Scenes from the Twelfth Floor Office

Not one for heights, the open window was both an uncanny draw and a repelling feature to me.

The draw won. :)

Less than an hour later, nightfall enveloped us. The building which was both a landmark and an audition destination lit up the skyline with gusto.

Skyline

Vehicles bumper to bumper, beneath the skyline of buildings; pedestrians scurrying to and fro on nearby sidewalks, carrying backpacks, bags, books, bundles.




It never ceases to amaze us that multitudes call this cement jungle home.

The Aussie ~ In Print!!

On the heels of an email in my inbox from The Aussie's mom, my husband received an alert in his inbox, letting him know of a news flash concerning the young lad. A fantastic article ensued, much to our delight. Enjoy!

Link to article

Fly, Boy, Fly!

Every skill learned must engage that 'first time' requirement.

You know: the first step; the first word; the first bicycle ride; etc.

The Actor entered into a first this week, as he was called in to do "ADR" - Automated Dialouge Recording, also known as looping. This process puts the thespian in a soundbooth to re-record snippets of script that might have been unintelligible in the final cuts, or otherwise compromised.

We arrived at our location, and found ourselves whisked upstairs to the recording area. Upon entering I realized, much to my chagrin, that I had not brought my camera. [WHAT? ME?? Without my camera??? Egads!]

I quickly recovered, though, when I remembered my handy-dandy cell phone!

This is what we were greeted with: a bevy of mixing boards, computers and monitors.

On the main screen, we saw Mia Frampton, the leading lady of FlyBoy. Her image was crisp, and clean, and strikingly beautiful.

Next, The Actor was placed inside the sound room, and instructed to don the headset.

Then, for the next thirty minutes or so, he would reinact his lines in sync with the images of scenes being replayed on the monitor.

As I sat behind the mixers, his voice would boom across the carpet, as if we were sitting in a cinema, watching and hearing a movie in real time. The software registered his voice in typical 'echo' waves, or quickly drawn vertical and horizontal lines on the virtual paper of the software face.

Over and over he'd speak, with the director coaching him this way, and that, until they had a sufficiently emotionally-infused statement to replace the old.

Several times I was able to see the opening scene played in it's entirety, of about 45 seconds. I was amazed at The Actor's 'babyfaced' features. Had he really grown that much in a year's time?

My appetite is whet to see the finished product, which will be wrapped within a matter of weeks.

Of course, none of our experiences are complete without a look at how L'il Man encountered the activity. His interest was piqued over the myriad of buttons . . .

Perhaps we've a Big Time Hollywood Producer on our hands??

Put Me In, Coach!

Every thespian hones his skill set. The advantage of education brought by a good coach is invaluable.

Of course, every good coaching session is made more productive by a Starbucks Mocha Frappacinno. :)

Another day in Hollywood.

Murder On The Orient Express

Perhaps if he watches the movie, he'll connect with the book?

Homeschooling thespians has its' challenges . . .

:D

Fresh Slate

It's a new week, a fresh slate, so to speak, ready to be written upon!

What adventures will we have? Where shall our travels take us?

It all remains to be seen, as we step out into the great, wonderful, world of Hollywood.

Stay tuned!

Old Home Week (Or So It Seemed!)

The day was full, the schedule tight, as we maneuvered our way through the LA streets and traffic.

First stop, a meeting with the acting coach, of whom I'd not seen in some time. A solid hug, and delightful reconnecting conversation gave way to an intense character study by the Actor.

Soon, we were on our way, and off to the first of three auditions. It was exhilarating to be dodging traffic and one way streets; pedestrians and freeways. Soon, entrance to studio grounds complete with passes and placards leading the way.

The Actor was next on the call sheet when in walked an old friend. I didn't recognize him at first, but I sure enough recognized his Momma. We fell into chatter easily, with plans to get together over a weekend of relaxing. The lad had shot up, grown and filled out - yet here the two boys were, still in the same peer grouping for casting.

Dismissing ourselves, we made a hearty jaunt, arriving at our final destination early. We'd hardly gotten out of the car, when, to our delighted surprise, there stood a cast-mate from Flyboy - Joey Luthman to be exact, waving a hearty hello.

The overstuffed audition room only gave way to the two thespians antics of boy-dom. Rubberbands and giggles, discussions and laughter.

