Hercule Poirot "A Dead Man's Folly & Q&A with David Suchet

I have managed to get last minute tickets to the preview screening of the latest Hercule Poirot, 'Dead Man's Folly' including a Q&A with the bastion of British (or should that be Belgian) entertainment himself: David Suchet. That's why I'm grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

To most people my age, Agatha Christie's saga is merely an outdated set of stories by a novelist long-gone, enjoyed only by the middle-aged (and middle class) masses over cheese and biscuits of a Sunday evening. But I am here to tell you that it is so much more than that.

It is so many things: A master class in acting; an example of unparalleled commitment to the text; a who's who of British television (in front and behind the camera); a drama that is at once compelling, heartfelt and humorous: a reminder of times more simple (if also more sinful) but perhaps more than that; it's a reassuring moral compass to navigate the quagmire of today's murky-grey societal values. 

As you may have seen I am virtually salivating by the time we careen through the establishing storm of 'Dead Man's Folly' in a vintage 50s automobile - & I can't decide whether it's the anticipation of a new instalment or a subconscious connection between the lead character (Sean Pertwee) and his VoiceOver of Masterchef. Regardless I was riveted from here, to the tale's definitive conclusion. I'm not going to drop any plot-spoilers but it won't disappoint any fans of the book. 

Perhaps this is in fact the key to the series' longevity. It's not just that Christie writes (as did Shakespeare) of the 'human condition', the things inherently important to all - love and betrayal, money and greed etc, it's that she does so in such a singular a compelling voice, such that even when the story is presented in the same template time after time, we are still compelled to discover who did it and more importantly, why!

And it's this voice that Mr. Suchet tells us he has always strived to uphold. He has always carried, when filming, a list of detailed notes from his original study of the novels with which he can remind himself the nuances and foibles of the complicated character we all know and love. 

So how was it - sitting in the front row, close enough to an idol to comb his slicked back hair? Well, he is (mercifully) slimmer than we know him on the small screen, much  more laconic too with a far easier gait; eloquent, confident, ready with an anecdote for any occasion, oh and interestingly he pronounces it "TheAtre" like a true stage lovey! Overall it was enlightening.

David reassures us (I feel we ought to be on first name terms now) that by this point he knows Poirot's every possible reaction to any given circumstance and if he were so inclined could live as Poirot for the rest of his life. Just the thought of the perpetual moustache grooming would be enough to make even Daniel Day Lewis cry off.

When asked of being type cast he speaks with great enthusiasm for how lucky he has been with the role, how he has had the opportunity to pursue other ventures simultaneously (and one wonders if he could have continued had this not been the case, I suspect not). 

What struck me most from an actor's perspective was the revelation that the final shot of 'Murder in the Orient Express' with Poirot shouldering the moral burden of being held judge, jury and executioner - was in fact filmed first. All before he had even met any of the film's other actors - a sign if true class!

I could go on - about his portrayal of Salieri in the stage play of Amadeus, migrating west to play an American detective in 'a Perfect Murder', his depiction of Wolsey in Henry VIII, all of which influenced me in my decision to take up and pursue acting as a career but suffice it to say; it is his unflinching dedication to the role of Hercule Poirot; a curious, eccentric, lonely, ruthless yet gentle detective whose little grey cells always allow him to uphold what is right and save the day, that I will remember him for.

#Hollyoaks

                 

I'm at Wembley, England are playing Moldova (well more thumping them really - not terribly British) and I'm all packed for a trip to Sunny Spain with friends. I'm just contemplating whether it's even worth going to bed tonight given that we're on the first flight out of Heathrow in the morning, when the Batphone rings:

Incoming Call

"The BWH Agency"

Somehow, I know before I've even answered, I've been offered the role I read for yesterday - an episode of Hollyoaks). I pick up:

AGENT

They'd like to offer you the part!

TRIS 

(Cheery)

My girlfriend's going to kill me

AGENT

Errr...?

At this point two things become clear: 

1) I have neglected to tell my agent about my holiday ... and 

2) I will be spending more time in the air than I'd anticipated. 

Several days later (I've been to Spain & back) & my taxi (which arrived 20 minutes late) is stuck in traffic en route to the Hollyoaks set. I'm acutely aware of the fines imposed on Hollyoaks actors for late arrival so I mentally chastise cab drivers all over the world for ...

Depriving me of my much-needed caffeine hit...

Not accepting card payments, & ultimately... 

Ruining my career.

My 'cabbie voodoo doll' (patent pending) is already in tatters by this point but this doesn't seem to phase the driver one bit since it turns out, HE'S not late for anything. Thankfully though I needn't have worried -and we screech in just in time. 

