My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #19)

In the spring of 2006, covering an Oscar party for 'The Hollywood Reporter', I was seated at a table of actors including Michael Madsen. I knew Mr. Madsen could have a potentially volatile relationship with journalists, but then I also wasn't there to interview my tablemates and wasn't worried. It was very cool to be able to talk to him during a break and mention that 8 years earlier I'd been an extra on his television series for two days. You never know where your career will go or what it will morph into and it was nice to be able to say thanks again, years later, seated at the same table; it felt like a long way had been traveled. I'll always give props to Michael Madsen and Christopher Lloyd for those subtle thumbs-up a long time ago. - Karl, October 31, 2009

Set notes from the series “Vengeance Unlimited” 1998– Part 2

September 24, 1998: 7:15 p.m. 15 more minutes left of the lunch break. I left the ranch for lunch and went to a ‘76’ gas station for some fresh air. I finished ‘Amnesiascope’, the book had sharp insights into loser-L.A. types and the scenes of stupid sex were indicative of how it must actually be for some in L.A., too. Otherwise, it bit. The author is witty and clever, but probably a tad high. On the way back to the ranch, a car full of girls stopped and the driver yelled, “WE LIKE YOUR SHOES!” Another car passed and screamed at me like a lot of cars do and normally it’s annoying but tonight it lifted my spirits. I’d rather get a compliment on my own clothes in real-life than be cold, bored and sitting outside a soundstage.

But being able to walk around, get the blood flowing and leave the set for a minute gave me time to think and I’m grateful for the opportunity I’ve had today and will have tomorrow. It feels so odd wasting so much time. If I’d known it’d be so unseasonably cold today I’d have worn a coat and it’d be better. I’ve had 2 hours of sleep and no amount of positive thinking would make the day any more fun.

The Warner Bros. ranch is cool. There’s the ‘Buffy’ production offices and down the way there’s what looks like an idyllic suburban street with houses and no palm trees: it’s all a big set and it could be Chicago or Delaware. Anywhere, USA. Walking by it in the dark it looked eerily perfect and the absence of any lights, cars or humans adds to the effect. Very 'Night of the Comet'. The outside sets tonight are all empty. There’s mock-houses and buildings, some look like schoolhouses on one block and there’s a city block set of what looks like brownstones. Security here is friendly. It’s almost 8 p.m. and they’re saying we can ‘hold’ on Stage 33 now for 'Vengeance'.

8:02 p.m. I just got called in for a shot and the A.D. told me they changed their mind and want to save me for later. I’m agreeable and am back outside waiting. I’m getting tired. A friendly set: a couple of crew guys have gone out of their way to say hi and ask me how I’m doing. One of the lead actresses smiled and gave me a big “Hi!” Everyone has been cool. I think it’s because I do what I’m asked, watch and learn… I don’t mess up their flow. One of the actresses said to me when we broke for lunch, “Now there’s a blonde from California!” We all laughed and she said, “You look wild! It’s cool!” They get it. Now if the casting directors followed suit, I’d be in business!

One of the crew guys, in his early 50s, just walked by me and said, “I’ve been walking up and down here for the past 11 hours and you’re still waiting. Have you gotten a drink of water or anything?” I said yes and chuckled. He patted my arm. I’m hoping when I do get on the set I don’t suck. I haven’t been told anything about what I’m supposed to do- it’ll be me and a series regular- so I’m going to have to act on a dime. Everyone else has been in and out of the new set but I’ll wing it.

During the brief shooting part I did inside earlier, a lady on a headset said that my shoes were loud on the floor. I stuck to walking on the runners on the wood floors, as I mentioned. She asked me did if I have another pair of shoes with me. I thought that was funny, like I’m outside with boxes of alternate shoes at my disposal on this ranch. I’m sure they wouldn’t have my shoe size—I have yet to find a size 13 on any wardrobe truck. I offered to take off my shoes since it’s not a full body shot but it ceased to be an issue. I was silently aggravated by the whole thing, as if I were stomping down some fake floors where we all know the acoustics are loud. I just said that I didn't know what else to do. Not walk, maybe? The production ended up buying pizza for everyone on the set since we’re running late.

I got paired with a featured extra who is supposed to play another officer I’m dealing with at the precinct. We were told we’ll do our shot tomorrow. We left the ranch after 11 p.m. The actor I’m working with tomorrow was also a featured extra as a security officer in the film ‘Air Force One’ and the Dennis Caruso series ‘Michael Hayes’. He said that the worst gig he had recently was on the show ‘Between Brothers’ where two of the Black leads were merciless and making fun of some of the dayplayers, making cracks on how ‘black’ or ‘too black’ some of them were. Pretty startling. The director of this particular episode is pretty well known and loved in the business. He said she didn’t do anything about the heckling, just rolled with it and coddled the two leads who were doing this even on-camera. I guess she figured they could fix it in post. The actor who was telling me about this was almost in tears. He said it’s unbelievable how minority talent treats each other when the roles and opportunities are already so slim. It’s beyond unfortunate, some of the proprietary self-loathing you see when there really is room for everybody.

September 25, 1998: Back to the Warner Bros. ranch. We had to look exactly as we did yesterday but I was like new money since I’m not on 2 hours sleep. I didn’t have to be on the set until just before 2 p.m. The officer actor I was paired with and I did our bit. The 1st A.D. and the 2nd A.D. were the ones who decided that I wasn’t a perp and was instead reporting my car stolen. They're both nice women and it's a small thing but it's nice not to have to play a criminal.

The 1st A.D. called me ‘Will’. I didn’t correct her. Then the 2nd A.D called me ‘Will’ too. I was wrapped by 3:10 p.m. and free to go with a full-day’s pay for less than 90 minutes work. I was thanking everybody and heading past a separate group of trailers when Michael Madsen came out of his trailer. We looked at each other for a double take and he’s very laid-back. He’s got that patented cool look and jet-black hair. His trailer was standard sized, no bigger than anyone else’s and it’s his show. He acted no different than an extra, really. No airs. We were a study in contrasts. Cool outfits and bed heads. We waved hello and I said thanks for the opportunity and clocked out. Done! Weekend is here.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #18)

Flashback: Two days as an extra on 'Vengeance Unlimited'

September 24, 1998: It’s a Thursday and I’m sitting outside of Stage 32 on the Warner Brothers studio’s ranch facilities to work on 'Vengeance Unlimited. It's Michael Madsen's series and Kathleen York is also in the show. It’s only 2:35 p.m. and already brisk and chilly. There’s about 20 extras spaced around five Star Wagons holding no one of any particular importance. Not that I’m looking up much. I’ve got a headache building. Food might help but I refuse to sit in this plastic chair and balance a coffee and a bagel like some of these dudes balancing three donuts and a juice like they have no food at home. I look fly. My wardrobe was eagerly liked by the wardrobe lady. I was told to wear ‘semi-downscale- casual’ and that’s a direct quote. That means you dress like you’re a rock god. If I’m going to play a perp I’m not going to look like one.

I’m reading a dreary book called ‘Amnesiascope’ about a self-pitying writer and his promiscuities and search-for-whatever in where-else?: post-apocalyptic Los Angeles.

It was the L.A. aspect (and a good review) that made me buy the book but the sci-fi tangents with pages of descriptions that mean nothing is draining. The protagonist of the book is carrying on about the past women he’s fucked who haunt him.... because when he fucked them he “emptied {his] pain into them” kind-of-thing. Groan.... Ejaculate-as -low-self esteem: such a boring delusion when males get stuck on it. I always want to shout, “You can’t be that fucking depressed if you can fuck. And if you are that depressed then don’t fuck in the first place.’ Men and the fetish of low self-esteem. Bo-ring. Be a man and stop whining.

I have no idea why I’m sitting here for the past 3 hours or what I’m supposed to be doing or when this work day will conceivably end. I’m on no sleep and I’m not whining, I’m observing!

The Warner Bros. ranch- separate from the main WB studio lot- is very quiet and nice. I wish I could walk around and chill. I have two wardrobe changes to do today and I have no idea why. The assistant director just asked me if I can work again tomorrow. I said yes. I’ll bring a different book tomorrow. I’ll also bring a coat. It’s fucking cold. 63 pages until I finish my book. Then what? My call-time got changed to 12:30 today instead of 10:30 a.m. so I did get two hours of sleep. Something I read earlier compared Hollywood to a feudal system. Sitting in this lot outside for four hours does make the comparison seem true!

4:40 p.m. I got called in to walk down 9 feet of carpet with a very thin actress playing a police woman. I got my ‘role’ changed from a perpetrator to someone who is at the precinct reporting a robbery. I think I’ve been car-jacked. The actress playing the cop was very cool. She looked at me and mouthed a little cop-to-victim banter. I mouthed back and nodded vaguely as if I were leading her. I was so huge next to her. I was just trying to focus on walking down a hallway with three different marks and cameras while staying on the runners so my shoes didn’t make noise on the wood floor. The camera work took about 10 seconds once we were done.

