0.cached.png
By Newsweek Editors
0
Share
Newsweek is a Trust Project member
See more of our trusted coverage when you search.Prefer Newsweek on Googleto see more of our trusted coverage when you search.
I don't care what my agent says, I refuse to get a toupee. I went along with her advice about acting workshops ("It's Time for Mime!"), the wardrobe shift from New York black to Polo preppy, the shelf of moisturizers, bronzers and other age-concealing goo. I even learned the rudiments of horseback riding, because my agent says, "Every actor needs a classy skill to set them apart from the pack." As a proud bald man, however, wigs are where I draw the line. I don't care how successful Ted Danson is.
The woman who represents me is an Ohio-based film and TV agent, and the latest Svengali to take charge of my moribund career. I moved from New York to Kentucky because it's part of a fertile crescent of regional film and TV markets stretching from Pittsburgh to Louisville. A bonus: the competition is weaker than on the coasts. Tell no one.
None of my agent's advice these past two years has led to actual acting work--though she claims the bronzer clinched three days as an extra for a Giant Eagle grocery commercial. Nevertheless, I continue to follow her counsel because it furthers the glittering illusion that I'm making progress. There are thousands like me.
Read More on News
Like most actors, I discovered my calling in high school. I was cast as Creon in a production of "Antigone" and made theatrical history by portraying the legendary Greek tyrant with orthodontia and a white man's Afro. Like Laurence Olivier, my acting choices have always been bold.
My performances as Creon were darn good that weekend. You can ask my mom. And though subsequent roles have never quite met that high standard (the Nickelodeon commercials in which I played an "insane dad" came closest), I've spent 25 years chasing that big rush.
Like all who wish to act, I'm prepared to pay any price, bear any burden to nudge the dream an inch closer to reality. I take classes. I work on a variety of monologues. I've even entered the fifth circle of actor hell, the world of community theater (yes, Dracula can be bald), to keep the dream alive. Whatever it takes, baby.
Over the years, I've paid thousands of dollars for classes and union fees and probably earned 15 percent of that back in acting wages. Clearly, it's not money that drives me. My motivation is something common to all actors: it's all about me.
I dwell constantly on what I look like, how I move and the tone of my own voice. In the classes I take, teachers and other students join me in analyzing my breathing, my speech and my carriage. With an ego-boosting pastime like acting, why waste time on golf?
Besides the fact that I occasionally get an actual job, there are several benefits to pursuing an acting career. These benefits are so great, in fact, I urge all parents to insist their children study theater in college. If your child is a drama major, you can rest assured he's learning a lot about literature, history and art along with life lessons in persistence, teamwork and pure grit. And he has to be reasonably sober when the curtain rises for the Sunday matinee. Which business school can compete with that?
Among the most precious gifts from my years spent trying to become an actor is a thick skin that would be the envy of any rhino. Through scores of failed auditions, I've developed a Kevlar-like resiliency in the face of rejection. I've heard the word "no" so often it's lost any effect on me. Go ahead and turn me down for that date/job/raise. I've been stiffed a thousand times before. Tomorrow, I'll be back with a smile on my face, ready to try again.
That persistence has served me well in my day job as a newspaper-ad salesman. For 20 years, I've put my ego on the line selling myself to film, TV and commercial producers. Next to that, selling an ad in a newspaper is a piece of cake. I've got the commission checks to prove it.
No report on the benefits of an actor's life would be complete without a report on women. Allow me to state for the record, all the cliches are true. Male actors, even struggling ones in Kentucky like me, meet lots of good-looking women on a regular basis. Not only are these women nice to look at, they're fun to talk to. They can do accents, tell jokes and recite huge chunks of dialogue from "The Godfather" at the drop of a cannoli. What else is a fella looking for?
So, although it's clear I'll never be Jack Nicholson--I'd even settle for Steve Guttenberg--I refuse to quit. I've got the desire, I've got five killer monologues and enough "night repair" skin cream to swab down an elephant.
As a matter of fact, my agent called recently with several auditions that look promising. She says things are starting to pick up and I've got a shot at a big commercial spot. I told her that sounded great--just as long as she wasn't talking about the Hair Club for Men.
View 0 Comments
Submit Correction
View Editorial & AI Guidelines