
GF: Seriously. What is wrong with you?
Me: I don't understand. What did I do?
GF: You know I'm from Virginia.
Me: Yes...
GF: You know my family grew tobacco.
Me: (Still not getting it) Um. Yeah?
GF: SCOTT. I'm not proud of this, but if he's black and we have the same name, it means my family owned his family. How did you not connect these dots?
Me: What do I know about slavery? I'm a Jew from the suburbs & you'll have to forgive me, but I've never dated a slave trader before.
GF: Ugh. Have a good game. I'll see you at the restaurant at 8.
Me: K. Love you.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Monday, July 14, 2014
SO... ONE TIME... I COMMITTED THIS FELONY...
1994. I was a new arrival in Angel City. No job. No money. Couch surfing. Getting work of any kind was proving significantly tougher than I thought.
Trying to meet some people, I went into an AOL chatroom one night and started talking to this woman. She told me she was a comic performing at the Improv on Melrose avenue that night. There were no jpgs back then. No digital cameras. It was a B&W digital classified ad. Friends, fine. Date, fine, nothing, fine. Don’t care. Just get me out of the house.
I showed up having no idea what she'd look like. Without going into too much detail, it wasn't really an aesthetic not personality fit. Oh, and she wasn't really a comic either. She was "The Fluffer" or announcer there to warm up the crowd. She was neither attractive, not in any way talented. Nevertheless I saw magic in a just starting out Sarah Silverman.
I’m walking east on Melrose Avenue. Pehaps a block and a half away. While Melrose appears at first glance to be, a series of interconnected, mud & chicken wire, no civic pride, sub-Tijuana architecture, some of them have narrow spaces between them.
Man with knife steps out sideways from building gap:
Robber: Your watch & your wallet Señor.
This nervous looking, late 20’s, diminutive Mexican man with the half assed mustache, didn’t seem like a scary felon. He looked like Jorge, my house painter. Nevertheless, I’m on edge.
Having been carjacked at gunpoint less than a year earlier in Chicago, I was quite traumatized and on edge. A jumpy crackhead asshole who shoves the barrel of a gun in your mouth while wearing Groucho Glasses tends to do that to you. It took years before I’d get into someone’s convertible or allow windows open in a car.
I wasn’t nervous. I was ready.
Me: Whoa! OK. I’m just reaching for my wallet, ok?
Robber: (nods ok)
Me: I reach for the inside pocket of my jacket and pull out my pocket pistol. A Sig Sauer P230 packed full of Federal Hydra-Shok JHP’s.
Me: Your watch & YOUR wallet.
Guys drops his Chinese, liquor store knife, which clatters onto the sidewalk. He takes a step back & raises his hands with his elbows at his side.
Robber: Ma Señior, I only have a few coins.
Me: I’ll take them.
He hands me a quarter, 2 dimes and 2 pennies. Turns and begins to walk away.
Me: Where do you think you’re going?
Robber: I gave you everything.
Me: No you didn’t. Give me your wallet and your keys.
Robber: (Showing me his wallet) See. No money.
Me: Give it to me. Part of your punishment is going to the DMV and getting a new drivers license. And your keys.
Hands me his wallet.
Robber: You can’t take my keys man, I’ve got a family. I gotta get home.
Me: Or I can blow a hole in your face. Up to you. Walk home. You’re a terrible parent.
Drops the keys into my open hand, then turns to walk away again.
Me: What are you doing?
Robber: Man. What do you want? I gave you everything.
Me: No you didn’t. Give me your coat.
Robber: You’re gonna take my coat?
Me: I’m letting you keep your shoes. That’s about it. Any problem with that?
(Silence)
Me: Now apologize.
Robber: Huh.
Me: Tell me you’re sorry and you’re never going to do this to anyone again.
Robber: I’m sorry.
He walked away. I threw his keys down the sewer, his coat and his wallet into the trash & felt at the time like I’d somehow done some good.
AND SCENE.
Trying to meet some people, I went into an AOL chatroom one night and started talking to this woman. She told me she was a comic performing at the Improv on Melrose avenue that night. There were no jpgs back then. No digital cameras. It was a B&W digital classified ad. Friends, fine. Date, fine, nothing, fine. Don’t care. Just get me out of the house.
I showed up having no idea what she'd look like. Without going into too much detail, it wasn't really an aesthetic not personality fit. Oh, and she wasn't really a comic either. She was "The Fluffer" or announcer there to warm up the crowd. She was neither attractive, not in any way talented. Nevertheless I saw magic in a just starting out Sarah Silverman.
I’m walking east on Melrose Avenue. Pehaps a block and a half away. While Melrose appears at first glance to be, a series of interconnected, mud & chicken wire, no civic pride, sub-Tijuana architecture, some of them have narrow spaces between them.
Man with knife steps out sideways from building gap:
Robber: Your watch & your wallet Señor.
This nervous looking, late 20’s, diminutive Mexican man with the half assed mustache, didn’t seem like a scary felon. He looked like Jorge, my house painter. Nevertheless, I’m on edge.
Having been carjacked at gunpoint less than a year earlier in Chicago, I was quite traumatized and on edge. A jumpy crackhead asshole who shoves the barrel of a gun in your mouth while wearing Groucho Glasses tends to do that to you. It took years before I’d get into someone’s convertible or allow windows open in a car.
I wasn’t nervous. I was ready.
Me: Whoa! OK. I’m just reaching for my wallet, ok?
