tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25764616477771012782024-02-06T21:58:18.395-05:00Crisis ManagementMisadventures in MidlifeTim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-81403607597024662962013-09-12T11:32:00.000-04:002013-09-12T11:32:23.826-04:00Sex, Drugs and Rock and RollWell, not really but
now that I have your attention... <br />
<br />
In my inaugural post
I mentioned wanting to trade guitar solos with Clapton at the Royal Albert Hall
or Madison Square Garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given my total
lack of musical skills, I've begun to think that my dream may never come true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately there are other ways to scratch
the "guitar god" itch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over
the years my wife Christine has played guitar and sung at a variety of social
events, typically holiday parties and family affairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Occasionally I have joined her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of these occasions was a couple of years
ago on Labor Day weekend when we played for a group of friends at our beach
condo in Maine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hadn't practiced that
much and neither of us was particularly happy with the performance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some reason, a few in the group started
asking when we were going<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to do it
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe they were all drunk the
first time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, there's no
accounting for taste. (For the record, Christine is a great rhythm guitarist
and has a beautiful voice, so the real issues are my ham-handed soloing and
off-key harmonica. Don't ask about my voice.) One night in June we were playing
guitar at home and, in a moment of insanity, we decided to put together a
playlist and practice all summer for another Labor Day weekend show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That gave us about 8 weeks to practice, which
sounds like a long time, but it's not, it's really not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few days of suggesting, vetoing,
arguing, debating and experimenting we settled on a 15 song playlist:<br />
<br />
<ol style="direction: ltr; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.375in; margin-top: 0in; unicode-bidi: embed;" type="1">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="1"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">I've Just Seen a Face (The
Beatles)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">I'll Fly Away (Albert Brumley
- as performed by Gilian Welch)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">Strong Enough (Sheryl Crow)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">Give Me One Reason (Tracy
Chapman)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="5"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Southern Cross (Crosby,
Stills & Nash)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="6"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">San Francisco Bay Blues
(Jesse Fuller - as performed by Eric Clapton)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="7"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Don't Think Twice, It's
Alright (Bob Dylan)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="8"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">The Night They Drove Old
Dixie Down (The Band)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="9"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Bad Reputation (Freedy
Johnston)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="10"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Superman (Five for Fighting)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">Something About What Happens
When We Talk (Lucinda Wiliams)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">You Ain't Goin' Nowhere (Bob
Dylan)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="14"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Leaving on a Jet Plane (John
Denver)</span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" value="15"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Let It be (The Beatles)</span> </li>
</ol>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
We practiced as much
as we could for weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christine on
vocals and rhythm guitar, me on rhythm and lead guitar and harmonica.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In late August we assessed our progress:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>we were in pretty decent shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It could be worse…much worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That, of course, is when things changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our son Dillon, who had been away at a
performing arts program all summer, had been listening to us practice since
he'd gotten home and asked if he could sing on a few of the songs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's got a fantastic voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could we refuse?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>TWO weeks until the show and a new
vocalist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No problem, his vocal skills
were welcome. </div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Then came change
number two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had made new friends, Jim
and Susan, who have a place in Maine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jim plays guitar but told us he hadn't picked it up in years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One night while sitting on the beach, in a
drunken stupor and ONE week before the show, we
asked Jim to join us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also in a drunken
stupor, he agreed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He confided that this
was a "bucket list" item for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We had never played together and would have one opportunity to practice
before the show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Jim showed up at
our house for the practice session he was nervous, not only about his own
playing but (I'm sure) about ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
had he agreed to?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could we play at all
or did we totally suck?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After one song
(Southern Cross) we all wiped our foreheads and breathed a sigh of relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We liked how he sounded and vice versa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim is an excellent player and really has an
ear for chord changes and song structure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span> </div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Sunday, September 1
-- show day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We set up on the
deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our friends and neighbors
gathering with lots of alcohol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Excellent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The drunker they were
the better we would sound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim and Susan
arrived with a bunch of friends in in tow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Christine, Dillon and I opened with "I've Just Seen a Face:" </div>
<br />
<br />
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<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Jim joined us:</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
</div>
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<br />
Soloing on
guitar and harmonica:<br />
<br />
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<br />
The crowd:<br />
<br />
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<br />
In the end we had a
great time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our audience seemed to enjoy
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christine, Dillon and Jim were
fantastic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did it satisfy my desire to
do scorching guitar solos?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Partially, but next year we go
electric.Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-89595263444115418912013-08-22T15:19:00.001-04:002013-08-22T15:19:16.145-04:00The Shoot<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So there I was. Sitting on a solid oak
bench in a courtroom on a movie set. Eight or ten hours. Contemplating my next
purchase </span><span style="font-family: "Cambria Math","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Cambria Math"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">‐‐</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Preparation H.
