"Notes From the Acting Underground"

Chapter 1 (03/04): “Was that YOU in “Bloody Beach Party 4: A New Beginning?”
Chapter 2 (02/05): “No Grey Goose, my good man, just the Hamms, thanks."

Chapter 2:
“No Grey Goose, my good man, just the Hamms, thanks.”

Let me dispel a myth that I love people have about my business: Filmmaking is a white-collar industry.

Oh sure, pick up any of those dollar ninety nine rags that we all love so much at the checkout counter of Ralph’s or Farmer Jacks (Detroit) or wherever we by our milk and veggies, and leaf through ‘em (now common! Don’t lie. Who DOESN’T love The Star?!). You’d think all of us in Hollywood are just waiting around, buying Ralph Loren suits and snorting blow ‘till we get ANOTHER zillion-dollar movie deal.

Nothing, I’m afraid, could be farther from the truth.

Ever been to a machine shop? For those of us who have never seen, exactly, just how our car parts are made or kitchen refrigerator’s assembled, let me put it into a little perspective for you: In my hometown of Detroit, there is a city within the city there called Hamtramck (pronounced “Ham” “Tramik”, or alternately, but no less lovingly as “Ham Sandwich”) . If you were to step into one of those innumerable bars there on Joseph Campau on a random Wednesday at five thirty, you would see some pretty tired and hard worked folks. These men and women with the bleary look in there eyes and dusty Dickies clothes have probably just seen the minute hand sweep past the five o’clock mark from some clanking and buzzing factory and have headed here. They’re tired, beat and likely underpaid for what they do.

Most of us in the filmmaking community are just like them.

We work in a “studio” (a very fancy and nice word for a “big ugly dirty factory”). We drink our coffee and eat our sandwiches out of a cart set against one wall of the factory (just like the kind you see outside of buildings as they are being constructed). And when the crew and cast aren’t working, we usually grouse about the hours and not getting enough overtime.

Most of us actors and ALL of the crew are standing: ALL DAY LONG. The crew is also lifting, painting, and assembling, too. Don’t be fooled by the quiet interviews in the DVD extras section: Actors rarely get to put their backsides into one of those swell director’s chairs with the name of the movie in multi-colored graphics on the back. And while they are there for us, they are usually packed up and moved so fast we don’t really get lots of time to sit and enjoy them for long.

Sets, like all factories, are dirty and potentially dangerous places. Heavy and jeopardous machinery is hoisted and carried all day long. Machine tools, such as power saws, drills and cranes are in operation from morning ‘till night. Trucks and vans are loading and unloading giant equipment and personnel.

Don’t get me wrong; the people that do these things are highly skilled professionals. But, like in any factory, things go wrong from time to time. Ever wonder why in the end credits there is almost always a credit for “Set Nurse”? The answer is obvious. It’s not to take care of a hangnail some actor might have, but to potentially treat a poor grip that had a 5K light rig fall on his head and make sure he lives ‘till paramedics can arrive!

Sure, us actors have it easier when it comes to the heavy lifting. But we’re all in nearly the same jeopardy when you consider average rate of injuries on a set.

I’m not writing this to tell you of my hard core blue lifestyle I’ve had (I haven’t had one). But I am telling you that most of us actors you see in movies and TV shows are a lot like those crew guys: struggling to meet our rent payments and grateful for the free M&Ms on the craft service table.

I don’t want to read about hard working crew guys in the National Enquirer any more than you do. I also don’t want to read about the actor that arrived at Warner's in the crappy Hyundai, sputtering and coughing its way to the million car parking structure. When I plunk down my two fifty for People, I want to read about just how bad Julie Roberts dress looked like at the SAG awards, just the same as anyone.

Anyhow, if you close your eyes, Hamms tastes a lot like like Pabst Blue Ribbon. Which, depending on where you come from, may or may not be a good thing.

Ted Raimi
February 9, 2005
West Hollywood, USA

Chapter 1:
“Was that YOU in “Bloody Beach Party 4: A New Beginning?”

A few months ago, Josh Becker and I were bumming around suburban Detroit and went to a movie together. Josh is a talented Director who directed lots of Xena espidodes and gave me my first starring role in the movie Lunatics: A Love Story. Before the film began, Josh leaned over to me and asked a question: “Did you like your performance in Lunatics?” he said.

This was quite a question.

Normally, directors aren’t too concerned with what an actor thought of his performance. The film is shot, the dailies come in and if the performances don’t bug the director, the actor’s mechanics are not of interest. And if they are spoken of, it’s usually not because the director gives a crap but because he wanted something different out of the actor. Sort of a diplomatic, “what the fuck were you thinking when you wrecked this scene?” kind of thing.

