Then I Was An Extra In A Friend’s Movie

Hi Blogosphere! I’ve missed you! Sorry I’ve been such a slacker of late. I had a situation or two arise that I had to put to rest before I could take the time to write. It’s not you. It’s me. No, really, it’s me. I mean, I’ve got like a thousand emails in one inbox I have to weed through. Really. But! That doesn’t mean I couldn’t take a little time to make my cinematic debut, does it?

George and I are friends with Jessica and Steve, a couple of local independent filmmakers. Jess produces, Steve writes and directs, and BONUS! They’re a lovely couple. A few years ago they put out a horror movie called The Feed, which got a pretty significant amount of recognition at various film festivals. Now they’re making another movie, called Old Baby, which seems to be less straight horror and more creeptastic brain twister.  When they sent out the alert that they needed extras on X weekend, I was completely psyched to do it. Help friends? Be in a movie? Hell yeah!

Until I realized that was the weekend we would be out of town, at an Ohio State football game, with family. No going back on that. Que sera sera, right? *cue the sad trombone*

Happily, one fortuitous evening I bumped into Jess at one of our watering holes. I truly am sorry, I said, that we couldn’t be part of your all-extras-weekend extravaganza. It sounded like a lot of fun. “Well,” she said to me, “you’ve got one more chance.” Seems they were looking for people to do an overnight shoot. They were having a hard time finding extras, since they weren’t anticipating being done until at least 2AM and the filming was taking place about an hour west of home. But you know, George and I have incredibly flexible schedules, so we thought…hell yeah!

We were told to show up in kind of grungy clothes and/or pajamas since the scene we were filming was all about a late night at a no-tell motel. As an extra, I certainly wasn’t given a script but from what I understand, this film is about people living on the outskirts of society, and focuses on one person with a dark secret. I don’t want to slip and give spoilers, so that’s all I’m saying. When I got there Jess said, “Remember, no one here gets to be pretty.”  Fine. Heavy black eyeliner and blue eye shadow it is!

Baby, I'm a star.

Baby, I’m a star.

We all realize that “blue eye shadow” is code for “she’s a steaming hot mess”, right?

Oh! And here’s George, looking as scruffy as he can get…I did instruct him not to shave, so there’s that…but you know, his hair refused to stay mussed.

Mr. Good-Natured genetically rejects being too sloppy.

Mr. Good-Natured genetically rejects being too sloppy.

Seriously. SO. MUCH. FUN.

The extras were wrangled into the green room–a very nice green room, I might add, which was part of the caretaker’s apartment built on to said motel–where we got ready…and waited. We waited in green face masks and leopard-print robes, in work boots, in shirts pulled up and knotted under the breast.

Extras-wrangler Emily looks on as we wait.

Extras-wrangler Emily looks on as we wait. Some day, I’ll fill you all in on her masterful doughnut.

If you’ve never heard anything about the process of movie-making, bear in mind that it’s not all about the glamour. The common wisdom (which I had been aware of before showing up, and was thoughtfully reminded of by Jess) is that in film, you hurry up and wait. Bring a book. Grab your laptop. The woman in curlers brought knitting. And you’d think that sitting around…waiting…would be kind of meh. But here’s the thing: I was in a room full of really nice people. Everybody was nice. All the extras. The crew. The actors. Nobody was there to have a bad time. And when there were breaks in the filming, we got to wander around this motel, which was kind of retro-dated and so long, so very very long, it seemed like the hallway stretched on forever. With the spare lighting it was totally right for a creepy bit of intriguing, cinematic mindfuckery that this movie seems to be.

OH MY GOD THERE WAS NO ONE IN MY CAMERA...oh, wait. That's George.


Check out the retro paneling!

I think my parents had this in the TV room in 1975.

I think my parents had this exact paneling in the TV room. Then my mother went a little nuts with some dark stain. Suddenly our entire house smelled of stain for a month and was dark walnut brown. That was interesting. And I digress.

Here’s the main motel room set, serendipitously set in Room 13. (Yay for fate! That’s the actual room number, in the room that worked best for shooting purposes.)

What? Like we don't all have high-tech movie swag on our cozy chairs?

