March 2012
Yes, it's been a while. But don't blame me.
Despite my standout performance as a 'featured extra' in the CUB internet ad, which gave me wide exposure on TV during the footy one night (a friend actually recognised me! Fame at last!), it has been a long time between drinks.
Eight months after my last sip (a call-back for a weight loss product ad), I finally get another call from my agent and the next morning I'm at a casting agents' office, exclaiming 'Still down!' as part of a two minute audition for a supermarket commercial. I don't get the part. Obviously not ecstatic enough. I'll work on it.
I did play a small role in an independent feature film called Monster Pies late last year, though.
It's a non-speaking speaking role. I mean, I would talk if I could. I play a 'brain injured mum'. 'You'd be good at that,' says my daughter. My audition for the incommunicative mother of a gay young man, I mean, young gay man, takes place in the tiny kitchen of the director / producer / make-up artist / costume designer / props person. (No, the crew aren't flatmates; it's all one person). Then it's a one day shoot in a nursing home in Altona which I actually really enjoy. It's dramatically challenging and I don't have to learn any lines!
Anyway, my new agent doesn't normally handle extra work (excuse me, but 'featured extra' work is a different thing altogether) so I've been missing it, to tell the truth. But she eventually informs me of a 'Go-See' for an ABC mini series about Kerry Packer. And cricket. My favourite game. Yep. (Am I un-Australian if I don't know the rules?) Anyway, I go along, hoping it's not a replay of that Phryne Fisher debacle. You remember. Two hours standing in line to do what could have been done online. I mean everything's there on the casting website: photos, measurements, biography. So I don't really see the point of going to a Go-See, see. Unless it's about seeing us all in 3D. (I hear it's the latest thing) Fortunately this is most efficiently run and a comparatively exhilerating experience. No queue. In and out in a matter of minutes. Lovely. The series is set in the 1970s (been there both in real life and on film) so I wear a skivvy and some beads and do the page boy thing with my hair. Can't hurt. If I was a man I would have stuck on some sidies. Now it's just a matter of waiting to see if the Go-See is a goer.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Husbands and Heifers
Location: Pub in Prahran / Kmart, Eastland
Date: July 2011
One week after I sign up with my new agent she tells me I've got an audition for a TV commercial! They want a real 'mum'. Full of anticipation, I arrive at an office in South Melbourne only to find a herd of yummy mummies crowded into a small room. Is a female cattle call a 'heifer call'? Not that these women are what you'd call 'heifers'. They're all slim and attractive, most are blond and some look like former models. What am I doing here? After a short wait I head off to do a 'chat to camera'. (I've been practising in the car!) I don't get a call back (the audition is for featured roles) but three weeks later I get asked to be 'background' in what turns out to be a Kmart ad involving 1000 real mums!
In between, I do an audition for a CUB commercial. Three of us 'over fifty types' improvise a scene that ends in a toast. This time I don't feel like livestock, which is nice. Anyway, I do okay. In fact, I get the part!
The shoot day starts at 6.30 am and involves several rehearsals and takes of a single shot following a young man walking through a pub. I am partnered with yet another on-screen husband (how many does that make?) to form a group of two couples discussing travel plans over a drink. But that one shot takes hours and hours. And hours. The four of us manage to maintain a level of jocularity both on and off the camera (which, combined with fatigue, occasionally turns to lunacy) but when we are 'wrapped' at 5 pm I am relieved that the trip is fictional! The good thing is, being 'featured extras' our faces will actually be in shot, albeit for only a second or two, and we get paid more than a regular extra. The bad thing is, the commercial is for corporate and internet use, rather than TV. Or is that a good thing?
