Carmageddon, Water Falling from the Sky, and the Shopping Habits of Stars

For a place with such a laid-back reputation, there sure are a lot of big deals made over small stuff in L.A.  Shouldn’t that be expected, though?  When you concentrate so many drama-majors in such a small area, is it any surprise that drama rules? 

Almost every newbie to L.A. stands frozen, jaw dropped at least momentarily the first time they see the news coverage about a little water falling from the sky and wetting the concrete of the L.A. River -- “STORM WATCH 2011!!!  Quick!  Find!!  Your!!!  Umbrella!!!!  Before it’s TOO LATE!!!!!  You might want to rethink your weekend plans because the roads will be... [duh, duh, duh...] damp.” 

Now we have CARMAGEDDON!!!!!  It’s the end of life as we know it in the Southland, and because WE are the center of everything, the devastation could be far-reaching.  I’ve heard reports on how the economies of the entire world will be upset by this temporary glitch in the traffic grid so close to LAX (Los Angeles International Airport).

Some have compared the hoopla over this weekend’s closure of a small segment of the 405 Freeway to the Y2K scare.  I think it’s even bigger than Y2K--because Y2K belonged to the entire world, but this--this is our own personal disaster--and if it’s all about us, it’s gotta be BIG!!! 

Friends from the Midwest often ask me, “How can you stand it?”  Well, you know what?  I actually find it charming.  It’s like that silly friend in junior high who never quite got the jokes, but was a hoot to have around just for the entertainment value of her clueless gaze and delayed reactions.  (Yep, that was me, and I even fell for that line about how “they’re really not laughing at you, they’re laughing with you.”)  So, LA-LA Land is home, and I finally fit in.  My dramatic exaggerations don’t seem so out of place.  And even if it looks like we’re all taking ourselves way too seriously here, we do get the irony of it all... eventually.


P.S.  Don't tell any of the locals that the traffic isn't really that bad out there... until Sunday night....  The media scare tactics worked, the gullible are boarded up in their apartments, and the streets are wide open for the daring, the brave, the heroic, the [duh, duh, duh...] the unemployed actor who just realized he's out of Pop Tarts and decided to brave the scary streets of L.A. to restock before tonight's Carmageddon Staycation Marathon.  

 

Ouch, that Hurts so Good: The Tortured and the Torturing Artist

Ouch.

Just got one of those healthy, humbling kicks in the pants that reminds me of why some artists say they don't read reviews, and it's got me thinking about rejection in general. Artists of any sort get a lot of that ouchy stuff and the hurt is probably deeper the more of yourself you put into what ever it is that is getting shredded--be it a painting, a poem, a performance...

I can't remember any especially bad reviews as an actor, so most of the rejection I associate with acting would be audition-rejection--not getting the part--which is a daily staple for most actors. There are so many factors that go into casting, so that kind of rejection is really no statement about the talent or value of the actor as an artist... it's more of a matter of fitting in. I can deal with that.

Rejection of a script can be similar, but since it takes longer to create a script than it does to secure and drive to an audition, I think the blow to a writer is a little bit more personal. Writers, too, have to remember that often the rejection of a script is a matter of not fitting into the line-up or tastes of a particular production company at a particular time (that's not to say that a writer shouldn't also consider the fact that the script may still need work, or may actually belong in the trash).

The jolt I got today was neither of those types. It was a full frontal assault on the most personal piece of work I've ever done. It wasn't a simple "I didn't like it" or "It wasn't my kind of thing..." but rather: "This was the biggest disaster of the festival... if people are telling you nice things..they are being kind…not truthful."

I wrote, directed, and produced a piece that I knew wasn't for everyone. I knew I was taking a risk and that there was a chance that I would be the only one who "got it," but on the off chance that there were others out there, like me, who longed for this type of film, I made it. When I read that review, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. It was the bluntness of it that caught me off guard, though. I was raised on the Bambi philosophy of "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

Don't get me wrong--I'm as opinionated as the next person (okay, maybe even more so), but I do always try to balance the blow with some kindness, some benefit of the doubt, some personalization of the "maybe it's just me" type. And this reviewer seemed to truly HATE our film--enough to put the energy in to rattling off his/her longest review of any in the festival. I think the review was actually longer than my script!  [BTW, I found it interesting that he/she could dub something the "biggest disaster of the festival" so early in the line-up--there is a lot more to the festival than just the shorts. Who knows? there could be a 5 hour documentary on which direction one should hang a toilet paper roll! I do hope that Mr./Ms. Brave Anonymous Reviewer will expend the energy to come back and update the review if some later film manages to beat us out for the honor of the "biggest disaster"; however, since most reviews are basically hit-and-run, I don't expect and would be seriously shocked by such a courteous post script. But I can dream, can't I? I'll imagine the addendum of: "sorry, I spoke too soon; your film was actually the second worst disaster of the festival. It didn't suck as bad as _____." Ah, what relief!]

Before this review, I was already struggling with how to word my own comments on other films in the festival. I want to be constructive. I want to see filmmaking as a whole grow in artistic quality, but I also realize that much of appreciation is in the eye of the beholder. I want my words to encourage that which is universally good, beautiful, challenging, moving, entertaining and all that, but I also don't want to be a snob that derides things that I personally don't like just because it doesn't suit my particular taste. It's a scary thing to put your art out in front of others to be critiqued, but it's also daunting to be in the role of the one offering feedback. Sometimes I'm tempted to do neither and just crawl back into my cave and write. Sometimes I think I should become one of those artists who refuse to read the reviews and just create what they want to create... but I have a feeling I'll always be tempted to peek, and I'll always go through these emotional roller-coasters after doing so. To me it's part of being an artist. People don't walk down the street looking for artists to torture... it's something we do to ourselves. It may be painful for those who have to live with us to watch, but I think it does have some value in that it humbles us and it pushes us on to fight back--to reach even further next time.