The filming experience was unlike any other I'd done. Normally some poor over-stretched runner is responsible for your whereabouts, your appearance, in short your every movement. It was refreshing not to be constrained by any of that. I checked in at reception and was directed to the Green Room. I took a load off and met some of the other actors; longer-term stalwart Nick Pickard (Tony), as well as Connor Wilkinson (Finn) followed by, well everyone else - after a while it felt like the communal room back at uni halls. Everyone was really friendly asking what I was in for/who I was acting with. Some had already completed their scenes and were off to the gym for a training session before lunch.

After a bit of a wander around I found a call sheet tacked to a board. I was scheduled for the second scene of the day onwards. As the time was fast approaching I thought it a good idea to locate my costume (more asking of directions) and I was given a couple of options to choose from. I found myself changing alongside one of the long-term regulars. It then seemed like I should maybe check in with the folks of hair and make-up (around a few more corners) and hey presto I was almost ready. I knew that 2 of the characters' names had changed since my audition so I asked and was furnished with the updated script and was good to go on in the nick of time.

On set, the actors I worked with (James Sutton and Stephen Billington - John-Paul &  Danny) were humble, welcoming and self-less; and the production team even shuffled things at the last minute to shoot all my scenes together so I could swan back off to Spain. 

Hercule Poirot: "Dead Man's Folly" and Q&A with David Suchet

I have managed to get last minute tickets to the preview screening of the latest Hercule Poirot, 'Dead Man's Folly' including a Q&A with the bastion of British (or should that be Belgian) entertainment himself: David Suchet. That's why I'm grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

To most people my age, Agatha Christie's saga is merely an outdated set of stories by a novelist long-gone, enjoyed only by the middle-aged (and middle class) masses over cheese and biscuits of a Sunday evening. But I am here to tell you that it is so much more than that.

It is so many things: A master class in acting; an example of unparalleled commitment to the text; a who's who of British television (in front and behind the camera); a drama that is at once compelling, heartfelt and humorous: a reminder of times more simple (if also more sinful) but perhaps more than that; it's a reassuring moral compass to navigate the quagmire of today's murky-grey societal values. 

As you may have seen I am virtually salivating by the time we careen through the portentous storm of 'Dead Man's Folly' in a vintage 50s automobile - & I can't decide whether it's the anticipation of a new instalment or a subconscious connection between the lead character (Sean Pertwee) and the VoiceOver of Masterchef. Regardless I was riveted from here, to the tale's definitive conclusion. I'm not going to drop any plot-spoilers but it won't disappoint any fans of the book. 

Perhaps this is in fact the key to the series' longevity. It's not just that Christie writes (as did Shakespeare) of the 'human condition', the things inherently important to all - love and betrayal, money and greed etc, it's that she does so in such a singular a compelling voice, such that even when the story is presented in the same template time after time, we are still compelled to discover who did it and more importantly, why! And it's this voice that Mr. Suchet tells us he has always strived to uphold. He has always carried, when filming, a list of detailed notes from his original study of the novels with which he can remind himself the nuances and foibles of the complicated character we all know and love. 

So how was it - sitting in the front row, close enough to one of my idols that I could very well comb his already slicked hair? Well, he is (mercifully) slimmer than we know him on the small screen, much  more laconic too with a far easier gait; eloquent, confident, ready with an anecdote for any occasion, oh and interestingly he pronounces it "The-Atre" like a true stage lovey! Overall it was enlightening.

David reassures us (I feel we ought to be on first name terms now) that by this point he knows Poirot's every possible reaction to any given circumstance and if he were so inclined could live as Poirot for the rest of his life. Just the thought of the perpetual moustache grooming would be enough to make even Daniel Day Lewis cry off.

When asked of being type cast he speaks with great enthusiasm for how lucky he has been with the role, how he has had the opportunity to pursue other ventures simultaneously (and one wonders if he could have continued had this not been the case, I suspect not). 

What struck me most from an actor's perspective was the revelation that the final shot of 'Murder in the Orient Express' with Poirot shouldering the moral burden of being held judge, jury and executioner - was in fact filmed first. All before he had even met any of the film's other actors - a sign if true class!

I could go on - about his portrayal of Salieri in the stage play of Amadeus, migrating west to play an American detective in 'a Perfect Murder', his depiction of Wolsey in Henry VIII, all of which influenced me in my decision to take up and pursue acting as a career but suffice it to say; it is his unflinching dedication to the role of Hercule Poirot; a curious, eccentric, lonely, ruthless yet gentle detective whose little grey cells always allow him to uphold what is right and save the day, that I will remember him for.

