lock, shlock, and two smoking piles of shit
Got a meeting today with a big, big agent - still no idea how the hell I got in there... I have a feeling that they misheard my name and think that they are in fact meeting Kirsten Scott Thomas but I'll go with it...
I spend the morning in Starbucks writing emails and drinking Mochas in preparation. I head in to beverly hills early so that I am not left in a rush and wander along rodeo drive. Walking past a lady in her forties I smile, but there is nothing back - I could see she wanted to smile but her face wouldn't let her (botox). I keep walking and the next lady nods at me (I'm wearing a suit jacket mind you), I nod back... wasn't that the same lady? Drifting past a cafe there are a couple of women drinking coffee and... wait.. is there some sort of cloning spa around here...
It suddenly dawns on me... they all have the same mouth. Every single one of them has the very same mouth - its like a mail-order plastic surgery style. The lips are shaped like the golden arches - the top lip up like a ducks bill - and there is no movement! It wasn't that the lady wasn't smiling... she physically couldn't... its bizarre... if not for eye colour and hair - they would look identical. I am in the Stepford wives...
Into the agency and this place is a whole different affair. Frosted glass, plush sofas, 3 floors... While I wait in reception, a few other clients come in and sit beside me in the waiting room. Each and every one is met by a PA to an agent, hand shaken vigorously, offered refreshments and led off to VIP rooms as roses are strewn at their feet... me... I wait...
and wait... and wait.... eventually I am told to take the lift to the 3rd floor. There is no reception committee, no horticultural passage and the only shaking is my fingers as I try to straighten my collar.
Upstairs I walk past rows and rows of people with headsets taking calls for Tom and Julia.. its probably not THE Tom and Julia, but definitely not the names I want to hear as I am lead to the glass meeting room. I need to hear names like Earnest or Elvira to make me feel better. In the meeting room and two agents come in - its apparent within seconds that I am punching above my weight division. They immediately tell me that they don't usually entertain anyone at my level... this is gonna be a tough fight. These agents are sharp - sharp suits, sharp hair, sharp words... but I am here now so I want a few rounds before they throw the towel in. I take a huge risk, the lady has an unusual name... one I heard years ago for a producer that I spoke to in america - I ask if she is related... bingo!! she is his sister so I launch into an anecdote about when I spoke to him almost 10 years ago... they relax and 45 minutes later I walk out with a request for some samples of work... Before I leave I am told that I have a good angle in L.A. as I am a 'multi-hyphenate'??? I am totally confused until they explain that its what they called Writer/Director/Actors... "Funny", I tell them... "In Australia we just call them 'Unemployed'".
I clearly lost on points but went the distance and it looks like there might be a rematch.
off to the festival to watch the first block of films.. the last festival kind of killed me... watching films non-stop - even for a film fan can ruin your view. I was looking forward to this block though - only 4 films, 3 shorts and 1 feature, an english film that looks like a fun lock, stock type thing - promising? We are given tickets to score the films poor to excellent. The films start and I discover again that its good not to go first as the projectionist buggers up the first 2 films. Then the feature begins and its like bad TV, its lock, shlock, and two smoking piles of shit. I want to find the filmmakers and get back the 2 hours of my life that they just sucked from me. Its the kind of film that makes it hard for filmmakers to get money for films. The whole crowd limps out and heads off to the hard rock cafe for free drinks...
At the bar I meet a journalist for the beverly hills courier and she starts off the conversation by saying "have you noticed how all the women in beverly hills share the same mouth".... I feel vindicated... She asks where I am staying and I tell her its Boys Town. And this is the funny thing... for the third time tonight, I have told someone where I am staying and each one has laughed and said "Girlfriend booked your hotel did she? Clever girl"... Apparently its a common trick. My head spins back to 2 weeks ago and I see Karen's Cartwheels as clear as day... Clever girl indeed...
I spend the morning in Starbucks writing emails and drinking Mochas in preparation. I head in to beverly hills early so that I am not left in a rush and wander along rodeo drive. Walking past a lady in her forties I smile, but there is nothing back - I could see she wanted to smile but her face wouldn't let her (botox). I keep walking and the next lady nods at me (I'm wearing a suit jacket mind you), I nod back... wasn't that the same lady? Drifting past a cafe there are a couple of women drinking coffee and... wait.. is there some sort of cloning spa around here...
It suddenly dawns on me... they all have the same mouth. Every single one of them has the very same mouth - its like a mail-order plastic surgery style. The lips are shaped like the golden arches - the top lip up like a ducks bill - and there is no movement! It wasn't that the lady wasn't smiling... she physically couldn't... its bizarre... if not for eye colour and hair - they would look identical. I am in the Stepford wives...
Into the agency and this place is a whole different affair. Frosted glass, plush sofas, 3 floors... While I wait in reception, a few other clients come in and sit beside me in the waiting room. Each and every one is met by a PA to an agent, hand shaken vigorously, offered refreshments and led off to VIP rooms as roses are strewn at their feet... me... I wait...
and wait... and wait.... eventually I am told to take the lift to the 3rd floor. There is no reception committee, no horticultural passage and the only shaking is my fingers as I try to straighten my collar.
Upstairs I walk past rows and rows of people with headsets taking calls for Tom and Julia.. its probably not THE Tom and Julia, but definitely not the names I want to hear as I am lead to the glass meeting room. I need to hear names like Earnest or Elvira to make me feel better. In the meeting room and two agents come in - its apparent within seconds that I am punching above my weight division. They immediately tell me that they don't usually entertain anyone at my level... this is gonna be a tough fight. These agents are sharp - sharp suits, sharp hair, sharp words... but I am here now so I want a few rounds before they throw the towel in. I take a huge risk, the lady has an unusual name... one I heard years ago for a producer that I spoke to in america - I ask if she is related... bingo!! she is his sister so I launch into an anecdote about when I spoke to him almost 10 years ago... they relax and 45 minutes later I walk out with a request for some samples of work... Before I leave I am told that I have a good angle in L.A. as I am a 'multi-hyphenate'??? I am totally confused until they explain that its what they called Writer/Director/Actors... "Funny", I tell them... "In Australia we just call them 'Unemployed'".
I clearly lost on points but went the distance and it looks like there might be a rematch.
off to the festival to watch the first block of films.. the last festival kind of killed me... watching films non-stop - even for a film fan can ruin your view. I was looking forward to this block though - only 4 films, 3 shorts and 1 feature, an english film that looks like a fun lock, stock type thing - promising? We are given tickets to score the films poor to excellent. The films start and I discover again that its good not to go first as the projectionist buggers up the first 2 films. Then the feature begins and its like bad TV, its lock, shlock, and two smoking piles of shit. I want to find the filmmakers and get back the 2 hours of my life that they just sucked from me. Its the kind of film that makes it hard for filmmakers to get money for films. The whole crowd limps out and heads off to the hard rock cafe for free drinks...
At the bar I meet a journalist for the beverly hills courier and she starts off the conversation by saying "have you noticed how all the women in beverly hills share the same mouth".... I feel vindicated... She asks where I am staying and I tell her its Boys Town. And this is the funny thing... for the third time tonight, I have told someone where I am staying and each one has laughed and said "Girlfriend booked your hotel did she? Clever girl"... Apparently its a common trick. My head spins back to 2 weeks ago and I see Karen's Cartwheels as clear as day... Clever girl indeed...
posted by brother | 1:10 AM
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