I can’t imagine why they want me back tomorrow and what it could be that we can’t finish today. This extra dude, with a bald, corrugated scalp, actually walked into a scene with a turkey sandwich and Pepsi from craft services in his mouth and hands. He walked onto the set and a scene this way. The A.D. said, “You need to finish that quick.” “Two more bites,” the dummy said, still chewing and walking the set with Pepsi in hand. The A.D. and the crew just shook their heads. See what I mean about some actors and food? The food is free-hello! There’s only a whole table full of it. It was so tacky. “Two more bites!” – all phlegmy-voiced from deep-throating the turkey sammiches.

Talked to a friend whose manager has him auditioning for that kiddie show ‘Keenan & Kel.’ My friend is 45 years old. This development mortified him into a laughing jag for a good half-hour. He said, “I’ve been here for two years--starvin’!--and I gotta go out with ‘Keenan & Kel’? Aww, hell naw!” It was absurdly hilarious. Here my friend is, a tall, cop-type and he’s auditioning for a wealthy Dad role for Keenie & Kel. When I sat next to them at Jerry’s Deli in the spring, they looked like they wanted to laugh at me, you know, they’re young. One is very heavy and the other had a Cleopatra bob of braids, so their good sense prevailed and they didn't.

I’m wondering if I should've said I’d be back here tomorrow. Granted, it’s money, but I’m bored stiff. It’s cold and I’ve been outside of this stage on the asphalt all day. How long will we be out here? Into the night, perhaps, the lot of us warming our hands over a lit trash can? This shit is for the birds. I’m just glad I have a full-time job. I couldn’t make ends meet as an extra. These real pro-extra -dudes have it down to a science. They have their own collapsible, Sharpie-marked chairs and they know what service does what and which show serves cold cuts or pot roast, ha ha! Some are clearing over $500 a week. Their cop uniforms have long since paid for themselves.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #17)

September 22, 1998: The Monica Lewinsky Global Furor is hilariously sad. Bill Clinton being spoken to like shit for four hours on TV. The transcripts and threatening impeachment daily. They’re telling all their business. Scary. Nothing is private. Nothing.

September 23, 1998: I’m booked as an extra on a TV show for tomorrow, an under-five (as in under five lines), and not really looking forward to it, mostly because I’m not going to have any rest in between jobs. It’s something, working all night and then working a full day on a set. I’ve mailed about 45 submissions. I’m taking the gig tomorrow because it’s good to keep active. It’s multi-camera work, again, and I love learning it. The television show is called “Vengeance Unlimited” and is shooting on Stage 32 at the Warner Brothers ranch. I’m playing a ‘Perpetrator’. Maybe that’s another reason I’m not excited. A perpetrator. Now watch this be the one show where I don’t get edited out. My attitude will be fine; I usually have a good enough time on a set. I like to observe and listen.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #16)

August 15, 1998: My friend David and I went to an old haunt from the '20 Questions’ post-show time. It felt good to have a little distance and sense of completion. I got shrieked at 5 times from 5 separate cars in 8 minutes when we passed Circus of Books. A truck full of girls screamed, “We love you!”

August 19, 1998: I’m in Power Bastard mode. Yes, sir. I’ve been feeling some stress and pressure lately and some people know no limits with me. I can’t be weighed down by inconsiderate people. I’ve been doing well in L.A. and I’m clear on where I stand. Spiritually, I’ve embraced my faith. I struggle sometimes: it’s a constant quest for answers, possibilities and truths. It has gotten me through Everything.

Professionally, I’ve got a successful stage show under my belt, more visibility and I do get work and auditions/go-sees. All of these career gains are more worthy for my determination than to my wallet. I’m non-union, inexpensive labor but I’m workin’ it for all points. At my day job, I’m a cash box. That is my value to L.A.-at-large: I’m a dollar sign, an economic unit. That’s spiritually and professionally how I feel today. A personal life is worth more than any paper currency but that feels empty-handed. Just mark my words: it’s all going to change. I’m doing strong things. Alone…..

August 20, 1998: I’m still in my Power Limits mode. Served up a musician friend of mine who left me 5 voice mails about something two days old. I told him not to leave me any directives, ever, and to delete any messages he doesn’t like and dismiss it. Musicians always ask you what you think of their demos and I’m normally very enthused. I was raised on music. I offered some constructive criticisms and then got told that my ‘soliloquies’ weren’t necessary. So, yeah, I let him have it.

August 25, 1998: My career is at a standstill. I’ve mailed 28 submissions. It’s safe to say that I didn’t get the Ice-T produced film. I’m satisfied with what I’ve done but I’m hoping I don’t meet much resistance this season. I’ll put out a new headshot in the fall. My mail-outs hinge on someone fly saying, ‘He’s it!” That's how it works and I know that for a fact. I’ve got to maintain myself in the meantime. I’m relying purely on my own instincts and finances.

August 27, 1998: Hold still. Take stock. Eyes on the prize, little distraction. I don’t want to be that person for whom the same and the boring and the predictable is good enough. It’s not.

September 12, 1998: I feel close to God. I feel optimistic, like everything is taken care of. It feels good. I feel empowered and calm. I feel like I'm leaving a lot of things behind that I don't need anymore as far as feelings. I think it's part and parcel of this business to fear people or a person seeing into your more primal vulnerabilities and insecurities. You have to stop trying to be perfect and just be. Be yourself, flaws and all; it's more attractive and compelling.

I'll be 29 next week. I've been doing fine; I'm improved and stronger for my efforts in Chicago and now in Los Angeles. All the second-guessing needs to change and will. There's too much out here that's great. I want abundance, love and I want to pull others up with me. It's faith. It's how you think and what you do with that personal power and influence. I can do it and that's my quest.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #15)

August 8, 1998: Working on the film for two days & working my regular third-shift put me into a rush; everything is at warp-speed. The TV-movie I worked on, Blade Squad, airs on August 12th on Fox. I have no lines. We’ll see if the editing bay was kind, huh? Last week was my first big push toward a post-hiatus work search for my career. I didn't have a hiatus with the run of the play '20 Questions' going until July, but within a week of searching I got to work with Milos Forman for a day- long enough to get a taste of working a full-day on a film set with one of the best.

August 10, 1998: I’ve been called in to audition tomorrow in Santa Monica for the film “Urban” for Toga Productions. The producer, Terry Blyth, called me today and asked me to call her. My audition is tomorrow at 12:20 p.m. The film is an “urban crime drama” that starts shooting August 31 in Eastern Europe. I’m being called in on my own merits- it’s not management getting me these appointments. It’s a matter of a good audition from there.

August 11, 1998: I did my audition today for Toga Productions and I did a film test. It’s a Filmwerks/Ice-T production. The script title was ‘24/7’. Terry Blyth looks like a skinnier version of Karen Lynn Gorney. She said, “Your hair. Wow. I bet you get a lot of attention. I think it’s great- that’s the first thing that grabbed my attention, that and the snake in your headshot. I figured I’d call you in, get you on tape, so that you might get the director’s attention. Right now I don’t think he has an idea of what he wants these characters to look like.” I thanked her and we did a read-through. I read for a character named Cool Z. and she read as Jodi. Her only note for the film test was to be “more sinister.” It went well as far as the taping and we’ll see what happens. My hunch is that the job will rise or fall on my look.

August 12, 1998: ‘Blade Squad’ is already airing now in Chicago. My friend Angie says she hasn’t scene the scene I was in yet. There’s 45 minutes remaining. I can’t see how that nightclub bombing scene would be edited out after the 9 hours it took to film it. Angie says she’ll page me if she sees it. I’m taping it. A lot of people I told about it are watching and I’m hoping for a flash of air-time. I’m nervous.

Going to work the other night and one of the bootleg valets on Schrader across the street from the Hollywood Athletic Club saw me and said, “Hey, Star! It’s the man, the myth, the legend!”

I laughed it off and talked to him before my shift. He said, “Don’t laugh. It’s important that we hear it, that we hear these things. That’s why I just said those things to you. It’s good for our spirit and that was my gift to you.” I said thanks and when I was heading to the office he hollered after me, “Allright, Star!” He’s always called me that but it was very humbling, his reasoning for it. It was a kindness.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #14)

'Man on the Moon' set notes - Part 2

August 6, 1998: We’re on the mausoleum/graveyard set of ‘Man on the Moon’ and it’s time to go inside of the actual mausoleum. It’s incredibly hot and people are already being situated where they need to be for the re-created Andy Kaufman funeral.

I’m seated with my on-screen wife across from the ‘Taxi’ cast in the pews. Courtney Love, playing Lynne Margulies, is in the front row sitting dutifully except for when she leaves for smoke breaks. Her stand-in comes in and sits for Courtney on these many breaks and when Courtney returns, the stand-in wordlessly leaves until the next time.