Robber: (nods ok)
Me: I reach for the inside pocket of my jacket and pull out my pocket pistol. A Sig Sauer P230 packed full of Federal Hydra-Shok JHP’s.
Me: Your watch & YOUR wallet.
Guys drops his Chinese, liquor store knife, which clatters onto the sidewalk. He takes a step back & raises his hands with his elbows at his side.
Robber: Ma Señior, I only have a few coins.
Me: I’ll take them.
He hands me a quarter, 2 dimes and 2 pennies. Turns and begins to walk away.
Me: Where do you think you’re going?
Robber: I gave you everything.
Me: No you didn’t. Give me your wallet and your keys.
Robber: (Showing me his wallet) See. No money.
Me: Give it to me. Part of your punishment is going to the DMV and getting a new drivers license. And your keys.
Hands me his wallet.
Robber: You can’t take my keys man, I’ve got a family. I gotta get home.
Me: Or I can blow a hole in your face. Up to you. Walk home. You’re a terrible parent.
Drops the keys into my open hand, then turns to walk away again.
Me: What are you doing?
Robber: Man. What do you want? I gave you everything.
Me: No you didn’t. Give me your coat.
Robber: You’re gonna take my coat?
Me: I’m letting you keep your shoes. That’s about it. Any problem with that?
(Silence)
Me: Now apologize.
Robber: Huh.
Me: Tell me you’re sorry and you’re never going to do this to anyone again.
Robber: I’m sorry.
He walked away. I threw his keys down the sewer, his coat and his wallet into the trash & felt at the time like I’d somehow done some good.
AND SCENE.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
JOAN RIVERS & MY BALLS
Last year I did a shoot with Joan Rivers & appeared on her show. So smart. So funny. I had to stop shooting every few minutes because I was laughing so hard. Here’s a snippet.
Joan: Scott. How old are you?
Me: Legal
Joan: Shut the fuck up. How old are you?
Me: Cut me in half & count the rings.
Joan: You asshole. How old?
Me: I’m 46.
Joan: Do your balls sag?
Me: What?
Joan: What? Do you have shit in your ears? Do your balls sag?
Me: Well, more than they did as a teenager… yeah.
Joan: My vagina sags so much that when I got out of bed this morning in my hotel room, I stepped on it. It looked like I was wearing one of those grey fuzzy rabbit slippers.
AND SCENE.
Part 2.
We're having breakfast in the morning while my crew is setting up.
Joan: I've seen your work. It's very good, but it's not why I requested you.
Me: No?
Joan: No. I heard you were funny & Jewish.
Me: I'm both.
Joan: You don't look Jewish. How do I know you didn't lie to get the gig?
Me: Everyone named Nathan is either black or Jewish. I'm Jewish.
Joan: I'm not so sure.
I stand up, unbuckle my belt & start to unbutton my pants.
Me: Ok ok. I believe you!
Joan: Scott. How old are you?
Me: Legal
Joan: Shut the fuck up. How old are you?
Me: Cut me in half & count the rings.
Joan: You asshole. How old?
Me: I’m 46.
Joan: Do your balls sag?
Me: What?
Joan: What? Do you have shit in your ears? Do your balls sag?
Me: Well, more than they did as a teenager… yeah.
Joan: My vagina sags so much that when I got out of bed this morning in my hotel room, I stepped on it. It looked like I was wearing one of those grey fuzzy rabbit slippers.
AND SCENE.
Part 2.
We're having breakfast in the morning while my crew is setting up.
Joan: I've seen your work. It's very good, but it's not why I requested you.
Me: No?
Joan: No. I heard you were funny & Jewish.
Me: I'm both.
Joan: You don't look Jewish. How do I know you didn't lie to get the gig?
Me: Everyone named Nathan is either black or Jewish. I'm Jewish.
Joan: I'm not so sure.
I stand up, unbuckle my belt & start to unbutton my pants.
Me: Ok ok. I believe you!
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
MEETING PETER O'TOOLE
I met Peter O'Toole once when I was a teenager at Gatwick airport. He was reading the paper in an impeccable cream Saville Row suit, white shirt & black tie, with a perfectly matched cashmere topcoat & hat on the seat next to him. I was so awestruck by him, without thinking I shouted "Hey O'Toole!". He slowly lowered his paper, looked at me & with a brow furrowed said "What" (hard emphasis on the H sound).
Me: What was it like?
Him: (impatient) What was WHAT like? (That H sound again)
Me: What was it like to be a nobody? An obscure British stage actor, then suddenly, overnight you're the biggest movie star in the world who just made the greatest film of all time that won all those Oscars.
Him: (Smiles) Well, I did what any silly cunt would've done. I was in Los Angeles at the time & I bought the largest, whitest Rolls Royce a man could own & I drove down Sunset Boo-lee-vahd waving like the fucking Queen.
Me: Amazing. How was that?
Him: No one gave a fuck (Goes back to his newspaper) And scene.
Me: What was it like?
Him: (impatient) What was WHAT like? (That H sound again)
Me: What was it like to be a nobody? An obscure British stage actor, then suddenly, overnight you're the biggest movie star in the world who just made the greatest film of all time that won all those Oscars.
Him: (Smiles) Well, I did what any silly cunt would've done. I was in Los Angeles at the time & I bought the largest, whitest Rolls Royce a man could own & I drove down Sunset Boo-lee-vahd waving like the fucking Queen.
Me: Amazing. How was that?
Him: No one gave a fuck (Goes back to his newspaper) And scene.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)