Aspiring actors have limited funds, so charging them outrageous amounts for guidance seems wrong on a lot of levels. I know – I’m being awfully moral for someone who once claimed his wife died to get out of a gym contract.
New question I received this week: “Have you ever gone to any career coaches? What are your thoughts on them?”
Because there are really few mentors for us, it can be a difficult process of trial and major error to get our careers in gear, and it’s understandable that actors seek out some sort of help. While I’m personally not a fan, these coaches still have a right to make a living, so I’ll protect their identities by hereinafter referring to them by the names of lousy New York Jets coaches.
Joe Walton thoroughly believes in working smarter, not harder. He sends out weekly blogs and vlogs to people on his mailing list. Attend his orientation and you’ll hear Joe constantly refer to one prize client, who turned her career around. He neglects, however, to mention the 1000 or so he coached who went back to their hometowns with their tails between their legs.
When Joe finishes his 90-minute orientation sales pitch, his lapdog of a spouse suddenly appears in the doorway with applications for the sucked-in actors to fill out, and the aforementioned doorway for me to walk the eff out. You see, Joe has two types of services he provides to eschew his bullshit: one costs 800 bucks, the other 1300. A friend of mine mistakenly signed up, and here’s how it went: there was no one-on-one coaching, but instead a weekly conference call with 50 other actors on the line (half of them in New York, where the business is different from out here.) And Joe preaches all kinds of suicidal nonsense like cold-calling casting directors yourself, and let me tell you, casting directors DO NOT want you to call them. That’s your agent’s job, and even they’re doing it less and less these days, and only when there’s a role in a movie or TV show casting your type.
Meanwhile, Rich Kotite makes his dough telling clients to “figure out what type they are” or they'll be casting too wide of a career net. You can simply do this math yourself, but Rich suggests going to the airport with a clipboard and asking 50 strangers to tell you their first impressions of you. Hey Rich, something happened around September of 2011 that prohibits people from wandering airports, and harassing incoming passengers with inane questions. All that’ll get you is a deep cavity search from a gung-ho TSA agent.
Look, these coaches need to create an angle to interest you in forking over your food money for some sort of wisdom and pep talk. But you can learn most of what you need to know from simply asking seasoned actors. Or from reading books. Or from whatever you can glean from my blog. I’ve done 26 of these “Get Your Butts” already, and I’m just getting warmed up.
Coaches can suck my balls. I have that on a throw pillow.
My friend Mocean, a big voiceover guy, threw the party, and put all of his showbiz friends to work to make it happen. Set designers built these two bridges across his pool, a film composer was the DJ, and I helped spell my friend Jeff, a fellow actor, behind the bar when he needed breaks. I poured blackout levels of liquor.
Halloween was the occasion, but the theme was “blasphemy.”
Here's my friend JW, browsing an insulated coffin filled with beer. The book he's holding is titled An Expecting Father.
My friend Bru did us the embarrassing honor of wearing his penis costume out to a sushi restaurant for our pre-party dinner. This cute little girl came right up to him and asked what he was dressed as. That's Bru telling her he’s a squid.
Bru, our friend Gary and me. I went as MacGruber. My mullet was fake, but the stubble was real. After ten days of not shaving, my beard had the consistency of a toilet brush.
As if lugging around this giant pot weren’t punishment enough, Plant Guy kept getting watered by people.
In honor of the return of “Arrested Development,” Tobias Fünke blue himself.
