New Stuff

So, what on earth have I been up to? I hear you ask.

Well, the journey with "Starving In Hollywood" continues. Negotiating the murky waters of the industry has been an interesting and extremely frustrating experience. In this day and age, methods of distribution are apparently changing by the second. Depending on who you talk to, TV - as we know it - is a thing of the past, and the future lies with the internet. Increasingly, us humans are watching content on laptops, on netflix, on phones, on iPads etc etc. so online streaming is bigger than ever. All of which should play precisely into our hands, right? Surely we can just put our show on youtube and reap the spoils after millions of people tune in and enjoy? Well, apparently not. As the things that do well on youtube are things like "cat jumps over gate" (which is, admittedly, fecking hilarious). There seems to be a solid marketing path for show concepts, pilots or pitches, however finished content - such as ours - seems to be all dressed up with nowhere to go. Which is annoying, to say the least. My logic would dictate that having something finished is better than having an idea not yet begun, but then again, what do I know?

Therefore the best option remains, at this moment in time, trying to negotiate the Iron Wall of the Managers/Agents/Production Companies and hoping that somehow, some way, someone may take a passing interest enough to go "I like it, here's some money". Stay tuned, friends.

To cheer myself up, I embarked on something I said I'd never do, which is make another short film. However, when the opportunity came around, the people involved on the production side and what they would bring to the table for little to no cost made me instantly change my mind. The result was the filming of a script that I'd had written for a few years now called "Head-Side Up". Here's a poster for it…

The shoot itself was the best one I have ever had, and certainly, by far, my best experience as a director. For the first time in a long time, I felt at ease, in total command of the form, and enjoying every second of it. I think a large part of this feeling comes purely from experience - which dictates how long you should schedule, which locations to use, what lighting schemes you like, how to handle set-backs (an absolutely inevitability) and the best way to work with actors, which I basically find is giving them a nice, relaxed, environment to let them do their work. A large part also comes from having the right crew around you which, for the first time ever, I did. That is why, folks, it pays to get out and work because, by doing so, you accumulate the good people and sift out the…not so good ones. At the risk of sounding like a capitalist pig, I can't tell you how much easier my job is when you know everyone around you is doing theirs. Marvelous stuff and certainly pretty integral to the film-making process, which is hard enough as it is. This project also marked the first time that I directed without also being an actor in the film, which again made life a great, great deal easier and was equally satisfying. Fun times all round, really.

Also, I've been hired to edit multiple projects over the past few months. All of which have gone absolutely swimmingly. In fact, editing continues to be endless source of fascination for me. It really is remarkable what you can do. You can turn a good performance bad and a bad one good in a matter of frames. So, any actors (female mainly) out there remember to give your editor (me) a nice, healthy blow job at the start of every project and things will turn out just fine. In fact, such is the importance of editing, you can actually turn a good film bad, or indeed make a bad one good - well, reasonable maybe - so the same rule applies to all you directors (female) out there also. I even edited an editing reel. And here it is…

Other than that, I've just been keeping my head down, my chin up, and my lyrics on point. If I think of anything else interesting I've done, I'll let you know. Don't hold your breath.

Much love to everyone for your continued support and interest in this here writing space.

Cheers,

John.

Billy No Mates

"Oh, you've got a TV show? That's great"

So friends, here we are again. Stuck in the endless merry-go-round that is the entertainment industry complex. This is now my third time at the rodeo, as they say, and it gets no easier. In fact quite the opposite.

Last year, when doing the film festival circuit with my short film "Love Is...", I found myself at one of those panel Q&A sessions. The people on stage consisted of various actors, filmmakers and - most pertinently to this post - agents. Of course, a variety of shameless hacks in the crowd bombarded the agents with all manner of questions in the vein of "will you please watch my film?" or "will you please sign me?" or "will you please be godfather to my only child?" etc. So embarrassing was this relentless medieval-style baying that one agent eventually intervened and said "Listen, let me just say this. All of the time and energy and effort you guys are seemingly putting into getting an agent, instead put it into creating good shit. If you make something good, trust me we will find you"

Those words hit me like a pick-axe to the testes. At a time when I was feeling completely bewildered by the whole film festival thing, this saint came along and told me exactly what I always hoped in my heart would be true. You don't have to be a marketing genius, or indeed a silver-tongued door to door salesman, to succeed in this industry. It is, after all, about the art. I mean just look at all my heroes, they didn't sell their souls to the devil and they turned out just fine. In the everlasting words of "Field of Dreams" -- if you build it, they will come. Right?

Someone order a group of bell-ends?

Turns out that was a load of bollocks, and here's why...(Note: there's no way of writing the following without sounding bitter so please just rest assured that I'm not). The reviews thus far for "Starving In Hollywood" have been nothing short of spectacular. Literally everyone who has seen it has nothing but glowing things to say. From friends and family to industry veterans, the response has been the same - "I can't wait to see this on TV". However, the journey one must take from obscurity to...um...scurity(?) is a strange and twisted one, my friends. If I were a musician, it seems relatively simple. I write good songs. I play those good songs to people. I will be actively sought out by record companies who rely on new talent to keep the cash cow churning. I will be advanced money to record an album. I will tour extensively. I will thus have a career. Or at least the beginning of one. Do Film & TV reps have a similar philosophy as to unearthing new talent? Apparently not.

Instead, there seems to be an ever-growing wall of Mordor-type thing happening. By which I mean that if you are a nobody - which, at last count, I definitely am - then no-one gives a shit about you or anything you've done. We've tried calling producers, agents, tv networks and it's always the same: "(Fill in blank) does not accept unsolicited material. Now fuck off and have a nice life". Because the problem is, when swimming in the murky waters of the unsolicited, by default you are instantly lumped in with everything else floating around with you. I'm not putting our stuff on top of anybody else's, my point is merely that for anyone coming out of the pool, it's already a 'no' by virtue of where your material came from. However, if I'm soandsowhatshisname and I present my latest 'sidesplitting' venture, merely because of who I am, I am indeed now 'solicited'. This only confirms what I had previously written about here and here. If you get an in, you're laughing. Your stock instantly goes up about twelve-fold and whatever your peddling (in our case, abortion jokes and paper mache shark heads) is instantly met with not disdain and trepidation but with glee and giddy-eyed anticipation. The question, the dilemma me and my partners are currently facing, is...how do we go from no-one to someone?

Climb me...I dare you

Especially when all avenues seem to be a figure-eight scalectrix track of rejection. TV networks don't accept material unless it comes from an agent. Agents don't accept materials unless coming from a production company. Production companies don't accept material unless from an agent and, oh wait, I'm back where I started again. It is a very weird, surreal position to be in, and one which I am finding it most difficult to negotiate. I feel like a sperm frantically head butting away at the egg, watching all the millions of other sperms doing exactly the same thing and hoping to christ that I can burrow inside first.