But this was Josh asking. He’s an unusual director who often IS interested in the mechanics of things.

It was also an unusual thing to ask because the movie finished shooting about fifteen years ago.

Did I LIKE what I did?

Hmmmm.

It got me thinking. Here’s the skinny:

It would be swell to be born with ultimate infinite wisdom. You would start, of course, as a little baby and by the time you were 10 or 11 you would have written six novels and be a multi-millionaire bio-mechanic specialist. You would never have lousy relationships because you would be able to tell at a glance, Sherlock Holmes style, just what kind of person it was you were going to date or be with. You’d have the greatest governing skills, the best cooking abilities, and the wittiest repartee and naturally be, “ahem”, the greatest lover.

You would also, naturally, never have to question a thing about anything you ever did since you would always be working from the place of “ultimate knowledge.”

No mistakes to make here.

The universe is not set up this way, of course, and neither are the actors that populate it.

“You spends yer money and you takes yer chances”, as the saying goes.

So why, oh, why do so many actors and other artists pretend thy came fully forth emerging onto the scene as perfect creative beings? It’s as though they want people to believe they never made a mistake or did a lousy movie in their lives.

Nothing could be further from the truth (or be more dull to contemplate).

Flashback:

I was at the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam recently. It is a museum devoted entirely to that artist. And while his greatest and most important works are on display, what is of equal interest is all of his earlier work. Naturally, being a Van Gogh museum, all the works showed signs of immense creativity and genius. But, perhaps, most interestingly, his early stuff just wasn’t all there, yet. It didn’t have that something. It was good but not very unique or spectacular, as we know his most famous works like, “Starry Night” to be.

But, so what? It made his later stuff SO much more fascinating because of it!

The point is, he was trying hard and made the best choices he could at the time. That’s what we all do as artists. We make the best choices we can given our knowledge of the art and our ability to use that knowledge.

This idea relates to us actors, too.

The best (and funniest) example of this is the Matthew McConaughey and Renée Zellweger movie, The Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. A movie that, when it was made, was so lousy and poorly acted they couldn’t even get a cable release deal. The movie was subsequently shelved. That was, of course, until a few years later when both actors exploded in popularity. Mr. McConaughey with the indi hit Lone Star and Ms. Zellweger for Jerry McGuire. Suddenly, the producer’s eyes of The Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre turned into dollar signs. “We made a lousy picture with two nobodys” they said, “and now we’ve got a lousy picture with two of Hollywood’s biggest stars!” The film was pulled from the dusty shelves of crapdom and released with major advertising. But now, of course, the posters read: “Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Starring Lone Star’s Matthew McConaughey! PLUS Jerry McGuire’s Renée Zellweger!” It also featured the now famous faces displayed prominately in the foreground. The actors were horrified. Then, from their agencies and press agents we heard: “They did NOT do that movie!. Then: “They DID do it but they didn’t WANT to do it!” And finally: “We are suing the producers of Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre for releasing the film”. They were unsuccessful, of course, and film is available today for all to see. Now, I find these actors exhausting, lazy and dull at their best moments. But the point is that they didn’t want it known that they might have been in a movie that wasn’t “important” or “big”.

But where would we be if ole’ Van had dumped all his earlier work because he didn’t like it? Here’s where: an artist who is just not as interesting to look at.

So, did I like my performance in Lunatics?

I said this to Josh: “I was inexperienced as an actor at the time so I don’t think my performance was as detailed or as subtle as I would have liked, but I thought I made good choices….considering.”

Incidentally, I am very proud of “Lunatics: A Love Story”. I think it is the best movie I have ever made. I’ve been in two dozen movies since then. My ability as an actor has improved considerably but that is still my favorite. I know that is true because if anyone asks me for movies that I’ve been in, I mention that first.

Just for the record and so I don’t “ McConaughize” myself: I’ve done lots of third-rate movies. Movies like “Fatal Kiss” and “The Fountain Clowns” I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies. They were shitty and I was shitty in them. (For a laugh, see the best and the worst at IMDB: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001646/ ) But I tried very hard to be good in all of them. And that’s my point.

I worked very hard with what I had.

That’s all you can do, too, as an artist: Be the very best with what you’ve got. You may not have any sugar, but what’s the point in letting lemons rot in the sun because you’re too embarrassed to make lemonade with ‘em? And anyhow, it’s a hell of a lot of fun to say I was in “Maniac Cop 3: Badge of Silence” right along with “Postcards From The Edge” and “Spiderman”.

Here’s to not being ashamed of the fertilizer from which the roses can grow…

Ted Raimi
March 23, 2004
West Hollywood, USA.