There’s an extremely realistic bust of Jim Carrey-as-Andy Kaufman in an open casket that is strangely eerie and it doesn’t look like Andy Kaufman, it looks like Jim Carrey. The stray conversations on the set are all similar: that while Carrey may not look like Kaufman, he’s absolutely immersed himself in the role. Rumors of ER visits by Carrey, due to the stress of the characterization, circulate. There are stories of Carrey showing up on the set as Tony Clifton and being as notoriously obnoxious as Clifton ever was. Carrey won’t be on the set today for this scene, but many of the cast today are taken in by the life-size death mask in the casket. Carol Kane takes a quiet moment to observe it.

Danny DeVito, one of the producers of the film, handles matters on the set with brisk stoicism. The ‘Taxi’ cast is already seated when my group of wrestlers are seated. Marilu Henner, vascular and sugar-free, gives a slightly startled look our (my?) way and settles in humorlessly for the moment. The humorless streak is broken when she good-naturedly teases Jeff Conaway, seated in front of her, about his wig. Conaway has been fitted with a voluminous mushroom-style wig to simulate his Eddie Money hair from the ‘Taxi’ series. He has been very comfortable with the wig up until now and it’s a pretty seamless wig, as far as wigs go. Now, however, he is self-conscious and he pulls at the ends of the wig until he asks to be taken back to the trailer so that the wig can be removed. Marilu Henner. still laughing, seems somewhat mortified that he took the joking to heart and mouths to one of her former castmates that she hopes she’s not in trouble for Conaway’s sudden-and lengthy-exit. Conaway returns with his his own hair, short and gelled, and seems only somewhat more at ease. Christopher Lloyd, along with Carol Kane, is the friendliest of the ‘Taxi’ group and gives me a fist salute and winks during the set-up. It’s wordless but proof from a pro that I’m not a freak and deserve to be here. I never forget it. Christopher Lloyd will always be cool in my book.

The crew brings in some air funnels that look like wide, silver straws that pump air- not cooled-but air just the same into the mausoleum space for some relief from the heat and lights. There’s a green-screen marked with masking tape X’s at the front of the pews. This is where, in post-production, Carrey-as-Kaufman’s filmed eulogy and sing-a-long of ‘It’s a Friendly World’ will be imposed. Other actors in the funeral scene are Caroline Rhea as Melanie Chartoff and Jerry Lawler, the WWF legend who notoriously pounded Kaufman years earlier. Lawler is 47 years old at the time and handles himself well. It is a month before the incident where Carrey, in character, will spit in Lawler's face and headlines will resurrect a similar incident with Andy Kaufman. Years later, Lawler will describe his account and experience on the set. Jerry Lawler is well-liked on the set, another tie to Andy Kaufman, and he’s also very popular with our group of wrestlers, giving us the hands-up and cheering us for representing well.

Milos Forman, the director, comes in and takes a look at everything as the set-up is nearly done. Courtney Love, coming back from a smoke break, bumps into Carol Kane and says nothing in the way of an ‘excuse me’ which is a bit startling. Carol Kane of Simka fame and the original ‘When a Stranger Calls’! What the hell? Courtney sits, looks back at us and smiles. She’s clearly comfortable with Milos Forman, like a favorite goddaughter.

We’re told that this scene is going to require us to sing along with Jim Carrey’s pre-recorded funeral footage. We watch the footage on a monitor, more than once, and learn the song and melody quickly. The lyrics are printed on-screen and a bouncing ball follows each one. We’re reminded/briefed that Andy Kaufman, a non-smoker, died of lung cancer and that there was much disbelief in 1984 that he truly had died. Many hoped it was another stunt or form of performance art and that his death wasn’t true. The diversity of the mourners is explained to us: castmates, family, wrestlers, Elvis impersonators and ranch bunnies. A few more things need to be tended to and we’ll start.

An assistant hairstylist, a beefy brother, comes over to me with a huge brush and, out of nowhere, starts to brush my hair hard enough so that I see the ends of my hair falling onto my suit. What’s he doing? I don’t say anything and stay still. Next, he takes a bottle of glycerin and pours a huge handful into his palms and starts to rub them together. “Who’s that for?” I ask him. “You,” he deadpans.
“Did anybody say I needed it?” I ask in an under-the-radar voice. A lot of the guys have the glycerin in their hair, it has the effect of gel but is shinier. The only drawback is it dries dully and makes their hair look dusty. In my hair, Black hair, glycerin is going to look like I have a jheri-curl and that’s out, 1984 or not.
“No, I think you need it. You can have what looks like a wet look,” the hairstylist brother says to me.
“I had a meeting for hair and makeup at Universal yesterday. I’m wearing my hair how they asked me to, so no glycerin, please,” I say calmly. There’s enough still going on around us that it’s not a big scene.
“Well, that’s pretty unprofessional of you,” he says. “What would you do if I put it in your hair anyway?”
“I’d leave. And you’re not going to. I’m not making enough money today for it to be worth it to you,” I say, thinking of the Japanese commercial and that hair disaster. It’s not rocket science, just basic economics of getting that mess out of my hair later after I already bleached it and I’m tired of the argument. He goes away and we shoot the funeral scene many times until we break for lunch.

Outside on the mausoleum steps, I’m asked by one of the crew members to take several Polaroids of myself in costume for continuity in case we have to do any reshoots. The hairstylist comes over to me and sneers. “Would you really have gone home?” he asks. “Yep. Whittier Blvd. is right there,” I point. I don’t have an issue and I don’t feel like I’ve been ‘difficult’- I’ve checked in with everyone and everybody was happy with what I did as far as looking the part of a WWF wrestler, so enough already.

“Are you having a good time today?” I hear an accented, friendly voice ask. I turn and it’s Milos Forman, in a t-shirt his wife probably would prefer be retired as it’s almost transparent. He’s a friendly, enthusiastic man and I’m surprised he’s making polite small talk, a classy, egalitarian gesture that makes a huge difference in a cast-of-thousands situation. We talk for a couple of minutes and I thank him for having me on the set today and being able to work with him. It's a huge deal.

Peter Bonerz, the actor who played Jerry on The Bob Newhart Show is having a birthday and has been surprised with a cake on the set. He asks me would I like a slice. I say sure and marvel at how my older relatives would be truly impressed right now. He’s a nice, professional guy and I wish him a happy birthday. Courtney Love talks on her cell phone. My movie wife and I get a small lunch and sit on a non-headstoned part of the cemetery with iced bottled water to beat the heat. We go back for several more hours and finish the day’s shoot before sunset.

We’ll wait a year until the film is released to see if we’re actually in the film. We won’t have kept in touch to tell each other that all that made it onscreen of us were the backs of our heads.... but hey, we were directed by Milos Forman.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #13)

'Man on the Moon' set notes - Part 1

August 6, 1998: Working third-shift and consolidating my breaks so that I can use the last half-hour to get ready for the ‘Man on the Moon’ filming today. Go into the men’s room at 5:15 a.m., a groggy dude, and come out at 5:30 camera-ready. I’ve bleached my roots the night before and am ready to embody a WWF wrestler in 1984 for the day.

The shoot is east of downtown L.A. at a cemetery/mausoleum. Home of Peace is the name, I believe. Talent arrives at a vacant parking lot and we’re shuttled to the cemetery for the day’s shoot. There’s a mix of people on the shuttle to portray the various categories of mourner’s at Andy Kaufman’s wake/funeral: there’s his family, who were upper middle-class according to the A.D. Also, there are the Elvis impersonators, the wrestlers, the 'Taxi' cast and the Bunny Ranch girls, all paying homage and respects at Andy’s funeral. Andy's funeral was in New York but based on the info from today's shoot, there won't be any exterior shots outside of the mausoleum.

We get dropped off at the location and most of the extras go to a main tent. I’m asked to go to one of the regular trailers for hair and make-up check but I feel unsure. I’m dressed in the agreed-upon shiny suit as discussed at Universal the day before and my hair is in the ’84 surfer layers, so when Carol Kane graciously makes the ‘after you’ gesture with her hand to go into the trailer first, I thank her but return the favor and go to the main tent. I’ve been on the shuttle with the people I’m going to be with all day in the group scene, so this momentary time in a better trailer seems not the right place for me to be chilling in. It’s already starting to get incredibly hot outside so I go to the tent where there are make-up, hair and costume stations, along with tables and craft services. I figure I can sit at a table, read some and write once I’ve checked in.

The hair stations have tacked-up ads and diagrams of hairstyles from the mid-1980s that are being followed dutifully. Some of the people here today missed that era entirely, so they are excited to be wearing ‘period’ hairstyles. I think it’s funny that I was 14 in 1984 and had a high-top fade, not bleached, long hair...it’s comically revisionist, this freeze-frame of another era just 14 years ago. It's a collective version of what we think Hollywood looked like back then, for these are people mourning, many from Los Angeles, in a different time when the A-list of every medium was populated by different names than now and the big deals were held by others, some now not even in ‘the game.’ It strikes me how cyclical it all is, how each few years has its own tide, its own stars, its own selection of names whose Big Chance it is to take it to the top or as far as they can go. Then the next group gets their chance. Success in Hollywood is based on talent, luck and not stepping out of the metaphorical line before you get to the ride. Even if it takes years.