What? Like we don’t all have a high-tech movie rig on our cozy chairs?

And here’s the front walkway, where the humble beginnings of my future meteoric ascension to the cinematic firmament takes place.


Fact: I kind of love that little wooden bench.

Can’t you just smell my impending stardom? No? Sniff harder.

Anyway. We had a BLAST. Would we do it again? You bet, in a heartbeat. I can’t wait to see it. And I can’t wait for the next one. Jess and Steve, sign me up!

In case you missed it: 

Old Baby Facebook page:

Old Baby Go Fund Me page:

And the motel is for sale! If you want to own an honest-to-God movie set: It’s in a beautiful location snuggled into one of the valleys of the Appalachians

Good for hunters and you outsidesy types.

Good for hunters and you outsidesy mountain hikey types.

What can I say? This is how we do in central PA.

See you at the movies, y’all! XOXO

How Typecasting Begins: Snowpiercer

Last night I went to see the movie Snowpiercer, and for those who never heard of it, let me sum up: post-environmental-apocalypse survivors are on a Train of the Future that’s been designed by a train genius, runs on a globally connected rail system and is powered by a perpetual-motion engine. Passengers are socially stratified. Those at the front of the train live in ease and luxury; those at the rear of the train live in squalor. The back of the train finally decides that enough abuse and degradation is enough, and they stage a revolution. Chaos and bloodshed ensues.

With me so far? Great. So. Here’s how I watched this movie:

Yay! Captain America and the Shit Pie Lady join forces with Billy Elliot and an intensely weathered Elephant Man to fight social injustice! I won’t tell you what part Truman’s creator plays, because I don’t want to be a spoiler. Tilda Swinton plays a post-modern Mouth of Sauron but you know…she’s just so good she can’t be typecast.

All you actors out there: fall down on your knees in gratitude that I am not a casting director.

And go see Snowpiercer if it’s playing anywhere near you. Sometimes the logic is a little shaky, but MAN is it ever an adrenaline rush! Plus Chris Evans. 🙂

Here’s the trailer.

Someone Call Terry Gilliam, STAT!

This happened on my Facebook page the other day. To preface: I had just read that Oliver Stone is planning to direct a movie about Edward Snowden. Even better, as part of the source material for his script, Stone has optioned a fictionalized novel about Snowden, written by Snowden’s lawyer in Russia. Because that makes sense. It would certainly help guarantee that, true to form as an Oliver Stone vehicle, this upcoming film will be blissfully unencumbered by things like reason, or facts.

I’ll grant him Platoon. He had one good movie, but Oliver Stone is generally…paranoid and ham-fisted, neither of which are traits I enjoy seeing on their own. Together?  Hoooo-weeeee! And I digress.

So I posted this on my Facebook page and then…well…read on.


A convergence of Garys. Plus, a bonus no-share smackdown by my mother. Go, Mom-O-Rama!

A convergence of Garys. Plus, a bonus no-share smackdown by my mother. Go, Mom-O-Rama!

Call. Terry GilliamNOWWWWWWWWWW.

I’m picturing Baron Munchausen meets Time Bandits, and Edward Snowden will land in Russia in a flying pirate ship. Oliver Stone will HAVE TO be played by Eddie Izzard in full drag.

Tout est parfait! Picture from

Tout est parfait!
Picture from

I got’cher close-up riiiiiiiiiiight heeeeeeeeere, Mr. Stone.

Terry Gilliam, I look forward to hearing from your people very soon.

p.s. My friends rule.

1984 Rebooted as Romance, and No, I’m Not Kidding

George Orwell‘s dystopian tale of the ultimate in Big Government, 1984, is apparently receiving a reboot.  Currently called Equals, this movie is set to star Nicholas Hoult (a/k/a Marcus from About A Boy, a/k/a Jennifer Lawrence’s main squeeze) as Winston Smith and the perpetually grim Kristen Stewart as Julia.

And it will be a romance.