Brick Lane

Time is of the essence so I'll keep this brief.
I'm stranded in shoreditch. I've been snatched and removed to some kind of other world, a different country at least. How they whisked me through passport control is anybody's guess but I'm currently holed-up in a "café;" "#cafe1001" apparently.
The natives are reminiscent of the aboriginals, with intricate indigenous skin markings, piercings-a-plenty & their clothing manages to be both dated and current, fashionable and awkward.
Clearly razors are banned in this hemisphere since cyclists and skateboarders alike boast what I am calling FCUK beards, or perhaps they provide protection from the elements when traveling along cobbles streets. I am opposite a man wearing a fur scarf that suggests a baby chinchilla met it's end in the making while his partner's dyed grey hair is tied in place with a tie-dyed bandanna.  I'm beginning to wish is brought a cloak to hide under.
There's no water source here so locals must walk for days or partake in the local brew: "Red Stripe" ...
Oh crap I've been spotted...gotta go

To Put Away Childish Things

I must have been two years old. Mummy & Daddy had a special book that had bright, vivid pictures like none I'd ever seen before. The stories we read from it didn't have pages like my other books - they weren't colourful or fun to touch but it didn't matter, because the pictures seemed to move in front of my very eyes, whisking me away to see my friends under the sea, or into the air among a million balloons, in a heartbeat...

One day I watched a story about a man. Or rather a story from a strange man in a blue vest. He seemed to speak straight to me, and I could read in his eyes the importance of what he said - even if I was too young to understand fully at the time. He spoke to me about getting older and even asked me what I would like to be when I grew up…I forget what I replied … but the one thing I do remember was him urging me to "keep dreaming". I laughed and told him he was a 'Silly man!! ... You can't dream when you're awake!' … "Tristam-Lewis-Summers!" said the man, raising his voice and fixing me with his big green eyes, "THAT is the best time to dream".

I asked my parents often about the 'silly man and the magic book' but never saw hide nor tail of either. I was told that the whole idea was itself a dream, or something I had imagined. At school I wrote silly stories of magical lands, creatures of the future and was invariably told to be give up such childish pursuits, be sensible and concentrate more. But, fact or fiction, It didn't matter to me - I kept the man's message where all good stories lie - at the back of the mind yet close to the heart.

Years have passed since that sunny moment and I am now a man grown myself. Inevitably there comes a time when we look to the future and ponder our own legacy and what we may leave behind - will it be fame, success, money, children... We wonder what these enduring remembrances will speak of after our all-too-brief time - and we endeavour to shape them in a way that reflects the people we wish so much to be. In the end, all we can really hope is that one day we all see a glimpse of 'the strange man' (and all he stands for) reflected back to us in those things we love and leave behind.

Tristam Summers (1987 & 2013)?

My article on "Being an Actor/ Voiceover in L.A."

I was recently asked to write an article for a publication back in the U.K about my experiences of acting in general and my time in L.A.. I thought I'd share it with you die-hard blog following fans (I know what you're thinking - what the hell would I know .... and yet, you're still reading!!):

"Acting. It’s a strange one. Often established actors will tell you if there’s ANY other way for you to make a living, take it. In fact the late, great Walter Matthau famously said: “All you need to succeed in this industry is fifty lucky breaks;” and it’s true, the life of an actor is more up and down than the Pirate Ship at Chessington - but it can also be incredibly rewarding.

Since leaving school I’ve come a long way in the pursuit of what seemed at the start to be a pipe-dream. I’ve acted in a variety of short films (I should point out that ‘variety’ here speaks to both their content and quality); gained qualifications in both dance and stage combat, signed an agent in London, trained at the Central School of Speech and Drama, acted in plays off West End, bolstered my showreel, recorded a voice-reel, appeared in staple TV shows such as ‘The Bill’ (may it rest in peace) and ‘Material Girl’; worked on feature films (even as a stunt-man in one), I’ve landed roles on internet soaps and animated sketches, acted in commercials for the likes of Walkers Crisps; I’ve attained an entertainment visa for the USA and moved to Los Angeles, developed a coffee addiction, signed a manager, signed a theatrical agent, signed a commercial agent, signed a voiceover agent (I know! Why so many agents?!); I’ve had sketches play out on shows in the U.S. such as ‘Jimmy Kimmel’s Late Night Live!’ (which isn’t altogether ‘live’. Nor is it filmed ‘late at night’ -welcome to Hollywood folks). I’ve impersonated Ben Wishaw’s ‘Q’ in the latest Bond film and was also the voice for all Apple adverts in the UK for almost 3 years, advertising everything from iPhones to Apps. And given that these played out at prime time on all channels during shows such as ‘Downton Abbey’ and the ‘X-Factor’ it’s more than likely you’ve heard my dulcet tones without even knowing it. So for this I half-heartedly apologise.

