Ders Kerds Ern Brerklern

Two years after shooting ended, I finally got to see the NYU student film in which I play an unbelievably naïve appartment hunter.  I hesitated before clicking the link to vimeo, anticipating the discomfort and embarrassment of hearing myself say stupid things stupidly.  But the pangs of self-hate were quite moderate, either because my state of ennui, weltzshmerz, apathy etc. is nearly complete, or because I knew for a long time that the film was likely going to suck and could therefore not be disappointed.

It all started when I took a intro improv class at the Upright Citizens Brigade theatre in New York.  I was initially wowed by the talent of my classmates, and most of them had agents and real experience and intense aspirations to be professional actors.  So when another student asked me to be in a short film, my first response was, "Why me?"  Did the others refuse?

I actually thought I did OK and "kept up" while doing improv with the clearly more polished performers in class.  I think that my only strength was precisely in my lack of polish, and my avoidance of over-acting or taking over the scene. 

The director said she wanted us to do a lot of improv, but we would be shooting on film... and she was poor.  So... erm.. clearly there's a conflict (she couldn't just leave the camera rolling and hope some improv gold comes along).   We did do several minutes of improv but none of it made it in the movie.  At one point I made the real estate agent snap out of character because 'I wasn't respecting her' during some improv (I had innapropriately put my head on her shoulder as she was rambling... not funny.)  I stayed in character during and after her outburst... a tiny victory for my craft.

The whole on-set ambiance was just weird.  We had only done one rehearsal (which went way better than the actual shoot).  There was not enough time to establish any kind of rapport.  When I showed up on set at the buttcrack of dawn (as instructed) the director barely acknowleged me.  Her eyes were half closed as she grumpily slouched around.  An hour later the other actors showed up.  Then I had to wait even more while the college crew figured out how to load the camera.  Free bagels!

The director had literally nothing to say about the takes.  I understand she was preoccupied by the technical aspects, but no feedback at all?  I should make it clear that I made a lot of mistakes, and horrible noob mistakes like looking directly into the camera.  Everyone was stressed, and the fatality of the whirring film only added stress.  I remember at the end feeling incredibly worn out.  I had been there for 12 hours, and most of it was feeling hot and sweaty, unfunny, and self-conscious.

I sometimes feel like I shouldn't criticise anybody involved in this shameful display, but that would be to pretend that I have some sort of future doing this type of stuff.  Freed of that burden, I can say that the writing stunk, the shot composition was questionable, and the editing was sloppy.  And I'm a crappy actor!  I'm still happy I was a part of it, and look back at that time with strange fondness.