The day closed out with an overwhelming sense of connectedness and belonging, in a city of millions, where no one knows your name . . .

The Unexpected Benefit

I tried desparately to eek information out of him, but he was distracted by all the hullabaloo surrounding him.

"Out of sight, out of mind." seemed to be his motto towards his mother yesterday, even though I had leaped tall buildings with a single bound on his behalf.

You see, my son, The Actor hopped on a plane, flew to LA, stepped into a high-level audition - then promptly failed to call and inform me how it all went!

It was only at my insistence that a phone call finally ensued . . . and the big news wasn't so much that the proceedings had gone well.

No - the big news was that whilst there, The Actor ran into none other than The Aussie!

What a surprise, as the original schedule had the Australian native returned to his beloved homeland weeks ago. Not so, evidently, as production markers post filming were necessary to be accomplished.

As a matter of fact, The Aussie was flying out today.

A chance meeting? A stroke of good timing? A coincidence?

For two boys with incredibly similar taste, it can all be summed up in one phrase: Happy Reunion.

:D

More to come, as this trip is an extended one, with plenty on the books to get excited about! Stay tuned!

The Other Shoe

It was well after midnight when my husband jostled me awake.

"Are you up?"

"Mmph"

"I just found a blog you're gonna love! This woman was with her daughter, an extra in the movie . . . she wrote about our son!"

I chuckled involuntarily, it seemed. The shadowy darkness hid the smile my facial muscles had produced, as sleep swallowed it whole.

******

This morning, dutifully, I found the link my husband had meticulously provided for me in my inbox.

You may recall the big day The Aussie and The Actor invaded the space of several hundred extras. Finally, you've a comparative read, from the other perspective - the other shoe, if you will.

An excerpt from the blog of Heather Heath Chapman:

Not long after that, two tall, handsome boys tumbled into the gym together like puppies, arms and legs everywhere. “We’re bored!” they announced, and a wave of interest rolled through the crowd of extras. These were the two male stars of the movie, whom my daughter had already seen and deemed “cute.” A group of kids soon gathered around them. The boys signed autographs and joked amiably with everyone.It was interesting to watch them. Aside from the fact that they had the clearest skin of any teenagers I’d ever seen, they reminded me of the boys at my daughter’s school: gangly, silly, adorable, awkward. Like every other boy in the gym, they looked funny in those Sixties-era clothes. Like Madeline—like any teen—they were looking for a little attention.

It was just as my favorite trash mag had always claimed: Stars. They’re just like us.

Except surprisingly acne free.

With bodyguards.

And an omelet station.

But just people, apparently, and not as mysterious as I’d always suspected.

I made this point to my daughter on day three as we walked back from the prop room. “So,” I concluded, “if those boys ever become really famous, you can tell everyone that you’ve met them, and that they’re just as dorky as any other boys.”

Enjoy Heather's three part series on the Flipped experience here: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

My husband was right - I was delighted in Heather's literary saga! I wonder to myself how many times I looked her in the eye as L'il Man and I entered the cafeteria brimming with people? Or, better yet, if she'd reconsider her Big Mac boycott, if she knew The Aussie had a unique moniker for the joint? That we have photos of The Director?

A season shared, yet separated by task - Two Moms, Two Thespians - people who gained an experience, but had no conscious knowledge of the others' thoughts . . . until midnight last night.

Thanks, Heather, for sharing your side of the story. The Other Shoe.

The Fruit Of His Labor

It was bound to happen at some point. I knew it was unavoidable. Yet when, exactly, the 'other shoe' would fall, I truly had no idea.

That is of course, until - oh, approximately August 1, when the full-court press began.

My son: "Mom. I want a Mac."

Me: "Umm-hmm."

My son: "It's in my budget. Here, take a look at this one. It's got all the specs I'm looking for . . ."

And so it went. Incessantly.

Finally, we took a trip to the store.

Glitches were had. We returned home empty-handed, but only for the space of about 24 hours. That's when Dad kicked it, with his mischevious ways.

Rising early, we high-tailed it to the preceeding evening's destination and revisited the clerk who promised the goods. We then returned home, to [torment] the lad.

Here is a pictoral essay on the event, as it played out at our house. Will our lives ever be the same again? Are we all destined for the same fate?

