So, a week after a spectacular "Master" related five days and the hangover has officially set in. As I've mentioned previously on these here pages, one of the most difficult aspects of pursuing a career in "the arts" is the comedown. Typically this is directly related to the joys of creation. As in, the tangible joy you feel when creating something you love is soon a distant memory after it's finished. Like any good boozing session, the fallout will carry you through a couple of days but, silently and potently, reality will eventually set back in, usually upon receiving a pile of bills. Thus begins the hangover phase.
This time however it was different. For I was not creating anything. Even worse, I was there, and I mean right there, with those that had created and created at the highest level....right, I'll stop being cryptic....being around famous, successful people made me feel worryingly good and I am thoroughly disliking being relegated back to lowly piss-ant status. There, I said it.
You see, in the film industry, one of the chief perks of being successful - be it as an Actor, Director, Writer, Editor, Producer, whatever - is that you simply just get better treatment than everyone else. It's a painful truth, folks, but having seen it first hand it is a truth nonetheless. Everything is free, you get to go where you please, do what you want and, get to meet and communicate your idols, get to work with whoever you want to and to be around it, as much as it pains me to admit it, felt pretty bloody good. Once you're in, you're in. You know what I mean?
Now, I understand there are several factors to consider. One, me getting into a couple of films, saying hello to a few of my idols (who will never remember me in a million years) and eating some free muffins does not, repeat does not, constitute fame and/or success in any way, shape or form. Two, there is a price to pay for these privileges (for most people, anyway) and that price is fame itself. You can no longer masturbate with your bay window curtains undrawn, or have a peaceful shit on your front lawn. Gone are those days. As Dave Chapelle once said "you can never become un-famous". However, when you're at an International Film Festival, it is like a secret society - where everyone understands each other's plight, casually sipping money-free beverages and discussing their next collaborative masterpiece - and to be right there amongst it all, everything suddenly seemed so real, so feasible, so easy. My dreams were right there in front of me....getting hammered. However, I got only a brief glimpse behind this curtain before being, as those who haven't earned their place there do, unceremoniously tossed back to the gutter. Now it all feels far, far away again. This is the problem.
Now, don't get me wrong, fame is not something I covet at all. It's the success and the whole "once you're in, you're in" thing I'm after. My motto in the past year, one that I've had to batter into my numb, lazy skull, is that nothing is easy in this industry and I do mean literally nothing. The most menial of tasks, like sending a DVD to a festival for screening (as I'm doing now) requires a great deal of time and effort, for reasons which are frankly too dull to get into here (it's to do with projection in case you're interested). Every time you think you've made it over the hump, another one appears twice the size. Of course, it is at these moments where I seek solace in the fact that if it was wasn't monumentally difficult, then everyone would do it. All you can do is get back on the horse and ride. Again, and again, and again.
I don't know what my point is. Sometimes you don't need one. Sometimes it's good to just be pointless.
JB.