However, this is the point. In every artist's, or creative-type's, career there comes a time when you have to strap on a pair and do the dirty work. It would be so easy for me to move on to the next creative endeavor. It'll be fun, keep me busy, and be another beautiful adventure to embark on. The problem with that philosophy is, however, that when done with that project, you're back to exactly the point you were before. You're still in the unsolicited pile and now a couple of years older and greyer. All you've succeeded in doing is turning a potential career into an actual hobby. Therefore, now is as good a time as any to get out there and do the awkward, uncomfortable, downright rubbish, part of trying to coerce people into parting with their hard-earned cash to take a chance on you and your project. No easy task but an abundantly necessary one.

Onwards and...onwards, my good people.

JB.

Fitch The Homeless

Well, this is about the best thing I've seen in a while. Bravo, that man.



JB.

A Word About Kickstarter

So...for anyone who has been living in a cave the past few years, or simply has a life which has nothing to with the industry, the emergence of a phenomenon known as "Crowd Funding" has become ever more prominent. Basically, if you're interested in raising money for a project you're working on - typically a film, TV show, or some other kind of venture in the arts, you can start a campaign. The idea being that people offer up their cash and you offer some reward, like if you donate 10 dollars you get a signed script, or for 500 you get to be in it for a day etc. A noble cause and fantastic way to raise money for your project. If you know a thousand people who can chip in a fiver, you already laughing. Sometimes, of course, you may find the occasional parasite looking for a quick grand because they feel "glum", but more on that another time.

Anyway, for us independent film-types out there, the birth of sites like IndieGoGo and KickStarter were nothing but a blessing. In theory at least. You see, for people like myself or friends in a similar situation - unknown, unfamous, unproven and no "in" with Warner Bros, or The Weinstein Company - it's a nice way to get some money off the ground and edge closer to making your dreams come true.

That was then. This is now.

Yesterday I had the misfortune of stumbling across one campaign by TV & Film star, Zach Braff. He has decided that he now wants to direct his second feature film (after the decidedly mediocre "Garden State" in 2004). However, Mr. Braff has decided that his fame, fortune, hook-ups to an untold network of producers, actors, agents, distributors, financiers, cinematographers, locations etc etc etc is not enough for his liking. He needs more creative control. So, he decided to follow in the footsteps of people like Charlie Kaufman and, more recently, the "Veronica Mars" franchise (which raised an ungodly 5 million dollars), and start his very own Kickstarter campaign...to panhandle the public with the promise that for the throwaway sum of $10,000, you can meet old Zachy boy and his wacky gang. He has asked for 2 million dollars. He has so far raised, and at this moment of writing he still has 27 days left (yes, 27), $1,967,804. Not bad going, eh?

Another award? Oh, go on then.

Now this might just be me (it often is) but does anyone else out there find it incredibly offensive that someone at his level deems it fit to essentially prey on his fans for money? "Hey guys, you love me, right? Of course you do. Anyway, the big bad studio wudio's won't let me have final cut and I can't really be arsed to go through the traditional rigamarole of finding actual investors for my newest masterpiece. Sooo, give me some money. K? Yes, I know you're all working stiffs and I'm one of the luckiest men alive whose made a career doing what I love and made a princely fortune doing it, but come on guys, look how quirky and cool me and my friends are." Nauseating.

Stop me if I'm wrong here, but I see the entire point of 'crowd-funding' as being that it exists for people who couldn't otherwise raise the funds themselves. Not mega-famous, mega-successful people to swoop in and take advantage of the good-nature of their fans. Surely that is the very antithesis of what the entire purpose of crowd-funding is all about? But, of course, where there's a good will and a dollar, it's only a matter of time before the vultures start circling. What sickens me most is that, at some point, a conversation must have occurred wherein Braff and his allies calculated that Braff has 'X' amount of fans, times 'Y' the average amount of that fans will donate, then minus 'Z' the amount we don't want to ask for so we don't look cocky, and equated exactly what they would need to do to maximize the public's goodwill. Which I personally find cynical and exploitive beyond belief.

Minion #1: "But Zach...Kaufman and Veronica Mars tripled their amounts and they're not half as popular as you" 
Braff: "I know, but we want to keep in the spirit of the thing, so let's go for two million and we'll probably get ten" 
Minion #2: "Well, what are we going to do with the extra money we raise? Offer back-end points, or other financial incentives typically involved with financing a film?"
Braff: "No, I'm buying an Island in the Maldives"
All: "Yaaaaaaaaay"

Because folks, my point is this: I have seen many, many, kickstarter campaigns come and go in the last few years and the difference between the successful ones and the non has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of the project, the professionalism of the campaign or the spirit of those involved in the making of it. No, as seems to be the way in this day and age, the key to raising finances is being popular. Or, to put it in context, having a vast network of people to finance from. It makes sense I suppose as the more people you know, the less they have to donate and the more likely they are to do so, again, regardless of the quality of the campaign. I can't tell you the amount of times I've seen friends of mine limp towards financial failure because their honest, noble, tentacles just aren't as far-reaching as they need to be. It's a lot harder to raise what you need than it sounds. Trust me, folks.

But I'm not bitter about that and it's certainly not the case that I don't support the rebellious nature of the whole endeavor, it's not even that I don't support the arts or anything like that. I absolutely do, with all my heart. It's simply that it's hard enough for us bottom-feeders to get any sort of meal in the Serengeti plains of Hollywood. Especially with the emergence of the internet as a new networking medium. The last thing we need is a bunch of already-stuffed Lions swaggering into our territory and feasting on all our scraps too. However, it's a trend that I can only see growing over the next few years.

Well, let's all paint on a smile and furrow forward at a snail's pace.

Rant over.

JB.

Michael Shannon - Legend

So this week I went to a screening of Michael Shannon's new film "The Iceman", a biopic of mob-hitman and all around lunatic Richard Kuklinski. I already knew a bit about the man so I went in with high hopes. However, I'm sorry to say the film was a massive disappointment, the only highlight being seeing David Schwimmer playing a mafia villain, which was fecking hilarious.