Sightings of Mr. Benson, The Parental Delimna

I've cringed at him.

I've laughed until I cried at his antics.

I've hesitated to share him, that he be not misunderstood.

I've explained him, that he be not an offense.

Yet the fact of the matter is, Mr. Benson has definitely taken up residence in our humble abode.

He stopped by last night, just to chide me on my (in his estimation) unnecessary complaint that my son had been eating the computer bandwith by watching and untold number of episodes of Lost.

Mr. Benson: "Bandwidth, bandwidth, bandwidth! That's yer complaint, eh?"
Me: [staring him down, recognizing his sudden appearance]
Mr. Benson: "We're really tired of hearing yer bellyachin' about this. You've missed nothing. Meanwhile, when YOU use the wireless, YOU eat MY bandwidth, and my show goes something like this:

[turning head in short staccato action, never quite actually changing perspective]

'W- . . . w- . . .we . . . we' - . . .'

The words never fully come out, you see. So, I'm sorry, but we cannot accept yer claim at this time. Thank you."

At this, my son suddenly reappears, all smiles at his most recent performance, the likes of which have caused me to sigh in resignation the fact that I've still years to parent this boy.

Action of a Different Sort

I opened an email the other day, and found within a note from the Costumes Department.

Seems my son, in his effervescent way, had requested a specific photo off of the Costume Continuity camera.

This photo was not a typical, run of the mill photo, however. No, this photo was all action. All boy. All Israel. No doubt.

I thought you'd enjoy a slice of his energy this morning. Good as a stiff cup of coffee, if you ask me! The vantage point of the camera lends itself to a mind-bender, doesn't it? :)

Membership Has It's Privledges

An exciting day yesterday, what with the rain, lightening and all! Add to the hubbub a happy in the mailbox!

September 17, 2010

An off-handed skim of imdb completed by my husband net new information concerning the release of my son, the actors' flick!

September 17, 2010!

Mark the calendar! How they manage to date these things, I do not understand, especially since filming is still underway . . . however, that is why they are the experts.

Meanwhile, auditions continue. What project will be next for the lad? We wait in anticipation, right along with you . . .

Maria.

Our first encounter with Maria occured the day after we arrived in Michigan. The Actor was dutifully in the dressing room, changing and trying on different period costume, whilst the L'il Man and I waited at a table nearby.

Maria sat at a sewing machine, her fingers guiding, then flying to tend a seam, then back to guiding again.

She was a cheerful sort, with raven black hair and the body of a glamour girl, despite her more elderly composition. Tasked, yet engaged with what was happening around her, Maria was immediately enamored with the baby.

She had come from a family of seven, Italian in descent, and had four children of her own. Complimenting me on my parenting style of allowing the babe to explore, she began to strike up a friendship with him. L'il Man took to her almost immediately.

The hours upon hours of clothing changes only served to bring about deepening conversation between The Seamstress and I. She had sewn for the industry many, many times ~ including broadway endeavors, and, as if that weren't enough, bridal gowns, christening garments, and more lined the verbal showcase of wares she presented to me.

Maria and I were chatting when we heard news of Michael Jackson's passing, straight from a phone call from Hollywood to the head of the Wardrobe Department. The somber news dampened everyone's spirits, and only served to add to my dismay that I'd likely not see the gregarious woman again after this.

Oh, how wrong I was! Cheers rang out among us as I discovered that Maria was on staff day after day after day - hemming, repairing, replacing fabrics and garments for the multitude of extras and cast members present for the production.

Our friendship continued. Each time location moved, Maria moved with us. A different locale, yet the same, her trusty sewing machine always present.

Our final week spent together gave her pause to finally utilize her handy-dandy lighter-fuse driven power cord . . . resulting in the most unique, yet enjoyable backdrops for creative handiwork yet!

We may never have Maria on board during any future films. However, rest assured ~ no other seamstress . . . regardless of how flambouyant they might be ~ can never erase the mark that Maria left on our hearts.

Maria, we love you!

The Phone Rang

[ . . . continuation of Intermission Ended . . .]

The phone rang, carrying a familiar voice across the miles to my ear. Delighted, I listened intently as the woman on the other end of the line, Ms. M, detailed for me the meandering way in which she discovered my son's involvement with the movie, and how she came to own my phone number once again.