“I’m terrified of it,” says Kristen Stewart and I’ve gotta say, K-Stew…that makes two of us.  Because here’s the thing:

NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.   ///big gulp of air/// NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

I mean…yes, there is sex in the book between Winston and Julia, and it’s a pivotal part of the plot, for sure.  But even in my most jaded times, I’ve never confused dingy, bleak, anti-Big-Brother-fueled hate-fucks, that lead to the ultimate in betrayals, as “romance”.  Sure, maybe they have moments of feeling tender toward one another, but when Big Brother finally catches on to their trysting, they both start checking bus schedules to figure out which one they’re throwing the other under.

I imagine it’s going to be like this:

julia cat 1

winston cat 1

winston cat 3

julia cat 3

julia cat 2

winston cat 2


See, the thing is, there are plenty of dystopian novels that focus on unlikely romances to work with, and that’s fine, I’m not saying it can’t or wouldn’t ever happen, and I don’t object to it as a storyline.  But the authors of these other works didn’t call them: 1984 2.0 or 1984: Reckoning or Winston (hearts) Julia: A Tale of Light in the Darkness.  No.  Because that’s not Winston and Julia’s story.  These other authors created their own stories.  They didn’t co-opt someone else’s under the guise of a “reboot”.  Because that?  Is cheating.

So I, of course, expect it to be dreadful, and I admit I’m clearly already prejudiced against it.  Though I will say this: I’m tickled by the idea of legions of Twilight fans downloading 1984 into their Kindles so they can get ready for K-Stew’s new movie.  Because in the real 1984, there’s not one sparkle to be found.

Bonus! A game of #romantic1984 started on Twitter once this was announced.  Thus far, here is my favorite Tweet.

And that, friends, is the problem with the romance of 1984, in a nutshell.

I can’t wait for the musical.

So Long, Girly-Crushy Thoughts of Ethan Hawke

I confess, I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Ethan Hawke.  He’s a good actor, generally tries to be thoughtful in the roles he chooses (I will always stand behind A Midnight Clear), and for a while became the embodiment of the proto-emo, Gen-X existential angster, gloomily gazing into the void for all of us and finding it meh.  I suspect he is impossible to be around but since his potentially giant celebrity ego doesn’t impact my life even a little I kind of don’t care.  Other than in a perfunctory, “I’ve read a few things about Ethan Hawke over the course of my life and now I feel equipped to wildly speculate in public about him” sort of way.  Know what I mean?

Because really, I’ve kind of crushed on him a little, for a long time.  Who’s an adorable, tortured intellectual artist?  You are.  Yes you are.  Yes, yes, you are.

When Ethan Hawke first came on the scene in Dead Poets Society he was…actually, the word I’ve often thought of for him at that time was moist. Soft. Sensitive. Doe-eyed. Continually on the verge of tears, and he seemed to look vaguely like someone was always running up to him and rubbing lip gloss on him.

See?  Moist.

See? Moist.
Image from

He’s still round in the above picture, still baby-faced, but it didn’t take very long until he got all streamlined and square-jawed, though still a little glossy.

So maybe my taste can run toward the vanilla.

Proof: my taste occasionally runs toward the completely harmless.
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Finally!  He got a some edge in Training Day.

Well, helloooo, Mr. Goatee man.

Well, helloooo, Mr. Goatee man.
Image from

And has spent the last ten years becoming increasingly square-jawed and craggy.

Rap name: Vanilla Crag.

Rap name: Vanilla Crag.
Image from

Craggy, and handsome.

Until now.

I just watched The Purge .

As far as the movie goes, it wasn’t what I expected.  On one hand it was better than I had anticipated, and the pacing of the film was nice and tight so it kept you moving through it like it was a roller coaster.  On the other hand, Ethan Hawke’s protagonist family was entirely unlikable (though Lena Headey is always interesting) and the premise was kind of preposterous.  One night, for twelve hours, all violence is legal (with a slender few exceptions) so society can “unleash the beast” and get all their pent-up violence out of their systems.  Then they’re…nice to each other?…for the next 364.  Theoretically.  From a practical standpoint this seems implausible; the strategy alone behind a post-Purge Night cleanup seems nightmarish, never mind…everything else about it.  And they give no backstory as to who the “New Founding Fathers” are or how they came to power, or the origins of Purge Night (what was up with those blue flowers?).  Nothing.  It was dissatisfying; I wanted info.  In terms of social commentary the film had some interesting stuff to say, particularly regarding the one person targeted by a group of people out on the hunt.  But that’s another blog for another day.  My verdict about the movie is: It won’t change your life, but it wasn’t a waste of an hour and twenty five minutes. If you’re so inclined, check it out.