Two days later I join a heap of 'mums' for the Kmart ad. It's an evening, and the last of a three day shoot. This is the shortest of the three days by far, but we all get paid the same amount ($100 cash, a $100 Kmart voucher and a Kmart goody bag.), which may be why they end up with fifty more mums than anticipated! I befriend another aspiring actor. We are both amused by the women who are excited at the prospect of seeing themselves on TV. Ah, the optimism of the inexperienced. Do they really believe that they will be recognisable within a herd of one hundred and fifty women hoofing it to a Kmart store through a darkly lit shopping centre?
I have no such illusions. Anymore. I push my way into the queue like a mad cow, grab my money and my goody bag and head for home, smug in the knowledge that my face will be seen for a whole two seconds on an internet ad.
Amendment 6/8/11: See the ad on http://cub.com.au/
(Not sure for how long!)
Date: July 2011
One week after I sign up with my new agent she tells me I've got an audition for a TV commercial! They want a real 'mum'. Full of anticipation, I arrive at an office in South Melbourne only to find a herd of yummy mummies crowded into a small room. Is a female cattle call a 'heifer call'? Not that these women are what you'd call 'heifers'. They're all slim and attractive, most are blond and some look like former models. What am I doing here? After a short wait I head off to do a 'chat to camera'. (I've been practising in the car!) I don't get a call back (the audition is for featured roles) but three weeks later I get asked to be 'background' in what turns out to be a Kmart ad involving 1000 real mums!
In between, I do an audition for a CUB commercial. Three of us 'over fifty types' improvise a scene that ends in a toast. This time I don't feel like livestock, which is nice. Anyway, I do okay. In fact, I get the part!
The shoot day starts at 6.30 am and involves several rehearsals and takes of a single shot following a young man walking through a pub. I am partnered with yet another on-screen husband (how many does that make?) to form a group of two couples discussing travel plans over a drink. But that one shot takes hours and hours. And hours. The four of us manage to maintain a level of jocularity both on and off the camera (which, combined with fatigue, occasionally turns to lunacy) but when we are 'wrapped' at 5 pm I am relieved that the trip is fictional! The good thing is, being 'featured extras' our faces will actually be in shot, albeit for only a second or two, and we get paid more than a regular extra. The bad thing is, the commercial is for corporate and internet use, rather than TV. Or is that a good thing?
Two days later I join a heap of 'mums' for the Kmart ad. It's an evening, and the last of a three day shoot. This is the shortest of the three days by far, but we all get paid the same amount ($100 cash, a $100 Kmart voucher and a Kmart goody bag.), which may be why they end up with fifty more mums than anticipated! I befriend another aspiring actor. We are both amused by the women who are excited at the prospect of seeing themselves on TV. Ah, the optimism of the inexperienced. Do they really believe that they will be recognisable within a herd of one hundred and fifty women hoofing it to a Kmart store through a darkly lit shopping centre?
I have no such illusions. Anymore. I push my way into the queue like a mad cow, grab my money and my goody bag and head for home, smug in the knowledge that my face will be seen for a whole two seconds on an internet ad.
Amendment 6/8/11: See the ad on http://cub.com.au/
(Not sure for how long!)
Friday, May 20, 2011
Short Bread and Long Queues
Date: May 2011
Job: Shortbread (short film)
Location: Frankston
OMGollygosh. After waiting for six months to get some extra work, I eagerly attended a cattle call, I mean casting call, the other day for a new series set in the 1920s, called Phryne Fisher. Oh dear ABC! Not only did they ask casting agents to send along 'talent' but they also advertised for extras on their website and on facebook. They won't be doing that again in a hurry. We stood in a queue for an hour and a half just to fill out a form, get measured and have a photo taken. But we were the lucky ones. Others gave up after being told they had a two and a half hour wait! One wonders how many of those who turned up will actually get a 'gig'. Hopefully my self produced 'bob' haircut will guarantee me a spot!
In the meantime it's shooting shorts for me. 'Shortbread' in fact. I'm playing a mum (again) but the central character is my mentally disabled son who is trying to get his driver's licence. Highlights so far include pulling out the front of my son's trackie pants to check his jocks (about 95 takes of that), standing in the street in my dressing gown for about an hour (a big 'hello' to the residents of Fleetwood Crescent) and shooting a big family argument scene with yelling and head banging and stuff.