Robert Downey, Jr. sat in the chair typically occupied by defense counsel. He
was dressed in jeans and a gray tee shirt. That seemed odd to me as this was
not the costume of an attorney in court. The remainder of the seats (defendant,
opposing counsel, judge, court clerk, etc.) were occupied by people I didn't
recognize. All except Downey, Jr. had signs on their chests that said
"defendant" or "opposing counsel," etc. Also odd, I thought
to myself. Then I realized what they were doing. They were body doubles for the
actors so that lighting and camera positions could be set without having to
make the talent sit around. After a flurry of activity the director shouted
"first team!" The body doubles got up and left, including Downey, Jr.
</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The talent began to turn up. The judge
and defendant were both character actors whom I had seen before but could not
name. David Krumholtz, who was playing opposing counsel, strolled in still
looking like the math geek on "Numbers" albeit with some extra
weight. Then Robert Downey, Jr. walked in wearing a dark blue suit and tie. Did
he learn about lightning fast costume changes on the set of
"Ironman?" Something about him, other than his costume, was
different. He was a little thinner than he had been 5 minutes earlier. I
pointed this out to the woman sitting next to me and she giggled. "The
other guy was a double," she said as if I were the biggest idiot she'd
ever met. Wow. That guy was a dead ringer for Downey, Jr. I began to wonder how
many people have thought they met Robert Downey, Jr. but had actually met the
double. Clearly I would have been fooled. The AD gave us our instructions: look
like you're interested in the trial. Based on my month of birth I was assigned
the task of murmuring to the person sitting next to me, who thought I was an
idiot. Now I had to think of witty things to say to her under my breath.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span> </div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>WARNING! Tense change. Reader discretion advised.)</strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><strong> </strong></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The scenario is as follows: Downey, Jr.
plays a hotshot Chicago lawyer known for his courtroom antics while defending
the rich and famous. During a trial he receives a voicemail message informing
him that his mother has died. He asks to be replaced as defense counsel.
Krumholtz protests claiming it's a trick to garner sympathy and attention.
Downey, Jr. lets the judge listen to the message and is excused. He then makes
a dramatic exit from the courtroom walking by me and my giggly friend. A 60
second scene, if that. Eight to ten hours of shooting. The Director
yells "action," the scene kicks off with Krumholtz making a statement
to the court regarding some legal concept. Downy. Jr.'s cell phone rings, he
ignores it. As Krumholtz's statement gets more tedious, Downey, Jr. covertly
checks his voicemail. He looks alarmed. What's going on? The gallery watches
curiously. Murmuring ensues. I lean over to my new friend (can't remember her
name) with my left hand strategically placed over my mouth to hide what I'm saying:
"Murmer, murmer, murmer." She nods, considering my analysis and
responds: Murmer?" Maybe I'm not the only idiot. The judge orders counsel
to approach the bench. They argue in hushed voices. The judge has the cell
phone, he's listening to the VM. He excuses Downey, Jr., Krumholtz has a hissy
fit. Suddenly it occurrs to me. Downey, Jr. is leaving the courtroom via the
very aisle on which I am sitting. The camera follows him. We're murmuring </span><span style="font-family: "Cambria Math","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Cambria Math";">‐‐</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">
what's this a</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria Math","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Cambria Math";">‐</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">hole up to now? He walks by us and out the
door. Our heads turn to follow him. The Director yells cut. Downey, Jr. spins,
comes back in and says in a very loud voice "That's the one."
