Ready For My Close-Up

September 21, 2009


It is now 22:00 and I should be going to sleep. I need to go to sleep. Really, I do. I want to be fresh for tomorrow, alive and full of all those things that make me so incredible and easy to like. I was planning on being in bed on my way to sleep already over thirty minutes ago. That was the plan. But who can sleep on a night like tonight? Tomorrow is a huge day. HUGE.

It all started a couple of weeks ago. I was out having a bite to eat and reading Vanity Fair online, wondering what all I would have to do to actually get my name in the pages of Vanity Fair, but this is another story for another blog on another day, and suddenly someone interrupted me. He wanted to know if I was interested in being an extra in a movie. I said sure, sent off pictures of myself and basically forgot about it.

Then a few days later I got an email with details. It is for a movie titled “Eat, Pray, Love”, based on the book by Liz Gilbert. Parts of it would be filmed near Delhi, and star an actress named Julia Roberts. You know, Pretty Woman? Erin Brockovich? Notting Hill? Yes, THAT Julia Roberts!

So tomorrow morning I have a 03:00 alarm and a 04:00 pick up and then a ninety or so minute drive to the set, or as we in the biz are wont to call it, the location. And Julia (as we are colleagues now, I feel it is OK to just call her Julia and I will tell her to just call me Robb) will be there all day. I may be scrubbing floors with Julia. How many of you can say you have every done that? Maybe you have scrubbed floors, but not with Julia Roberts. And certainly not on film.

So I should be closing for now and get some sleep. Julia is probably tucked in and already in dreamland. Or maybe she is awake with the excitement of meeting me.

September 22, 2009

3am is really early. I mean, like REALLY early. I would normally be groggy from waking up so early, but the fact is I barely closed my eyes. My head was filled with all the memories I was about to make. Julia and I joking around the set, or perhaps comparing notes on India. She would ask me where she and Danny should go for the weekend and I would give her tips and offer to babysit the twins. She would confide in me that she is a bit insecure about her acting abilities and I would patiently reassure her and give her a big, big hug to make her feel better. She would tell the director that her new BFF should not merely be background decoration, but should play a more substantial role for the betterment of the film and meanwhile, back in her trailer, I would playfully clutch her Oscar for my imaginary acceptance speech while she took pictures for her Facebook page. And oh, how she and I would laugh at our private jokes while everyone else looked on in jealousy.

I arrived on location to the signs of “No personal photography” and a list of rules:

• Strictly no personal photography is allowed on set
• Please deposit your mobile phones and cameras with the designated person
• No mobile phones to be carried to set
• Any phones or cameras on set will be confiscated
• No personal food or drink is allowed on set
• Smoking is banned on set
• Please remain silent and disciplined when on set

 I saw the signs, as they were hanging from and leaning on anything that didn’t move, took pictures and then changed into my costume and waited for Julia. Actually, we waited and waited and just before lunch we were all taught a chant we would be using in a scene. See, we were playing people from the ashram, and supposedly people from ashrams chant. A lot. So we chanted… Govind bolo hari gopal bolo… Radha Ramana hari gopala bolo... over and over and over again. And then we chanted some more, just to be sure we all had it and could do it while clapping. The religious experience of walking and chewing gum. After we all kind of got it, we were taken to the set and I picked my cushion and sat myself down. There were supposed to be some empty spaces so I was told to keep the one next to me free. Five minutes later, I was told “the actress will be coming in and sitting there”. THERE? Next to me? ME? This shot had all the makings of a close-up and my pillow was going to be next to hers. This was it, the start of our lifelong friendship. It was too good to be true. I could not believe my luck. And rightly so. I was asked to stand up and was moved a couple of feet away. I would be less than two meters from “the actress”, but that is not the same as being next to and in the same frame with. I was robbed.

