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THE GRASS IS BROWN ON BOTH SIDES OF THE FENCE

Seven Days in the Mouth of the Lion (part 1)

Crime Broker, along with another Australian film of the same ilk - Conduct Misunderstood - was up for grabs at the Santa Monica Film Market. As it was being shown before Crime Broker, Michael Rymer (whom I was staying with yet again) and myself attended the screening to see what it had to say for itself. Not much as it turns out. Like Crime Broker that I had already seen back in Australia, Conduct Misunderstood missed its mark.

Jimmy Smits from LA Law was the American import for Gross Misconduct. The director was George Miller. Not the Mad Max George Miller, the other one who I had worked with on Homicide a couple of decades earlier. For the screening, Michael and I were sitting in front of the rest of the sparse audience, that consisted mainly of film buyers for whom the screening was for. When the film finished, the moment the lights came up, so did George Miller’s head from the front row. To get there he must have crawled down the aisle. When his head suddenly appeared Michael and myself actually got a fright. We quickly put two and two together as to what had motivated George’s strange behaviour. Rather than deal with the bullshit that would flow in the foyer afterwards, he had wanted to see any potential buyer’s honest reaction to the movie they had just seen. George obviously didn’t care what anybody thought to see his face staring at them the moment the film finished. Too late guys, Mr Miller already knew what you really thought of the film.
Funny business.

In the foyer afterwards, I found myself talking to a young Australian girl who had co-starred alongside Jimmy Smits.
I complimented her on her performance. She was very good in the film. She then asked me if I was staying on in LA. I took this to mean was I going to try my luck in Hollywood. I told her no, I was too old for that, and I liked being a reasonably sized frog in the small pond that was Australia. Frogs don’t like to swim with sharks in the sea that is Hollywood. We chatted away and found ourselves moving outside onto a balcony that overlooked LA.
Now she was standing with her back to the yellow smog, with the golden ball that was the sun, suspended in the sky like a full moon.
When I asked if she was going to stay on, she said that yes, she was going to give it a go. To see her vulnerable little face, with a pimple on the chin, in front of all the pollution that made Los Angeles look like Hades, made me feel sorry for her. I wanted to tell her it’s a jungle out there that she would just disappear into. I didn’t of course, but I really wished that she would just get on a plane and go home.
I think my body language was probably telling her that anyway. I then wished her luck and watched her walk away, towards what - I hated to think. I haven’t seen Naomi Watts since.

As they say, ‘Hollywood - where people are either chasing the dream or fleeing the nightmare’. For me personally, I never had any desire to chase the so-called dream and have known too many who had fled the nightmare. Steve Bisley, who never tried to crack it, said it best. ‘To take on Hollywood you have to give some part of yourself away.’ I found that to be true when I worked on a mini-series in Canada. I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t have rapport with the people involved, and felt like a stranger in a strange land. Not their fault. Mine. I just felt uncomfortable trying to be American. Hollywood is a different world and as much as I enjoy visiting Los Angeles I have never had any desire to work there.

My best memory of the Canadian experience was working with Eddie Albert - seasoned Hollywood stalwart whose career went back to the 30’s.

Eddie was an old Hollywood pro whose résumé would be longer than he was in height.

I think he could tell I wasn’t feeling that comfortable, and on the day I had my scenes with him, he went out of his way to be friendly. He was sitting next to me on the side of the set. They were getting ready to shoot the scene, which involved Eddie. The other actor playing opposite him walked to his position. Eddie was talking to me about when he was in New Zealand shooting a television show. He was singing the country’s praises when the director was heard to say ‘We are ready for you Eddie’. Eddie replied, ‘Ready when you are’. Then he started to tell me about some fish and chips that he’d had in Wellington. It was along the lines of ‘I have never tasted fish and chips like these they were wonderful’. The director once again was heard to say, ‘Ready to go Eddie.’ Eddie’s response was again ‘Ready when you are’ and continued his conversation with me. ‘I don’t know what it was that made those fish and chips so special.’
The director shrugged his shoulders and then called ‘action’. Eddie then got up, stepped onto the set and moved effortlessly through the scene. He had quite a lot of dialogue that was delivered perfectly. The director then called ‘cut’ and Eddie left the set, sat down beside me again and said ‘Maybe they put beer in the batter or something. But they were definitely the best fish and chips I’ve ever had.’