I check in with wardrobe. They like my suit, just as discussed. Check in with hair dept. and they say the same. Time is tight and everyone has to look vintage yet everyone hasn’t come prepared, so there is tension all around. Some people gripe at being chastised for their lack of preparedness, i.e. not having the right clothes, their hair in a wrong style and already stiff with product, the make-up wrong.

I’m sitting at a table, reading a book, when two actresses behind me start to talk. The main one speaking has that unmistakably Sunset -Strip-nasal voice, the kind you can hear above the din saying, ‘Another whiskey sour!!! Wooooh!’

She’s in a bad mood and telling this girl she just met that acting might not be for her anymore. After all, she says, it’s not even 9 in the morning and it’s already hot as fuck outside and who knows when we’ll be done. And for what? The chance of a blip of screen time? She sighs. All she needs, she continues, is one more SAG voucher and she’ll be able to join the Screen Actors Guild. I think of what she’s saying and I have, in fact, already asked one of the production people handling the SAG vouchers for today’s extras if I can have one. I arrived hours early and asked while the vouchers were still plentiful and in hand. I was told to check back a couple of hours later since they’re waiting for one Elvis impersonator extra and if he’s not there by 10 a.m., I can have his voucher since he’s already inexcusably late, she says. I’m keeping an eye on my watch.

The actress behind me with the nasal voice is on a roll again: “Do you know how I got my first SAG voucher? I got it, like, as a dead person in, like, a Steven Segal movie. Can you think of anything more depressing? I mean, it was depressing for two reasons…no, I take that back, for three reasons. Number one, I’m dead, alright, like, in a morgue. That’s first of all. Number two, I’m completely naked, okay, which I could deal with except I’m naked in a morgue, so it’s like I’m covered in this blue makeup that’s totally not flattering and it's cold. Can you imagine what that was like, being naked, dead and an extra in a Steven Segal movie!?Is that four things? Whatever…” her voice trails and her new friend semi-gasps in sympathy. “I’m just over it,” she concludes as a hair stylist comes up to her and says, ‘What are you doing just sitting here? You haven’t checked in with hair or make-up and you’re look is totally wrong! Get up, let’s go!”

“First of all, you better just watch it lady and stop yelling at me! I’m not in the mood for this shit today!” Sunset Strip says, already agitated afresh from the Steven Segal movie memory. I think of the scene in ‘Frances’ where Jessica Lange slaps the overzealous worker brushing her hair too hard.

“You better watch it, little girl,” says the stylist. “You’re very unprofessional and you look it as well. Now get up and let’s go. There’s no time for this.”

“I think you’re unprofessional and you better back off, man. I swear to God, I don’t need this fucking grief.” Sunset says. They argue, Sunset’s new friend intervenes, the stylist backs down and off Sunset goes to get a side-ponytail and different blush.

2 hours have passed and it’s time for us to assemble outside of the tent, in the cemetery, while the mausoleum space is set up. People are smoking on strangers’ tombstones while crew members, always looking like camp counselors in shorts and various preppy footwear, walk around and talk via monitors/walkie talkies. Cigarette butts flick and spark on the occasional grave and it seems mighty disrespectful. I avoid the tombstones and actively stepping on graves whenever possible. It’s hot, very hot. I ask the production assistant with the SAG vouchers if I may have a voucher since it’s 11 a.m. now and it doesn't look like the actor has shown up, based on our assembled group. She says I can because fake Elvis is late.

Just then, fake Elvis, my age and bed-headed, shows up, walking up to us in a sparkly jumpsuit. “Where were you? You’re 4 hours late?” she asks him. “Traffic sucked,” he says. “Well, don’t let it happen again,” she says and gives him the SAG voucher. “Sorry, honey,”she says to me and walks away, pressed for time. I’m seething at the double-standard. In what universe is someone four hours late and still gets a SAG voucher, with traffic as an excuse, no less? It’s a Hollywood lesson I’ve heard and now personally seen up close and won’t forget as far as the complete double standard. I could never and would never even attempt to get away with four hours on a set and saying I was late from traffic. What a crock. I’d have been bounced before I could even get within three feet of a security guard, much less a P.A. It’s infuriating in its unfairness.

We’re getting grouped into how we’re going to be seated inside the mausoleum. We’re warned in advance that it’s even hotter inside than it is outside because there’s no A/C but the crew is doing the best they can to get some air circulating in the mausoleum. I’m newly paired with my ‘wife’ for the shoot, a stunning Italian-American actress who looks like Susan Lucci and is decked out in a wide-brimmed hat so over-the-top and cool that she looks like an upstate Mafia widow. We’re introduced, she smiles at me, wraps her hands around my forearm and says, “My husband!” She tells me she’s not Method but we may as well have fun as the grieving wrestling couple. I like her energy and after the SAG voucher diss and hours in the heat, it’s great to be paired with someone cheerful and we decide to make the best of the day, no matter how hot or long it gets.

My panel appearance on 'Our World with Black Enterprise' (2007)

Black Enterprise.com has recently made its episodes of 'Our World with Black Enterprise' available online via streaming video. I had the honor of appearing on the program forEpisode 15, as part of a panel discussion with Ed Gordon. The panel consisted of Taraji P. Henson, Newsweek's Allison Samuels and myself. It was a rare occasion for Black Enterprise to be taping the show in Los Angeles and we shot the show in February of 2007 at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Beverly Hills. 'Black Enterprise' is an institution and they're a class act, this was a career high for me when I was at 'The Hollywood Reporter.' The show aired March 3, 2007. The link is available here. The panel discussion starts at the 8:55 mark below.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #12)

This excerpt is one of those where when I re-read the pages, I had that hindsight feeling of regret. If you've ever kept your writings, be it a journal or any other form of collected thoughts/notes/jottings, there's always that one entry or page where you're struck by how vivid it was when you wrote it and how things eventually turned out.

The last paragraph of this entry is one of those pieces of paper. In this piece of paper, I wrote of how I saw a co-worker friend of mine, who'd been fired, and who I'd been close friends with outside of work. He was an actor also and I'd loan him money for his electric bill or we'd spot each other $20 bills before payday, I'd wait out auditions at his place after work and we went to film festivals at the New Beverly for fun...a real old-school Hollywood buddy. Then came his drug habit which he was able to keep hidden until it became extremely obvious, overtaking his work and personal life until he was fired from our last gig together.

I saw him this particular day that I describe below and I remember deliberately not talking to him and lowering my head so he wouldn't...couldn't acknowledge me. I didn't want any part of his dramatics, at that time, where he was upset and blaming everyone for his circumstances. I thought we'd be able to talk some other time. Less than four years later, I ran into his ex in Hollywood and asked about my friend. The answer: "He's dead."

He never got to see the 21st Century. I was sure he had. I cried the whole way home behind shades not dark enough to hide wet, grieving eyes and the rest of the night I wept for him at home. It was unbelievable news. I'd never thought that the 'last' day I saw him would be the last. We never do. Sometimes, when I pass Hollywood Blvd. & Burton Way, I still expect to see V.M., my friend, at the corner. He never is, but in my memory that's where I find him....before his time here went away.

August 3, 1998: I saw Curt, my hair guy, last night. He was extremely psyched that he has finally figured out the recipe for the Janet Jackson ‘Velvet Rope’ red-hair color. “It’s a sunny auburn rinse with a gold copper cellophane!” he announced like a hair trade ad.

August 4, 1998: I’m booked as an extra on a film; my first time. I’m due tomorrow on Stage 37 at Universal Studios to be fitted for ‘Man on the Moon’-the Andy Kaufman biopic starring Jim Carrey and directed by Milos Forman. I’m playing a wrestler in the funeral scene that shoots in two days. The scene takes place in 1984. I’m a wrestler friend of Andy Kaufman’s who has come to the funeral. The casting director told me, “You’re perfect!” I’m so psyched. ‘The People vs. Larry Flynt’ was the first movie I saw here in L.A. and Milos Forman is the bomb.

The casting director said that Jim Carrey is playing three incarnations of Andy Kaufman and “needs all your support and concentration.” There was also a general handout for the extras that said not to talk to Jim directly or autograph seek. That was pretty funny that that needs to be relayed to professionals. I never talk on sets anyway and can’t imagine asking for an autograph from anyone. I’m too busy learning, taking in details and waiting to be told what’s next to do. I’ve never seen a Jim Carrey film in the theaters except for ‘Earth Girls Are Easy.’

August 5, 1998: Everything went fine at Universal Studios. I met with the hair and costume department on Stage 37. The shoot takes place 14 years ago so they want a true early-80s vibe. I was there for maybe thirty minutes. They want me to wear a suit and to feather my hair on the sides. Andy’s funeral was attended by many distinct groups of people he was close to. There was his family, of course; there was the cast of ‘Taxi’ and there were his wrestling peeps, Elvis impersonators and even prostitutes that Andy liked from a ranch. I’ll be paired with a ‘wife’ tomorrow on the set.