So the parts with Julia were done and then we set up for all different kinds of shots. I got chosen for the close-up. Imagine if you will, me sitting and clapping while the camera which was located about two feet away from my face filmed me. Up close. I was instantly glad I had thought to trim any unsightly hair. It was amazing. The more I am in front of a camera, the more I realize I not only love it, but I was born to be there.

Well, we finish the shoot and are told by the director that it was a wrap for the day and that “tomorrow we will shoot swami and the band” just as I was standing up. That was when a voice from behind me laughed and said “swami and the band?” and I turned around saying something like “sounds like a 70’s band” and there I was, face to face with Julia Roberts and we locked eyes. And there it was, that smile beaming at me. AT ME! And then she told me in that voice of hers, “you are the single most devastatingly handsome man I have ever laid eyes on in my entire life”, but she said it using the words “remember the 70’s” and I swooned. I have seen that smile a gazillion times on film, but it just does not capture how truly spectacular and amazing and big it really is. And this wasn’t an “acting” smile, this was the real deal and it was fabulous. I will never wash my eyes or ears again.

My New Roommate

I have a new roommate. He’s quite cute, very quiet and has a thing for bugs. I don’t mean he likes them, I mean he eats them. He chases them around the wall and before you know it, there he is, chomping away on a yummy moth.

My house is surrounded by parks, and in these parks live all sorts of creatures from peacocks to deer to bats to ducks to moths. As my living area opens onto a terrace I keep locked and to myself at night, I tend to keep my window and front door wide open with the ceiling fan airing things out and of course, a light on. And what happens when there is a light on in a dark area? It’s a mini-creature circuit party. Yes indeed, the bugs come out at night and so does my roomie, a little green gecko.

I don’t know where he spends his day, because he is always gone when I wake up, but as soon as the light comes on in the evening, he takes to his battle station at the top of the wall, just under the ceiling and waits. And then they come, moth after moth. I find it fascinating to watch him chase them down. He stalks them not unlike a cat and then suddenly moves so quick that if you blink, it is all over. I was taking picture of him earlier with the zoom and there he was, post moth, licking his lips. Seriously, he was licking moth innards from his little lizard lips.

But I have to say, I think he is getting a bit flabby around the edges. Hanging out at the light has made him a bit lazy. He no longer gets exercise looking for them, he just hangs out until they fly almost directly into his mouth. And he eats them by the dozens. Just this evening I have already counted 12, and there he is, still on high alert and he is just a tiny thing. I am worried he is going to eat one too many and I am going to come home to gecko covered walls. Or worse, get partially digested moth bits all over me.

Most of the people I know hate the lizards. A few are terrified of them. I love them. I think they are just so cute. And they eat bugs before they have a chance to fly into my mouth mid snore. I sleep easier knowing I have someone, or some thing, to watch over me. Once when living in Defence Colony, I tried to catch one, to put him outside where he could be with his little lizard friends and family. I only managed to break off the end of his tail and I was immediately filled with remorse. Every time I would see him for weeks after, I would apologize and try to start a conversation, but he wanted nothing to do with me.

And so now, I lavish all my attention and moths on the one that came for dinner a week ago and simply refuses to leave.

McBlog

When I a slightly younger man living in the US, there were a few eating places that for me were just not done, like McDonalds and KFC.

Yes, I have eaten at McDonalds, but for most of my life, the bulk of that had all taken place before I had reached the age of consent. I was entirely the victim, but this was back in the 70’s when the golden arches were for special occasions, like say a birthday, good grades or a relative coming home. Nothing said “Uncle Billy finally made parole” Like a Big Mac. Not that I have an Uncle Billy, but if I did, I assume he would have been a petty criminal, in and out of the local slammer giving us plenty of occasions to order styrofoam packed food and giving me material for the ever elusive book I have been wanting to write. But I digress. I personally, even as a little child just never really found anything from McDonalds to be even remotely palatable, much less digestible. Well, maybe the ice cream sundaes, but then it is kind of hard to kill ice cream. I also never understood why, after eating McDonalds, one would have a series of Quarter Pounder with cheese flavored burps. It just isn’t right.