Her son had met The Director in person, trying out for the lead role also ~ at The Director's request. As the cards landed, the lad was not chosen, yet he kept up with the details of the production via imdb.

It was there that Ms. M and her son found my son, listed as the Best Friend. Oh, how they wanted to send congratulations! Yet our contact information had been long lost under the weight of audition sheets and call backs.

Enter a Hollywood event, which Ms. M and her son attended last week Friday. They were delighted to run into old friends ~ only to discover that the young lady before them had just been on set with The Actor a week before! Requesting our information, and receiving it gladly, Ms. M followed through with her congratulatory call.

Congratulations soon fell to discussion of new projects on the horizon for each of our boys. Ms. M detailed her son's most recent accolades, and his newest exciting opportunities. As she did so, a vital piece of information came to light: her son was just slated for a network test for the same project my son was being considered for.

As soon as she spoke this, I knew we would be hearing very, very shortly, as information was being filtered out through agents and managers. I held my breath, and hung up the phone in anticipation.

For the project, of which we've all been on our toes about, The Actor did not receive audience for the network testing. Disappointment? Yes.

Yet, we know that the opportunities to speak with both a well-respected Casting Director and Director in the industry under such special circumstances is to be counted a great honor. All the effort. All the hoops. Was it worth it? Absolutely! No endeavor is without hard work - elbow grease, and it's ups and downs as one makes their way. Bottom line is, my son did his best, without regrets. Therefore, we move forward, knowing this is one of the greater of character qualities.

Today is the network test . . . and our prayers are lifted up on behalf of our friend.

Join us, won't you?

Intermission Ended Three Days Ago . . .

. . . and due to our travels I forget to keep y'all in the loop concerning My Son, The Actor, and his takes and retakes saga!

There is no rest for the weary, so they say, and in my son's case, this was a bonafide fact. His scheduled wrap day actually began with another conference call, with a different individual ~ *the* director of the project he was being considered for. Such a call was a tad unprecedented. Unique. To be valued.

Acting as his personal assistant, I, the mother, took avid notes, whilst my son spoke with the Hollywood Mogul, who was doing what he does best: directing the actor, and asking for some minor changes in his presentation.

And, oh. Could we have that by tomorrow, please?

Gulp.

It was a repeat of two days earlier, when the highly acclaimed Casting Director had asked the same thing. Of course, came the response, knowing then that the day was going to be wild and wooly!

The evening was not just wild and wooly, it was loud and rambunctious, and the sort of 'going away party' any teen might desire in his heart of hearts . . . our apartment, once roomy and spacious, was now filled with four adults, one of them being my son's agent, six teens, and four youngers, plus L'il Man, just for good measure! Who cared if the night was interspersed with rehearsing lines with his castmates, and doing yet more 'takes and retakes' attempting that perfect shot to submit?

Our efforts paid off in the wee hours of the next morning, when, apartment vacated by well-wishing party-goers . . . (I mean . . . advisors to the new project!) and I began the process of editing and preparing for transmittal. And we had yet to pack. Egads.

We managed to do it all, astoundingly. Sleep would simply have to come later, at some future date when time was no longer of the essence.

We boarded the plane the next morning, knowing without a doubt that The Actor had done his very best, no regrets.

Our job now was the infamous job of all in this industry: wait.

. . . to be continued . . .

Greek Myths, Anyone?

Please allow me to get back into the blogging groove, after a weekend of R&R by scrolling through the multitude of photos we've taken on location. Several don't miss it! blog posts are on tap over the next few days!

Today, a brief glimpse into the hair and makeup department, headed by none other than: Medusah.

What a great way to place a memory hook in folks ear, eh? To name one's professional-level skill set as a free-lance contractor under the guise of a famous Greek goddess?

It works.

And, amazingly, the tresses Medusah herself carries look astonishingly close to being legendary!

Each morning, after arriving on location, my son would accomplish two tasks: change clothes, go to hair and makeup.

This tiny cubicle on wheels housed four professionals, all doing what they do best. Coiffure the stars.

Delightful folk, these stuntmen in their own right. Transforming a modern teen into a early 60's icon; a greyheaded star into a youthful father; a regular Joe into a union worker of the era, complete with sideburns.