"Nope" says the Director. "Should use that one," responds
Downey, Jr. Everyone laughs. We do the scene dozens of times. Every time,
Downey, Jr. comes back in and says something amusing including: "Best
background work ever." He must have heard me murmuring. This went on for
hours. At one point Downey, Jr. addresses the extras in my row. "Excellent
job," he tells us. He high fives everyone down the row.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(<b>WARNING! Returning to previous tense.)</b></span></div>
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Until that moment not a single star on any set had even acknowledged that the extras existed. Maybe my opinion of him was premature. Later that day Downey, Jr. stood up got everyone's attention. We stopped murmuring and waited for him to speak. I was sure he had noticed my work. He'd heard the best murmuring ever and was calling me out for a greater role. I really like Robert Downey, Jr. Great actor. Great guy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Apparently he was saving my discovery for another movie. Instead he announced the Director of Photography (Janusz Kaminski, who was also Dir. Of Photography on <em>Lincoln</em>, <em>Warhorse</em>, <em>Saving</em> <em>Private Ryan, Schinlder's List</em> and many others) was celebrating his birthday. Production assistants burst through the door with a large cake. Everyone sang and clapped. While on the set Kaminski wore a brightly colored scarf around his neck and made everyone laugh with his over‐the‐top style. He began to dance around. Downey, Jr. stepped in and danced with him, pulling the scarf off and wrapping it around his own neck. It was almost worth taking a picture and being expelled for life plus a thousand years. Almost, but not quite.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<br />Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-38017123263217858192013-07-31T16:02:00.000-04:002013-07-31T16:02:31.899-04:00The Placement
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the short time I've been doing it, I've come to realize that working
as a movie or TV extra is all about jockeying for position. Most people who do
background work, myself included, harbor some fantasy that they'll be noticed,
which will eventually lead to larger roles. You can't be noticed unless you're
location in the scene is noticeable. You need to be where the camera is pointing. Obviously, extras don't control their placement or there would be hand‐to‐hand
combat over every prime spot. In "Hatfields and McCoys" I got lucky
and was placed prominently in the ballroom scene,</span></span><span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">but it was just that ‐‐ luck. Some extras suck up to the production
assistants (PA's) by bringing them coffee or pretending to be their buddy in
order to get a leg up on placement. I'm not sure if that works but I've adopted
a different tactic: eye contact with the assistant directors (AD's). These are
the people who place extras on the set. Consistent eye contact seems
to work when you're standing there waiting to be placed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the end of my last post I had just piled into a shuttle van with a
lot of other extras to head from holding to the set, which was in the
courthouse in Plymouth, MA. Ironically, I sat next to the guy playing the
bailiff. My friend Mike had been picked for that part but the costume didn't
fit. I could see why. This guy was about 5‐8 and weighed about 165 pounds. Mike
is well over six feet and well over 200 pounds. The last time I saw Mike he was
depressed and heading for the bathroom. He was wearing a necktie, which
concerned me. Anyway, not only was this guy the bailiff, it was his second
appearance in the movie! He'd had a different background role in another scene.
This seemed odd to me. Surely some movie geek will point this out after the movie
is released. (If not, I will) After a short ride we got to the courthouse service entrance. The van
was so full that when a PA opened the door from the outside, someone literally fell
out onto the ground. The bailiff stepped over him and kept walking. We were herded
into a conference room which would serve as "set hold." I avoided the
bailiff and sat down next to a guy who, like me, was dressed in a suit and tie.
He introduced himself as Bob. This was Bob's first extra experience. From
somewhere deep inside of me came swagger: "First time? Stick with me I
told him. I've done this before." </span></span><span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As a veteran of one television shoot, I knew the ropes. First we
needed to get closer to the door that led to the set. Second, when they came in
looking for people we needed to make direct eye contact. Third, if they pointed
anywhere in our general direction we would jump into line and stay there until
they told us otherwise. It wasn't long before a PA came in with a determined look
on his face. My eyes were like lasers. He looked straight at me. This was it. "Help
yourselves to drinks and snacks, we'll be back to get you in a while."
Then he was gone. Shit.</span></span><span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bob and I chatted about the usual things, family, work, the Red Sox.
After what seemed an eternity an AD came in. My eyes locked on like a
sidewinder missile. To my surprise, he pointed two fingers at Bob and me and
said: "You two, come with me." Bob gave me a nod of respect. I
swaggered to the door. The AD then picked about 15 more people which took a
little confidence out of my step. Eventually we walked upstairs to the set. It
was a typical looking courtroom, judge’s bench, jury box, court reporter's desk, tables
for the opposing legal teams, etc. There were actors sitting in all of these places
but I didn't recognize any of them except one ‐‐ Robert Downey, Jr. was seated
at the table directly in front of the gallery benches where Bob and I had been placed. Perfect! I'll be in the shot for sure. No sooner had that thought
crossed my mind when a different AD came up to me and said "I need to move you. Too
many men in suits in the front row." I almost said:
"Move Bob, he's new." Instead I did as I was told. Head down, I slunk
off to the back of the room like Charlie Brown. The right side of the gallery
was divided by a perpendicular walkway that led out the main door of the
courtroom. I was finally placed in the first row of the rear half of the split,
along the walkway, next to where the bailiff stood. I couldn't seem to shake
this bailiff guy but it could have been worse, I could have been buried in the
back somewhere. I noticed that Bob had also been relocated further to the rear.
