Life Like on TV

So, why can’t life be like on TV? Huh? You may think that’s an awfully juvenile question for somebody my age to ask, but c’mon, really, why not? On TV a problem or issue may come up and a half hour later it’s resolved and everybody goes back to life as normal. In real life, a problem or issue may come up and never be resolved ... or be resolved yet leave deep emotional scars that practically cripple you for years. On TV, nobody dies unless it’s a season-ending cliffhanger or sweeps week. In real life, death happens everyday. I would rather wait until February or November. On TV, shows go on hiatus. Real life never takes a break. There’s a new episode every freaking day, and most of them are very poorly written. And the performances ... ??? Hey, nobody in my life is gonna be winning a SAG Award anytime soon.

When characters don’t test well in a show’s pilot episode, those characters are eliminated or replaced. They re-write and re-cast. They redo everything until the show tests well with focus groups across the nation. There are dozens of characters in my life that haven’t tested well and guess what ... they’re still around. Hogging up all my camera time. And the focus group in my head is tired of them and keeps trying to change the channel.

Theme Music

What I really want is my own theme music. Y’know, something that plays every time I enter a room. Something upbeat and fun. Something that’ll put everybody in the "Here’s King" mood. I think this is why I am seeing so many people day to day wearing earphones as they walk down the street. Maybe it’s just New York, but it seems like more than half the people I see are listening to their iPod or MP3 player or whatever. At first I thought this explosion of headphone wearing folks was just a natural reaction to keeping panhandlers from approaching you on the subway, but I am starting to believe it is more deep-rooted than that. I think it is a subconscious need we all have to have our own theme song.

Let’s face it, you can notice a physical change walking down the street with your headphones on. If you’re listening to your song, the song that’s your theme music of the moment, then suddenly that sluggish walk to work becomes a strut. We all do the Saturday Night Fever strut. (My current "strut" song is Devil’s Party off of INXS’ new album ... in case you’re wondering.) Music can set the mood. Music can make us feel better about ourselves and where we’re going in life.

We’re all wearing headphones because we want to have our own theme music.

Catch Phrase

All the great characters on TV shows have or had their own catch phrase. Homer Simpson says, "D’oh!" Bart used to always say, "Eat my shorts." Fonzie said, "Heeeeyyyy!" Everybody else on Happy Days said, "Sit on it!" J.J. on Good Times said, "DYNOMITE!" The list goes on and on and on.

I want my own catch phrase. Problem is, none of the ones I’ve tried so far seem to work. For a while I tried, "in my pants." You know, somebody would see me rushing down the hall at work and would say, "Hey King, where’s the fire?" Fun little catch phrase, but just not enough opportunity to use it. I recently was called on my excessive use of the word "neat." Seems I put a little over-enunciation on the final syllable ... something like, "neaT!" But, since I’ve been called on it, I can’t keep it as a catch phrase ... too embarrassing. If you have any ideas for a new catch phrase, be sure to send them to me at kingspade@talentbros.com.

Uh oh ... The Laugh Track

Of course, if my life included it’s own theme music and catch phrases, then the laugh track wouldn’t be too far behind. Can you imagine if your life had it’s own laugh track? If I had one, it would always play at the most inopportune times. For example, here’s a scene from a recent episode of my life with the inappropriate laugh track inserted:

SCENE: King’s Living Room
CHARACTERS: King and Jeanette (Girl of the Week - Note to casting: have we found somebody for this part yet?)

JEANETTE: You know, King, I’ve had a really good time hanging out with you this week.
KING: Yeah ... me too. It’s been great. I really think that I’m starting to fall for you ...
[insert sappy "Awww!" effect we used in the episode where King found a puppy.]
JEANETTE: Oh.
KING: What’s the matter? Was that too fast?
JEANETTE: No ... it’s just that I don’t really like you like that.
[LAUGH TRACK.]

See, laugh tracks would be used for nefarious means in the TV show that is my life. How about this example from a "very special episode" from last season.

SCENE: Doctor’s Office
CHARACTERS: King and Dr. Rockefeller

DR ROCKEFELLER: Mr. Talent, you have cancer.
[LAUGH TRACK.]