It’s currently ‘Pilot Season’ in L.A – the time of year when actors from all over the world descend on Hollywood hoping to land a role in, for instance, the new Robin Williams TV pilot ‘The Crazy Ones’, set in an ad agency in Chicago (keep an eye out for this one, looks to be a good ‘un). The potential for success here is mind-blowing but so is the competition. While the UK has fewer people chasing the roles, there is far less being made, so the odds work out to be about the same. I should also say that this career isn’t for the pusillanimous either (look it up, I had to, and it builds character) – you need the heart of a child and the hide of an elephant, to endure rejection on an often daily basis. Worse than the rejection though and by far the norm, is hearing absolutely nothing at all back from your latest audition that you spent hours preparing. But such is the life of an actor.

That said, there’s never a dull moment in this profession – only last week I was negotiating the snowy streets of London in my ski gear and now I’m sat at a coffee shop in West L.A with the sun on my face. I should offer another apology at this point – and not for the sickening weather reminder, no - this article was going to focus on advice for anyone hoping to break into the world of acting but I have literally just received a call from my voiceover agent (at which a painfully fashionable barrister politely indicated the ‘no mobile phones’ sign on the wall of said supremely pretentious establishment and ushered me out). It was for an audition to play an animated robot, and now instead of extolling the virtues of a career ‘treading the boards’, I feel I have no choice but to share with you, the description of my character ‘ZINC' from the accompanying email, as a window into my life as an actor:

“ZINC: A Retro-Futuristic robot...” (hang on a sec ... Retro...futuristic?) “... Can be a 12 year old boy, or a young teenage voice or adult male ...” (so at least they’re clear on what they’re after!) “... MUST BE A GREAT SINGER ...” (why they feel the need to shout this is beyond me) “Should sound a little British or perhaps Jordanian ...”(!!!!!) I’m not making this up) “ ...Think John Cleese, Billy Connelly or Russell Brand ...” (a more disparate group of individuals one can barely conceive). “...Appointment time/address...  blah-blah-blah”. I wish I could tell this isn’t a regular occurrence.

And so there you have it - that gives you an idea of what we actors contend with on a day to day basis. It also has the secondary benefit of solving what I shall do tonight: Why I will be dusting off my ‘Retro-Futuristic-Billy-Connelly-Robot’ impression of course. That old chestnut! So wish me luck. (As ever). And if you don’t believe me, I’m at Tristam_summers@hotmail.com and will be happy to forward the email."

 

 

The Obvious Choice: #TommyLeeJones #Acting

The Fugitive,

What a belter! Classic 80s action/ thriller brilliantly executed. Right from the single-coloured block letters of the opening credits that date the film around the same time as Bruce Willis' Moonlighting series.

 

It had everything from a one-armed baddie to a precision-grown beard from Harrison Ford, all the while show-casing Chicago as a city of intrigue and beauty. But, it's one small moment that struck me out of the whole film that I wanted to write about and it was a section after a shoot-out hostage situation that left Tommy Lee-Jones' colleague temporarily deaf in one ear. It went something like this:

TLJ

You think I should've tried to talk him down...

AGENT

Yeah. I do. We could've taken him in. You could've missed and killed me.

TLJ

Bargained with him?

AGENT

Yeah - I can't hear anything at all. Could be permanent.

TLJ

You can't hear anything?

AGENT

Yeah. This ear. Nothing.

TLJ

Come here, lemme see. This ear?

AGENT

Yeah

TLJ (Leaning in)

I. Don't. Bargain. 

Did you hear that?

AGENT

Yeah. Yeah. I heard that.

So we learn something about Tommy's character but what I loved about it was the delivery. He made the less obvious choice as an actor - opting to whisper those three telling words rather than blaring them at the young agent. He did the exact same thing when Harrison Ford catches him unarmed in the storm drain earlier on.

HARRISON FORD

I didn't kill my wife!

TLJ

I don't care

Here's the storm drain scene:  http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQ11Ws3tqP0

(And why not? That report for your boss can wait 40 seconds!)

He chose to give him personality not bravado. And that goes so much further when watching it back. It's these more daring choices that make the actor which we all strive for and it's this that today is dedicated to: the less obvious choice. I'm not saying 'The Fugitive' is a masterpiece (although it is) or that Tommy Lee-Jones is a diversely capable actor but these moments struck a chord with me and stayed with me a day later. Anyway, I'm off to work with a casting director this afternoon ahead of putting an audition on tape for The States and I'll keep be keeping this at the back of my mind. 

Final thought: Not all people with prosthetic limbs are murderers. Oh and not all men with big beards are innocent.

A Tale of Two Avocados

A short excerpt taken from the diary of Tristam Summers – intrepid colonial explorer

11^th day of November in the year 2012.

It is not without significant pause for thought that I put into writing an event which took place during my lengthy stay on the West coast of the Americas one year hence. My only hope is that in doing so they might serve as a cautionary tale for any future brave pioneers following in my footsteps.