Fortunately I've had lots of experience (with arguments, not checking people's jocks) so that scene was a piece of shortcake.
Job: Shortbread (short film)
Location: Frankston
OMGollygosh. After waiting for six months to get some extra work, I eagerly attended a cattle call, I mean casting call, the other day for a new series set in the 1920s, called Phryne Fisher. Oh dear ABC! Not only did they ask casting agents to send along 'talent' but they also advertised for extras on their website and on facebook. They won't be doing that again in a hurry. We stood in a queue for an hour and a half just to fill out a form, get measured and have a photo taken. But we were the lucky ones. Others gave up after being told they had a two and a half hour wait! One wonders how many of those who turned up will actually get a 'gig'. Hopefully my self produced 'bob' haircut will guarantee me a spot!
In the meantime it's shooting shorts for me. 'Shortbread' in fact. I'm playing a mum (again) but the central character is my mentally disabled son who is trying to get his driver's licence. Highlights so far include pulling out the front of my son's trackie pants to check his jocks (about 95 takes of that), standing in the street in my dressing gown for about an hour (a big 'hello' to the residents of Fleetwood Crescent) and shooting a big family argument scene with yelling and head banging and stuff.
Fortunately I've had lots of experience (with arguments, not checking people's jocks) so that scene was a piece of shortcake.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Eat My Short
Date: February 2011
Job: Short Film
Location: Oakleigh
So here I am, sitting in a parked car with my dress hitched up, while a man I barely know fiddles with my undergarment and a motley crew of strangers with a video camera loiters nearby. Lesser beings would be fazed, but not I, for I am a short film pro and it's all part of the job.
Now, before you think my acting career has taken a rather seedy turn, let me explain. By 'pro' I mean professional (not prostitute) and what's actually happening is that the director of a one week film course is changing the batteries in the thingy which is connected to the tiny mic in my bra and reattaching the thingy to my back with gaffa tape, underneath my leggings. (Got a bonus back wax when I took it off later that day.) I'm in downtown Oakleigh filming 'Grapefruit' in which I play a crazed old lady who happens to be a drug dealer and cop killer. I'm wearing a floral dress from the op shop, teale leggings, red shoes with clashing red socks and a daggy cardigan which belongs to the one of the crew! There are some tense and mad moments on set because, unlike a student film where the student director is in control and has spent weeks or months developing a script, this crew has created the film in a couple of days and the production roles, including director, rotate throughout the two day shoot. But it's also lots of fun working under pressure with a new bunch of people from all walks of life and making a film about cops and surveillance and guns and drugs! I get to wield a double barrel shotgun, get splattered with fake blood and throw a little hissy fit about grapefruits in a real suburban fruit and vegie shop busy with real customers on a Saturday afternoon. Right up my alley.
And so, once again, with no extra work looming on any horizon in any galaxy in my vicinity, I have found myself in another short film. Actually, another two, potentially. The day after Grapefruit, I'm off to another audition on the other side of town. I run through the scene twice, struggling to get a sense of character and authenticity, and then I'm back in the car for an eighty minute journey home in afternoon traffic, wondering why I'm doing this. It's certainly not for the money (there is none-I use the term 'professional' loosely!). But I thought the same thing when I auditioned for Grapefruit, and it turned out to be a pretty good acting experience, so, it doesn't hurt to give it a try.
Unless, of course, there's gaffa tape involved.
Job: Short Film
Location: Oakleigh
So here I am, sitting in a parked car with my dress hitched up, while a man I barely know fiddles with my undergarment and a motley crew of strangers with a video camera loiters nearby. Lesser beings would be fazed, but not I, for I am a short film pro and it's all part of the job.