Yes ~ without this particular arm of the crew, the show would be lacking. Sorely lacking.

After all . . . they tranformed this:

Into this!

Necessary

Necessary updates are on their way.

I know it's been a quiet week, here in the blogosphere at My Son, The Actor.

Rest assured ~ behind the computer screen, real life has been playing out at warp speed, and my son and I have been hangin' on to the riggin' like nobody's business - knuckles white and hair blowin' in the wind!

Therefore, please stay tuned. You'll not miss a moment of the chronicle unfolding around the current project . . . you'll be the first on the list as the next project rolls in . . .

To keep you satiated until more press releases arrive, a photo for your viewing pleasure - one of those pictures that one simply *knows* there must be a story behind!

Whistle While You Work

We'll be on location yet again today, my son, the actor doing his thing.

Meanwhile, far, far away, in the land of executives and decision makers, a group will gather round about a tape; meet other candidates; and determine the forward motion players.

Those who do their appointed activity will be supported behind the scenes by a woman who is of the praying sort.

Anyone care to join her?

Harley and Me

Visual effects.

Summer sun.

Breezes.

Filming.

Park.

Children.

Fun.

With 'base camp' moved to a new location yet again, and that a good space away from the actual area of filming, it behooved many a crew member to hop on a bicycle and/or scooter and/or skateboard in order to get where they were going.

L'il Man was no exception.

When my son discovered and borrowed a pal's bike, it was only natural that he'd take his little brother for a ride - and little brother LOVED it! Riding about, mimicing the vroom! vrooom! sound, it was hard to tell just who, exactly, was the star of the show.

:D

Takes and Retakes.

Never sit on your laurels, they say.

As mentioned last week, my son put his auditioning skills to work in the midst of filming this current production.

I"m happy to report that all takes and retakes have been accomplished, and, as of midnight last night, have been successfully submitted. Again.

If you are of the praying sort ~

If you are of the sit on the edge of your seat and bite your nails sort ~

If you are of the 'come see what may' sort ~

You'll be glad to know that *this* particular actor isn't sitting on the sidelines. He's up and at 'em, ready for whatever comes next.

Join us in the anticipation, won't you?

Meanwhile, it's Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, Off to work we go!

Autographs: The Process

A pictoral rehearsal, minus the pressing, burgeoning crowd:

Gathering pertinent information.

Oh, the elbow grease of it all!


The closure.

Finito.

Moving on. Next!

All In A Day's Work

Wenesday, July 15: Honor request to complete taped audition. Submit via www.

Friday, July 17, 3:05 pm:

Never mind that I was in the middle of my first meal of the day, well into the afternoon hours. It was a hold day, and my son and I had already performed the second of three audition requests, during his free time. I had released him to do boy things based on my hunger. He was soon off with his film mate, The Aussie, as he also had the day to do as he pleased.

My dinner was delicious! Rice, veggies . . . it couldn't get any better, any more satisfying.

The phone rang.

3:33 pm:

An energized, and slightly frenzied manager's assistant was on the other end of the line. Casting loved his tape ~ could my son resubmit with a few changes ~ by 3 pm pacific time??

Egads.

3:37 pm:

I finally wrangled my server, paid my tab, and headed to the car, ready to find my son and get to work.

3:41 pm:

Enroute, the phone rings.

Mistake!! Can I put the actor on a conference call, before 3 pm pacific time?

But of course ~ consider me on standby.

3:45 pm:

Phone rings.

Agent on the line. Repeat of previous information. Confirmation of standby status. Arrive at apartment, look for son.

3:47 pm:

Found son, phone rings in hand, cleaning lady turns on vacuum cleaner, baby cries.

3:48 pm:

Door shut, baby sequestered with friend, Agent, Casting Director, my son and myself in conference.

3:57 pm:

Conference completed, changes requested, committment to retape established.

3:58 pm:

Cleaning lady exits room. Baby plays contentedly. Son and friend are nonplussed. They want to go rock climbing.

Mom faints.

4:00 pm:

Mom drives to gym, wondering how she managed to get herself into all of this, when all she really wanted was . . .

LUNCH.



:D

Thespians Are People Too.