... Having not long moved into my lodgings (a humble beginning but very leafy – very leafy indeed); I was walking from my vehicle to the front door of my abode, laden with shopping bags, when I noticed an avocado on the floor. It was just sat, ex-nihilus, (which is to say out of nowhere (from the Latin ex-from and nihilus-nothing)) in the middle of the path, its shiny green skin reflecting the late afternoon sun like the basking lizards so prevalent in these climes. It was certainly not mine – I have never bought an avocado in my life – and it seemed to be presented so perfectly as if to suggest that I was supposed to find it: As if this very avocado was left for me and for me alone.

I struggled to see how someone had managed to drop what one would unquestionably call a ‘luxury item’ from their purchases (without noticing!!) and not come back for it. Perhaps ... they had completely forgot about it - life must go on after all. Or maybe they did in fact retrace their steps and, seeing it lying there, sullied with dirt and nursing as one would imagine, a significant bruise; wrote it off as inedible. We can only speculate as to how the aforementioned fruit* came to be there and the void it indubitably left in someone’s carefully planned ‘chips and dips’ based evening. Well, devoted readers, I’m ashamed to say that I disregarded this other-worldly message and banished the peculiar circumstance to the darker recesses of my subconscious.

Seasons changed. I devoted myself to my studies. In short, I did what any man could do – I carried on with my life, but there remained a relentless nagging at the back of my mind. Now I am not a God-fearing man but I cannot deny that there are powers that exist far beyond our comprehension, altering in some circumstances, the very paths of our collective fate, as was the case almost exactly a year on from that portentous day - the details of which I shall relay to you now.

I was once again returning from the shops, bags in hand, when what should I encounter on my final steps but an avocado! Brazenly sat there in the middle of the pristine path, mocking me! Well I could scarcely credit its very existence nor could not be certain that it was not the very same avocado come back to haunt me. Everything suggested that it was.

Steeling myself against the implications of this discovery, I shook my head and continued on. “That’s so odd. The EXACT same thing happened last year” I remarked to myself, as I once again failed to heed the signs cast before me. It was not until I had closed the door behind when it dawned upon me! I rushed back out to the path and cast my eyes heavenward, and lo and behold! I saw a sky full of messages, just waiting for their moment on the path; their chance to bask in the mid-afternoon sun. An avocado TREE!! I laughed until I was giddy. I realised in that moment that this foreboding means of communication was merely the road to organic guacamole not a presentiment of evil spirits yet to come. I wondered then as I wonder now, looking up at all those ripening buds, how much time I might have wasted, ignorant to the delights that (literally) lay before me and resolved to let no such gifts be squandered in future.

If this tale of trepidation and intrigue has taught me anything it is that:

"Ours is not to question erroneous avocados, ours is but to eat them."

 

*(yes curiously it is so classified)

 

'A Late Quartet' - Best film of AFM2012 (Walken, Seymour-Hoffman, Keener, Ivanir, Poots)

I want to tell you about a film I saw at this year's American Film Market that in my opinion blew all the others out the water:

"A Late Quartet" is a film about family: A story about a string quartet and its internal dynamics which doesn't exactly scream must-see at first look. Performances from the likes of Philip Seymour-Hoffman, Christopher Walken, Catherine Keener and Imogen Poots will hopefully be enough to get people through the door. Equal parts touching and funny, it holds music up for one and all to appreciate and treats it with such respect that we never, for one beat, question how it can be so utterly all-consuming for these characters.

This is, in part achieved through a masterpiece of a script that takes its time, weaving the various themes together like a complex melody; expertly sowing seeds for later plot turns without labouring them. It's Sorkin-esque without the preaching. Perhaps it's delivery succeeds because it deals with issues that never grow old - love, jealousy, sickness, insecurity, parenting, obsession, infidelity and playing the second fiddle (literally and figuratively).

Yaron Zilberman (who penned, produced and directed) gives a lesson in subtlety which builds throughout, forcing us to care not just for the characters and their imploding quartet but even the music itself. Where on earth Yaron Zilberman (46) has been all these years is a mystery (with only one previous documentary credit to his name) but we can only hope this affords him the chance to do more. The score too, fits seamlessly with the live music, evoking emotions for the characters that far exceed even the pitch-perfect performances from the Hollywood stars. Live action is expertly seasoned with documentary inserts - a Brechtian device that allows us to laugh at old pictures of the actors while establishing the international credentials of these virtuoso musicians.

I've been trying to put my finger on the single aspect of this production that made me identify with it to such an extent. And my conclusion is that it's undoubtedly the story...oh and the script...and of course the cast, and their performances - not to mention the editing and score...and direction.

