R.I.P. Leslie Nielsen (1926-2010)

Today the world lost one of the true comedy greats and a personal hero of mine, Mr. Leslie Nielsen. Growing up I used to watch "The Naked Gun" and "Airplane" almost religiously and they still make me cry laughing today. Nielsen was the undisputed deadpan king and if there was any further evidence needed, just watch this:

Peace,

JB.

Heroes To Humanity: #112 - Howard Marks

Born in Kenfig Hill, a tiny mining village in the valleys of Wales, the man formerly known as Dennis went on to become the world's biggest Marijuana smuggler during the 1970's and 80's. At the height of his power he was connected to the Sicilian Mafia, The IRA, The Medellin Cartel, MI6 and numerous other shady and illicit organisations.

His autobiography, aptly named "Mr. Nice", documents these events through the eyes of a charmingly innocent Welshman who, at the core of it all, didn't really fancy working for a living. The rest followed. Not once did he use violence or even a threatening word, he simply went about his business, albeit with about 27 aliases, and made boatloads of cash! The book itself is a remarkable read, detailing Howard's lavish life of an international playboy and devoted family man. A weird paradox really considering his occupation. It is triumphant, funny and surprisingly poignant. I can't recommend it highly enough - whatever your views on the legality of ganja (mine, despite not being a weed smoker, is simply that it's a plant...let me repeat, a PLANT!...end of debate.)

So here's to a simple man who bollocksed his way to a life of fame & fortune. Bravo sir.

http://www.howardmarks.name/

Classic Albums - Exile On Main Street

Mick Jagger openly hates it. Upon it's 1972 release, critics panned it. It has not a single...well...single on it, yet this is by far the most celebrated Rolling Stones album in their quite impressive collection.

Avoiding the long dick of the law - namely, the Inland Revenue - The Stones were forced to leave England indefinitely in 1971. Not the end of the world for a filthy rich rock n' roll band, they just scarpered to the French Riviera and set about recording their next album while the suits took care of their tax issues. The result? Exile On Main Street.

From the opening jangle of "Rocks Off" to the slow fade of "Soul Survivor" this record is an almost perfect encapsulation of exactly what was going on in this band's lives at the time. Debauched, dirty, righteous, reflective...it's all here and performed with a blues swagger that you just don't see in bands anymore. This might have something to do with the fact that about 50 people were holed up in Keith Richards' mansion getting wasted and playing music in various rooms until all hours of the night while recording it. Almost every track sounds like the greatest party on the planet. Oh what I would give to have been there.

Although, such is the roughshod charm of this record, when you listen to it...you almost feel like you were. Almost.

Rolling Stones - Sweet Virginia

Time Flies

I can't quite believe it's mid-November already. Madness.

Anyway, lately has been a busy time for me. After several auditions and callbacks last week, not to mention pulling silly shifts with the catering company I now work for, I attended the Valley Film Festival pre-party on Thursday night. These sorts of things are essentially "mixers" for film-makers who are showing something at the festival. Now usually, the thought of an industry party makes my stomach turn and this, initially at least, was no different. When we walked in, I immediately took on the appearance of a cave troll and skulked to the nearest dark corner. However, by the end of the night a great time was had. I met lots of interesting film-making types and hopefully something good will come from it.

Saturday was the screening of Lying Next To Larry. It was part of the 9-film comedy shorts section of the festival and was also a most enjoyable event. The only downside being my utter discomfort during the 8 minutes our film was showing. I can't seem to help hating watching myself on screen. Still we got some good laughs and several people approached me afterwards, which again hopefully will turn to something good.

Surprisingly, there were some outstanding shorts on display (films, not bermudas) including a film by Fabio Cannavaro, of all people, a Casablanca-style piece about Jesus being a card shark, which was excellent, and this film, my personal favourite. If you have a spare twenty minutes I highly recommend watching. A great example of what you can do with a good idea and strong direction:

In other news, I am still wading through the long list of agents to submit myself to. Hopefully I can be done by the end of the week and leave it in the ether for a while. Also, due to my job having events at various functions around town, my celeb-spotting meter has risen considerably in the last week. So far I have seen Alfred Molina (with whom I shared a shite joke), Jeff Dunham, the Mayor of LA (twat) and Michael Portillo (utter twat). Oh, and last night I had the absolute displeasure of crossing paths with the self proclaimed "King of Cars". What. A. Wanker.

