Maybe We'll Have You Back: The Life of a Perennial TV Guest Star by Fred Stoller, Ray Romano Page A
Authors: Fred Stoller, Ray Romano
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muttered “I see.” They then announced that they had to get back to work.
Trying to break the uncomfortable silence, I started babbling. I told them how grateful I was that they had gotten me a pass to get on to the Warner Brothers lot, because I loved buying Warner Brothers label CDs at the company store that offered a big discount. They seemed relieved that I had changed the uncomfortable subject.
13
AN EMPTY NEST IS BETTER THAN NO NEST
“
It ’s slow. Nothing’s going on. I mean, it’s dead.” When I’ve attempted to stop by one of the six theatrical agents I’ve had, trying to stir some activity up, those are the words I almost always hear. Everyone hears them as a matter of fact, and you want to say, “Really? Nothing’s going on? Isn’t this the land of show business where they make most of the TV shows and movies?” It’ s slow. Nothing’s going on. I mean, it’s dead.” When I’ve attempted to stop by one of the six theatrical agents I’ve had, trying to stir some activity up, those are the words I almost always hear. Everyone hears them as a matter of fact, and you want to say, “Really? Nothing’s going on? Isn’t this the land of show business where they make most of the TV shows and movies?”
I remember stepping into my latest agency asking why I hadn’t had any auditions. The owner pointed to his computer demonstrating just how dead things were. I didn’t ask what that meant, just assumed his computer was completely empty, so I stepped out of his office and into Gloria’s, his partner, just to say hi and show my face to her too.
“Can’t talk, it’s crazy! It’s crazy busy!” she exclaimed trying to get rid of me.
“But Mike said it was dead,” I wanted to say.
It took me well over a decade to learn that once you’ve worked a certain amount and people know who you are, there’s only so much your agent can do. Most of them just field calls when someone calls for you. Most jobs come from people you’ve worked for before or people who ask for you. Usually the casting agents or their assistants call up and have in mind the people they think will fit into some certain role for an audition, or with an offer for the part. They’re usually in a rush and want to get the type as close to what the producers are looking for.
People will say, “Can’t your agent submit you for different kinds of stuff, like killers or detectives in gritty movies?” That might happen if you’re an established name like Steve Buscemi, but not in guest guy world. If it’s a yuppie who thinks Will Smith is a mugger in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, or a dock worker who saw something suspicious in Law & Order , you got to look like that and not be a distraction.
Most actors think they’re missing out on some great opportunities and scour the city looking for that role their agent didn’t think of them for. I witnessed some of this desperation back in the early nineties with a new agency that had a box next to its building where actors could pick up their sides and scripts for auditions all hours of the night. (This of course was before the accessibility of getting them so readily and paper-free by e-mail.) There would be a pile of sealed manila envelopes with each actor’s name on it. It was a medium-sized agency, there were no marquee names I recognized as I leafed through the stack looking for my envelope. They were mostly character actors. I remember waiting for comedian John Byner to get his packet while I stood by one time.
On one particular night, I found my envelope while another actor I didn’t know stood by watching me.
“What’s it for?” he asked.
“ Empty Nest ,” I told him.
He waved his hand in disgust and shook his head.
“Why aren’t I up for that?!” He was about thirty-five, unshav en, and seemed ragged from fretting over his career.
“You like this agency?” he asked.
“They’re okay I guess.”
“They suck! They tell me it’s slow, that there’s no
Trying to break the uncomfortable silence, I started babbling. I told them how grateful I was that they had gotten me a pass to get on to the Warner Brothers lot, because I loved buying Warner Brothers label CDs at the company store that offered a big discount. They seemed relieved that I had changed the uncomfortable subject.
13
AN EMPTY NEST IS BETTER THAN NO NEST
“
It ’s slow. Nothing’s going on. I mean, it’s dead.” When I’ve attempted to stop by one of the six theatrical agents I’ve had, trying to stir some activity up, those are the words I almost always hear. Everyone hears them as a matter of fact, and you want to say, “Really? Nothing’s going on? Isn’t this the land of show business where they make most of the TV shows and movies?” It’ s slow. Nothing’s going on. I mean, it’s dead.” When I’ve attempted to stop by one of the six theatrical agents I’ve had, trying to stir some activity up, those are the words I almost always hear. Everyone hears them as a matter of fact, and you want to say, “Really? Nothing’s going on? Isn’t this the land of show business where they make most of the TV shows and movies?”
I remember stepping into my latest agency asking why I hadn’t had any auditions. The owner pointed to his computer demonstrating just how dead things were. I didn’t ask what that meant, just assumed his computer was completely empty, so I stepped out of his office and into Gloria’s, his partner, just to say hi and show my face to her too.
“Can’t talk, it’s crazy! It’s crazy busy!” she exclaimed trying to get rid of me.
“But Mike said it was dead,” I wanted to say.
It took me well over a decade to learn that once you’ve worked a certain amount and people know who you are, there’s only so much your agent can do. Most of them just field calls when someone calls for you. Most jobs come from people you’ve worked for before or people who ask for you. Usually the casting agents or their assistants call up and have in mind the people they think will fit into some certain role for an audition, or with an offer for the part. They’re usually in a rush and want to get the type as close to what the producers are looking for.
People will say, “Can’t your agent submit you for different kinds of stuff, like killers or detectives in gritty movies?” That might happen if you’re an established name like Steve Buscemi, but not in guest guy world. If it’s a yuppie who thinks Will Smith is a mugger in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, or a dock worker who saw something suspicious in Law & Order , you got to look like that and not be a distraction.
Most actors think they’re missing out on some great opportunities and scour the city looking for that role their agent didn’t think of them for. I witnessed some of this desperation back in the early nineties with a new agency that had a box next to its building where actors could pick up their sides and scripts for auditions all hours of the night. (This of course was before the accessibility of getting them so readily and paper-free by e-mail.) There would be a pile of sealed manila envelopes with each actor’s name on it. It was a medium-sized agency, there were no marquee names I recognized as I leafed through the stack looking for my envelope. They were mostly character actors. I remember waiting for comedian John Byner to get his packet while I stood by one time.
On one particular night, I found my envelope while another actor I didn’t know stood by watching me.
“What’s it for?” he asked.
“ Empty Nest ,” I told him.
He waved his hand in disgust and shook his head.
“Why aren’t I up for that?!” He was about thirty-five, unshav en, and seemed ragged from fretting over his career.
“You like this agency?” he asked.
“They’re okay I guess.”
“They suck! They tell me it’s slow, that there’s no
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