However, after the screening they had a Q&A with Shannon himself, an actor who I personally think is one of the best working at the moment (for further proof, check out "Take Shelter" or "Boardwalk Empire"). I couldn't help but be engulfed by the man himself, who - despite his often borderline insane on-screen persona - just oozes charisma and, most importantly, class. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to see a successful actor who has the right attitude about it all. Just a very down to earth human being, to the point where - after fielding moronic question and moronic question from the audience (free screenings attract LA's finest mentalists, including a pony-tailed man who I caught drinking out of the bathroom sink) - the orator wanted to call a halt to proceedings, only for old Mikey to offer to stay and answer more inane questions from the geek squad before him. That alone, friends, is worthy of my applause.

Anyway, this dealing with a man who's career is about to skyrocket, came at the perfect time for me personally as lord knows I am getting severely jaded with the bottom-feeder crowd here in Hollywood. It reminded me once again that you don't have to be a twat to succeed in life and if there is any further doubt as to Shannon's legend status, just watch this video - which is him reading a REAL letter from a Sorority girl to her chapter. Brilliant:

Cheers,

JB.

Behind The Curtain

Greetings one and all (or, more likely, just one). It has been a while and we have lots to catch up so cut right to the chase.

My life of leisure has come to an end, unfortunately. Meaning, to anyone who doesn't know or doesn't care to, that I have had to get a job once again. The pleasure of living off a commercial has dried up and I am back in the world of the working man. To be fair, the transition hasn't been half as painful as I feared it might be - largely due to the fact that I have a really fun job. Basically I edit reels for actors (see: mainly REALLY attractive women) which is most rewarding and has helped my editing chops no end.

More important than that though was the very recent Hollywood Film Festival which was yet another dose of absolute insanity for yours truly. It began with the screening on Sunday, which was fine. However I find it absolutely unforgivable that a cinema as prestigious as the Arclight could get away with such colossally shite projection. I'm not talking about "oh, it's a bit loud" here, either. The poor people involved with the first film in my program must've felt absolutely dreadful afterwards. Half of their entire film was off the screen - literally the lead actress was cut out of half the film. I would have thrown a major tantrum if that happened to us. Luckily it didn't. What did happen to us was that they began by having it cranked way too loud (which I was secretly loving as most films benefit from such volume), they then realised their mistake and turned it down too fucking low! This coming after there was a problem with every single film before ours. Shocking form. As if it isn't hard enough to clamber your way up the industry ladder...

I digress.

That said, I must say that seeing my film screening at my (now former) favourite cinema was an absolute treat. I felt minor nerves, if any at all, and actually managed to watch my film for the first time without an impending sense of doom coursing through my veins. Instead, as we sat there watching it unfold, I felt a tremendous sense of pride and excitement the likes of which I haven't felt before. When your film is playing in a massive darkened room full of people, it suddenly takes on a life of it's on. You can feel the atmosphere in the room. Friends, it is truly a fecking amazing thing to experience and I can't recommend it highly enough....if you're into that sort of thing. Lot's of people came and offered well wishes afterwards so all in all it went rather well, if I do say so myself. I certainly handled the whole thing a lot better so that is a victory in itself, surely?

Now, as Director of a competing film in the festival, one is privvy to certain benefits. The best one being four VIP Tickets to the next evening's Hollywood Film Awards Gala. I didn't really know what, or indeed who, to expect at this event. Indeed I didn't know what it was until some producer told me that a very rich man essentially wants to be part of "the club" so he throws an annual awards ceremony at the Beverly Hilton for celebrities to bask in their own glory one more time. From that description, I predicted a bottom-feeder Kardashian-fest and began plotting ways to spoil everyone's evening (note: all of my plans involved fecal matter)

However, when we arrived at the Hilton, nothing prepared me for what happened next. Screaming fans. Paparazzi flashes. Velvet Ropes. Red Carpets and general mania engulfed us. A proper Hollywood Event, for want of a better phrase. The peasant in me instantly thought we were in the wrong place and almost stopped the cabbie before he'd gone too far. However, to the entrance we went and, inexplicably, entrance was granted. The rest of the evening was a complete whirl of mega-famous people (including at least three absolute idols of mine...and I do mean idols), lots of free booze and generally feeling like being in an anonymous David-Blaine box with the best view to the weirdest party on earth. Sat at our reserved table, watching this mad, nonsensical award-ceremony unfold before us, I couldn't help thinking "how on earth did this happen?"...home felt a long, long way away. Still, happen it did and I am proud to say that our crew were the last to leave the venue by at least half an hour and we managed to steal multiple bottles of wine, bouquets, menus, programmes and food. Class all the way.

I've been attempting to find some meaning to this whole affair, if only to provide a conclusive paragraph to this post. Yet somehow I can't find the words. Maybe there is no meaning. Maybe sometimes you've just got to sit back and consider yourself a lucky boy to be part of the absurdity. That I do, my good people. That I do.

Peace and love.

Juan.

So Close, Yet...

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.

Formal, Impersonal, Bullet-Point Updates

Here's the latest scoop...

* Saw "The Master" for a second time at a private screening in LA. This time around I was completely blown away. Instead of looking for wasn't there, I focused on what was and what was there was utterly brilliant. Not for everyone though, I'm sure. Also, this time I sat up the front. This is a must. Never have I had a film (and glorious 70MM film) dominate my senses in such a way. Beautiful film.

* My film "Love Is..." got into the Hollywood Film Festival. This is very good news as I'm told this festival is a very good one. Been working on press-kit type stuff. All very surreal.

* "Starving In Hollywood" - the sketch show I've been working on, now has an IndieGoGo campaign. Please, if you feel so inclined, visit the page and give generously. Good and lovely things will come your way if you do. http://www.indiegogo.com/StarvingInHollywood?a=814159

* Watched Clint Eastwood's Speech at the Republican Convention. Absolutely cringe-worthy. Stick to acting, mate. Politics is clearly not your forte.

* This is the most gorgeously weird piece of music I've heard in a while. Fact:



* Found out that Deer have no gall bladders. Who would've known?

End Transmission.

JB.

The "Industry": A Weird and Baffling Enigma

So, folks, I apologize (again to all two of you) for the lack of posting on this blog. This is partly down to the fact that sometimes it's hard to muster up the energy to warble on for paragraphs knowing you have no audience whatsoever - like performing Hamlet in a cave - however it is mostly because I have been biting my tongue on certain things that have displeased me lately. Being the state of the world today I am smart enough not to overtly "diss" anyone on the world-wide web. However...

Very recently I attended the LA premiere of a short film, held at a VERY prestigious agency building, by their latest signing and new "hot" director. I will admit that, even before going in, I was dubious to the quality of said film by it's title alone (which I can't mention but let's call it "Turd On Fire", for storytelling purposes). However, as I sat in the private cinema, and more people filed in - a number of them big-time producers and agents etc - I started to think to myself "Well, if all these people are supporting this film, by golly it must be good.