See ... that’s not funny! Stop snickering!

Narration.

One thing that is fun and challenging is to add narration to your life. I tried this one day, just to see if it would jazz up my day. It’s actually more difficult than you would at first imagine. Especially considering that a day is significantly longer than your average sitcom. Or even hour long drama. Here’s an excerpt from the other day’s episode with narration:

"After hitting the snooze button for the fifth or sixth time, I sat up in bed and tossed my legs over the side. My vision was still quite blurry, but while looking down I realized that I hadn’t trimmed my toenails in about two weeks. I could practically cut meat with those. I rubbed my eyes and tried to pry out the little crusty things, but one was in there too good. Well, it should soften up in the shower. Up on my feet I walk to the computer to see if anybody has sent me an email since the last time I checked at around midnight last night. Nope. No email for me. Feeling depressed and lonely, I make my way into the shower and once again forget to wait for the water to heat up. The frigid cold water causes pain, anger and shrinkage. I can deal with pain and anger."

At about that point in time the water warmed up and the next ten minutes of narration were nothing more than, "Ooohhhhh."

If life was like TV, we wouldn’t have photo albums. We would have DVD box-sets. So we could re-live our lives over and over again ... kinda like one of those clip shows. If life was like on TV, that would mean that somebody somewhere is watching. Somebody somewhere is interested in what you’re doing. And if our lives had enough episodes, we could live forever in syndication.

As Promised ...

Saturday Mornings

A few weeks ago I woke up early on a Saturday. Horrible thing that. Since I was awake I made a pot of coffee and thought about what I needed to get done that day ... laundry, dishes, a trip to the grocery store. But I just wasn't motivated to get much of anything done. So I figured I would do what I did for so many Saturday mornings when I was a child ... watch cartoons! Yup ... just lay around in my underwear wrapped in a blanket and watch some cartoons. Awesome!

So ... uhm ... what the hell happened to Saturday morning cartoons? After flipping through the crap on the networks I switched over to Cartoon Network and was astonished to find that even with over eighty channels, there wasn't a halfway decent cartoon on TV on a Saturday morning. Not one. What happened?

Sometimes I realize just how much one’s mid-thirties suck. I wonder if my old man saw the cartoons I watched as a kid and felt like this. No wonder he slept late each and every Saturday morning.

I guess tastes change with the times. Saturday mornings for me were about Bugs Bunny and the Superfriends. Ironically, there was more violence in the old Looney Tunes shorts than when Superman was trying to save the Earth from evil humanoid aliens from another galaxy. I still remember how all the action on the Superfriends always took place off-camera. You would see Aquaman saying, "Look, Batman has captured the Riddler" and then we’d see Batman standing next to the Riddler all tied up in Batrope.

I always wanted to see Superman punch Lex Luthor's face off, but it never happened. Saturday morning violence just wasn't cool in the '70's.

There would also be staggering animation mistakes. Batman’s insignia would change or disappear. Robin would suddenly not have a cape. Superman’s legs would be painted flesh colored so that it looked like he was running around in red Fruit-of-the-Looms. My favorite animation error was when the Green Lantern grew a third arm. I understand animation mistakes, but c’mon. The guy had three arms! How do you miss that?

Dysfunction

By definition (gotta love dictionary.com!): Abnormal or impaired functioning, especially of a bodily system or social group. The Los Angeles Times once reported that 63% of American families are dysfunctional. That means we’re the majority. That means that more than half the people you know are either screwed up or come from a screwed up upbringing. Next time you’re sitting in a movie theater, just remember that chances are the person on your left or the person on your right is dysfunctional. I wish I had known this earlier in life.

I guess many of us go through life thinking or feeling that we’re the outsiders. That we’re not normal. We feel isolated and different, mocked and weird, unable to be loved and unable to love. We feel ugly and undesired and wish we were that handsome guy on TV or belonged to that family on the Disney World brochure. But we don’t. We’re varying degrees of unstable and we’re just going to have to deal with it.

