Don’t Act, Reason #25: You will become the victim of subjectivity.

Okay, okay.  I apologize for that last essay.  Its theory is born purely out of bitterness, and is clearly dependent on giant oversights.  I would argue that mine is a cautionary tale, and not some beat-the-odds inspirational Rudy-type story for actors, but you’d probably point out that I’m really just angry about the opportunities that I want and see other people get instead and I’m being petty about it.  And you’re right.  I do get angry and sometimes act like a petty, whiney prick.  I’m not consumed in anger all the time, mind you, but I often feet bitterness and rage because of jealousy.  I wish I was a bigger man, someone who is all zen about everything regardless of what happens.  But I’m all too human, I’m afraid, and sometimes I’m just too damn tired to be the bigger man.  And that’s when I curse the name of Balthazar Getty (who got the part in John Gulager’s Feast that I auditioned for, and we all know he doesn’t need the money, and I seriously doubt he was as grateful as I would have been to be in it.) 

While you read that last reason not to act, I’m sure you thought to yourself (or said out loud in aggravation, thus embarrassing yourself as all your officemates stopped in their tracks to stare at your outburst) a seemingly endless list of names: Dustin Hoffman, Judi Dench, Samuel L. Jackson, Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Hugh Laurie, Dabney Coleman, Melissa Leo, Bill Murray, and on and on and on.  And you’re completely correct.  These people are all incredibly talented, and aren’t necessarily cookie-cutter gorgeous (well, Meryl Streep is) and they are all incredibly successful.  And as far as I know, none of them grew up the children of rich entertainment industry people.  And I would agree that their talent is what keeps them on top, in the limelight, making tons and tons of money that none have offered to share with me.  But how did they get there?  They weren’t just walking down the street and someone is a position of power was all like, “Hey, check out that shitload of talent I can see just watching you walk!  You get to be a star!”

And what about me?  I don’t hit a single requirement on that list.  How is that I, average looking and unconnected Todd Robert Anderson, could have made a living as an actor for over a decade?  The answer to that one is simple: thankless work.  This includes negligible set-up-the-joke roles on sitcoms, expository roles in procedural dramas, and quickie plot devices in motion pictures.  It also includes television commercials, something through which most television watchers simply fast-forward. 

Have I ever done work creatively satisfying?  Yes, but most of it falls under the “create your own” or “don’t get paid shit” categories, and only a small number ever turn out or tune in to see it.  Are my labor-of-love works not very good, perhaps?  Sometimes.  I fail like everyone else.  But when I turn out something good, I dare say it’s better than ninety percent of the shit people get paid for.  So, what’s the deal, then? 

I’m a victim of subjectivity.

            There are lots of people out there who think Two and a Half Men and According to Jim are the funniest shows ever to appear on television.  My nana and my aunt like those shows, to name a couple of examples.  Those same people who find Charlie Sheen and Jim Belushi fall-down funny would probably see one of my comedy shows and think it isn’t even remotely amusing.  My nana and my aunt again make for good examples.  I’d love to blame popular opinion on a lack of education or just plain stupidity, but that just doesn’t hold water.  I know for a fact that my Nana and my aunt are very smart people.  And they can make me laugh, so I know they have good senses of humor.  It doesn’t matter where we come from or where we’re going, every opinion is equal.  (And just because I’m not into their shows, I’m glad Sheen and Belushi can make my family laugh.  God bless ‘em.)

            This is true in audition rooms as well.  The producer, the director, the executive, and the casting director all might think I am a complete waste of space whereas I think I’m the best thing since Olivier, but where they are four or more people, I am just one.  I’m greatly outnumbered.  And even if a couple of those people think I am in fact the second coming of Olivier, opinions get buried by insecurity because few want to stick her or his (not a sexist, not a sexist, not a sexist) neck out with a differing viewpoint and be considered some kind of pretentious freak.  Not even I want to be considered a pretentious freak.  Just a freak.  A lovable, humble freak that is incredibly smart, attractive and talented.

            I find it infuriating that there is no scientific way to prove that certain actors just don’t have talent.  There are certain movie stars working today that everyone pretty much admits are lousy.  And it just seems so obvious they suck that there has to be a way to prove it scientifically.  But acting isn’t a sport.  There isn’t a stop watch or a score board or a specific set of athletic criteria an actor must achieve.  It’s just acting.  We all know there are good and bad actors.  There is currently no way to prove it.

            Science has failed. 

Damn you, science!

So at one point does the thankless work turn into the Hoffman/Jackson/Murray type of career?  Well, you’ve got to get incredibly lucky…one very powerful person’s subjective opinion has to fall in your favor, and then once you get the opportunity to strut yourself in a movie or television show or play that a big portion of the world will see, you have to get lucky enough that the world’s subjective opinion falls in your favor, too.  I suppose if that one powerful person’s subjective opinion had at some point provided me with the chance to be roundly rejected by the world at large, I probably wouldn’t be writing this book.  I’d probably be somewhere doing some menial job and feeling like a heel.

Jeez.  Imagine that!  If I got everything I ever asked for and it completely sucked!  What then?  There’s that age-old question again: is it better to be a has-been or a never was?  I guess, when I really think about it, that sort of depends on how much money you were paid before you became a has-been.  I mean, if I was a millionaire but the world thought I was a douche bag…I think I could live with that.

So.  If you hate me…send me money.