The film was then introduced by a number of people involved in the making of it, including the director, who seemed like a thoroughly nice chap. So I sat back and wished him all the best. The lights went down and "Turd on Fire" began.

What then followed was the single worst 25 minutes I had ever seen committed to celluloid....and I've seen "Brothers", people. I have never been so offended in all my life. Not only was this film poorly written, terribly acted and desperately lacking of any storyline, it was almost unbearably violent, not in a cool grindhouse-type way, but in the most appallingly trashy way imaginable. Shock for the sake of shock. Nothing more. It was, from start to finish, nasty, black-hearted, garbage.

And what reaction did it receive when the credits rolled? A massive, very long and very loud, round of applause. The exact words I heard behind me were "Man 1: Oh my god. Why is isn't this guy directing movies like 'John Carter'?" Man 2: "Well, that's a discussion that will be had in the building very soon, I'm sure".

I stormed out.

The reason for my utter disgust with "Turd on Fire" was several-fold. One, without giving too much away, it was set in territory in which you could say I'm familiar (like, 25 years familiar). Two, this was being touted by a (as previously mentioned) very influential and successful agency. Three, it was terrible. And Four, for the money they spent, I'm confident I personally could have delivered a film a hundred thousand times better than that....this point may be open to debate. However the reason I'm so righteously upset by this venture is because it was so obviously devoid of any kind of imagination, wit, charm, subtlety, and most glaringly, heart. It was the cinematic equivalent of being battered about the skull with a blunt force by a juvenile offender for the entire time watching it. Horrible horrible horrible.

The saddest part of this whole debacle is that afterwards, this bloke literally had scores of people offering congratulations, no doubt anointing him as 'the next big thing' or whatever the fuck it is they talk about. I can't say I know, I didn't hang around long enough to find out.

It thus makes me wonder. You see, the one thing this film had going for it was that a pretty successful director (again, can't name him, so let's refer to him, or her, as Lumpysack McMoistgroin) Executive Producing it. How this happened, I do not know. However, by association with Lumpysack, who is a proven money-maker for studios, this film, and of course the writer/director of it, gets a massive leg-up. Indeed such was the dynamic in the air last night that I honestly believe, after the introductions, the previously established connection to Lumpysack, and the surrounding 'hype' etc., that the actual content of the film was, at this point, completely irrelevant. We could have sat and watched twenty minutes of a woman vomiting in a bucket, and the response would have been the same. That crowd of industry bigwigs were primed and ready to be amazed, and amazed they were, despite what actually passed their eyes.

This was a glimpse into the soul of Hollywood I had yet to see before and it left me momentarily reeling. What chance have I got against the black hearted demon I had just been thrust before? Is it possibly true, that all Hollywood wants is some douche who can film people swearing and stabbing each other and will play ball when asked? Is talent a factor at all? Is it really all just dumb luck and nepotism? I will admit, for a moment, all hope was lost.

However, after the red mist faded I was left with a kind of bizarre, if potentially misguided, optimism about the whole thing. It seems to me that the industry is obviously crying out for authentic voices. Genuine talents. Anyone that can do anything! Indeed it must be a sorry state of affairs if this turgid piece of loaf is the new big thing. Therefore I can safely come to only one conclusion, that conclusion being that there is indeed hope for us all. Right?

.........right?

.........hello?

.........anyone?

..........helloooo?

..........

JB.

A Young, Hip, Sweaty, Desert Extravaganza

So here is my Coachella 2012 in a nutshell. It went as follows:

Friday - Hey, it's 105 degrees outside? I know what I'll do, drink heavily. Sod hydration. Beer tent. Expensive but needed. Met lovely older couple from Texas. Been invited to their house already, marvelous. Feel very pissed. Oh look, it's the Arctic Monkeys! Sweet. I'll pogo around like a loon despite feeling a bit worse for wear. Starting to turn. Don't feel good. "R U Mine?" is an absolute tune. Where are my friends? Where is anyone? I'm freaking out badly and now have a pounding migraine. My phone's dead. How do I get home? When will this nightmare end?! Oh, Pulp are on stage. Nice. I think I'm dying. Oh well, it's been a fun ride. I need my phone back and running. Mobile Charging Station = Hell on Earth. Massive amounts of heatstroke have kicked in. Awful feeling. Oi, 16 year-old, give me your phone charger now! Ahhh finally in a cab. Cabbie laughs at me and says "Coachella kick your ass, huh?" I want to kill him. Ahhh finally home. God, it's only half nine, I must be getting too old for all this. Shit, I missed The Black Keys. I feel sick....(Vomit noises for 32 minutes approx)....my throat hurts. I hate festivals. Sleep.

Saturday - Can one actually die from heat stroke? I need breakfast. Scared it will come straight back out. Kept breakfast down. Result. Nap time. Shit, gonna be late for the Head and the Heart. Made it to the Head and the Heart. Solid band. Fun as always. Andrew Bird is an actual living, breathing genius - makes me feel quite inferior in every way. Time to try a beer...first sip good. Second sip, not so good. Shit. Water it is. What's this, a speakeasy? You need a password to get in? Pretty sure I heard some drunken knobhead shout it out. "When Bulls Fly". We're in. Fuuuuuuuck this is amazing! A hidden bar. A rockin' swing band called The BoomBoomBoom. Insanity all around. I want this to never end. 15 minutes later, it does. The Shins? Not that good live really are they? I find Feist oddly attractive, and she's rocking the house far more than I thought possible. Up the front for Bon Iver. If I stay here I'll be VERY close for Radiohead. "Skinny Love" - beautiful song. "Calgary" - beautiful song. Massive push forward. Waiting for Radiohead....don't think I've ever been hotter. OH MY GOD they're on! "Bloom" sounds f**king amazing live. All other (great) acts I've seen today suddenly seem like absolute child's play. "Lotus Flower" is rocking my world. Yorke is god. Watching Thom sing "we hope that you choke" to a field of hipsters puts a huge grin on my face. Paranoid Android. The band cracks up during the "raaaaain doowwwwwn" bit. The end. Spectacular show. Friends have all gone home. Three hour wait for a cab. Must walk. Blisters. Agony. Get picked up by a Mexican gangbanger. He gets on the phone, says the following: "I got one. I'm on 52nd, heading towards the cemetery, meet me over there". I shit my pants and start hoping there is a god. At the next red, I throw twenty dollars at him and bolt. When bolting, a blister bursts. Agony again. Shoe removal. Walk a mile and a half barefoot. Bed. 3.45AM. Can't sleep.