On the way home, I saw my ex-coworker, V.M., on Hollywood Blvd. standing outside of the Ripley’s Museum. We were friends but he’s been so self-destructive, I couldn’t look at him today. He saw me at the red light and I saw him move up to speak and I just put my head down. I didn’t want to deal with him today. I told myself there’ll always be another time, just not today.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #11)

July 26, 1998: Genuinely trying to have more faith in all areas. As Anita Baker so smoothly vamped: the world goes so fast and sometimes you lose your rhythm. Worked out last week and did 28 miles and 450 crunches. It’s a good way to blow off steam. There’s a lot of cockiness and attitude at the gym but it’s all redundant. I’m there to work out and my vanity is out the window while I do.

July 29, 1998: Went out with Ormand and some friends to our old stomping grounds on Wilshire that’s still listed in the city papers as a hot spot. It was never one of my favorite places but it was a Friday night off and I haven’t had a Friday off in 14 months. Good to have some weekend freedom and dance until my hair was wet. Ormand had drama with a recent f-buddy so I had to console him under a streetlight on Wishire and drum some sense into that super-hard head. Sometimes you have to clear the slate and if people can’t meet you halfway on basic things then it’s not your burden anymore. My state of mind and my faith has pushed people like that way to the back, back to the Yukon!

August 1, 1998: Went to the Los Feliz post office- a place I acutely dislike because of the lines- and there was a guy in front of me, early 50s, reading a paperback called “The Quintessence of Ibsenism.” He was underlining the whole page with a purple pen as the ink went through the words. I like to see what people are reading.

Ormand and I kicked it out to West L.A. again. It was too raucous to even move. I spilled a drink on an acquaintance’s head, which I felt bad about. I saw an old-coworker. One of our mutual co-worker pals has gone into porn. I think her porn name now is *Summer Breeze.* She’s an extremely confident performer based on the scene I saw but I just remember her in the break- room back in the days, very shy and rail-thin, sometimes in tears from outside stress. Now her teeth, hair and everything are A-list and she shows a complete confidence. She used to be a recording artist before this but they dropped her group's contract. I sent my best to Summer through our friend because I really do hope she’s doing better and is happy. I remember her being so sad and so frail. She's on the box covers looking like nothing could bother her and I hope she doesn't get caught up.

The social scene in L.A. lately is very tense: the fear of anything ‘real’ seems to be thick enough to slice....just judging from the drunken scenes and people going through things in public. I'm not in it, but I've observed it. I’m going to do my mail-outs and work on career stuff. Stila nor any of her 'team' ever came to see my play and she had six months to do it plus comps galore. It seemed deliberate, like 'so what' - I guess management doesn't get rich off of plays. She sure didn't get any commission since I booked it myself. Time to perhaps go separate ways.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #10)

July 12, 1998: Interviewed a 21-year old guy, *Indio*, from the southwest part of the country tonight. He’d just filmed an amateur porn video with his male and female buddies. He wanted to play the audio of his scenes. He lost his mother and youngest sister in a car crash when he was in his mid-teens. His father died in a fall from a steep ravine when Indio was a toddler. Raised by his favorite grandparent when he was orphaned, Indio said his grandparent, “is all I have left.” Indio is well-adjusted in relation to his losses.

He was very honest. He has a boyfriend, one of many, who recently punched him in the face during an argument as they were in bed and about to have sex. “God it hurt, he just bashed me in the face," he said. "And the bad part is, I love him, so it hurts me to even be pissed off at him, you know? We had sex right after it. I love him. My God, I love him. He’s beautiful.”

The boyfriend is a military guy who calls Indio “my Big Pop Tart” because of how he shows excitement when they’re together. Indio changed the subject. “I can play piano,” he offered. “You want to hear? I’ll play you some Bach.” He was right, he can play beautifully. I was impressed.

July 15, 1998: An actor friend of mine, *V.M.* got fired from our job 2 days ago. I called him on breaks for him to get down to the Sunset office and talk to mgmt. before this happened. He claims it’s Tylenol PM that’s making him miss call times but it’s worse. I know he’s twacked out (meth) and drinking heavily. He’s been in some close calls lately. He had bruises up one side of his body the last time we worked together.

After he got fired, I left him a supportive message. He’s had a lot of chances and should have been fired a long time ago, technically. He’s left me working solo many times. I’m angry with him. I’m angry when really vivacious and charming, talented people let drugs/ alcohol dampen their spark …when they let it steal their looks and livelihood. V.M. is just lost. I hope he pulls it together. Another co-worker, *Kayla*, flipped out one night after a breakup and smashed an amplifier. She’s gone too. It’s tough witnessing all the breakdowns and drug casualties. I've personally liked all of them but they'll hopefully handle their issues.

I’ve spent most of my acting money on books. I’m totally addicted to buying them, especially hardcovers. I love having them. I’ll finish Toni Morrison’s Paradise tomorrow. She’s a writer I savor. I absolutely love her.

July 21, 1998: I finished ‘My Brother’ by Jamaica Kincaid and wrote her a letter in c/o of her publisher expressing my thanks for her honesty and sharing her life. I have never read a book, non-fiction, where the author is so brutally honest about not liking or not loving family members. She spoke what’s real to her. I was mesmerized and wrote her to tell her so.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #9)

June 16, 1998: Getting together with two of the '20 Q’ cast for a dinner party tonight. The play has been a very involved, hard, successful piece of business and considering that we’ve been thrown together for 5 months with little break from each other, we’re doing as fine as we know how.

June 19, 1998: Went out for drinks at one of the watering holes near the Coast Playhouse tonight. We had 19 people in the audience, a low turn-out. One of the bouncers told me that my Valley Guy character cheered him up when he saw the show.

June 24, 1998: One of my great-uncles died at home in Iceland. It’s presumed he died of natural causes. Icelandic law states that any deaths outside of a hospital require an autopsy. He was one of my favorite uncles on my grandmother’s side. He was a total hell-raiser. We were very close up through my teens and we hadn’t spoken in 11-12 years. I loved him. He lived, don’t doubt it.... Stay out of trouble, Uncle.

July 3, 1998: Two more shows left; one tonight and the last one on Sunday.

July 4, 1998: The play closes tomorrow. It feels like school’s out. The Coast engagement was a more complex, difficult run but we did the show onstage for 5 months. It was incredible. 4 shows a week and a third-shift job took its toll on my sleep but I got it done and had the stamina the year demanded. I get to relax the rest of the summer.

It’s hiatus now for TV. We had casting directors come to the show but the consensus was since we had curtain in the evenings, we’d have to leave whatever show we were potentially cast in. The average show isn’t going to be done taping by 6 or 7 p.m., so there was nothing one could do about that.

July 5, 1998: 3 a.m. In my apartment building, the pool is 3 floors beneath my bedroom. A weekend Dad here has his kids in the pool and one of his kids, the little girl, was shrieking at the top of her lungs in a piercing shriek while I was trying to sleep (“Everybody’s going into the DEEP END!!! Now I don’t have anybody to PLAY WITH!!!”) It was endless shrieking. The unbridled, sleep-deprived part of me could have yelled from the balcony in a bass voice and rained Ebonics but it’s America and a Dad and his kids in the pool first thing in the morning is a right. I didn’t do it but that little girl was off the hook.

July 7, 1998: I skipped the ’20 Q’ cast party tonight. It wasn’t a slight, just more due to personal reasons. We had six months together and tonight I just needed some sleep. A few days ago we were all in the same dressing room offstage, giddy, and I joked that we're like the male-version equivalent of the Spice Girls: always together for the show. It was funny. The last 7-8 weeks have been tough for me as far as two jobs (the show and work) and needing some down-time. We got what we put into the show and it’s a fresh start for us.

The Making of 'The Exorcist': August 2006 panel notes

The American Film Institute’s list of scariest films is topped by Psycho, Jaws and The Exorcist: three films that made paranoid mince-meat of the supposedly mundane acts of showering alone, swimming in the ocean, and playing with Ouija boards. I was too young to see ‘The Exorcist’ or ‘Jaws’ in their first run but I wasn’t too young to see the trailers on TV or the magazine covers as both films captured the world’s imagination, fears and box-office dollars.

Growing up a few hours, give or take, from New York, there were a whole lot of us who felt a too-close proximity to these movie bogeymen. For one, we all new ‘Jaws’ had filmed on the Atlantic Ocean – what if a shark that big swam down to our part of the coast? As for ‘The Exorcist,’ the house used as the home of the possessed little girl in the film- and its steep, narrow stairway- was a tourist attraction in our very own Georgetown, DC!

Urban legends prevailed with my schoolyard set: rumors that a girl named ‘Tasha’ got possessed by the devil just passing by The Exorcist House while in the backseat of her parents’ car. ‘Tasha’ was the catch-all name for any supposed friend-of-a-friend who became the victim of an urban legend [ i.e., ‘My cousin’s friend Tasha up in Northeast was playing Bloody Mary last Saturday and Bloody Mary showed up in the mirror and scratched herall over her face!’.... Stuff like that.].