Perhaps, it's better to say that this represents one of those rare occasion in cinema when everything comes together in thrilling and wonderful harmony. Or as Seymour-Hoffman's character says of 'The Fugue' quartet, it is 'so much more than the sum of its parts'. Go and see it.

Updated 11/11/12: just found the trailer as it is now in theatres:
http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=NX66lRnNmqs&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DNX66lRnNmqs

Current Headshots

 

Agents, Agents Everywhere ....

So last week was a busy one. I've been meeting with theatrical agents (and I'm referring here, you understand, to their vocational calling rather than their personas). Anyway it's a bit early to get side-tracked so... as you know I've been going on about various agents for a couple of months now it seems, so if, like me, you're losing track of all the agent talk and who represents me for what ... at the moment it looks like this:

UK Agent: BWH (Joe Hutton and Bill Petrie (or Bill & Ted if as far as mum and dad are concerned))
US Manager: Schachter Entertainment (Brantley Brown)
US Commercial Agent: Innovative Artists(Michele De La Riva)
US VoiceOver Agent: Innovative Artists  (Luanne Regis)
US Theatrical Agent: ............. [drumroll] .......... Domain Talent (Gabrielle Krengel)

And it's this gap that we were able to fill this week. After a constant barrage of emails from me, as well as new headshots, coupled with the end of pilot season mayhem, my manager set me up meetings with some 'boutique' (code for 'small') agencies for potential representation.

Now this may come as as a suprise to some but I would rather be an hour early for a meeting than a minute late. As such I spend a fair bit of time waiting for the appropriate moment before heading in to a meeting. Nobody however could have anticipated my turning up A WEEK early to my first agency appointment. Impressive, no!?? Only the head honcho, the guy who started the organisation! was in the office at the time and as luck would have it, we had a laugh about it, had a quite long chat anyway and he told me to come back again next week so I could meet with the rest of the team.

I've met with all the arranged agencies since, all with very different feels to them and it was pretty much the same set up each time and I was given the same ever-useful advice from my manager each time - be yourself only far more charming.

Anyway it was at this first meeting that the head agent said that he'd rung the casting director of my last audition (on my manager's suggestion) and that she raved about me. Which was news to me. I don't tend to hear my feedback so this was doubly nice to get. So I am doing it right!! Admittedly I was playing a well spoken MI6 agent - so not TOO far out of my remit but I'll take the praise none the less. Anyway all this goes to explain what I've been up to this week. Now all these informal chats went well, but I got the distinct feeling the same conversations would have gone down even better if my resumé had been more impressive.

Anyway I found myself today in the unlikely situation of being offered representation at three of the prospective agencies and after consulting with my manager and UK agent we unanimously settled on Domain Talent, who seem to have a great work ethic, stunning offices and agents I really got on with. This is great news and I'm ecstatic but I'm also under no illusions - you can't pay the rent with representation alone -if that were the case, I'd be driving my 67 Mustang by now - but hopefully it brings me lots of opportunities and the rest as they say is up to me.

Thanks for looking in guys.

p.s. If you missed my blog update yesterday about my new headshots be sure to check out the older posts in the right side-bar or just click here.

New Headshots

Having signed with a commercials agent recently I was encouraged to get some new headshots taken. Now if you're anything like as cynical me, alarm bells should be sounding around about this time. My current headshots were a little 'theatrical' apparently. I decided to do a bit of research and see what my contemporaries were sporting in the way of promotional shots to see if there was any credence to this view, or whether they were just looking to re-brand me (not as painful as it sounds). A month or two prior to my coming over to LA I'd had some headshots taken by an excellent photographer in conjunction with a shoot my girlfriend and I did for Cosmopolitan Magazine: and seeing as I was quite happy with these (my first techni-colour headshots (which is how they do them over here)) - I was reluctant to bite the bullet on some new ones.


I took a gander at the sort of looks everyone else had. Well, they all had more than one shot for starters and showed a variety of styles which I guess gives them scope for a wider variety of roles. Also, they seemed to be much less serious in expression than any of those I'd had taken, or seen among my industry friends in the UK, so it seems, to use the vernacular, "it's a totally different ball game out here." This was reinforced by my manager who told me to make sure that whatever looks I was hoping to achieve for my new commercial representation, I ought to get a few 'looks' in the leading man mould while I was at it.

I was given a long list of reputable photographers within the industry, so I set about critiquing all of their portfolios for something that I aspired to or appreciated stylistically: their use of lighting, their choice of backdrop, composition, whether they made a distinction between commercial shots and theatrical ones, and of course their price range. I saw a familiar face on one of their websites so asked my mate what he thought of the guy who'd taken his:

"Oh he's great. He'll make you look Like a 9! Not the 4 you are!!"

