Serial Killers at Sacred Fools: Mom's Dead

Five shows enter... three shows leave. So goes the creed of "Serial Killers" at Sacred Fools, in which five original short serials are performed every Saturday night. At the end of the show, the audience votes on which three they'd like to return the next week and which two they want to kill.

It's a pretty intense machine, and I was lucky enough to run for three episodes this past month with my dysfunctional family drama "Mom's Dead." I went into the process being pretty certain that we'd be a "one and done" piece. Writers of SK tend to stay on the flashier comedic side to ensure maximum votes, and my piece was about as dark as it gets, featuring a dysfunctional, selfish family who murdered its own mother. Characters screamed at each other and cried pitifully into their liquor. Even the jokes had a warped cruelty to them.

So you can imagine my surprise and delight when I got voted back not once, but twice! That first night of victory was filled with very flattering compliments, cheap drinks, and the inevitable dance party at 2am.

But then Sunday morning came and I had myself a problem. Time to write Episode Two! People the night before had been asking me what would happen next, and I'd somewhat smugly shrugged and said "I have no idea." It had been a funny joke the night before, but now I was staring at a blank Final Draft document and I still had no idea!

See, I'd had a "one and done" go up the year before in which I'd written out Episode Two ahead of time, and even had a general outline of where I wanted the story to go five or six glorious episodes down the road. So you can imagine how stupid I felt when it was viciously butchered on the first night. I decided to throw every good idea I had into the first round. Well... that worked. Now what?

The terror was invigorating though. I can't tell you how much fun it was walking up and down Vanowen street with all of Leo, Alice, John, and Arthur's problems rattling through my head. For me at least, this edge of my seat approach wound up being pretty effective. Everybody seems to have a different approach to writing these things.

But the writing phase was only part of the frenzy. I'd decided to direct as well, so it was off to the theater with me at 10 in the morning every Saturday to try to get all of my light/sound cues ready to go in thirty minutes! I built my first sound cue for this show. Because I guess I enjoy creating problems for myself, I also had to roll a giant hospital gurney to the theater for my third episode.

Then comes thirty minutes of stage time with the cast. (Pros, each and every one of them.) Then the run-through of the whole show, where you pretend like you aren't secretly sizing up the other four pieces to see if you have a shot at surviving another week. Then it's showtime, baby!

I think it's a testament to Sacred Fools's audience that something as dreary as "Mom's Dead" could flourish and develop there. It's nerve-wracking to do drama for me. You don't get laughs to let you know what parts people are enjoying. I once directed a production of Oleanna and sat in agony for an hour and a half on opening night, confusing the audience's silence with boredom. They wound up giving it a standing ovation. That's kind of what getting voted back felt like. "Wait, you LIKED it? Well... what parts did you like?!"

And even though I wound up getting beaten out by an incredibly fun piece featuring a crazy clown hellbent on destroying vegans, (seriously) what an awesome ride it was! Can't wait to do it again! And who knows? Maybe those awful drunks will be back for the playoffs this summer.

My first national commercial shoot. (Featuring Blake Griffin.)

Okay guys, seriously. They gave me my own trailer. Let me repeat that: I HAD MY OWN TRAILER. Had my name on the door and everything. Did it have furniture? No. Did the electricity work? Sometimes. But by JOVE you'd better believe I strutted around set yacking off the phrase "I'll be in my trailer" to any unfortunate soul who happened to be within earshot.

I couldn't help but appreciate the power that big budget studios have over the city of Los Angeles. They shot our scenes on the driveway of some house, SO THEY SHUT DOWN THE ENTIRE BLOCK. I don't know what horrible labor camp they sent the residents of those houses to, but I never saw anybody who wasn't a part of the shoot.

Blake Griffin needs you to surrender your home... NOW

The shooting process itself was pretty easy. I met Blake Griffin, who had actually heard of my small state school ("Oh yeah, we played against them.") and then we got to it. Blake was pretty much the star of the spot, whereas I only reacted to what was going on in the scene. (Blake got his own umbrella guy to shield his beautiful complexion from the sun. I didn't. What a ripoff.) That being said, it was pretty amazing how subtle they wanted my reactions to be. Take a look at the next two pictures and see if you can tell a difference.

If you think they're pretty similar, than sorry. You don't have the chops to be a commercial director, because one of those suckers is right and the other is WRONG! 

Another interesting thing I noticed was how it took a good four and a half hours to shoot a thirty second commercial spot. I understand setting up for shots and whatnot, but I'll bet we took forty takes for each shot. Many of them were pretty much the same direction as the one before. I'm by no means bashing the director, cuz I've obviously never directed anything that big. But my primitive, idiot actor brain didn't understand why we needed so many takes. I just did what I was told like a good boy. I mean... when somebody gives you free Hawaiian style BBQ baby back ribs... you behave.

It was a great experience, and they had to drag me off of that set kicking and screaming. Because now that I've had this success, I have work to do. Time to make a reel, find a theatrical agent (maybe a manager too) and shmooze with the casting directors I've already met. Any time you move forward, you make sure you wring as much momentum from that blessing as you can. Forward motion is what it's all about out here. Cuz trust me, the pond is littered with other little fishies who are dead in the water. Gulp! Gotta keep moving!

52 Sketches in 52 Weeks: Cat Bowties (Wait, we started?!)

Whoo boy. Lots to discuss. But first... Here's a link to the first video:

Cat Bowties #1

Alright, so judging from early feedback (which ranges from "LMAO!!!!" to "I hated it") you either had a good time or were left scratching your head, wondering what the heck you just watched. Either reaction is okay. It's kinda how you're supposed to feel.

Tim and Eric (examples of which can be viewed here and here) are notorious for making supercharged pieces of comedy that basically crank up the intensity to the point where logic snaps and the viewer is bombarded with absurdity. The goal isn't so much to tell a story as to basically assault your senses as brutally as possible. (They're kind of a comedic version of Antonin Artaud's work with theater of cruelty.)

I set out to emulate that style with Cat Bowties, and then Matt took it to a whole other level in the editing chair. As far as I'm concerned, we were totally successful. 

That being said, this wasn't really supposed to be the first episode of our series. For every one person who thinks Tim and Eric is funny, there's another fifteen people who hate it. I know this kind of stuff is really polarizing, and I would've rather posted a more user-friendly introduction. Buuut some wires got crossed and it wound up getting posted first. Actually... we weren't supposed to launch at all for another week. Whoops! 

Anyway, we are officially moving, and I have no idea where we're headed. It's a totally terrifying feeling, to be honest. I can't help but envision the whole project crashing and burning, with everyone I know and respect just shrugging and saying "I don't get it." I woke up this morning and I felt like a giant anchor was wrapped around my barely-floating artistic career. Basically the same question hit me that, I suppose, hits everyone who tries something ambitious: "What if I suck?" 

But my philosophy has always been that if I'm scared of the project, that means that I took risks and tried some things that were outside of my comfort zone. That, in my humble opinion, is what an artist is supposed to be. It's certainly how one grows. Somewhat perversely, the only ones who get to decide if it's a success or a failure is you, my esteemed audience. All I can do is offer as many burnt offerings to you as possible in the hopes that one of them is pleasing to your mighty appetite for entertainment. 

So yeah, go me. Sound off in the comments section about what you thought about our crazy video, and if you've ever been scared of failing! Did you triumph or crumple? I starve for your stories!!!