Now, before you think my acting career has taken a rather seedy turn, let me explain. By 'pro' I mean professional (not prostitute) and what's actually happening is that the director of a one week film course is changing the batteries in the thingy which is connected to the tiny mic in my bra and reattaching the thingy to my back with gaffa tape, underneath my leggings. (Got a bonus back wax when I took it off later that day.) I'm in downtown Oakleigh filming 'Grapefruit' in which I play a crazed old lady who happens to be a drug dealer and cop killer. I'm wearing a floral dress from the op shop, teale leggings, red shoes with clashing red socks and a daggy cardigan which belongs to the one of the crew! There are some tense and mad moments on set because, unlike a student film where the student director is in control and has spent weeks or months developing a script, this crew has created the film in a couple of days and the production roles, including director, rotate throughout the two day shoot. But it's also lots of fun working under pressure with a new bunch of people from all walks of life and making a film about cops and surveillance and guns and drugs! I get to wield a double barrel shotgun, get splattered with fake blood and throw a little hissy fit about grapefruits in a real suburban fruit and vegie shop busy with real customers on a Saturday afternoon. Right up my alley.
And so, once again, with no extra work looming on any horizon in any galaxy in my vicinity, I have found myself in another short film. Actually, another two, potentially. The day after Grapefruit, I'm off to another audition on the other side of town. I run through the scene twice, struggling to get a sense of character and authenticity, and then I'm back in the car for an eighty minute journey home in afternoon traffic, wondering why I'm doing this. It's certainly not for the money (there is none-I use the term 'professional' loosely!). But I thought the same thing when I auditioned for Grapefruit, and it turned out to be a pretty good acting experience, so, it doesn't hurt to give it a try.
Unless, of course, there's gaffa tape involved.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Back in White
Date: December 2010
Job: Outland
Location: St Kilda
Amazing! Barely a week has passed and I’m back on the job! This time I’m a pharmacist in a new series about gay sci-fi fans. They dress me in a white coat, a scarf and some reading glasses on a chain. I chat to a handsome young man while waiting to be taken to the location, but after two hours of sharing our ‘acting’ experiences, movie critiques and innermost secrets we just about run out of things to say. I invite a second young man over to join us. We are eventually taken to the location. The two young men seem to hit it off and it’s a case of two’s company. Given the premise of the production we’re working on, it’s not surprising, I suppose. The second guy has only been with an agent a short time but has already made some TV commercials (very well paid incidentally). His very good looks must have something to do with it! I’m a little green, I have to admit. They are both with agents who charge nothing to have you on the books, unlike mine. However, the fee is much less than others I’ve heard of and it does cover your headshot. Must do some more investigating. (Sorry to bore you non actor/extras with these details but for the rest of you it might be helpful.)
The extras have to walk down the street as 'Fab' (Adam Richard) talks on his mobile outside a pharmacy. I wait patiently as the others are given their directions, assuming there will be an interior shot involving me, but in the back of my mind is the memory of extras who were on set for hours and never used. Eventually the AD asks, ‘Are you one of us?’ and tells me to walk into the shop. It doesn’t really make a lot of sense, the pharmacist walking into the pharmacy. But, hey, I’m glad they didn’t forget me altogether. Wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to glimpse myself on screen. I recognise the director from City Homicide. He actually chats to the extras (a rarity) and shakes my hand, which is quite a change from before, when he didn’t even acknowledge me despite there being only three actors and myself in a relatively intimate set. I don’t get it, but I smile enthusiastically and hope he remembers my face. For next time.