Praise indeed. I didn't actually go with this guy in the end. It's a very personal and subjective process and I wanted to make damn sure that I didn't saddle myself with anything I wasn't going to be happy with. In this way, Headshots are like a form of marriage: all too often people don't know what they're signing up for. And, to stretch the metaphore, it's really something you only wanna do once. Or at least with a few years gap inbetween.

Most photographers in L.A. set their prices based on the number of 'looks' (changes of clothes) you go for and give you a 10" x 8" for each one (charging for post-shoot re-touches on top). So it's an expensive business and everything can stack up. But, It's also a necessary tool - your first form of marketing in the brand that is 'you' - Yep! Before your demo reel and before your résumé, it's the first point of contact and the first hurdle. I know that I'm preaching like a "how to approach acting as a business" book but this much makes sense to me. So for whatever reasons (and the inherent narcissism that all actors profess to deny aside) you want them to be as good as they can be, so I deemed them worth paying a little more for.

I took a load of screen grabs of the sorts of shots I was hoping to recreate and ran them past my new agent to check we were all on the same page. I had nightmares of... (and these nightmares are figurative you understand - I sleep like a baby) so ...yeah, figurative nightmares about being really happy with the shots, telling the photographer so, and then having to backtrack when they were vetoed by the 'top brass.' Thankfully this wasn't to be.

I decided on Peter Konerko (who had great shots and a really smart website too which didn't hurt) and cannot recommend him highly enough to anyone considering a similar shoot. He took a great variety of shots; theatrical and commercial with backdrops that suited each different styling and, instead of constraining the shoot by charging per look, we discussed what we aimed to get out of it and worked until we'd got it. He even recreated exactly, the shot I was most hoping to get, and I'm pleased to say this is the one my manager has chosen to front my profile on all LA casting formats.

  

 

A Day at the Gun Range

Massively excited. We were off to the gun range. "LAX Gun Club" no less. Having looked into our options, we steered clear of Inglewood's range - twice the price with half the chance of survival - and settled for LA's top spot.

We rocked up at the same time as some kids with a 'Call Of Duty' bumper sticker on their car and Tshirts to match. Did they think this was some kind of computer game where no one can get hurt? I had visions of having to duck for cover and then lay down the law myself but for now at least, everything seemed fine.

At the counter was a vast array of guns... Just Vast. After some indecision, (I was initially tempted by the Colt and then the Smith & Wesson) I eventually settled for the one which seemed to fit my hand the best - a Beretta 9mm. But, before I could even lock and load the thing, I had to be vetted as responsible enough to wield a deadly weapon. I remembered from the only other experience I had of doing this, how strict they were in Vegas, and how you were barely given time to think, let alone load and fire! I braced for the onslaught.

"Name...

Address...
Do you promise promise promise you're mentally stable and won't go 'Columbine' on us?
Great. Lane five is free. What target d'you want?"

'The Barrel' & 'Left Eye Louis' last seen 1998.

'The Red Light Girls' & 'Bullseye' last seen 2001.

Holding my trusty Beretta instantly took me back to my days as a dirty cop working the beat. I cast my tired eyes over the potential 'targets,' saddened at how many of these no-good paper perps I'd put away in my time. Always the same old faces. Nothing changes in this town. Such a waste. And then I saw it. An infamous mugshot up on the wall. But it couldn't be!!!....

"The PaperMan" and I had history. He was wanted for a litany of two-dimensional crimes all over town. Always armed and incredibly dangerous. My orders were to "shoot on site" and I wasn't gonna take any chances (he had gotten away from me once in 2004 when a skirmish in Vegas went South. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.) I turned that sucker into a Swiss cheese. Or so I'd thought. But here he was! I guess nothing stays dead in this town. My slacks were dirty and I had three-day whiskey breath but looking at the hit-list on the wall, I had work to do... I tracked him to a smokey dive bar in China town. He wasn't talking so now I'd strung him up. He wasn't going anywhere. it was time to administer some rough justice and I was gonna enjoy this.

If you're on an Apple device click here for video.

And it's incredible - the rush of power, the triumph over your paper nemesis, the self-belief that you ARE John McClane. And suddenly, the absolute certainty that you can only afford one weapon is long forgotten. No self-respecting vigilante would confine himself to one firearm! The Matrix wasn't over-thrown with a single beretta. No sir. Anyway we must have made our way back to the front desk as I now found myself at the counter demanding:

"What's the biggest thing you've got?"

The owner gave us a wry smile and recommended the "DRAGUNOV 7.62" - a semi-automatic sniper rifle: Presumably derived from the Russian - Драгунова: "to blow the head clean off something." As I followed the man's gaze, the ceiling parted, bathing the instrument of death in a heavenly glow that drew me like a moth to a flame. Anyway I must have agreed to pay for it as it was now in the crook of my shoulder, aimed at my arch-nemesis (why won't he die!).

