Today as I was driving home along Ventura Boulevard I stopped at a set of traffic lights. Crossing the street in front of my car was Santa Claus. I don’t mean someone who was dressed up and handing out good cheer and generally behaving like Saint Nick. I mean there was an old guy crossing the road with wispy white hair, a moustache and a beard, dressed in a Santa suit. No Santa hat mind you. And he was carrying an old sports bag. He may even have been homeless, considering the shabby nature of his clothes and the scowl on his face. Whatever the case, he didn’t look like someone that you should allow to have a child sit on his lap for even a minute. If you told a child that that man knew if they were being naughty or nice, they’d have nightmares for their entire pubescent years.
Here’s the thing. I didn’t even look twice. And when I did, it wasn’t with a raised eyebrow that a homeless looking man was wearing a Santa suit. The sight itself didn’t strike me as out of place or as being a bizarre view at all. My only thought was “Jeez, it’s a bit early to be dressing up as Santa. It’s still October.” Have I become that immune to the weird and wonderful wildlife that is Los Angeles? Does nothing strike me as strange any more? When I stop on the corner on La Brea and Santa Monica and the usual homeless woman is there with one breast hanging out, it’s simply a reminder of where I am and my only thought is, “Sweet I’m not far from home.”
What’s even more foreign to me is that I too am becoming part of the zoo. No longer am I standing on the outside of cage. I’m well and truly living with the wild animals and thinking nothing of it. As an actor it’s not hard to do. You have to be a part of it to do what you do. What seems weird to everyone else not living in this town is a mere daily event for me. Driving past a theatre will usually present the scene of a line of actors, all with scripts in their hands, learning lines and practicing scenes. It’s just the way it is. You don’t think ‘I wonder what they are filming?’ or ‘what’s going on there?’ like an excited tourist. You simply think ‘I wonder what they are auditioning for and why didn’t I get an audition? I must email my agent’.
There was a time in Australia and New Zealand when practicing a script in a public place would embarrass me. Like people would think I was a wanker. Today however I met with fellow actors at a Coffee Bean to run lines. Mainly because the play is set at a coffee house and we wanted some realism to bring to the stage. But also because we knew no one would even bat an eyelid. Three people sitting at a cafe swearing at each other? Big deal. I can sit there on my own and have homeless people swear at me as they walk past simply because I’m in their line of vision. You know the ones. The talkers. The ones who have a perpetual one sided conversation going that never seems to be about happy things. My point is simply that it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s not. So it’s best just to ignore and not stare. And if you convince people that what you are doing is real…then you are doing your job as a good actor. Or you are homeless. Which in this town is sometimes one and the same thing.
The great thing as an actor though is that when you are busy you are constantly going from one character to the next. Right now I’m a jewel thief, a drug dealer, a cripple who’s come out of a coma, a girl’s gay best friend, her chain smoking grandmother, and Darth Vader complete with full Jedi combat training. The trick of course is not to confuse the characters. Although the thought of drug dealing, chain smoking, gay Darth Vader has a kind of ring to it.
So over the next few weeks if you see me around town acting strangely you’ll know why.
If I offer you some pills, steal your wallet, hobble around on a cane or use the force, don’t take it seriously.
I’m just a hell of an actor.