I find more and more, as I tell friends and colleagues about the experiences of my near thirty-six years, that I may very well be from the far end of the dysfunctional spectrum. I’m estranged from my family, screwed up at least two good relationships (not to mention really screwing up one bad one), have dealt with death to a degree that it’s lost it’s mystique, derive humor from others who are even more pathetic than me, find myself behaving childishly and realize that I can be as petty as any person on the planet. I fluctuate from being overly sensitive to frankly not giving a damn about much of anything. I’m a terrible father, a lousy friend and a barely adequate employee. My feelings are easily hurt yet I never realize when I’ve hurt the feelings of another. I'm frequently an a$$hole.

I’ve screwed up every good thing in my life for so long that my unspoken response to happiness is, "how can I f*ck this up?" Happiness? Joy? They must be destroyed ... lest they destroy me! It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there and I want my Meaty Bone. At least then, once I’ve totally blown it with the key to eternal happiness, I have something to repair, something to work on. I can try to be Mr. Fix-It. And once it’s fixed ... I can f*ck it up again! Problem is, I genuinely try to be a decent guy. I rage against injustice, hate prejudice and am appalled at the darkest sides of our human condition. I try to, want to, ache to do the right thing ... just doesn’t seem to ever happen.

I’m just like you.

Spring Training

Pitchers and catchers reported this week. To all of you non-baseball fans, this means nothing. To me, it means the world. Having spent much of my childhood (and young adulthood) enraptured by every moment I was on a diamond, I still find sheer glory as the season comes upon us.

I’m too old and lazy to ever cross the line again, outside of a good beer-league softball tournament, but I still adore the game. There’s something almost spiritual about walking into a stadium. Much more so the smaller stadiums used in the minor league system. Although I love my Mets and even love that dump Shea, there’s still nothing quite as thrilling, relaxing and beautiful as a small minor league stadium. One of the reasons I am sure I will retire to the state of North Carolina is the sheer volume of minor league teams in the state. Single A, Double A ... it doesn’t matter.

The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of a fastball popping into the catchers mitt, the crack of a bat and true art and science of the game ... they are all beautiful things to me. In the spring, hope springs eternal. The season is ahead. Summer is almost here. Beer and hotdogs. Rally caps in the bottom of the ninth. Tradition. America. Wonderful.

Further Theatrical Thoughts

Support: To aid the cause, policy, or interests of.

Being a supporting actor is one of the toughest things to do in this business. Trust me, I know. I just finished a run of a play where I was playing a supporting role ... a role that supported another character who had less than ten total lines in the script. The show? Well, my memory gets foggy about such things, but I seem to recall that it's title was The Ben Show. It starred my good buddy Ben as a crazy, homeless, alcoholic schizophrenic who ... actually, I'm not sure what he does. I know that most protagonists in plays have a journey they take, but I honestly am not sure what Ben's journey was. I think it had something to do with licking the floor, drooling and getting his ass kicked by the female lead. I could be wrong ... I'm not good with these sort of things.

There's an old adage that "there are no small parts, only small actors." For those of you who may not know, that adage is complete and utter BS. Ask any actor who has played Montano in Othello and they'll tell you, "Hell yes, there are small parts. And small boring parts to boot. Even in Shakespeare!" Ask anybody who's played Spear Carrier #1 while doubling up as Citizen #4 if there are any small parts. Some acting instructors (sometimes I'm amazed that there are such things) tell actors playing smaller roles to imagine that it is their play, that they are the star, that their journey is just as, if not more, important than anybody else's in the show. My response? Sure, if you want to have a cast full of folks running around doing their own thing without any regard to the actual story that's trying to be told, then knock yourself out. Serve the play. Didn't somebody famous say that?

Now, Ben, if you're reading this ... no need to chug a protein shake and come kick my ass ... it's all in good fun. At your expense, but good fun none-the-less.

Ben is one seriously dedicated actor. I give him mass amounts of props for that. He put every single fiber of his being into this character he created. He twitched and drooled and spoke in a voice that was a little incoherent and sounded like Scooby Doo after smoking two packs of Camel unfiltered cigarettes. He licked alcohol off the stage, chewed on the buttons of my raincoat, barked like a seal and danced a little Russian jig center stage. He rambled about not being a fairy, licked me and then later spent a brief moment dry humping my leg. He created a fully embodied character ... the character's purpose, I'm less sure of. He drooled streams of ... well ... drool, I guess ... and occasionally reminded me of the dog from Turner & Hootch. In fact, if they ever decide to make a sequel, they should give Ben & I a call because we'd be a perfect team. I have pretty decent comic timing and have worked with animals before and Ben can drool like a ... well ... a drool machine of some kind, I guess. Not to mention that I think he just might be color blind.