Since 1973 when 'The Exorcist' was released, it has been re-released several times. I’ve been able to catch it twice here in Los Angeles. In 1998 it screened at the Chinese Theater in Hollywood and the line for tickets was around the block. The film’s director, William 'Billy' Friedkin, was at that initial screening and spoke. Seeing it on the huge main screen at the Chinese Theater with the audio stark and loud, no one was laughing at the parts one would think would be campy today. Nope. Still scary.

Tonight ‘The Exorcist’ is screening at Chapman University in Orange, California with William Friedkin there to hold court and discuss the film. I’ve been in the audience twice when Mr. Friedkin talked about his experience directing the movie and he's never dull. One of the original ‘Raging Bulls, Easy Riders’ of ‘70s Hollywood, he’s still a sharp guy and when I did work with him briefly over the years in the ‘THR’ newsroom, it was always an honor. He’s just fly like that.

On August 7, 2006, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences held a screening of ‘The Exorcist’ along with a post-screening panel including William Friedkin and Linda Blair. It was a packed screening and I had paper and pen ready during the panel- thinking I’d pitch it as an event story for my news outlet- but deadline was too close and it couldn't be used. Still, I'd written my notes as well as key things I as a fan wanted to know and thought would be interesting to other fans of the film. I typed it up and kept it as a draft here at home.

Mr. Friedkin is discussing the film anew tonight in Orange,CA and the timing seems right to print my notes to coincide with what he and other ‘Exorcist’ originals had to say about making their horror classic. These were written as notes and not as a story or in article form, per se, since my original goal was to have quotes I could grab for the brief write-up. Here goes:

Notes: "The Exorcist" screening at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences (AMPAS) - August 7, 2006, Beverly Hills, CA

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences has been at the Wilshire Blvd. location since 1976. In 1973, when The Exorcist was released, the AMPAS building was located on Melrose Ave. Warner Brothers provided the print of the film to AMPAS for tonight's screening.

Owen Roizman, the cinematographer of The Exorcist: "We didn't want it to look like a horror film. We wanted it to be realistic."

"The Exorcist" was the first horror picture nominated for Best Film. It received ten Oscar nominations in all.

Sid Ganis, (in 2006) President of AMPAS, did the 1973 marketing campaign for The Exorcist. William Friedkin directed the film, which shot in 1972.

After the AMPAS screening is finished, to great applause, William Friedkin says he’s not happy with the print that was shown: “That’s the worst print of that picture I’ve ever seen! There are better prints—there’s one in my garage!” The audience laughed since most were too unnerved by the film to notice.

The Exorcist is based on a true story. A 14-year old boy in Silver Spring, MD was possessed in 1949. A Ouija board factored into his case; he was reportedly playing with one. There were three pages written about it in The Washington Post. It's one of three documented 20th-century possession cases. The Exorcist, as a film, is “a mystery of faith,” Friedkin said.

Linda Blair: "This film is a masterpiece. I learn something every time I see it. Watch it... the cinematography! He [Friedkin] is a genius. He's a master. Everything I had to do was about lighting and reactions."

The Exorcist filmed in New York. The labor laws for child actors were different in the early ‘70s and Linda Blair’s on-set tutor was hand-picked from her school system. Linda Blair's mother was always in the building when they were filming and also plays a nurse in the movie.

During the casting process, William Friedkin asked Linda Blair if she'd read the book by William Peter Blatty. She said yes.
Friedkin asked her, "Do you know what the book was about?"
Linda said, "Yes, it's about a girl who gets possessed by a demon and does bad things."
"Like what?" Friedkin asked.
"She slaps her mother. Masturbates with a crucifix."
"Do you know what that is?" Friedkin recalled asking her.
Linda Blair interrupts the story to say: "My mother would have had you shot, mister!" She laughs.

Friedkin says, "She was there!"

45-degree, angled glass was used to super-impose the demonic faces in the film. There were no CGI-effects then and "the glass opticals were terrible back then," Owen Roizman said. Friedkin's makeup idea for Linda Blair was that she'd disfigured her face with a metal crucifix. They studied books on burns and disfigurement for the effect. Blair's demon make-up took 4 hours each day to apply.

"Reach in with your eyes," William Friedkin said in reference to what he wanted to achieve for the film via soft and half-lighting.

There are scenes in the film with no sound or room tones, thus the scenes with sound are more startling. Friedkin's favorite scene is the scene between Ellen Burstyn and the detective in her house regarding Burke's death after being flung from Reagan's window. Max Von Sydow, who portrayed the exorcist, was only in his early 40s during filming. He was aged by the makeup dept.

"A director is very much like a coach...you can tell the players what you want...but they have to do it. The film belongs to the people who acted in it, shot it and edited it," Friedkin said.

Linda Blair: "My character works because of Ellen's performance." She said she and Ellen Burstyn bonded off-camera and ad-libbed the bedroom scene where they discuss the Mom's relationship with the Burke character. "I think it's the sweetest scene," said Blair.

An exorcism scholar told Friedkin that when an exorcist hits upon a phrase that gets the attention or strikes a reaction, he repeats it. This was incorporated into the film via the repeated phrase where "The power of Christ compels you!" is repeated to drive the demon out.

Linda Blair said that her work on the film carried "a heavy price to pay because of playing the devil and it all came down on me. No one knows about the repercussions. Billy [Friedkin] protected me one thousand percent....You could see it in people's eyes, 'Oh God. I'm about to be possessed!' and they’d run away from me. I'm just walking around, 15 years old. It was a heavy, dark experience."

"A great cinematographer [works] on instinct and copying everything they ever saw or liked," Friedkin said.

The late Mercedes McCambridge, the film voice of the Devil, drank whiskey, smoked, ate raw eggs and consulted two priests prior to her recording session to achieve the voice effects. She asked to be tied to a chair and tortured by Friedkin during the course of sessions that took a month to complete on a Warner Bros. soundstage.

The interiors of the Georgetown house in the film were filmed in a three-story house in Manhattan.

Linda Blair rose to leave the screening panel. William Friedkin asked her, "Where are you going?" She faced him and replied, "Do you remember I run a dog rescue? You do. You know that. I need to get back to my dogs." She thanked the audience and left.

‘Exorcist’ author William Peter Blatty later wanted the 12 minutes cut from the film in 1973 added back, thus "The Exorcist: The Version You Never Saw."

'Tubular Bells' was a demo recording found in the Warner Brothers vaults from Virgin Records. The demo ended up on Friedkin's desk and he immediately wanted to use it. The crew heard the song and asked what the song was. The song became the first platinum single from Virgin Records, selling over a million copies. Friedkin said the rest of the soundtrack is a mash of things: bees in a jar, pigs being slaughtered, and wind harps.

On not casting Jack Nicholson as Father Karras in the film, Friedkin said, "I just thought Jack Nicholson in a priest's collar would have caused rollicking laughter." Jason Miller portrayed Father Karras. It was Miller and Linda Blair's first film roles.

The set used for Reagan's bedroom was kept air-conditioned with restaurant-unit air conditioners placed in the ceiling and the walls. The A/C units were left on all night so that the stage was minus-30 degrees in the morning. They could film for an hour with the movie lights until the set returned to zero degrees and they'd repeat the process. [Panel ended]

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #8)

May 19, 1998: I have no idea what my next project will be after ‘20Q’. I have a tech-week to do and there's 24 more shows left. We promote at Revolver again next week. It’s a nice feeling to be in a successful play. Greg, Nic G. and I got the upstairs dressing room at the Coast Playhouse. Samuel Jackson and David Hyde Pierce both had the same dressing room. Maybe it’ll rub off!

May 26, 1998: It’s 4:10 a.m. and I got in from rehearsal less than an hour ago. A long and tense night. We just got into the Coast for rehearsals and we open in 2 days. We had to do lighting cue- to- cue, a line-through rehearsal for the interpreters who’ll be signing for one of the shows. Missed lines and cues took their toll on some people. I had words with one of my cast mates who was fretting and getting bitchy. I understood some of his panic. He was a heavy set kid and I was a heavy set teen, so it’s pretty simple to figure out. You can still have anger over that.

May 28, 1998: ’20 Questions’ returns tonight at the Coast. We’ve been on set until past midnight the last two nights just doing tech runs. We’re a tighter ensemble this time and Nic Arnzen has been a diplomatic director, no real clashes at all or discouraging words from him. Nic G. and I got to do a dress rehearsal run-through in costume finally and he seems to have a great weight off of him. I think we’re going to blow them away. Tonight’s the night.

June 8, 1998: My day job on Sunset is tough. Management loathes the workers, so it takes a strong mindset to ignore that. I’m very proud of the fact that I work successfully in two insane industries but it has meant a lot of sleep deprivation and hardly any free time. It’s nothing but work. I’m 28 and can handle it but after shows, for example, or on breaks at the Sunset Blvd. building, I see all these people with lives, having fun, people going somewhere exciting, couples eating dinner. You’d think being onstage four nights a week and being part of a social scene outside of it would mean meeting people and so on but it doesn’t work that way. People do come up to me and compliment me on the show; I do appreciate that. Other than that, every exchange has a life-span of 17 seconds and it’s difficult to establish any rapport because it’s all superficial: looks, attitude, skin, blah, blah. It's a grind.

