Inconvenient Truths

This is a town of extremes. You hear about character actors and “average Joe” looking people, and certainly some average schmoes go on to successful acting careers, but until you have a reputation in this town, you won’t get much of anywhere looking, well, like yourself. Let me tell you something, if you want to make it in Hollywood, right off the bat, you don’t look good enough. I don’t care if you’ve been eating Vegan all through your adolescence and your mom is a personal trainer and your genetics are Brangelina caliber, you’re fucking ugly. At least that’s what you’ll hear from the decision makers in this town: prospective agents or casting directors or just other self-aggrandized assholes who think they’re more important than they are. I think it’s a sports psychology method, to always keep your clients or what have you on their toes by always making them think they could be a little bit better. And as an adult who will be the first to tell you you better have dinosaur-thick skin in this business, I can also attest sometimes it kind of sucks getting belittled in front of the agency for having an extra sandwich the night before.

The other day I was in the office when one of the head agents called me over to his domain. When he saw my somewhat standard midwestern paunch underneath my button up shirt, he bemoaned, “Oh…”

“Yeah, yeah, I was back home recently…” I began, reading his mind and knowing what was coming next, trying to explain that middle America still served fat infused real hamburgers and pepperoni and grease pizzas.

“Well, you need to decide whether you want to be fit or fat.” And that’s where the whole extreme ends of the spectrum come in. You see, as a commercial actor, it’s not enough that I look like an average American man. Because the camera adds ten pounds and generally amplifies every flaw you have to make you look like Joseph Merrick, those “average” guys on TV are probably in better shape and better looking than most other humans. The slightly chubby, lovable loser husband types in DiGiorno and Bud Light spots? Probably Hurley-level obesity. Hurley himself? I don’t want to think about it.

“I’ll be fit.”
“Are you going to be fit, or just get rid of this,” he says, patting his own belly.
“Uh,….without this,” I replied, honestly.
“But you don’t have like, defined arms or anything, huh?” What the fuck?
The only thing I could think of was, “I can play a baseball player…” Good sell, fuckwad.

Now, I can deal with being called out on marginal weight gain in front of the entire agency, but I kind of wonder exactly how soulless this business is when someone implicitly recommends I GAIN more weight just so I conveniently fit into the Fat Idiot category of commercial auditioning more convincingly. I wonder if I was near emaciated, would they have given me guff about that extra rice cake I scarfed down at lunch, in order to guarantee my inclusion in the Scott Weiland junkie demographic? All of these breakdowns for commercials always insist on “normal, average, not too goofy, attractive” guys. But one thing you learn quickly is that this business and town are truly a different world. “Average” in L.A. is Prom King in Des Moines. So if you’re moving west, you better be comfortable with yourself or jogging all the way out here.

And let’s not forget, I’m a man. I can’t imagine the pressure put on young women in this town (actually I guess I kind of can because at every audition I go to, I’m in a polo shirt and jeans and all the chicks are in four inch heels and tight, silky summer dresses). I understand that agencies like to diversify their roster of clients, but shouldn’t they be encouraging as much health from their clients so the clients live longer and can potentially earn more money? Or maybe they want me dead of heart disease so they don’t have to officially drop me…

It’s not that big of a deal, really. I’ve been looking in the mirror lately and thinking the same thing. But just like on the playgorund in grade school, it smarts coming from someone else. Someone else who, at the least, is being completely honest with you. And I guess there’s why I can deal with it, and admit that he’s right, and go running after work and eat and drink a little less. It kind of sucks and hurts, but it’s true. Fit or fat, defined arms or not, the truth hurts, and the truth is your talent isn’t good enough. To look the part on film, you’ve got to look twice the part in real life. Sorry.

But what the fuck would I know, I’m just an actor.