More extras filed past where I was sitting. I saw Mike, he looked disdainfully
at the bailiff as he walked into the room. An AD directed him to the back row,
far corner. Mike's day wasn't getting any better. I settled onto the hard oak
bench, my home for the next eight or ten hours. </span></span><span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 15pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Next time: The Shoot</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-66398220312396010072013-07-04T13:30:00.000-04:002013-07-04T13:30:14.546-04:00On the Lot<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px;">This was it. Hollywood. The big time. No worrying about whether or not the pilot got picked up. This movie would be out there -- it might be a huge flop but it would be out there nonetheless. Early the next morning I made the drive to Plymouth, MA where the shoot would take place. The marshaling area was Plymouth High School. I arrived at 6:30AM and walked down a long, and surprisingly crowded, hallway to the cafeteria which was the designated "holding" area. Signs posted in the holding area said that the movie was called <i>The Judge</i>. I googled the title. It's the story of a hotshot Chicago lawyer who returns to his hometown to deal with the death of his mother and ends up putting the CEO of a healthcare company on trial. Cast: Robert Downey, Jr., Robert Duvall, Vera Farmiga, Billy Bob Thornton, Vincent D'Onofrio, David Krumholtz. Just my luck. I've never liked Robert Downey, Jr. and my hollywood debut would be a movie in which he stars. Oh well, I do love Duvall and Vera Farmiga is kind of hot. We would be shooting a courtroom scene. My first thoought was that I should have brought suspenders with my suit. I closed my eyes and pictured Gregory Peck's courtroom monologue in <i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i>. One of the best movie scenes of all time. I hoped like hell that Downey Jr. wouldn't attempt something similar. I checked in and was told to have some breakfast and wait to be called. Breakfast? I turned around and saw, like a beacon shining through the fog, a buffet. I don't typically eat much breakfast (I know, most important meal of the day, blah, blah) but when it comes to unlimited portions of pork products I have as much willpower as Lindsey Lohan at an open bar. There were also custom omelets, breakfast burritos and espresso drinks. Wow, $87.54 plus a serious meal. Not bad. I toddled towards the chow line drooling and grunting like a zombie from the <i>Walking Dead</i>. As I struggled to carry the fruits of my gluttony to a table I ran into my old buddy and acting mentor Mike who had guided me through the waiting process on the set of <i>Hatfields and McCoys</i>. He recognized me and we chatted for a while but he had to run off to wardrobe for a fitting, he had the inside track on a part as the bailiff. Damn, I need to get into the union.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px;">After eating I considered my next move. On <i>Hatfields and McCoys</i> I got dressed early then sat around for hours. I checked the line at wardrobe, very short. Screw it. I got into my suit and tie, combed my hair and waited to be examined head-to-toe by 2 or 3 very critical people who never seemed to be happy with what anyone was wearing. This time was no different. I had been told to wear a suit and the wardrobe people were looking at me like I'd worn cutoffs and a tee shirt. They conferred with each other as they checked me out. Lots of furrowed brows. They called over another person who also appeared to be concerned. Do I look that bad? Is there bacon grease on my shirt? Wait! It must be that I'm being considered for a bigger role and they want to make sure I looked perfect. Of course, what else could it be? I stood tall and proud. At that moment a man walked over to us and said: "he's fine" and walked away. The others said nothing and immediately turned their attention to the next guy in line. I waited. Should I report to the casting director for further instructions? Finally one of them looked quizzically at me and said in a somewhat annoyed tone of voice: "you can go back to holding." Dejected, I slunk off to the cafeteria where I ran into Mike, who was also unhappy. He didn't get the bailiff role because the costume wasn't large enough to fit him. Like the pigs that had given their lives for our breakfast, we wallowed in our mutual disappointment.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px;">After only about an hour of waiting the assistant director starting lining us up in the hallway for movement to the set, which was in the county courthouse not far away. I had lost track of Mike who, I think, had wandered off to the Men's room to hang himself. Maybe I should check on him, but then I might not get to the set until later</span> when the good background parts had been assigned. Mike would be okay. I fell into line. We squeezed about 18 people into a 12 passenger van and for the short ride to the set. Hollywood was about to be introduced to Tim McGuire. In my head I recited my Oscar speech.<br />
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-68977752829635541272013-06-28T09:11:00.001-04:002013-06-28T09:11:59.090-04:00Out of the Ashes<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px;">A few weeks ago I found out that NBC did not buy the <i>Hatfields & McCoys</i> pilot. I had expected a personal call from Charlize Theron breaking the news but instead I saw it in a Tweet from actress Virginia Madsen, also a cast member. I was crushed. My premier performance on the small screen would never see the light of day. I had totally nailed that ballroom scene, walking across the background like I owned it. Rubbing elbows, literally, with Rebecca DeMornay. Flirting with Charlize -- I would stare and she would pretend to divert her eyes and hurry away uncomfortably. I Tweeted her, pleading for her to shop the show around. If NBC didn't want it then perhaps a trendier venue. Netflix? YouTube? Alas, she must not have received the Tweets because I didn't hear from her. Despondent, my career in tatters, I contemplated the future. I had to avoid the tired route followed by so many other has-beens: alcoholism, drug addiction, the inevitable life of petty crime and - the final blow - a mug shot on The Smoking Gun. But wait, that path might get me a recurring role on Celebrity Rehab which could help me out of the gutter and into a stint on Dancing with the Stars or Celebrity Apprentice and eventual rebirth in a Quentin Tarantino movie. This could work, but now what? The alcoholism would be easy, I can pound whiskeys with the best of them. Drug addiction would be the real challenge. Cocaine is passé. Heroin and meth would mean hanging out in unsavory neighborhoods buying from unsavory people. Not really my thing. As if channeling Sherlock Holmes, I realized that what remained was the truest, as well as the trendiest option: pain killers. Getting opioids would be a cakewalk, I'd just tell my doctor that I'm experiencing excruciating, non-specific low back pain. Bingo! Years of Vicodin prescriptions. I had chosen my path. It was 10PM. On a Wednesday. The phone rang. It was the casting company. Could I be on location for a <i>movie</i> shoot the next day at 7:30AM? I almost declined due to excruciating, non-specific low back pain but reconsidered. My entire career had been in television. Would the big screen be my acting salvation? Could I use this job to rise from the ashes? Not to mention the $87.54 I would be earning. Suddenly full of hope, my hand shaking, I brought the phone to my ear. "I'll be there," I said. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The excruciating, non-specific back pain would have to wait. An Oscar worthy background performance in a feature film would come first.</span>Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-57690873490947704362013-05-27T11:52:00.001-04:002013-05-27T12:51:24.380-04:00A Day to Remember<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Ah, Memorial Day weekend. The opening salvo of summer. Barbecues. Beer. My Facebook and Twitter accounts are overflowing with recipes for grilled everything, summer cocktails and workout routines to get you in shape for the beach. In spite of the dismal New England weather (rainy and in the 50s Saturday & Sunday) I'm right there with all of it. Monday morning brings sun and warmer temperatures which means opening the deck, planting the herb garden, firing up the gas grill and popping open a cold beer or summery bottle of sauvignon blanc. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Last night, I had Twitter and Facebook battles with several people on the other side of politics from me. They attacked, I counterattacked and vice-versa. I actually tweeted Sarah Palin and referred to her as "The Queen of Stupid " because she used the pretense of thanking veterans to attack the President. Harsh perhaps, but her message was in bad form and my response was no harsher than she doles out on a daily basis. I had a Facebook argument with an old friend about how long it took the President to make the decision to launch the Bin Laden raid, implying that he had no right to criticize because he'd never served in the military. Wrong? Possibly. He certainly has the right to comment as do we all in this great country. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This morning Twitter provided more tips for the perfect burger in addition to a half-dozen hate-tweets from Sarah Palin fans. Scrolling through the messages it occurred to me that today it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that s</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">ince September 2001:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">6640 US service members and 16 Dept. of Defense civilians have been killed in combat </span></li>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 3px; margin-left: 0px;">
50, 155 service members and 295 DoD civilians have been wounded.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 3px; margin-left: 0px;">
131,341 service members have been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)</div>
</li>
</span></ul>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span><br />
<div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We must never forget them. We must never use them as political pawns. We must never take the decision to send them into harms' way lightly. We must never blame them for the political decisions with which we disagree. We must always keep in mind that they willingly and without question deployed to another country, engaged in combat with an enemy and consistently defeated that enemy irrespective of the politics behind the battle. Some died, some were wounded. The survivors will be forever altered by the experience, even if they don't know it.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">
<div>
</div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 3px; margin-left: 0px;">
So as we bring our grills back to life after a long hard winter and sip from a frosty beer bottle, we must take a minute to think about them and the hundreds of thousands who came before them. Today it doesn't matter what side of the political spectrum we favor. What matters is that because of them we <em>can</em> favor any side we please.</div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span><br /></div>
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Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-29697988751989757932013-05-06T14:07:00.002-04:002013-05-06T14:07:39.935-04:00Misadventure #1 -- Artistic Expression (Part III)<br />
<div style="margin: 12pt 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Acting Part 3 – The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aftermath</i></span></strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Last time…I
had just received my paycheck for the extra gig on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hatfield and McCoys</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sat in my
living room, basking in the glow of my $87.54 windfall and brush with
fame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was charged up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite the long hours and low pay I had a
lot of fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> On the downside </span>I learned that acting is
hard and tedious work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent 6 hours
shooting a scene that might end up as a two minute segment of the pilot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the upside I’d had close encounters with
Charlize Theron and Rebecca DeMornay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
had walked through the shot and will probably appear in the show if all of the
following happen:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">NBC
buys the pilot<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The
scene appears in the pilot<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The
portion of the scene that appears in the pilot features a wide angle shot<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I think I
have a pretty good chance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Would I do
it again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a heartbeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I set up a profile on the casting company’s
website and my name has been submitted for several extra jobs on various shoots
in the Boston area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So far no