I have loving friends. I’m grateful and blessed. I don’t begrudge the fact that my civilian friends' lives are more orderly and fulfilled than mine. Even when the show ends and there's some free time, how much closer will I have gotten to a balance of career, dating/love and a life? I’m pretty much an even-keel person but I’m feeling thrown off tonight. I'm giving it all I've got.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #7)

March 21, 1998: '20 Questions’ was featured in an article in ‘4 Front’ magazine with a photo showing Steve C., David O., Greg Hoffman and I in the pool scene underneath the headline ‘Nudity in the Footlights.’ Nudity is one of the big controversies now in the gay theater world and our show is one of the plays with a nude scene, along with ‘Naked Men Singing’[before it was renamed ‘Naked Boys Singing’]. The questions being posed are: is nudity in a ‘gay’ play de rigueur and unnecessary?....Is the nudity a blatant ploy to ‘bait’ gay men by playing on sexual urges? I think it’s a bogus and conservative argument. If nudity in a play is considered exploitation then I think men can handle it, thank you. Jeff Stryker does an occasional one-man show. A guy was telling me about it, how he walks into the audience with an erection and at one point Jeff accidentally slipped on a spot of lube, steadied himself on a patron's shoulder and left a stain on the guy's shirt. It was hilarious. I'm sure Jeff is doing just fine.

March 25, 1998: The play wasn’t sold out this evening because it’s post-Oscar night and L.A. has its collective hangover. We have a new sound person, Shay, who’d gotten his tech instructions by phone, so there were some glitches but he’s a friendly addition and we didn’t trip about it. Nic Arnzen took over a role from David O., the original Professor role in the show. I’ll miss David O. a lot; I wrote him a farewell note on his last night. He was great fun and we had a lot of fun talking in the wings, waiting for our scenes.

April 15, 1998: ’20 Questions’ is extended again. We ended our run at the Tamarind Theater in Hollywood. We’re moving to the Coast Playhouse in West Hollywood.

April 21, 1998: I have to work this weekend. I haven’t had a Saturday off in five months. Took that frustration and went with an actor friend to the Bally’s gym on Gower in Hollywood. I did 10 miles. The gym was very macabre and slutty today. A lot of unemployed actors and foul energy. Trying to work out and 70% of the dudes there were on benches, in a round-table of sorts, complaining about sex and I guess their lack of it. It must be sad- spending all that time to be physically beautiful and the only one who gets to enjoy it is yourself but yet even you are bored with yourself. It's not like these dudes have relationships, by their own vocal admission, so it all seems a bit masturbatory and self-loathing, outside of the health benefits. Boring.

April 22, 1998: ’20 Questions’ opens at the Coast Playhouse on May 28. It’s great to know that appealing material and hard work has paid off for us. It’ll be a different experience since there have been changes: new director, a new lead actor. Shelby, my Act 1 scene partner, voluntarily left the show. We’re running Thursday through Sunday. We have to rehearse again for the new replacements.

Saw the production assistant, Damian, from ‘Blade Squad’ at a club. He recognized me, said hello and we caught up. I don't have any lines so we'll see if I get edited out. I half-jokingly admitted how much I miss the shirt wardrobe loaned me.

April 29, 1998: Rehearsal tonight. Talking with an actor friend about how the key to fly survival in Hollywood is to commit to the fact that every single day you must work your talent. Especially if you’re in the industry in any capacity, whether you’re working or not, you need to be on it. You need to still be standing by day's end. It’s a trippy way to live but if you want what can be had out of this town then you have to work it.

May 2, 1998: Just finished reading ‘I’m Losing You’ by Bruce Wagner. I love books. I’ve bought a lot of books since I’ve been in L.A. Californians read more books than any state in the U.S. We buy the most books, too. I’ll hand that to L.A. any day- people in L.A. will at least read.

May 7, 1998: My schedule is going to get even busier with ’20 Questions’ coming back through July. Nic G. is my new Act 2 scene partner. He’s playing James and I’m Craig. We don’t have a lot of rehearsals together, it’s a new scene for him and so I want to make our limited time count. Outside of the show and work, there’s a world out there! I’ll get it. Well, it’s time to run lines.

May 8, 1998: Rehearsal with Nic G. was very surprising. Our scene in Act 2 was restaged. We do our monologues seated back to back at ¾ turns to the audience. By the end of the scene we face each other, touch, and then are lost to each other again in a dark fade-out. We both asked for a darker tone to the scene and director Nic Arnzen interpreted it well. It’s a dark scene now- like a gothic, red valentine. Arnzen wants me to go from regret and anger, then to the glow of first love/wistfulness, ending in desperation and loss. It was a great, surprising rehearsal.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #6)

10/10/09 ---> This excerpt after this intro is partly about what happens when you run into people you admire in the industry and how the familiar feeling is decidedly not mutual. How familiar can it really be when all you really know of performers is what you've seen through their work? In 1998 I was 28- years old and completely adoring of so many of the black actors and actresses who'd knocked down doors for those of us to come and even attempt our own resumes/L.A. experiences on-set. I still am grateful and enamored.

I started as a stage actor in my teens and I've sat in many a dressing room backstage with actors who both worked in the Blaxploitation-era and toured the country with various stage shows to keep their work and income vital. I'm a historian by habit and was always rapt with attention with these shared confidences handed down to me in our down-time, not to mention the honor of working with some of these men and women I'd grown up seeing in movies and television.

Every now and then, some generation gaps would creep up without me even being aware of the potential anger and tensions could fly. One actor I worked with, who'd worked in 'Cooley High,' 'Truck Turner' and 'Three the Hard Way,' didn't talk to me for two days after I was five minutes late to our set one evening. Never mind that we had time before curtain and he was reading the paper: it was still considered disrespectful of me and those same five minutes could have gotten him fired in his youth. Another time, a veteran actor (since deceased) and I were rehearsing. We were playing father and son in the show. My character was supposed to be a Daddy's boy and completely dependent on his father. During this rehearsal, he'd hit his flask a little heavy before we started and he jumped pages ahead of where we were supposed to be in the script. Offstage, he told me if it happened again and he blew his lines that "we'll just skip over to the end of the show and forget all the other lines." Well, the show would have been over in 10 minutes had we done that.

When he still kept skipping pages, I jokingly said, 'Damn it!!!' and clenched my hands in a 'grrrr' motion near my head. In a flash he bellowed, "Don't you raise up on me! Boy, I'll whup your big ass all over this lot!" We were split up by the cast, although we'd never have truly fought, and we didn't talk for a week afterward unless it was scripted or a prayer circle. Later , we had a private talk and made amends, both for what had been said and how it was misinterpreted. He'd paid some heavy dues and I was this 22-year old 'kid' that wasn't going to have the same exact struggles and my playful outburst had triggered some old war wounds. I respected him very much and I'll be grateful for the months we spent on that show as father and son. I'd not been close with my real father, unfortunately, so playing a loving father and son was truly a feat of acting on my part that he soon came to know was something painful for me, too. We all have our battle scars.

A mutual peer of this actor and some of my colleagues was Paul Winfield. Paul Winfield--the preacher father in 'Go Tell It on the Mountain,' the father in 'Sounder' - I cried my young eyes out watching him jailed for trying to feed his his family in that movie-- the cop in 'Terminator' and many, many other signature roles. I respected him also, feeling I 'knew' him somewhat from all of the backstage stories of old. When I got to L.A. and saw we were neighbors (!) and apt to run into each other frequently in the neighborhood, I had hopes I could smile and wave hello but that was not to be. He wasn't feeling me, to say the least!

Years later, when I was at 'The Hollywood Reporter' and focused on journalism over acting, I sent Mr. Winfield a personal letter, properly, through his lawyer/agent. It was a short letter but one expressing my respect for him and letting him know that it'd be an honor to talk to him should we run into each other at an event where I could quote his observation or expertise in this business. I never heard back but it was my message-in-a-bottle moment. Youthful expectations sometimes take a while to evaporate.

Mr. Winfield passed away in 2004 and I was privvy to a terrible moment he had when he experienced a diabetic episode blocks from where we lived. While I never got to talk to him even as an event-page writer, it's always funny, somehow, to remember just how our casual run-ins became a recurring kind of diss joke for me. It was interesting to see these entries I wrote years earlier and remember his indifferent vitality and hard-won pride. That's what you call personality. - Karl Gibson, October 10, 2009

March 12, 1998: Went to the soul food restaurant, Georgia, on Melrose last night with an actor friend of mine who also works with me at my day job (on third shift). The R&B group Az Yet was there with a full table of people. They did an a capella version of ‘Hard To Say I’m Sorry’ that was unbelievably gorgeous.

March 13, 1998: Day #2 of a minor stand-off with my actor buddy I went to Georgia with last night. I’m surprised myself at how abruptly our buddy-dom just evaporated. I’m the one who pretty much shut it down. The restaurant was fine but his ploys for attention from some of the famous clientele that were there bordered on the desperate: he asked for our table to be changed more than twice, for better visibility, did some cliched fast-talk to the waiter and bartender to seem important. It’s like, we’re eating ribs, what’s the big deal?