(The Remains of "The Paper Man")

The sheer power you wield at that moment is awesome, in the true sense. If the grim reaper were to cast away his scythe, we would surely meet our maker with the earth-cracking boom of a Dragunov, ringing in the place our ears used to be. The 'Call of Duty' boys heralded us as Gods among men, suddenly shamed by their own selections. And you can understand why - The recoil is staggering, the noise it kicks off is incredible - to the point where people were coming over from other lanes to see what it was we were firing - and the flash from the muzzle is enough to make a lesser man blink. The spent cartridges are ejected so quickly that the ricochet off the side wall caught me on the side of the head (you can see it in the video if you're looking) and hit me hard enough to leave a war wound. So I guess playing with guns CAN be dangerous!!

(War Wound - Lawsuit Pending)

#Nero Live at the #NokiaCenter

This Thursday last was a big one - but I'm a terrible narrator and I'm already getting ahead of myself - first, a bit of exposition:

My friends from London started mixing tracks as DJs more than a few years ago and took the humble name of 'Nero' to put their re-mixes and original tracks under. A record signing later (to Chase & Status' label) and with the addition of another good friend of mine, Alanna Watson, jumpininto the mix they were given the accolade of Radio One's "Acts To Watch In 2011." No small feat for an industry saturated by pop and cheap hooks. Nero graduatlly began to carve a niche for themselves in the drum and base and notably dub-step scene, drawing influences from French Electro as well as mainstream culture and music.

Their re-mixes alone drew fans from various genres. Alanna's lead female vocals have, in my opinion, done so much more than give the two DJ geniuses a voice; her inclusion has catapulted the band into the mainstream psyche and proven the most listened to UK Radio station's predictions to be - right on the money. There's a 'cause and effect' debate in there somewhere over whether Radio One 'called' their dominance or 'created' it but to be honest nobody cares. Their music is phenomenal.

As a friend of the trio I am undoubtedly biased and was a big fan of their essential mix that aired on Radio One but it wasn't until this week that I truly 'got' Nero in its entirety. The idea of getting tickets to see someone mixing tracks in front of a live audience never really appealed to me before: surely they could just do that at home, bring it in and press play. Except that to watch them, surrounded by all the custom designed staging (which was derived from sketches of Dan's), amid all the flashing and strobing choreographed lights and screens, is to appreciate their work on a whole new level. And even more important than all the dressing and packaging - the hard work that they put in to get exactly the sound they've strived for, is clear for everyone to see in the way they move with every grime-soaked beat. It really is a piece of theatre, with every moment planned down to the last second and the set-list has been calculated to keep die-hard fans and newcomers on their toes throughout.

Admittedly, we enjoyed a slightly less authentic experience from the upper gallery and then the V.I.P bar - choosing instead to watch the mosh pit from a distance (placing bets on those quite literally 'punching above their weight') - but this in no way detracted from an incredible night. And while the ringing in my ears and the inevitable 3am burger stayed with me longer than I'd hoped, the memory of an incredible night and the pride of seeing my friends hold a packed-out venue in the palm of their hand, will last until I'm old, grey and deaf in both ears.

Getty Centre

It's in all the guide books. It's renowned around the world. More than a little touristy I know, but while my girlfriend was over for a couple of weeks it worked as the perfect destination to cram into an already jam-packed fortnight (so plenty of touristy updates to come). The Getty Centre! Oh and just in case you were thinking of it, it's not open on Mondays - we made that mistake!!
Instead of charging an entrance fee, the Centre charges for parking and at $15 it's definitely worth it. Next you make your way up the side of what looks like a mountain to the Centre itself. The architecture is sort of Spanish in feel but modern and far more angular. It looks like they made everything out of the same stuff as my Mum's kitchen floor. The views of L.A are impressive and the artwork equally so. Basically (from the little I gathered) some really really rich guy with a massive collection of paintings decided that he would bequeth it to the city so that more than just him and his family might enjoy them.

(This feller was my favourite of all the exhibits - The love child of Asterix & James Dean)

I didn't realise how much of a big deal the complex is and last year I was acually given the opportunity to live with the curator of the Getty Center. As most of you will know, I'd set my heart on living near the sea  - away from downtown and her house was really impressive but it was in Burbank and apart from the studios, dare I say there's almost nothing else to the area. A great little bar called Henry's Hat where we had an entirely free evening - food, drink THE LOT (and got completely smashed I should add) because they cocked up our order. Anyway I'm losing the point.

The highlight was what one of the security guides called the 'Celebrity Impressionists' Room - Cezanne, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh. Everything reminded me of The Thomas Crown Affair, right down to the 'Haystacks' hanging on the wall!

A great way to spend an afternoon. One of L.A's 'must do's'
Thanks for looking in guys