Our designated shuttle driver held the van a bit longer, waiting, she said, on the new guy who had joined the ranks. After weeks of a van full of kids, and a week of rather spartan driving company, everyone who had already climbed aboard glanced up with curious glances.

Curious, because we wondered who it might be.

Our driver checked the call sheet an announced, "It's The Leading Lady's Dad."

Oh. Well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?

A grey-headed gent came out of the lobby door, and approached the vehicle quizzically. Confirming his ride, he also climbed aboard.

A bevy of introductions began.

Kind, personable, with great laughing eyes, The Dad chatted comfortably with the present company, both asking and being asked questions of sundry sort.

Then, minus fanfare, we arrived at our destination.

*****

The day waned forward, and I stood at my post, right next to the Chicken Actress and her anxiety-marked holding pen. The sun was shining, the shade generous, and L'il Man happy as a lark.

He requested of me a snack, so I took him inside our digs to fish out a fruit leather to tide him over until lunch. Happily, we exited the trailer, only to discover that a gaggle of folk had taken up residence in our seats about the hen house.

A tall mirror, with the words "Prop Department" written on masking tape leaned against the tree that sheltered all.

The Staff Assistant stood nearby; Wardrobe and Hair were also present.

A fourth figure sat in an out-of-doors lounge chair. Draped in a towel, hair dripping wet and slimed with color, the gregarious man laughed with his counterparts on the lawn. It was none other than The Dad ~ human as human can be, considering his lot in life of chatting with the ladies a nostalgic event of days gone by, when the women folk would gather to quilt, or shuck corn, or defeather chickens.

He was oblivious of his celebrity status, and he liked it that way.

So do I.

Chickens? Yes. Chickens.

By far my favorite scene yet, my son had to educate The Aussie on the difference between hens and roosters a day or two ago.

Given my status as a chicken owner, I find all of this rather amusing ~ that my boy would be the expert in a film not many days hence, whilst I, the mom, really do contain a knowledge base beyond my years.

Perhaps its' a sign of good will. Or of the path ahead.

Either way, I still say it's my favorite scene. Maybe I should begin a campaign for that horse ranch I've been dreaming about for so long . . .

:D

Every Boy's Dream

(If I had a son who was really into sports, that is.)

When the weekend rolled around, it was evident that a corporate excitement was in the air. Friday afternoon, an early wrap . . . AND plans to see the game? Too much!

Sure enough, my son's first ever baseball game was to be viewed from a luxury box at the top of the stadium ~ with none other than The Director himself. The Cast and several crew members had loads of fun.

My son? Spoiled for the bleachers forever.

:D

Paramedics, Pronto!

Thursday's wrap resulted in work for the Transportation Department. It was necessary to move the whole kit and kaboodle to a new location. Come Friday morning, the entire cast and crew were greeted with a new set-up for their digs. All of this was fine, good for the spirits and morale, to have fresh surroundings.

The went off with nary a hitch, and the close of the work day a dull, boring, run-of-the-mill event ~ until . . .

Until the actors and actresses began their change out of wardrobe. For days folks had joked about the staircase with shark-like teeth. "Be careful!" was a constant refrain, that one did not fall while coming up or down.

No one suspected The Toe Stub.

My son went first ~ successfully marring the front of his big toe as he climbed into the big rig. Yet it was the actress that elicited the call to the paramedics, as the back of her ankle bled profusely after a catch upon the steel edging.

It was the most excitement the paramedic had seen in this shoot. He was THRILLED! to be able to put his skills to work. And work he did - his big black bag jawed wide open, at the ready with all sorts of tools: rubber gloves, peroxide, gauze, bandaids.

All the while, The Actress fawned dramatacism, feining as if she had been cast in a horror film full of blood and gore.

Sheesh.

A production of a clean up job for The Actress; a band aid for The Actor, and then, all was well with the world once again.

Tired and Cranky

It was a wrap for many members of the cast, those who would be called peers of my son, the actor.

No matter that they'd had an incredible evening out together the night before with The Director and The Producer at a hibachi grill . . .

No, the departure of new found friends was disappointing. After a full days work, it brought one to a state of grumpiness, exhaustion, and good, old-fashioned need of sequestering onesself away to recover.

That was the state of my son last night. I pray he slept well, as the production continues on today, no rest for the weary.