I am also fast coming to the conclusion that I should probably invest in a camera to shoot more of my own stuff with. I think ultimately that is where my path lies and, much fun as it is whoring yourself around town at the bottom of the barrel, you get to act in stuff you actually want to do. An area to explore further, definitely.

Peace,

John.

Quote of the Day

"Who said it was that great? It just goes for miles and miles. But so does the M6...and you can drive on that!"

Karl Pilkington on The Great Wall of China

(An Idiot Abroad - Episode 1)

"Forget it Jake, it's Koreatown"

At this very moment, as I write this, I am looking down on the street from my third-storey kitchen window. Below me, a very attractive woman sits in a smart, yet nondescript, Lexus with a Private Investigator. The reasons I know he's a private investigator are two-fold. 1) He is wearing a gun holster over his shirt & tie. 2) He is showing her 8x10 photo's of some kind.

Whatever is on those pictures, the news can't be good. The woman has just spent a good minute smashing her fists into the dashboard and is now broken down in tears, sobbing into the passenger side window. I'm making the assumption that this poor woman's fella is doing the dirty on her, or something worse. Who knows?

Just another Sunday morning in the neighbourhood I suppose.

My Reel

Here is my first acting reel. Thoughts and comments are welcome:

Cheers!

John.

Madness At Every Turn

Turning 30 has had several effects on my life so far. The most potent one being a crystalised fear that I might actually amount to nothing if I don't pull my finger out and make something happen. Nothing like the fear of failure to light a fire up your backside! If anyone ever decides to embark in a career in the business of show, there comes a point where one must face the fact that it's simply not going to happen the way you want it to. In my case, this meant a grim realisation that Steven Speilberg might not hack into my computer, read my scripts and think I'm a genius.

Thus the only way to get what you want is to work hard and push yourself out of the comfort zone. Not just on the odd occasion either! To get anywhere, be it acting, writing, directing, or just getting a decent job in LA, you basically have to live perpetually out of your comfort zone otherwise you ain't gettin' nowhere!

This theory is a difficult one to grasp for a lazy swine like myself, for whom it is so so easy to sit at home, read books, watch films, listen to albums and eat myself into oblivion. So I have tried my damnedest to get up, get out and do the things that terrify me on a daily basis. It is a constant battle and, for me at least, does not come naturally thus meaning a continuous, concerted effort. So far the results have been revelatory.

With a heavy heart (see previous post) I went into several auditions this week, all of which went relatively well. Got one part but had to turn it down due to a conflicting work schedule (very hollywood darling, I know). Had to read for a promotional spot with Zak Galifinakis - meaning the promotional spot involved him, but he wasn't there (much to my disappointment). However, that particular audition was by far the hardest I have ever had - three full pages of dialogue including singing, dancing, whistling and generally behaving like an utter fool in front of the moodiest group of tw*ts I've come across so far. Dignity, see you later!

Most of my other auditions were for student projects / low budget flicks of varying degrees of professionalism. One of them involved my first trip to CAZT Casting studios, which is an utter madhouse. For any actors out there who are feeling a little down on their luck, I suggest you spend an afternoon in the waiting area at CAZT....you'll feel better in no time.

Last night I had an audition for a comedy Improv troupe in the Valley. Again, dignity would not be required for another hour and a half of my life. However, just getting up and doing Improv again reminded me of just how much I love doing it. You basically get to be an absolute bell-end, in various different guises, and pretend to be Paul Whitehouse for a few minutes. To say it went well would be an understatement, I don't even care if I get in. I had so much fun doing it that it became a reward in itself. I even got to do some impressions, which always makes me happy. Marvelous really.

So as far as auditions go, no matter how stupid they may seem, or how undignified the whole process is, just by going through them you're already winning half the battle. So go through them we must...time and again. Even the best get turned down every now and then:

Still, the pursuit of real (see: Paid) work continues in haste. All going well, my reel should be done tomorrow, leaving me open next week to start whoring myself out to agents. The reel is looking relatively smart and a good representation of what I can do (at this point in my career) so fingers crossed on that front.

Now I just need some money to finish my short, which is so close but my skills (or lack thereof) just cannot take it any further. It needs a professional's touch, which of course costs money...always the way, isn't it? So until then, I suppose it's all about staying positive (easier said than done), pushing the limits and always keeping it gangsta...obviously.

Peace,

John.