bites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that’s show business.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-73747896404688846542013-05-01T19:08:00.000-04:002013-05-01T19:08:17.559-04:00Misadventure #1 -- Artistic Expression (Part II)<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><strong>Acting Part II -- The <em>Acting</em></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When we
last saw our hero, he was waiting to shoot a scene from the NBC pilot <em>Hatfields & McCoys</em>…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The scene
was shot in one of the museums' exhibit rooms dressed up to look like a
ballroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rumor about how small the
room was turned out to be true. It was not nearly the size of a typical
ballroom and half of the floor space was occupied by the camera on a large,
semicircular trolley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a bar
set up on the main interior wall and the windowed exterior walls overlooking Boston
Harbor were lined with cocktail tables draped in white tablecloths. A stage
occupied the fourth wall and on it stood a jazz band, instruments at the ready.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We (the "background")
filed in and stood in a group while the Assistant Director (AD) placed us
around the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was paired with
another guy, Larry, and we were ordered to walk across the dance floor to the
other side of the room when the Director yelled "action." Cool, I
thought, we'll walk right through the shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were also instructed to look like we were chatting without making any
noise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This, as it turns out, is not
easy as it sounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it dawned on me
-- holy shit, I wouldn't just be standing in the background, they expected me
to do something! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Eventually
everyone was placed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone came from
behind me toward the center of the dance floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rebecca DeMornay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ms. DeMornay
was dressed in a gold ball gown and wearing slippers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was followed closely by a young woman
carrying a pair of high heeled shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was at this point that I noticed a good looking younger man in a peculiarly
purplish suit waiting for her to arrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This turned out to be Patrick John Flueger, the male lead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd never heard of him but apparently he's
known for his role in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The 4400</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever, I wasn't here to look at him I was
here to look at Rebecca.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As I was
processing this, the AD yelled 'Places!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everyone hurried to their spots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>"Rolling!" At this point Ms. DeMornay stepped out of her
slippers and the woman holding her shoes knelt down, helped her into
them and sprinted off camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This ritual was repeated after every
take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Background!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The extras begin acting like they're at a
ball, mingling, holding champagne glasses filled with sparkling cider, chatting
without making noise, waitresses offering fake hors d'oeuvres, the band
silently miming to a recording, couples dancing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Action!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The camera begins to move on the
trolley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Larry and I slowly make our way
to the other side of the room, greet other guests and turn back toward the
dance floor and the camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expected
to hear the Director yell "cut!" at this point, either because the
take was over or I had screwed up the walking part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn't happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, the dancers parted like the Red Sea
and a woman came walking off the dance floor as if storming away from an
argument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stood next to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Literally at my elbow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wore a gold ball gown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rebecca DeMornay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Larry and I tried to react as anyone would in
that situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked at her, curious
why she had left her dance partner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
briefly thought about saying something like "loved you in Risky
Business" but the impact of a restraining order on my acting career once again
held me back.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We did a
few more takes, then the camera was moved to the opposite side of the
room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time Larry and I were
directed to walk across the dance floor to the bar, get drinks and return to
our original places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, we walked through
the shot every time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did at
least 50 takes, to the point where even the first-timers could detect when
things didn't go quite right and the Director would yell "cut!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The camera was repositioned
several more times and Larry and I continued to walk to the bar and back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one point, when I approached the bar,
another extra complained that I was "in her shot."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few takes, Larry and I established a
pattern with the rest of the extras at the bar to avoid her wrath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A "couple" at the bar would get their
drinks, then step away so Larry and I could belly up without ruffling
feathers.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Finally,
the Director switched to a handheld camera for closeups of the stars
dancing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We continued our routine,
getting drinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A problem began to
surface on the dance floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The handheld
camera requires a crew of several people including the operator and several
crew members who manage cables and hold lights and microphones mounted on
booms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consequently, as the camera moved