Sunday - Praise the lord, I'm alive. Alive but knackered. Back to bed. Up late. Off to festival. Finally it's a bit cooler, or is it simply that anything is cooler than being up the front for Radiohead last night? Back to the speakeasy, not as good this time. Always the way isn't it? Still can't drink. The Hives sound absolutely brilliant. Too hot for all that though. Blimey, Gotye is really fecking good. I had no clue. Mass clear-out after "Somebody That I Used to Know", Gotye watches in disappointment before declaring "people aren't so nice". Those who stay to the end show extra loud support (myself included) and are treated to an incredible final song, which I'm still trying to find online. Calvin Harris? No, I think I'll stay here and contemplate my existence instead. Surrounded by weirdos. Excessive amounts of neon. Why do people keep asking me for drugs? Specifically "Molly" which I google to find out it's street slang for pain killers. I've never felt so un-hip. Beirut are amazing live. Very nice to hear trumpets and accordians on a Sunday night. Great vibe in the tent, everyone dancing and having a grand old time. They finish with "Nantes" which is positively joyous. FOOD. Florence and the Machine - quality act. Makes everyone jump around and go mental. Snoop and Dr. Dre are in front of me...amazing. "Deep Cover" baby....'cos it's 1-8-7 on an undercover cop! So much weed being smoked around me. I'm catching a contact. "Caaaaaaaalifornia Loooooove". Oh look, 50 Cent. Oh look, Eminem. Oh look, 2Pac! He looks real and I'm pretty sure he just said "what's up coachella?" Weirdest thing I've ever seen. "Hail Mary". He's disappeared. I got chills, they're multiplying. Not sure how I feel about resurrecting the dead. Rappers are very aggressive with the crowd, it's hilarious. I am definitely high. "Still D.R.E." The end. Normal journey home for the first time all weekend. Pizza. Tea. Bed. 

JB.

Moving

Well folks it has finally happened. I now no longer reside in the chaos that is Koreatown. I wish I could say I'll miss the not-so-subtle threat of violence hanging in the air, or indeed the local psycho(s) shouting and pointing finger guns at anyone who happens to cross his demented path, but I can't. I could not be happier to be out of that shithole.

Especially as now I am in an extremely hip, not to mention celeb-filled, area called Franklin Village. At first I was dubious, thinking that once off the main strip of shops it would be just another horrible LA filthhole. That and the fact that the Scientology Celebrity Centre sits right in the middle of the hood. However, so far - and to my pleasant surprise - it has been wonderful. Only this morning I went for a walk around the area and rather than be greeted by mentalists, poo and broken couches on the street, I was instead treated to smiling faces and trees. Actual trees. And of course it's nice to see the old Hollywood sign looming overhead. Maybe this move represents some sort of allegory for my career, gradually getting closer to that sign and all the success it represents....then again, maybe not.

One more thing that should be noted here is a word of warning to any and all. NEVER underestimate what a colossal pain in the arse it is to move house. I thought "I'm in a studio, I haven't got much stuff, how hard can it be?" Well, after about a thousand stair trips and multiple instances of me lifting things well beyond my puny limits, the answer is: Fecking hard. For the past two days I have been walking around in stiff agony, which, contrary to how it might sound, is not a kinky sex game.

Still, I'm in now and life is good. Life promises to get even better this weekend when I head to Coachella (for the first time since 2007) - a place where Radiohead and the Arctic Monkeys are playing in the same weekend. Expect tears of joy to be shed. The only downside being that I will no doubt be surrounded by vaguely interested 15 year-olds, sporting neon shades and muttering "who's Thom Yorke?". Cest La Vie. Someone's gotta do it I suppose.

Peace and love,

John.

Back

After weeks of national, and indeed global, unrest - culminating in rioting, occupying of neighbourhoods and general disarray (see below pic) - I have finally caved in and written a new blog post. This madness must end.

Right, so I've been awfully busy lately. Firstly, I managed to snag my first ever national TV commercial. As seems to be the case in this industry, I ended up reading for about four different parts before finally getting the call putting me "on avail". If there is more pointless exercise than being put on avail, then I've yet to find it. In essence, you have "passed" the audition phase of the process, but haven't booked the job. In fact, apparently, the chances are that you haven't booked the job. Now I'm no expert but I think I see a way around this problem...hows about you just call when I have booked the f**king job and we'll eradicate the three days I'll spend pacing around gnawing at my fingernails. Everyone's happy.

Anyway, as luck would have it, I did in this case get the job. Muchos celebratos. As for the shoot itself, it was fantastic. Got to shoot for two entire days with a colossal crew, the size of which I never thought I'd see. All lovely, lovely people too. Day one consisted solely of us knobbing around on a golf course, vaguely aware that somewhere a camera was rolling. Marvelous fun. Day two consisted of much the same, but in a swanky Century City hotel. All in all it was a fabulous experience. The only downside being that I was dressed like an absolute pillock throughout the shoot, including a truly shite pair of glasses which were far too small for my face. However, I care about that not one bit. All part of the job isn't it. Speaking of which, we're not home and dry yet as far as getting paid goes. There is of course the chance that this thing will air, and air lots, and air for a long time and become a career boosting cash-cow for moi. By the same token, it could never air and I'll be as destitute as before. Fingers crossed for the former my friends. Fingers crossed.

The other thing keeping me busier than a fly's gag reflex is my second short film. For this one I have decided to actually hire a crew, actors and locations etc. By which I mean, we're trying to make an actual film, as opposed to me running around with a camera in one hand, boom mic in the other. Early on in the process I decided not to hire a producer. What a mistake. Because friends, I have been doing the producing side of things, as well as location scouting, as well as art direction, as well as casting, and frankly, it's a bloody lot of work. Not that I mind...I'd rather work all hours of the day doing something I love than spend 10 minutes back in 'construction management'...it's just a wee bit stressful. Still, I have now managed to assemble a crack team of talented individuals and I'm convinced this should be a good little flick. Of course the problem with these things is you never know until you've actually done it. A thought that keeps me awake, terrified to my very core, almost every night. There's already been plenty of problems along the way, however we're now locked in to shoot on the weekend of the 19th-20th November so watch this space for further updates on my gradual, some might say inevitable, meltdown.

I'm sure I've been doing more stuff but I can't think what off the top of my head. I'll give you a quick rundown. I almost adopted a kitten. I saw the Exorcist for the first time and absolutely loved it. Held some truly memorable auditions for my project. Made a prize tit of myself more times than usual. Creeped out everyone I came across on Halloween. Got my feature-length script read by the BBC. Danced with death. Saved a species. Explored my own body in new, varied and interesting ways, oh and tried chocolate sushi for the first time...it was orgasmic.