Job: Outland
Location: St Kilda
Amazing! Barely a week has passed and I’m back on the job! This time I’m a pharmacist in a new series about gay sci-fi fans. They dress me in a white coat, a scarf and some reading glasses on a chain. I chat to a handsome young man while waiting to be taken to the location, but after two hours of sharing our ‘acting’ experiences, movie critiques and innermost secrets we just about run out of things to say. I invite a second young man over to join us. We are eventually taken to the location. The two young men seem to hit it off and it’s a case of two’s company. Given the premise of the production we’re working on, it’s not surprising, I suppose. The second guy has only been with an agent a short time but has already made some TV commercials (very well paid incidentally). His very good looks must have something to do with it! I’m a little green, I have to admit. They are both with agents who charge nothing to have you on the books, unlike mine. However, the fee is much less than others I’ve heard of and it does cover your headshot. Must do some more investigating. (Sorry to bore you non actor/extras with these details but for the rest of you it might be helpful.)
The extras have to walk down the street as 'Fab' (Adam Richard) talks on his mobile outside a pharmacy. I wait patiently as the others are given their directions, assuming there will be an interior shot involving me, but in the back of my mind is the memory of extras who were on set for hours and never used. Eventually the AD asks, ‘Are you one of us?’ and tells me to walk into the shop. It doesn’t really make a lot of sense, the pharmacist walking into the pharmacy. But, hey, I’m glad they didn’t forget me altogether. Wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to glimpse myself on screen. I recognise the director from City Homicide. He actually chats to the extras (a rarity) and shakes my hand, which is quite a change from before, when he didn’t even acknowledge me despite there being only three actors and myself in a relatively intimate set. I don’t get it, but I smile enthusiastically and hope he remembers my face. For next time.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Holy Hairspray
Date: November 2010
Job: Judith Lucy's Spiritual Journey
Location: Richmond
So there I am, thinking that my agent has wiped me from the database, when I get a call for a four hour job as a 1980s church goer. Another small step in my journey of stardom. (Talking of stardom, I’ve just heard that a former drama student of mine-Brett Tucker- has won a role on CSI. Not bad for an Aussie kid from the Yarra Valley! Of course, I taught him everything he knows.)
Anyway, when the wardrobe person calls I happily tell her, yes, I do have a 1980’s outfit, complete with padded shoulders. Actually, it doesn’t seem that long ago that I bought it. However, when I arrive I find out I am a ‘featured extra’ and have to wear one of their outfits. Apparently it might end up covered in grape juice! I don a coral pink / orange jacket (yes, it has padded shoulders) and squeeze into a tiny matching skirt, then toddle off to the next tent to get my 80s hair and make-up done. Half a can of hairspray later I join the other extras in a communion line in the Catholic church. We ‘featured ones’ get to stand at the top of the line. We watch comedienne Judith Lucy collapse in a drunken heap then stagger up the aisle and grab the chalice from the priest. While waiting in line with us, she strikes up a conversation. ‘Do you get much of this sort of work?’ she asks. The young man in front of me says ‘Yeah’. I say, ‘And what about you?’ She laughs. I’m chuffed. I’ve made a comic laugh. I think I also made a priest sin.
My short skirt is even shorter when I’m sitting cross-legged in the front pew and as the actor playing the assistant priest is about to be filmed, he is momentarily distracted by my legs! They’re not anything special, let me tell you, but there is no mistaking the direction of his gaze, and the change in his expression from one of slightly perverted shock to priestly solemnity is obvious. I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered!
As usual, we extras chat between takes about the jobs we’ve had. Actually, we whisper. I'm not sure whether that's because the crew is so quiet or because we're in a church. Two new bits of advice: in big films, don't aim for the front; you're more likely to get used again if you haven't been seen. Secondly, in TV series, check the clapperboard to see what episode you're in. It also seems that your willingness to say 'yes' when offered work is of less value than your availability. In other words, if you're not in regular employment you'll get more offers. We notice a fellow extra, a woman, who is clearly out of it, struggle to stay conscious in her seat. Seems they’ll take anyone in this line of work (me included!). I’m there for over three hours for what will probably be a ten second scene. I’ve heard the ABC caters well but there’s barely a cup of water to be found so I’m a bit parched by the time I head off to find my car in the maze of inner suburban streets, hoping I haven't got a parking ticket.