with the dancers, large swaths of space was swept open around itto accomodate the crew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Director's plan was for the dancers to
fill in the open spaces as the camera moved around but it wasn't working.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They kept dancing behind the camera leaving
big holes in the shot. During one take the dancers failed to fill in the space
in front of the camera and the exasperated Director reached out and grabbed an
extra -- me -- by the shoulder, pointed to the open space and commanded
"walk through!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I did,
right past Rebecca DeMornay's head as she was dipped by her partner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked to the opposite side of the room,
pretended to greet someone and turned to face the dance floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Cut!" The
Director then said "this is a pilot wrap for Ms. Rebecca DeMornay."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone clapped as Charlize Theron reappeared
and gave her a hug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
"talent" exited and body doubles, who were actually ballroom dancers,
came on for the close up body shots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
did a few more takes and the Director called it a wrap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The background was weary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was now 1:30 AM, twelve hours since I'd
arrived and six hours since we began shooting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I felt like I’d walked 20 miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
feet were stumps, I could only imagine how the women in heels felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I limped my
way back to the tent and said goodbye to my new friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was then that the Production Assistant
yelled "everyone line up to get your pay vouchers signed, union people
first!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't imagine standing any longer, but I
had no choice and I wasn't in the union.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After an hour of waiting I hobbled up to the table, showed my
identification and got my voucher signed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then, the quarter-mile walk back to the shuttle stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wind had shifted and was in my face
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got home at 3AM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A 13.5 hour day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A week or so later I received my check for
$87.54.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Next time: Acting Part III -- The Aftermath</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-83466028932868612732013-04-27T09:26:00.000-04:002013-04-27T09:26:28.091-04:00Misadventure #1 -- Artistic Expression<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Throughout
history artists have changed the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I won't be one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife
is an accomplished vocalist and guitar player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My son is a gifted and passionate actor, singer and musician.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've tried my hand at a few things – I can
stumble through 6 or 8 guitar chords, sometimes without embarrassing myself
(maybe Clapton <em>won't</em> be calling?) and have done a pencil sketch or two which
I've immediately shredded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I admire my
son's talent and courage as an actor, but I never understood the passion until
recently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here's the story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 6pt 0in; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><u>Acting Part 1 – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Waiting</i><o:p></o:p></u></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I subscribe
to an email list from a local casting agency, mostly to look for acting
opportunities for my son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week I
received an announcement requesting "adults in formalwear" for a
shoot in Boston.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hmmm, I thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can stand around in a tuxedo as well as
anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sent in a photo assuming they
were looking for young, cool types not old fat guys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my amazement I got a call confirming my
availability and tux ownership.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
in!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The salary would be $64 for the
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">That
</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">night at the dinner table I notified the family that we would soon be
moving to Hollywood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did not
scramble to pack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The shoot
was for a TV pilot called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hatfields and
McCoys</i>, a modern take on the legendary family feud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The show would be produced by Charlize Theron
and starring Rebecca De Mornay (c'mon guys, you remember Rebecca from the
subway scene in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Risky Business</i> – I
know that's what you're thinking).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
packed up my tux, drove to the appointed parking lot and boarded the shuttle to
the set (Boston's Institute of Contemporary Art).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the seven minute bus ride I composed my
acceptance speech for the Emmys, forgetting, of course, to thank my wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then something happened that altered my
fantasy dramatically – I arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometime
during the quarter-mile walk from the shuttle stop to the set through a bone
chilling, face numbing wind I concluded that I might not be near the top of the
food chain here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do Charlize and Rebecca
make this walk every day?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m guessing
they don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was
directed to a large tent in the parking lot where I checked in and was told to
take a seat until I received further instructions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got lucky here because I sat next to a guy