That brings us just about up to date. I suppose all that's left to say is a big sorry to all three (at official last count) of my fans for being away so long. I promise this blog will now be of upmost importance once again. Sort of.

Oh, and now that it's got all cold and dark and winter's closing in. Make yourself a cup of tea and have a watch of this. 'Twill warm the cockles of your heart...

Godspeed,

Juan.

An Open Letter:

Dear Hollywood,

Please, from the very bottom of my soul, stop re-making films from my youth. You are a town literally teeming with talent from all walks of life, all of whom with original stories to tell and all of whom I would wager can write a better film than the sodding "Wicker Man". There is no need to make sub-par versions of already great films you bunch of narrow thinking muppets!

It started (for me anyway) with The Karate Kid. Now, any kid my age growing up in the 80's rightly holds the original up as the quintessential, teenage, underdog 80's film; filled to the brim with memorable characters, a great story and a plethora of outstanding cheesy lines...."mercy is for the weak", "wax on, wax off" to name but a couple. Then you go and produce this absolute pile of gash featuring Will Smith's obnoxious, charmless little son and aging legend, Jackie Chan and don't even attempt to better the original. Indeed you just take a steaming hot poo on it's very soul. For what? A minor profit? Shame on you.

You are literally taking my childhood memories and raping them to within an inch of their life. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Total Recall, Point Break and now (so I've heard) Scarface???!!! Is nothing sacred to you people? What next? The Godfather, starring the cast of American Pie? Taxi Driver, starring Ashton Kutcher? I wouldn't mind but they're all bloody GREAT films. Surely that fact alone negates the need for a re-make.

So, for the love of all things good and holy, please stop this disturbing trend with immediate effect.

Yours,

A Disgruntled Fan (with a shit-hot script)

P.S. - no more superhero films either (except Batman, obviously)

Tunes, Footie and The Meaning of Life

So, it's been quite an eventful week on these here shores. We finished the first series of our comedy show, which is good but now the real work comes with the painstaking process of re-writes. Always fun though.

Had my first car crash, which was nice. Knocked the glasses clean off my face and gave a brother a bit of the old whiplash, but the old warhorse fights on. Hun shrapnel in my arse couldn't stop me, the Nazi's couldn't hold me back, a small Korean man rear-ending me (hello sailor!) won't keep this battleaxe from grinding on I tells ya!

Also, went to a couple of noteworthy concerts. The first being the rather lovely sounding Fleet Foxes.



I have to admit that under different circumstances I might not have enjoyed the show as much as I did. All of their songs somehow got slowed down to elevator music speed on stage, which took away from the whole thing a bit. However, two factors helped. One, The Greek Theater being one of the best venues I've been to - up in the hills of Griffith Park, enclosed among trees, shrouded in moonlight, it felt like we had wandered into some sort of hipster Ewok Village...which was better than it sounds. Two, the people directly in front of us were healthily puffing away on some super-strength jamaican sensimilla and, after about 30 clouds of smoke surrounded my face, I was soon high as a kite, grinning away like a prize idiot.

The second concert was the equally lovely sounding Bon Iver at The Spreckels Theatre in San Diego. Now, I've seen this band twice before and they absolutely blew my socks off. This time was a more electric sounding experience but it was no less amazing. The only (very minor) gripe I had was that Justin Vernon's lyrics are, for the most part, complete and utter nonsense. Especially the new album. In fact I defy you to make sense of one sentence on that album. It's actually pretty funny. However, that matters not when everything else sounds as luscious as it did that night. So all in all it was a cracking experience and wouldn't you know it, I found a video of the night already posted on youtube. Enjoy:

Also this week saw the start of the footie season...for Spurs at least. After getting royally spanked for our first two games, the yid army has turned it round and marches on. The only problem is that, after back to back wins, I now fully expect us to win the league, the champions league (despite not being in it) and the FA Cup with style and panache. Oh the joys of sporting delusion.

As for the meaning of life. Well, I was driving along earlier this week, in a foul mood, stuck in ungodly amounts of traffic, feeling generally pissed off about any and all. Then all of a sudden I thought of a Bill Hicks joke about Rick Astley not having a penis, and I laughed until I cried. Therein, friends, lies the meaning of life.

Peace and Love,

John.

Life...and Ting.

It's been a rather busy few weeks. Since I recently got hired to write a comedy web-series, with a very good friend of mine, it's been all go on the old creativity front.

Firstly, writing a web-series (at least writing one of any wit, style and/or substance) is bloody hard work! The idea for our series is terrific and the collective brainbox has been producing lots of good things, however while I would usually celebrate such an instance, in this case it is almost a hindrance. You see, making something funny, furthering a plot and developing characters - both central and periphory - is quite a difficult thing to accomplish in 5-6 minutes of screen time. You literally have no time for back story, no time for elaborate "twas a warm summer's eve, and Jennifer wandered the forests with a pondering expression in her eye" -style descriptions. It has so far been an absolute lesson in writing succinctly.

That said, my writing partner and I have no illusions as to the work involved and so far we've got something which I think could be really quite good. Definitely the potential for a sitcom...but I probably just sound like a delusional fool for saying that out loud. Plus, sitting around with a mate coming up with funny stuff all day ain't my idea of a bad gig. Kna'mean!

Also, for some unknown reason, I've been getting lots of auditions lately. All for commercials. All weird and wonderful in their own way.

As I may have mentioned on this blog before, the commercial business is a funny old one. Most of the time you go in not knowing what to expect. In fact the only thing you can be sure of is that you will make a complete tit of yourself, in one way or another. One minute you're being asked to fall asleep in front of a room full of people (true story - I had to do it twice), the next you're given a wife, a child and asked to improvise your honeymoon slideshow for 20 minutes (again, true story). I prefer the latter, it must be said.

In all honesty it's gotten to the point where I don't know what they're actually looking for with these things. You've just got to go in, do your best, piss into the wind and hope you eventually snag something with a paycheck. Thank god I've got other interests or I'd probably go insane by now.

Finally, I have also been doing classes at the esteemed Upright Citizens Brigade theater. Now, these classes are technically Improv, but not as we know it. I went in thinking "I'm going to show all these f**kers just how funny and delightful I really am. They're in for a treat!" However, within an hour I was a cowering wreck. They stamp that "aren't I funny?" gene right out of you immediately. Instead they teach the importance of two things. One, listening to what's going on and creating a scene based off of that (quite a nerve-shredding experience). Two, committing 100% to whatever you're doing. The experience so far, has been revelatory.