Industry

One so dedicated to his craft is bound to be discovered sooner or later. Discovered where and how is a different story, but the point I am trying to make is, that if you take this "art" (I refuse to not use the quotation marks) that seriously, then you probably take your career that seriously. And that is why my buddy Ben, and others like him, spend an inordinate amount of time trying to make the right connections. What makes the whole thing all the more difficult is that New York is filled with the wrong connections who pass themselves off as right connections. (You with me so far?) Some guy who directed a student film his junior year at NYU and is about to graduate is not necessarily the right connection. Nothing against student films, I love them, but I'm thinking that Francis Ford Coppola probably doesn't attend a lot of their screenings. Some teenage kid who claims to manage male models is probably not going to further your career. Doesn't mean it won't be a lot of fun hanging out with the kid, but let's keep our expectations halfway real. New York is a giant fish bowl ... which means there are many, many bottom feeders out there. We need them. They keep the tank clean.

Frankly, if you're in this business to become a star, get rich, be discovered ... then you're in it for all the wrong reasons. A very prominent casting director (who years and years later became a very good friend) once told me, "if you can live doing something else, go do it." She also told me that it pissed her off to see actors at an audition for all the wrong reason knowing that they just might take a role away from somebody who needs it. Needs it. Not "wants it," but "needs it."

What's my name!?!?

Then again, if this acting thing is all you think about and it conflicts with things that should be more important ... love, family, loyalty, etc. ... then you need to get your priorities straight. You don't see accountants who think of accounting every waking moment of their lives. Acting is a passion, but one that must be tempered with the other joys life can bring. I can't stand actors who can only converse about acting. I can't stand actors who call you and invite you out, just so you can introduce them to your friend the agent. Climb the ladder on your own merits, guys ... and when you get to my rung, don't think I'm gonna let you pass.

If you're an actor and you don't have a favorite color, get one.

Acting Instructors

If you have an acting instructor who has told you that you're not ready to audition, get another one. Last year I was in a position to be casting for a show and saw literally hundreds of auditions. Some were great, some miserable and many forgettable. But there was one that stuck out in my mind.

Near the end of the casting process a man in his late 20s walked into the studio. He was tall, handsome and charming. We chatted for a moment before he did his audition monologue and I couldn't help but think that this guy had all the tools to really make it in this business. Then, just before he began his piece, he informed me that this was his first audition. He had been taking classes somewhere for 18 months, and his instructor had just informed him that he was ready. And then the life drained out of this charming, handsome man. For the next two minutes he proceeded to bore the hell out of me. You could just tell that his instructor had driven whatever talent this guy had right out of him ... in the name of "realism" probably.

When he finished I asked him if he was nervous. He admitted he was. I told him to take a few minutes and try again. I did my best to set him at ease. I gave him some direction and really tried to instill a level of comfort in him. After a few more minutes, he began again. The performance was the exact same. It was as if I had recorded the first audition and was now playing it back. All I could think was, "if this guy had started auditioning 18 months ago he'd probably be appearing in major feature films by now." What harm can come from hitting some auditions? Sometimes experience is the best teacher.

Trends & Apologies

I just noticed that I have a trend going on here in my last couple of blog entries. They have all been about the theatre, acting and my thoughts and opinions on those topics. Yikes! I need something new to write about. Well, pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training next week ... 'tis the season! For all of you non-theatre folks (God bless you, where would we be without you?) my apologies for the recent string of entries.

... They Just Get Better

Yesterday was Super Bowl Sunday and the talk around the office coolers today was a) was that the most boring Super Bowl ever? and b) the Stones still rock, huh? Yes and YES! Let’s give it up for the old farts!