I do a spot of shopping on the way home, expecting people to turn their heads at my coiffure and preparing to explain to sales assistants why I look like a cast member of 'Dynasty', but I don’t even get a second glance. What's happening to the world? Is it possible that, with regard to hair fashion, anything goes nowadays? Heaven forbid. I am almost disappointed. As I sit perched on a stool in the food court, sipping my latte, I realise that I got more attention from that priest.
Job: Judith Lucy's Spiritual Journey
Location: Richmond
So there I am, thinking that my agent has wiped me from the database, when I get a call for a four hour job as a 1980s church goer. Another small step in my journey of stardom. (Talking of stardom, I’ve just heard that a former drama student of mine-Brett Tucker- has won a role on CSI. Not bad for an Aussie kid from the Yarra Valley! Of course, I taught him everything he knows.)
Anyway, when the wardrobe person calls I happily tell her, yes, I do have a 1980’s outfit, complete with padded shoulders. Actually, it doesn’t seem that long ago that I bought it. However, when I arrive I find out I am a ‘featured extra’ and have to wear one of their outfits. Apparently it might end up covered in grape juice! I don a coral pink / orange jacket (yes, it has padded shoulders) and squeeze into a tiny matching skirt, then toddle off to the next tent to get my 80s hair and make-up done. Half a can of hairspray later I join the other extras in a communion line in the Catholic church. We ‘featured ones’ get to stand at the top of the line. We watch comedienne Judith Lucy collapse in a drunken heap then stagger up the aisle and grab the chalice from the priest. While waiting in line with us, she strikes up a conversation. ‘Do you get much of this sort of work?’ she asks. The young man in front of me says ‘Yeah’. I say, ‘And what about you?’ She laughs. I’m chuffed. I’ve made a comic laugh. I think I also made a priest sin.
My short skirt is even shorter when I’m sitting cross-legged in the front pew and as the actor playing the assistant priest is about to be filmed, he is momentarily distracted by my legs! They’re not anything special, let me tell you, but there is no mistaking the direction of his gaze, and the change in his expression from one of slightly perverted shock to priestly solemnity is obvious. I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered!
As usual, we extras chat between takes about the jobs we’ve had. Actually, we whisper. I'm not sure whether that's because the crew is so quiet or because we're in a church. Two new bits of advice: in big films, don't aim for the front; you're more likely to get used again if you haven't been seen. Secondly, in TV series, check the clapperboard to see what episode you're in. It also seems that your willingness to say 'yes' when offered work is of less value than your availability. In other words, if you're not in regular employment you'll get more offers. We notice a fellow extra, a woman, who is clearly out of it, struggle to stay conscious in her seat. Seems they’ll take anyone in this line of work (me included!). I’m there for over three hours for what will probably be a ten second scene. I’ve heard the ABC caters well but there’s barely a cup of water to be found so I’m a bit parched by the time I head off to find my car in the maze of inner suburban streets, hoping I haven't got a parking ticket.
I do a spot of shopping on the way home, expecting people to turn their heads at my coiffure and preparing to explain to sales assistants why I look like a cast member of 'Dynasty', but I don’t even get a second glance. What's happening to the world? Is it possible that, with regard to hair fashion, anything goes nowadays? Heaven forbid. I am almost disappointed. As I sit perched on a stool in the food court, sipping my latte, I realise that I got more attention from that priest.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
From Little Screens Big Screens Come
For the 'story so far' please make like Maria and start at the very beginning .
To loyal readers: So sorry for keeping you in suspense. Let me relieve your agony with the latest episode.
You’ll be thrilled to hear I recently appeared on the small screen four times in three weeks! So far no strangers have stopped me in the street to ask for my autograph so my anonymity remains intact. Obviously I am so skilled at immersing myself in my character that the real me is unrecognisable. Then again, maybe it's because I’M JUST A BLUR!! (so much for getting pally with the steady cam man). Anyway, a summary of my background artistry: two appearances as bescrubbed figure in Offspring (I’m almost recognisable in caesarean #2 but they omitted my meaningful look to Dishy Dr Don-obviously too steamy), one fleeting walk through hospital carpark (Offspring again) and one momentary blur in City Homicide (beats me why they bother with wardrobe and make-up). It’s probably just as well I’m a smudge in that one, as I never did nail that ‘glance and nod.’ .