You see, as far as commitment goes, nothing is more important if you want to be a good actor, or indeed a good comedian. Let's face it, acting, by it's very nature, is ridiculous. You are essentially doing 'make believe' as a grown adult. However, stories need to be served and the only way to serve such stories is to commit to your part with everything you've got. They say you're reporting on a Manatee headed, Tuna-fish bodied sumo wrestler who threatening to destroy human kind? Then you better report with all the terror and blind panic you can muster.

For example, think of Harrison Ford in Star Wars. It was his first big role. He's sitting on set, convinced he's making the biggest turkey of all time. He was, in his words, "set to fire my agent". However, when he's running through that set being told "Okay, you just came out of an asteroid field six parcecks too far" do you believe for a second that it's not real in the finished product? No chance. Or when he has to pretend that an 8ft hairy beast whose only dialogue is "Gggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" is his best friend, he's in it, 100%. And look at him today.

So when you're in an audition being told "when you bite into that burrito, it's like the happiest you've ever been" (again, true story), instead of thinking how absurd the last sentence that passed your ears was and how much you should be working with Martin Scorcese by now, you've just got to say f*ck it and believe everything as if it were actually happening.

Therefore my advice is to commit to whatever it is you're doing. Because yes it might feel unnatural, and yes you might feel stupid, but one day you might...um...shag Calista Flockhart? I don't know what I'm saying. You get my point.

Peace,

John.

Thoughts...

So, I managed to make my way to the cinema twice this week. First to see "Horrible Bosses", for which I had high hopes. To say I was disappointed is a massive understatement. It's the latest in a series of shouty shouty, loud loud, 'wacky' comedies that seem to be the order of the day in mainstream Hollywood. Note to all studios: saying things extremely loud does not make them funny. Absurd plot, annoying main characters (especially Charlie Day, who is the most obnoxious human I've seen on screen since Little Nicky) and a complete waste of some pretty solid acting talent. What on earth Kevin Spacey was doing in this shite I do not know. Same for Colin Farrell, who was basically reduced to a cartoon character, and Jennifer Aniston's part consisted of one joke...yep, just the one, throughout the entire 2 hours...wherein, the "good girl next door" (Aniston) says things like "f**k my slutty mouth"...oh the hilarity!

What annoys me most is that it will be a box office smash, despite it's complete lack of originality, wit, subtlety or indeed comedy, and we the people will be subjected to yet more of the same. Very upsetting.

At the other end of the artistic spectrum was "The Tree of Life" starring Sean Penn, Brad Pitt and directed by the revered Terrance Malick. I went in not really knowing what to expect and within the first hour, I felt my brain slowly pouring out of my ear. Absolute insanity. Basically, not to give too much away, the films starts with Sean Penn remembering his childhood, then we go into the creation of the universe, the birth of morality (by use of a scene involving Dinosaurs...no, that's not a misprint) and back through the memories of Mr. Penn. This lasts for 2 hours and 40 minutes. Now, I consider myself a fairly cine-literate person, and I am struggling to find the words to describe this film. Yes, the visuals were rather lovely at times (if very 2001: A Space Oddyssey) and yes, there were moments of genuine emotion which got me going a bit, but overall I think my feeble mind was unable to comprehend what was going on before me. It gets a bit too deep, is what I'm saying. A narrative would have been nice too.

I think I'd have enjoyed it more if it didn't have the most pretentious voiceovers in history, people whispering profound things like "life is organic" and "um bongo, um bongo, they drink it in the congo". Leaves a bit of a bitter taste in my cynical mouth. However, it's nice to see someone at least trying to push the envelope and taking on life's grander subjects. Maybe I need to see it again to fully appreciate it, or maybe I'm just an idiot. Who knows?

In other news, Carmeggedon turned out to be a load of bollocks.

Listening to the news all week, you'd think LA would be at a complete standstill, people jumping from their stationary vehicles and leaping off bridges left, right and center. I spent all day driving on the old freeways yesterday...clear as a bell. Better than normal in fact. Oh, the media, what will you come up with next, you little phone-tapping, amoral rascals.

So, there you have it, another pointless ramble from a man with too much coffee in the system.

Peace,

JB.

The Other Side Of The Fence

This week was my first experience with casting. As in, actually renting out a studio and holding auditions with actresses for my upcoming short film. It was an extremely interesting experience from top to bottom.

First up, putting an ad on LA Casting. Now, anybody reading this who is, or intends to be, an aspiring actor in Los Angeles please take note of the following; if you are submitting yourself for a role, it is essential to add a note to your submission. Even if it's just a throw-away line like "this project sounds great, I'd love to be involved" it's worth it. For a project as miniscule as mine, relatively speaking of course, I had around 200 people submit for one part. Involuntarily, I found myself scanning through head-shots and the ones with "notes" attached immediately stood out.

Secondly, get yourself a reel. Even if it's shot in terrible light and with an iPhone (as I'm pretty sure some of them were), get something on there. I can't even begin to explain how much it helps to see someone in action. Also, the way LA Casting is structured, the people with a reel, or even an upload of one thing you were in, go immediately to the top of the page one. Jaaaaazz.

Finally, and this might seem obvious to some, make sure your headshot and resume are in good order. It's tough enough getting seen among 200 people and casting directors will be restricted by time, leaving me, for example, room for just 24 audition spots. So, the last thing you need is to eliminate yourself by just not having the correct formatting.

As for the auditions themselves, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself blown away on several occasions. Auditioning is an art-form in itself and to see people come in a hit it for six was an absolute pleasure. It's a curious thing though, with some people you can literally be left awe-struck by their acting but that one person comes in and reads and they just are the person you wrote. It's pretty much undeniable. I'm not entirely sure if this fact is comforting or utterly terrifying.

So fingers crossed we should be on the move again soon. Of course though, production has already been pushed back a month due to conflicting schedules, location problems, national holidays, crocodiles, angry rabbits....you name it. As I've already learned though very very quickly, when it comes to making films, nothing is easy. And I do mean nothing.

However, (insert motivational closing line here).

Peace and snuggles,

JB.

Location, Location, Location

I tell you one thing that is a colossal pain in the arse when attempting to shoot a film on the cheap anywhere in the Los Angeles region, and that is finding suitable locations. You see, the problem with this city is that every Tom, Dick and Harry with a camera and half a brain (or not even that in my case) wants to shoot a film. Now far be it from the powers that be to let people just shoot whatever they please willy nilly, no no, this won't do...we must make some cash from these swine.

Thus filming anywhere, and I do mean anywhere, becomes a mire of bureaucracy. A city-sponsored permit is required to shoot anywhere in the city (technically speaking), and guess what? That costs money. A fairly significant amount too. Of course I don't want to do this so I have been researching like a fiend and found out that if you don't use any lighting rigs, or have dollies/tripods on display then they can't touch you for it. Marvelous! Take that LAPD.