More importantly (for the purposes of this blog, of course), is…oh, Ethan Hawke.

Even if he’s not your favorite actor, on some level you’ve got to acknowledge he’s kind of handsome.  Only…

(…it’s so disturbing…)

Now?  He kind of looks like Bill Lumbergh, the dreadful, selfish, micromanaging, cartoonish boss from Office Space.  Don’t believe me?


Hawke on the left, Lumbergh on the right.

Yeahhh, if you could not kill my family on the one night of the year when violence is legal, that’d be great.

Hawke is on the left, Lumbergh is on the right.*

It’s a game-changing mashup for me.

Shhh…shhhh…did you hear that?  That sound you heard is the ferocious crack of my girly crush shattering into a million pieces.  Yes, I know he’s acting and yes, I know he’s not really Bill Lumbergh Jr., let me make that clear.  But what’s been seen cannot be unseen and for me, the juxtaposition is just too much to handle. Ethan Hawke has managed to regress from semi-crushable likely-poseur-quasi-edgy actor-guy to caricatured troll.  Though I still stand behind A Midnight Clear.  If you haven’t done so already, put that on your must-see list.

And because I’ve gone and talked about Office Space, here is hands-down my favorite scene in that film, which has nothing to do with Bill Lumbergh and everything to do with hating stifling office jobs.  Language!  DO NOT PLAY THIS AROUND SMALL CHILDREN, or adults who easily offend.  Enjoy.

*Image of Ethan Hawke from; Image of Bill Lumbergh from  Frightening separated at birth comparison by me.

My Workout Tonight

I did a core workout tonight.  Mind you, I’ve done core workouts before.  Plenty.  But this was all new material.  New songs, new moves.

New ways to punish me for the sins of my (apparently dreadful, terrible, awful) past lives.

First it felt like this…

…and then it was like…

…and my instructor started going…

…and then my will to live surfaced and I got all…

...even though, deep in my heart, I know I actually was more like…


Photo from

And all in the space of 30 minutes.


Vote for Pedro!

Charleton Heston: Proclamation of Hest-Fest

WHEREAS Charleton Heston is one of the greatest movie actors of the 20th century,


WHEREAS Charleton Heston’s movies have become deeply ingrained into the global cinematic experience,


WHEREAS there are very few men who can rock a leather tunic

Image from

Image from

A velvet jacket and white poufy shirt with a massive ruffled lace jabot

Image from

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A princely side braid

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(Who’s a saucy minx?)

Biblical hair (from the same movie, no less)

Image from

Image from

A neckerchief

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Image from

And a loincloth, some chest hair and a choke collar

Image from

Image from

all within the span of one storied career,


WHEREAS in the 30 seconds of screen time Charleton Heston has  in Wayne’s World 2, he steals the entire movie from Mike Myers,


WHEREAS Charleton Heston’s career as sci-fi’s greatest testosterone-dripping manly icon should not be overshadowed by newer and flashier movies (because let’s face it, people…James Franco is no Charleton Heston),


WHEREAS Charleton Heston movies go great with beer, pizza, and a roomful of friends,


WHEREAS I had a lot of fun discussing Charleton Heston films with a fellow blogger/Heston movie enthusiast over at, and we both thought this would be a groovy thing to do,

IT IS RESOLVED that April 30th shall henceforth be proclaimed throughout all the lands as Charleton Heston Day. HEST FEST, as the day shall be known, will be a day of film, pizza, beer, friends, and the celebration of a legendary cinematic career.   It will be a day where the world will look at Charleton Heston’s career and ponder the immortal question: Why did they often choose such strangely effete clothing for him, and how did he manage to make it manly anyway?

Oh, Moses, Moses. You stubborn, splendid, adorable fool.

Let’s make this happen, people.  HEST FEST 1, April 30, 2014.  We’ve got a year to make this global.  We can do it.

Soylent Green fans, I know your first question is: but what do you really serve your guests?  That, friends, is entirely up to you.

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