Since my last ‘medical’ job two months ago, there's no extra work except for one offer that I have to renege on.
It’s a good quality ABC drama-Bed of Roses (nice!), they want ‘fire victims’ (dramatic potential!), it’s for an eight hour call (a whole day!) and it’s on a Monday (my day off!)... and a Tuesday. Damn. I say yes anyway, ignoring my resolve to decline jobs that fall on a work day. But after a later discussion with the co-ordinator at work I decide I must pull out. I send a very apologetic email to the agent--withdrawing from a job you’ve agreed to is a big no-no--and luckily she’s okay about it, but since then it appears I’ve been thrust to the bottom of the barrel.
Not to worry; I‘ve got bigger things in store. Forget the small screen-I’m gonna be on the next-size-up-screen. Yes, in Short Film Land I am Mrs Popularity. I’ve scored speaking roles in four student films (three mums, one teacher), and I’m having a ball! In one film (Pieces of Us) I play the caring mother of four children in a somewhat dysfunctional family, which is strangely rewarding (seems to accommodate my maternal/histrionic tendencies). Hopefully it’ll get a screening at film festivals frequented by Hollywood directors looking for 'mums'.
So, my agent may not be swamping me with offers of fame and fortune but at present my thespian cravings are more than satisfied. To tell you the truth, I’m feeling a little bloated.
To loyal readers: So sorry for keeping you in suspense. Let me relieve your agony with the latest episode.
You’ll be thrilled to hear I recently appeared on the small screen four times in three weeks! So far no strangers have stopped me in the street to ask for my autograph so my anonymity remains intact. Obviously I am so skilled at immersing myself in my character that the real me is unrecognisable. Then again, maybe it's because I’M JUST A BLUR!! (so much for getting pally with the steady cam man). Anyway, a summary of my background artistry: two appearances as bescrubbed figure in Offspring (I’m almost recognisable in caesarean #2 but they omitted my meaningful look to Dishy Dr Don-obviously too steamy), one fleeting walk through hospital carpark (Offspring again) and one momentary blur in City Homicide (beats me why they bother with wardrobe and make-up). It’s probably just as well I’m a smudge in that one, as I never did nail that ‘glance and nod.’ .
Since my last ‘medical’ job two months ago, there's no extra work except for one offer that I have to renege on.
It’s a good quality ABC drama-Bed of Roses (nice!), they want ‘fire victims’ (dramatic potential!), it’s for an eight hour call (a whole day!) and it’s on a Monday (my day off!)... and a Tuesday. Damn. I say yes anyway, ignoring my resolve to decline jobs that fall on a work day. But after a later discussion with the co-ordinator at work I decide I must pull out. I send a very apologetic email to the agent--withdrawing from a job you’ve agreed to is a big no-no--and luckily she’s okay about it, but since then it appears I’ve been thrust to the bottom of the barrel.
Not to worry; I‘ve got bigger things in store. Forget the small screen-I’m gonna be on the next-size-up-screen. Yes, in Short Film Land I am Mrs Popularity. I’ve scored speaking roles in four student films (three mums, one teacher), and I’m having a ball! In one film (Pieces of Us) I play the caring mother of four children in a somewhat dysfunctional family, which is strangely rewarding (seems to accommodate my maternal/histrionic tendencies). Hopefully it’ll get a screening at film festivals frequented by Hollywood directors looking for 'mums'.
So, my agent may not be swamping me with offers of fame and fortune but at present my thespian cravings are more than satisfied. To tell you the truth, I’m feeling a little bloated.
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