Now, the problem is that we are going to be shooting at night-time for most of the exterior shots, however this problem can be solved by finding a well-lit area and using a faster lens that works in low-light situations. So, my DP and I have spent several occassions running around town, jumping out the car and shooting lighting tests. Most excellent results have been achieved so far. So, fingers crossed, we won't have to light anyone's manor. Even if we do, the worst that the po-po can do, apparently, is shut you down. A fate I've decided I'd be willing to accept.

Next was the task of finding a bar to shoot in (sort of integral to the story). Easy, I thought, people will be glad of the free advertising. My god was I wrong. Even the naffest little hole-in-wall sheetholes here in Koreatown wanted extortionate amounts of money for the privilege of shooting in their facility. One bar wanted eight grand! Eight. Thousand. Dollars. For four hours. Well sir, you'll forgive me for saying this, but f**k right off!

So began my long and arduous journey, calling every bar in town, going in to bars I frequent and trying to using my charms (of lack thereof) to score something, anything, for just a few hours. After many, many rejections I started to concede to the idea that we'd have to go in and shoot somewhere guerilla-style which is not the ideal situation at all, least of all for the actors, and without them in top form then the whole thing is a bit pointless. However, out of the blue I suddenly found the perfect spot in North Hollywood. I managed to talk a chap down to an acceptable amount of money and we now have the place secured. I tell you though, I look forward to the day when the budget is greater and it's someone else's job to do all this shite. It's certainly not easy.

The good news is that we're now pretty much all sorted, as far as locations go at least. Now comes the final stages of pre-production and shooting in a couple of weekends. That's when the fun begins. I can't bloody wait.

Peace.

John.

P*ssing In The Wind

There are times in life where a great deal of work offers little reward. I, friends, am currently in the midst of one of those times.

A metaphor for life in Los Angeles

It started with the re-shooting of my short film. What a bloody nightmare that was. Not for any reason other than we no longer had one of our locations available for the re-shoot, thus I was forced to try and get exactly the same shot...but six months later and in a completely different place. At the equipment rental shop (www.indierentals.com) I even scoffed when they warned me that sometimes re-shooting scenes after the fact is an impossible task. Impossible you say? I laughed. I say balls to impossible, for I am a genius who knows everything there is to know about re-shoots, despite never having done one in my life.

Of course, they were right. I was wrong. Still, the good news is that despite my blunderings we managed to get just enough to be able to blag it to the finish line. That finish line however, seems to keep getting further away. Editing is almost finished, we've still got lots of work to do on the sound though. Then comes the matter of clearing the music. Then getting it out to festivals and getting it on imdb and etc etc etc. I'll be glad when the sodding thing is over to be perfectly honest. When it is finished though and it's doing the "Ooo! Ooo! Pick me. Pick me" rounds on the festival circuit, I have decided to use the finished product to attempt to raise funds for an entire re-shoot, yes an entire re-shoot, hopefully using 35mm, a full crew, and some decent locations. I honestly believe that it's a solid little number that plays very well and with some time and a budget (as in, more time than two days, and more money than 500 dollars) we could have quite a gem on our hands. Watch this space.

In other news, I have spent the past couple of weeks meeting with various Directors of Photography with the aim of securing a long-time collaborator. This entire process has been nothing short of revelatory. I can't begin to explain how refreshing it is to meet so many talented, creative and hungry people. Apparently not everyone in LA is a trumpet-blowing, self-involved wanker. Hoorah! After meeting many people, seeing many reels and thinking long and hard about the whole thing I settled on someone and we will be shooting my latest script in the next few weeks. Of course, between now and then I'm liable to have a nervous breakdown scouting locations, running lighting tests, rehearsing with actors and generally trying to avoid all the mistakes I made last time, but such is life in the film biz I suppose.

On top of that I have been on an absolute writing tear the past month or so. I now have four shorts completed, another feature length almost completed and, after being universally rejected by London publishers/literary agents, have set about the task of re-writing my book. So there is lots of stuff being stuffed in the old proverbial back pocket.

However the reason for the opening sentence of this article is that, being the type of impatient swine I am, when I write something, particularly something for the screen, I don't want to spend weeks reading it and fine-tuning it and all that palaver, I want to get out and film it. Now! God damnit! It's like being a Daddy Long Legs - sitting on the most poisionous venom on earth, but with no means to distribute it. Or so legend would have it anyway. As a matter of fact, when I think about it, whenever I do anything that requires effort, I expect instant gratification. I don't want to build a foundation, I want the bloody castle done immediately! This might explain why I am yet to make it in the industry.

I suppose that's exactly why the saying goes "Patience is a virtue".

Peace,

John.

Commercials, Cameras and Calamities

This week has been a relatively busy one, with my agent sending me out on several "commercial" auditions. These type of audition are a very hit and miss affair. For example, one day I turned up on time for my audition, only to find that rather than go in the order of when people signed in (also known as 'the correct order') this casting director knob-head decided to let everyone else who turned up for a different commercial at a later time go before me and couple of other chaps. I was there for two sodding hours! Now, for anyone whose ever spent more than ten minutes in a casting office, the experience is somewhat hellish - literally wall to wall packed with people demonstrating, for the most part, the least attractive qualities humanity has to offer...loudly. Once we finally got in, I was hurried into spitting out my useless two lines of dialogue and was soon on my way, leaving a giant turd-imprint on my soul.

"Wow me"

However, the next day I went to a similar audition at the exact same casting office and the experience couldn't have been different. No overbooking of actors, no rush, no being treated as if you'd just been scraped off a shoe. Instead the casting director was affable, respectful and actually took the time to get a performance (insert heavenly noises). It's not that hard really, is it? Just a little smidgeon of class is all it takes. I also encountered a classic "Brit in LA" situation on this visit. Sample line: (very loudly on phone so all who were trying to silently learn their lines could hear) "Yeah babe, I just had to turn down a part for David O. Russell. Yeah, the one who did The Fighter, yeah. Well, I'm out of town when they need me..." Shut up and crawl back up your own arse you utter monkey.

Anyhoo, my camera came in and I have been desperately trying to learn how to use it effectively. So far, the results are very promising and the floodgates have opened with regards to writing new material. Onwards and upwards from here methinks. Just the small matter of financing all of this tomfoolery and all will be well and good. More to follow...

Can't think of much else to write so here's a picture of a fat baby:

Until next time, keep on fighting the good fight brothers and sisters. Also, send money.

Ta,

John.

P.S - Been listening to a lot of Penderecki lately...not the best idea.