We were talking about our careers and how you try to maximize the job you’re doing to keep momentum going. His competitiveness with me came to the surface and it was awkward. It shows a lack of focus and we’re different people, which I was explaining to him, but the last thing I have time for is competing with other dudes, especially ones who are supposed to be cool with me. He’s floating on some languishing vapors and I’ve had this happen with other actor pals of mine. When my group of actors I came up with were all starting out we said we’d be supportive of each other and see each other’s shows and boost-up but all that seems to be dead in the water now. It’s a give and take, not take-take-take and that’s how it’s going to have to work if they don’t want a mouthful of curb.

March 17, 1998: Several months ago I was in the Albertson’s on Hillhurst and ran into the actor Paul Winfield in one of the aisles. We live in the same neighborhood and he’s, of course, a great and esteemed actor. Mr. Winfield looked me up and down with a signature frown that pulled down the corners of his mouth – I thought of him as the preacher father in ‘Go Tell It on the Mountain’—like I was setting Black folks back 100 years. Dissed in the frozen foods section by a black actor I respect so much. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, a look my friend calls ‘the-biggest -kid- in -the- 3rd -grade' look and, for his age, he looked very youthful. We ended up in the same line after he stopped at the pharmacy and told the checker he'd paid for his items there already. The checker, a 70-ish man named Fritz, said, “Paul! How ya doin’? Lookin’ good! How old are you now? About one hundred years old?! Heh-heh!”

Paul didn’t laugh. For good measure, he looked behind at me to see if I was laughing. I wasn’t. Please... I know all about mature actors and their vanity; they don’t take to jokes of being a century old at all. A few weeks ago, Paul Winfield and I were both at the store again. This time he was thumbing through an ‘Enquirer’ magazine and frowning. Even though he’d been so grand the last time, I decided to try again and when he stared at me I politely said, “Hello, Mr. Winfield.” He didn’t answer, humphed to himself, and went back to the tabloid. I said to myself that’s it. I tried!

A couple of people I’ve done shows with know him and he’s friends with Diahann Carroll and other true legends/icons who rightfully admire his talent. They told me that a lot of older Black Hollywood is just naturally resistant to new Black talent sometimes because they feel that this generation is not as respectful or mindful of the very real barriers they broke down in years past.

I can’t imagine anyone not respecting our Hollywood elders, especially the black actors. We literally would not be here or able to even try and get a piece of our foot in the door if it hadn’t been for them. It’s very frustrating to be painted with a general, cranky brush of disrespect when all I have is respect for them. Roles and parts for black actors are still, by majority, poorly written or stereotypical and we’re almost in the 21st century here yet our industry is supposed to be so progressive. Imagine how it was the last seven decades? Paul Winfield doesn’t know me and there’s no reason he would – I’m a stage actor and that’s how I make my career—but it’s too bad that the derision is so palpable.

Last night was a '20 Questions’ show. We’re at the halfway mark; had we not been extended, tonight would be our last show. I was doing my Act 2 scene last night, my eyes had adjusted to the audience in the dark, and there’s Paul Winfield in the audience, staring daggers at me with his grumpy ways. Oh man. I looked over the audience’s head and finished the scene. When we took our bows at the end of the show, Paul shot up and headed for the exit door. He was at the show on a comp ticket since he’s friends with our director’s boss. “Would you like to meet the cast backstage?” Paul was asked. He said no, that he didn’t want to be hassled by the exiting audience for autographs. When we heard that, it was with surprised defense. He surely didn’t have to see us backstage for any reason-the honor would have been ours- but saying that he’d have been harassed for autographs was grandiose. He ended up getting stuck in the exiting crowd anyway and was able to make it out of the theater without one autograph request.

My L.A. Journals: 1998 (Post #5)

February 19, 1998: We lit the rest of the play, went to Revolver and plugged the show. I helped emcee. Diva, Revolver’s emcee, introduced the cast. We promoted the play and I joked that if they want really blonde hair to simply use lemon juice and sunlight.

February 21, 1998: '20 Questions' opens in 2 days. A difficult and tiring rehearsal process for everyone involved. The tech crew is also working hard. Our show has photo slides, music cues and lighting cues for over 18 scenes. Our stage manager is 19 years old and working her tail off. I like her style: she needs things to be exact so she’s not thrown off and that helps. We’re having to add glow-tape for our various marks so our exits and entrances aren’t treacherous or sending us sailing offstage. To his great credit, one of the leads, John Stevenson, helped build the set.

February 25, 1998: ’20 Questions’ had its world premiere in Hollywood at the Tamarind Theater on February 23. We’re a big audience hit. We had big applause on our first two nights. No more rehearsals!

February 28, 1998: 8 hours of brush-ups for the ’20 Q’ cast. We’re cutting some of the script for time reasons. I had one monologue cut in half about 10 minutes before show time and remembered the new cues and blocking. There was no protest from me. I’d only rehearsed it with Greg and Nic once; it’s really more a scene between them.

March 2, 1998: I had my third role - Derek- in the play cut. Derek is the character I took over from our departed actor, Jason. It only saved the show 3 minutes! I didn’t debate it or protest. It streamlines the show. The cast unwound at Birds café after the show.

March 3, 1998: Another full house for the show tonight. The audience clapped after Abner and I did our Act 2 scene. That made me feel good. I tried so hard tonight. I focused and went the farthest I’ve gone with the Craig character. My stomach was flexing and it’s a nervewracking scene to do at times. I really tried to convey Craig’s dying wish that his lost love know that he loved him. Nic G. told me he saw the scene offstage and it gave him goose bumps. Now is when most of the cast, from offstage, has been able to finally see other people’s scenes, so we’re all supportive. My Valley Boy character of Brian is so out there with his ‘whatever’s’ and the obnoxious laugh I gave him. Shelby and I have to hold for the laughter sometimes. My godparents came and gave me 24 roses after the show. We went to Jerry’s Deli in West L.A. for a late dinner. We got seated next to Keenan & Kel from a Nickelodeon show. I asked if we could be moved. It wasn’t anything personal, but the skinny one with the braids is young and we were trying to have a quiet dinner. They couldn’t move our seats, so we dealt with it, ha ha!

March 5, 1998: L.A. Weekly reviewed ’20 Q’ and it wasn’t completely unfair but we did get nailed with some zaps. They said one of the leads was delicate and was taken to task for speaking “in a monotone whisper.” Scott, the director, took heat for “not helping” the lead actor or helping “focus the play” and “trim the redundancies.” The good marks were that the show “is often touching” and that most of the performances were “fine.” We all knew that critics might zoom in on things from the first shows.

March 8, 1998: A Motown Sunday. I’m trippin’ off the brilliance of the Funk Brothers. Michael Jackson as a child and teenager was such an exceptionally technical and talented vocalist. His phrasing, command of pitch and proficiency is beyond gifted.

March 9, 1998: ’20 Questions’ got extended for another month. Yes! It’s a hit. It’ll be interesting to note the mood on the set tonight. The review is out, the extension is a known fact and we’ve finished the show edits. Hoo boy. It was cool news. The bartender at Birds, our after-show haunt, gave us tabs.

Ran into two porn star buddies. One of them did movies to pay for college and still gets harshly judged for them, but he really did get to the next level in his white-collar field. They’ve compiled his scenes he did years ago into so many compilations that the money he made then is nothing compared to the thirty different ways they’ve juiced it. He’s as country as bacon gravy but a nice guy. I wish him the best.

March 12, 1998: I worked on ‘Blade Squad’ last night, an MOW for Fox through Warner Brothers Television. I’ve been so wrapped up with ’20 Q’ that it was weird to be on another set, but I’m glad I did it. It’s always cool to have other income streams. Ideally, I’d be able to live completely from acting work but industry work pays so few of my bills that I’m glad I have a full-time job outside of acting.

I have 5 weeks left of shows for the play. If we’re not extended after April 14th, the show will have been a three-month commitment. It’s been a load. Critically, the show takes some hits but we’re critic-proof at this point. The audience loves it and the gay audience feels it’s an accurate representation and they’re laughing even where the humor is broad. They’re the reason we got extended and the straight audiences like it equally, too.

On the way to the ‘Blade Squad’ shoot yesterday, I read the ‘Frontiers’ review of ’20 Q’ and could sense the resentment but that’s the way it is. One of the lines was: '11 fresh-faced actors at play in sunny Southern California is as trite as a slick Calvin Klein commercial.' We’re working hard and it has been work. The implication that we’re standing there playing up our youth and showing off our bodies is a bit much. Speaking for myself, for all the supposed T&A, I haven’t had a date in months. How and with what time? Time for anything else would be a luxury. So much for being supposed sex-on-a-stick. It’s a fantasy. Schedules put all the personal stuff last but at least there’s freedom in being single. No sense in dwelling on it, I suppose. Just press the fu** on and take care of business.