And I also find Ronald McDonald just a tad creepy. I always have and I can’t really explain why. Must be the striped socks.

KFC was a completely different experience. We never actually ate at KFC, those secret herbs and spices were always brought home in a red and white bucket with lots of grease stains on the outside. KFC was not about birthdays or shotgun weddings and was instead almost always reserved for nights when there was a movie on “Wonderful World of Disney”, or perhaps a special “Lawrence Welk”. Maybe it’s just me, but even as a child, a bucket full of breasts, legs and thighs just seemed so, well, icky. Foreshadowing of thing to come? Hmmm… Perhaps.

I would, at times, try to reject eating out of the bucket but it usually ended with someone saying something along the lines of “as long as you are under my roof, young man, you will bloody well eat what I make for you and you will like it!” As I was going through my “I-want-to-be-a-lawyer-when-I-grow-up” phase, I did take the opportunity on several occasions to eloquently argue that walking up to a counter and telling a pimply teenager to “hand over sixteen pieces and throw in some slaw, mashed taters and some of them fresh backed biscuits, will ya” was making dinner. But they weren’t having it. Furthermore, I got weird looks whenever I was asked what I would like for dinner, something that usually happened on my birthday. How was I to know that squab was seen as an unreasonable request from a six year old with a developing, highly discernable palate? And an hour or so later, I would be squeezing ketchup out into the lid of my Styrofoam-ish burger container, angrily dipping my fries, wondering what I had done to deserve this, dreaming of the squab I was missing. And wondering what squab actually was. But Joan Collins, who I was once obsessed with, had mentioned it on TV so it was high on my list of likes.

Moving abroad changes people. It does. One cannot move abroad, at least to a place like India and remain unchanged. And now, on a not so infrequent basis, I find myself cringing as I order up a McChicken or a Zinger with cheese at one of the previously mentioned chains. But Delhi is transforming rapidly and now, much to my dismay, one of my favorite foods is available inside one of my most unliked theme restaurants, and so it was yesterday, that I strutted into the Hard Rock Café here in New Delhi for a real live cheeseburger. With real beef. Imported. It isn’t In-N-Out, but one can’t be picky when beef is basically forbidden and in the past two years I have had to buy it on the black market and cook it on the BBQ under cover of darkness with only a select group of edge-livers like myself.

Like KFC and McDonalds, I had been to Hard Rock before. When I didn’t know any better, when it was in Beverly Hills and New York City and when it was possible to run into Molly Ringwald, Emilio Estevez, Ally Sheedy, Demi Moore or Rob Lowe on any given night. But HRC quickly went from being the place to be to being off the map and I avoided it at all costs.

That is, until it opened in Delhi and my curiosity got the better of me. I went to see if they might have real burgers. Not lamb or chicken or veggie, but real beef that had once been roaming the plains in real cows. I know if my “make-promise-you-no-eat-cow” landlord knew what I was up to when I left the building, I would be thrown from the roof. But this will be our little secret.

So, yes, yesterday I sat in a completely deserted Hard Rock Café, directly under some thing that Steven Tyler had worn at some gig or another a couple of decades ago, eating my beefy cheeseburger and having a Danish beer while waiting for Ankit to arrive. We were going to the film. As usual, he was late and then refused to come into the restaurant. I at first admired his reserve, assuming he didn’t want to be seen exiting such a place, but I later found out the truth was much deeper than that. I asked him why he didn’t do inside and his reply was “I don’t like that kind of music” It was only when I told him that they don’t play hard rock music and had just run a clip of a corset clad Madonna that I saw the twinkle of reconsideration his eye.

On a side note, in typing this, I accidentally misspelled “McDonalds” and guess what? It is in the Word spell checker.

Now that worries me.