named Mike who does this for a living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was extremely helpful as were the others at my table, all of whom had
experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent the next five hours
or so waiting, occasionally being sent to wardrobe or makeup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as I passed my final inspection by the
wardrobe people supper arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
was an extensive buffet of juicy foods like corn on the cob and pasta with red
sauce – perfect for eating in formalwear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I ate very little and very carefully, sure that I would spill something
on myself and be sent home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately
that didn’t happen and I finished the meal stain free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the meal Charlize Theron made her
first appearance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was waiting in line
and turned to find her standing about three feet away talking to a crew
member.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had been instructed not to
approach the actors under any circumstances and I assume that a restraining
order would be bad for my acting career so I managed to control myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell by the way she ignored me that
she was very impressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went back to
practicing my Emmy acceptance speech in my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">After
dinner a rumor started going around that the room used for filming was so small
that they wouldn’t be able to use everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My new friend and mentor Mike took the lead on this and moved our little
group to a table nearer the entrance to the tent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not long after, an Assistant Director (AD)
came in and started collecting people to take to the set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mike had positioned us perfectly, we jumped
into line and were led to the ICA lobby to wait yet again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Next time: Acting Part II -- The Acting</span></div>
Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-22498337370393654692013-04-25T19:05:00.000-04:002013-04-25T19:08:46.102-04:00Welcome to Crisis Management!<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Self Delusion (Noun): the act or state of deceiving oneself</span></i></span></strong></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Welcome
to my blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm 52 years old, which
means that, unless I live to be 104, I'm actually north of midlife but let's
refer to the previously cited definition on that issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I live near Boston, Massachusetts with my
wife and teenage son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sounds pretty
ordinary, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exactly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I work as a self-employed consultant helping
companies protect their employees from workplace injuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A noble pursuit to be sure, but rarely
exciting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've never heard champagne
corks pop when I helped a company reduce its compound annual growth rate on
workers' comp costs (I hear the corks in my head of course -- see previously
cited definition). </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Recently,
after consuming several pints of Guinness and sipping on a second (or perhaps
third) glass of Irish whiskey at our neighborhood bar I reflected on the
various ailments and even the passing of friends close to my age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much time do I have left to accomplish
all those epic things I vowed to do 25 years ago?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is human nature, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rage against the ticking clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I ever trade guitar solos with Eric
Clapton at the Royal Albert Hall?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I
ever forget to thank my wife while accepting an Oscar?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I ever go on that safari?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Climb the worlds’ highest mountains?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course not, these are foolish goals made
by the young and stupid, at least in my case (I’m still holding out hope for
the Clapton thing but I'm beginning to think it might not happen).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So I decided to start doing some new and different things just for fun
to satisfy those nagging voices in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">With all
this in mind I decided to launch Crisis Management.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over some period of time in the not too
distant future I'll be trying some new and interesting things in an attempt to
slow the clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it won't work but
it will be fun anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(See the
definition above)</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2576461647777101278.post-20333353369871361582013-04-24T15:45:00.000-04:002013-04-24T15:45:09.263-04:00Why Terrorism Doesn't Work
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: black;">Because they played <em>Sweet
Caroline</em> at Yankee Stadium<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It's just a song sung by every Red
Sox fan who's ever been to a game. A ritual -- </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">hands
waving, voices following the lyrics on the jumbotron. A silly, fun song. Except
on April 16, the day after the Boston Marathon bombings. When the Fenway anthem
was played at Yankee Stadium it wasn't just a song it was a statement. The
divisional antagonists stepping up in support of their longtime rivals. A powerful gesture
from the opposing camp. Nothing needed to be said. Every Red Sox fan knew what
it meant: "we're with you." </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is why terrorists inevitably fail.
They galvanize the most bitter of opponents behind a single cause --
to find and punish them. In the days following the Boston attack there were
countless expressions of support and we're grateful for every one. But the one
from the Bronx, the one that brought tears to my eyes, the silly song, was the
best of all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Tim McGuirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17964044562411596020noreply@blogger.com0