Mick Jagger is 62 years old. At least that’s what his press reps are saying. Sixty-freaking-two! And yet he still went out on television in front of a billion people world wide and jiggled his ass for 12 minutes and three songs. Good for him! How is it that he can do that on his skinny little legs when I’m barely over half his age and I get exhausted dancing to one song? How is it that a band of grandfathers can go out and rock the house? Is it that they're simply in better physical shape? I find that hard to believe. Who knows how much drinking, drugs, sex and hard living Mick Jagger has gone through ... how is it that this guy is in better shape than me? How is it that he's still a consumate performer? Granted, Keith didn’t look like he knew where he was, but that’s no surprise. I’m not sure Keith ever knew where he was in 1965. Men in their sixties ... the hottest rock tour in America ... how does this happen?

It’s an inspiration. These performers who are growing older but still giving it their all each and every performance. And some of them are just getting better and better.

Shatnerian!

Let’s look at another inspiration: William Shatner! My old hero Captain Kirk will be 75 later this year. And what’s he been up to? Just winning Emmy awards on Boston Legal and putting out one of the most interesting albums of the decade. Is it that we are just starting to appreciate him or is he not getting better and better? Yeah, this is a guy who has been mocked by more sketch comedians (myself included) than any other performer in modern history, but he’s still got the chops. He’s still an actor and a man brave enough to laugh at himself and challenge us not to laugh along with him. He’s dealt with success, fame, tragedy and humiliation ... and he just keeps going and going. He's boundless energy. He’s recorded albums, appeared on television, directed a feature film, written a number of novels, narrated documentaries, recorded audiobooks and even appears on the cover of the official First Aid handbook issued by the National Safety Council.

They're Not Older, They're Better!

Have you ever seen a Kiss concert? Those guys are in their 50s and I've never seen a performer work harder than lead singer Paul Stanley ... in 8 inch heels, nonetheless. Think what you want about the band, but you can't deny the energy they put into each and every performance. Laurence Olivier cranked out over-the-top performance after over-the-top performance in his 70s. Derek Jacobi is 68 and finally getting recognition in America with performances in films like Underworld II (awesome, I hear!) and Gladiator. Wrestler Ric Flair turns 57 this year and he's still taking bumps and working the mic on television week after week ... without a shirt on, for crying out loud. This guy was the World Champ when I was in grade school! Grade school! And he's getting suplexed and back-body-dropped every week! Go Nature Boy!! Whoo!!!! Groucho Marx reinvented himself at the age of 60 with You Bet Your Life. And let's not forget the greatest actor of the 20th century ... Bugs Bunny! How is it that these great entertainers just keep on going? There are nights when I feel too damn tired to even step out on a stage ... how do they do it?

I think it's just part and parcel of being a great performer. You must have a never-ending supply of energy and a drive to constantly work, create and live. That's it folks ... just live! Life wasn't given to us to squander in front of a television, life was given for us to use. My advice to all of you as-yet-undiscovered performers ... live life, love life, be grateful for life and make the most of it.

Quick Random Responses

Okay, so I thought I would finish off this entry by replying to some of the emails and responses you have sent in. So here goes:

"Hey, love the blog. It's just like you ... entertaining, but you never tell us anything about yourself. When are you going to tell us something about yourself?" -- Miss A., Hoboken

Well, Miss A., I've recently begun to realize that I'm not the most forthcoming person you'll ever meet. I just never volunteered too much information, I always waited for the question(s) to be asked. So, my New Year's resolution was to be more open about myself, my thoughts and my feelings. To just come out and say it instead of waiting for someone to ask. So, here's something you didn't know right here and now: I had Bratwurst for dinner. Two of 'em. I'm such a little oink, oink.

"Is your name really King?" -- Anonymous Actress, Brooklyn

Sure. Why not? Is your name really Anonymous Actress?

"Is there anybody in the world more fun drunk than Ann?" -- Chase Garland, New York

No.

"Are you excited about the Winter Olympics?" -- Gretchen, Aspen, CO

They still do Winter Olympics? Huh.

"When can we expect to see The Talented Talent Brothers re-unite?" -- J.J., Bayonne, NJ

If all goes well, by the end of the summer. Keep checking out babyhippopotamus.com for details.