I was due to fly back to Melbourne on a Thursday.
I was looking forward to a laid-back day before my departure. This was to be disrupted by a phone call from Sydney.
It was from Maura Fay the casting agent. Apparently, some producer had rung her as he was looking at the possibility of casting an Aussie in an American sit-com called Phenom. As I was in LA Maura had recommended that they see me, and had an appointment put in place for me at 2pm at Sony Pictures. I was not keen to go as I had been looking forward to having a laid-back day. American casting nets are large. They see hundreds of people for any role and the chances of winning such a lottery are minuscule. However, to not go wouldn’t be appreciated by Maura, as she had obviously gone in to bat for me. So, I borrowed Michael Rymer’s car and set off. Sony Pictures, as it turned out, were the new owners of the old Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios. This swung my interest as I had a pass that would allow me to have a gander at what was beyond the old MGM studio gates. I approached a security booth at one of the gates. An effervescent young man asked me what the title of the show was, that I had the appointment for. I fumbled around trying to remember. Venom, Bemon and Veome were not helping the poor guy in trying to ascertain what it was, as he ran his finger up and down a list on his clipboard. It was a relief when he hit upon Phenom. We both shrugged as if to say what the hell was a Phenom.

I then followed his instructions as to where to go. I boarded an internal shuttle that would take me to the Sidney Poitier Building. On the way, I watched the activity through the shuttle window. No one looked happy. Cindy Williams of Laverne and Shirley, now a successful director, went past in a golf cart looking as if the troubles of the world were on her shoulders. The other passengers on the shuttle were an eclectic lot. A cowboy, sorting through his briefcase, was dressed in a very smart western suit - shiny western boots, white hat and sporting a drooping moustache that Sam Elliot would have been jealous of. Producer? Writer? I don’t know, but you can bet he was involved with some project concerning the Wild West. There was also some secretary gutsing a sandwich and dripping mayonnaise onto the seat. The others seemed to be using the shuttle to ferry those with parcels on missions of delivery.

I got off the shuttle and walked through a walkway to the other side, where I saw the building that was my destination. The Sidney Poitier Building. Clues became evident as I made my way to the reception area, as to who was at the helm of this mysterious Phenom. Posters of the cast of Taxi, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, plus the real giveaway - The Simpson’s. I was at Gracie Films. The company founded by the legendary film director James L Brooks. His films include - Terms of Endearment, Broadcast News and As Good as it Gets.

The girl at reception led me to casting where I filled out a brief form consisting of name, phone number etc. Then I was given a page of two-handed dialogue and a bottle of mineral water, and was shown to a waiting room. The room was nothing salubrious - a well scuffed carpet, five or six chairs, and a notice board that had one photo pinned on it. It was of all people Austen Tayshus the clever Aussie comedian. Why him I don’t know, but Hollywood has never been strong on rhyme or reason.
As I sat browsing over the page of dialogue the receptionist, whose small office adjoined the waiting room, distracted me. I could not see her face as it was now behind her computer screen. She would have placed it like that to avoid scrutiny from the waiting room. But what I could see were her feet under the desk. She talked away on the phone while she twirled one shoe around and around on her big toe. It must have taken a lot of phone calls to perfect that.
The script held a few clues as to what I was going to have to do. The dialogue was between a bombastic older man and a young woman. It started with my character saying something along the lines of, ‘I may be accused of being egotistical here, but I don’t think you are going to be strong enough to fight this chemistry between us.’
I didn’t think I’d have to dig too far to find out where this smart arse was coming from.

The phone rang and the receptionist answered it. The twirling shoe stopped. The phone was returned to its cradle. The clever foot wriggled into the shoe, she walked into the waiting room and asked me to follow her.
I dutifully did through a labyrinth of rooms and corridors, until we arrived in an area where there stood a tripod and video camera and its operator. An affable, smartly dressed young man welcomed me as he approached. We spoke for a bit and then he suggested they would record while I read the page of dialogue opposite the receptionist. I did. He seemed to like what I did, and suggested that I go home and come back the next day when I would know the lines, and they would record it again. I explained that I couldn’t do that as I was flying out to Melbourne. He implied that that was unfortunate but these things happen, and it was nice to have met me. The receptionist walked me back to her desk, said thanks for coming in, and I walked out of the building. A return shuttle arrived and I found myself back at the exit gate. The young man at the security gate caught my eye as I walked through and he gave me a wink, and asked me what was Phenom. I told him that as far as I could work out it was about phenomenal tennis players. Hence Phenom. He gave me a shrug that transmitted he wasn’t much wiser. I mirrored a shrug in agreement and was through the gate, appreciating the fact that I’d had at least a slight insight as to what was behind the gates of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

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