A New Beginning

After a fantastic and amazing time in Amritsar and McLeod Ganj, I am back in Delhi and Ulco is en route to St. Petersburg after a few days stop over in Dubai. I myself, am facing what is one of the most exciting times in my life and have that feeling, and the knowledge, that I am on the edge of something big, HUGE, happening.

It all started back in June. After months and months of not working and going through an almost paralyzing depression, I decided to leave India. I had spent months applying for jobs, registering on sites and nothing at all came of it. When the list of the top ten worst places in the world to live was released, I was desperate enough to apply in all those countries. Still, nothing happened. Not even a single response. I hadn’t looked for a job since I was in my early twenties. They came looking for me, and suddenly I could not even get a simple reply. There was nothing here for me anymore and there was no light on the horizon. Manuel was going back to Scotland and I could not watch my bank account go down anymore. In all honestly, there wasn’t any lower it could get. I decided I was going to go back to the US and since the recession was in full swing, take whatever job I could get and go back to school taking classes in creative writing, photography or anything else along those lines.

Then I got a call from the ad agency that had brought me to India in the fist place asking if I would be willing to go back to work for three months. I didn’t want to do it, but it was a job and a job meant cash so I said yes. In less than a week I found a place to live, moved and started my temporary job. Two weeks into my job, the client I was working on decided they didn’t want any temporary people, or more precisely, foreigners, on their account as of the first of August. Three months of salary quickly became one month and all I had done was bought myself another month or so in India only to find myself once again unemployed and with an uncertain future.

I decided to take a bit of advantage of the situation. I had been in Thailand in February and had found it amazingly inexpensive, more so than India, even. I decided I would take a few months and travel around Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, writing and taking pictures for some magazines. I contacted a few people I knew at some publications and they liked the idea. Little did I know, but I had put into motion something larger than I could have imagined at the time. My little idea of traveling and writing for some magazines has become a twice weekly television program. We are on the verge of getting endorsed by a highly reputable tourism focused company in India that will open all the other necessary doors for us. The first two episodes are scripted out and it is all moving forward. Hopefully we will start shooting in October. I can’t go into details yet, but it is an original concept that has not yet been done before. I will keep you all posted.

In addition to that, I was asked to audition for a movie and have heard it went really well. I haven’t heard back an official “yes” yet, but as of now it is looking very positive in my favor. It is a pretty big role in a film set to shoot in November. Suddenly it seems that everything I wanted so many years ago and never really stopped dreaming about is all knocking on my door. I have a hard time comprehending it might actually be here, my dreams, right here in front of me. If I think about it too much, I just want to laugh and cry and scream and shout. There are still a few hurdles to jump, but so far, not one person has been negative and has only added to the idea. I now find myself having to turn down ideas as I am only one hosting the show and there is only so much I can do.

On a side note, I am sitting at “The Living Room”, a restaurant I practically live at, typing all of this out. I was just interrupted by someone asking if I would be interested in being in a film shooting in a week. I said yes and now photos are on their way for someone to decide if I have the right hairline, cheekbones, coloring and look.

What I find interesting about all of this, is that whenever I try to do something lately that is not in the creative area, it goes all wrong. There are no positions, no funding, or an endless number of things get in the way. As soon as I put my attention into writing or acting, things work out effortlessly, they come to me, people cross my path and doors open. So I have taken it as a sign that this new shift in career is exactly where I need to be heading.

The other day, I was thinking about all of this and feeling a bit too old to be making a career change at my age, and one into film and television at that. But I was reading an old column of Dominick Dunne, one of my favorite writers at Vanity Fair and whose column was one of the first pieces I read each month. I have been reading him for as long as I can remember and he was one of the inspirations for me to start writing, but for some reason, I have never read one of his books. (Not to self: Get Dominick Dunne book) I was very surprised to learn that he didn’t start writing until he was 50. Not only that, he didn’t write for Vanity Fair until he was 59. 59! My fears of age were immediately and permanently tossed aside.

So it looks like the months ahead are going to be a rollercoaster of a time in the best possible way…