On Saturday night I attended A Beatles Celebration at the Hollywood Bowl, and while this isn’t a review of the performance but rather of the attendees, I would be remiss not to say a word or two about the show itself.

Todd Rundgren was the big name associated with these three nights at the Bowl, but by far the night belonged to Betty LaVette and Rob Laufer. Not to belittle he who was once referred to as “Todd is God,” but even God would have to rehearse a significant amount were he to spend three nights at the Bowl with the LA Philharmonic for close to 70,000 people. Todd was very enthusiastic and when he sang softly that sweet old voice was still there, but overall his performance was sloppy. He can shred on the guitar with the best of them, and he did, I just wish he’d taken more time to work out some licks.

On the other extreme, Rob Laufer’s vocals and masterful guitar work was the first time in the show that the Beatles’ presence was truly felt on stage. In his loving performances of “Something” and “Across the Universe,” it was as if he were channeling all four lads at the same time. Todd brought Rob back during his set and the two guitar virtuosos laid “Let it Be” out for the brilliance that it is. There wasn’t a dry seat in the house.

The amazing blues singer Betty LaVette gave us awe-inspiring interpretations of “Blackbird” and “Here, There, & Everywhere” to the point where, except for the lyrics, the songs were literally unrecognizable as Beatles tunes. LaVette was the only performer without a strong Beatles influence in her life and career (in her intro to “Here, There, & Everywhere” she said the first time she’d heard the song, Frank Sinatra was singing it!) Even so, on her lips “Come Together” should become a blues standard. There’s no doubt that her astonishingly visceral rendition of that enigmatic song could have brought John and Paul to tears.

The entire show was backed wonderfully by the LA Phil and conductor Thomas Wilkins who was also an appropriate emcee. So it would have been a perfect evening of music and memories had it not been for the unbelievably rude and unconscious people in my immediate area.

I’ve attended over one hundred concerts at the Hollywood Bowl in all musical genres, and I’ve come to understand that there are generally three types of shows and three types of audiences at this one-of-a kind Los Angeles landmark.

The first concert/audience type is the classical. The music is Mozart, Vivaldi, Chopin, etc. and the patrons bring their wine and bread and cheese and sip and munch before the concert starts. Once the conductor strides out onto the stage, they put their picnics at their feet and, if they continue to partake, they do so quietly out of respect for both the music and their fellow concert-goers. I love these people.

Second are the rock/pop shows. Just like any concert at any venue, this audience drinks too much, makes incessant noise, sings with all the songs, and generally are out to have a good time. The music is usually very loud so you barely notice them. Everyone behaves as they’re expected to. I love the freedom of these shows so unless someone is literally throwing up in the row behind me, it’s anything goes.

Third are the in-betweens. “In-between” both in the nature of the concert and the people who attend them. The concerts are always “special” shows like A Beatles Celebration, where you get quiet ballads and heartfelt jazz in addition to loud rock, while in the audience you get the classical and the rock/pop audiences who know how to behave based on the particular song being performed. But there’s a third element. This third element is the people who probably have never been to the Bowl before and, maybe because of the bench seats or the beer, behave as if they’re at Dodger Stadium.

So during the first half of the show Saturday night, which was mostly quiet jazz and heartfelt ballads by Patti Austin, Rob Laufer, and Brian Stokes Mitchell, I had the couple to my immediate left across the aisle who just had to finish off an entire large bag of Tostitos before intermission and did so during every song, crunching and rustling the bag with every note.

Then I had the two young women behind me who couldn’t shut themselves up long enough to listen to one song all the way through. I always wonder about these sorts. What they could possibly have to say to each other that’s so important that they miss the reason they’re there in the first place?

But those who took the cake that night were the drunken family who not only talked and took pictures of each other during every song, but insisted on loudly mis-singing the lyrics completely off-key when no one else was. They were across the aisle and two rows up from me, and that’s what really got me about this particular group. They were surrounded by people who weren’t with them and as far as I could tell, not one person in close proximity to these idiots told them to STFU, behave themselves, and watch the show. An usher spoke to the group at one point, but it did no good. As soon as she went back to her post they started up again. What’s necessary in these situations is for the people sitting with the disturbers to teach them how to behave. But that never seems to happen. Not in LA, anyway.

The Hollywood Bowl is a fantastic venue. I have wonderfully fond memories there and will treasure them forever, but from now on it’s loud rock or strictly classical. No more in-betweens for me.

An article in the New York Times yesterday revealed that the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America) is up in arms at the prospect that the Commodity Futures Trading Commission might approve the creation of a futures market that would deal in movie box office receipts.

I say, let ‘em try!

Futures markets have traditionally been reserved for raw goods. In futures trading sugar is a commodity that is traded through futures contracts, but not salt water taffy. Sugar is the raw ingredient, candy is the resultant product after manufacture. Same with oil. Crude oil futures are traded, not gasoline. Why is that? Mainly because there is an inherent standardization to a raw commodity, but also a question mark as to how much that commodity will bring once it’s brought to market. It’s that question mark that becomes the gain or loss for the futures trader. Once the raw commodity becomes its final product, price fluctuation is severely limited so there’s not much to bet on.

Perhaps this is what fooled the Einsteins at Cantor Fitzgerald and Veriana Networks (the two groups proposing the exchanges) to think that trading box office futures could work. The complete unpredictability of a film’s performance. But it’s an entirely different manner of unpredictability, and I wonder if they understand that.

To further disconnect this idea from true futures trading: while it’s true that the value of futures contracts fluctuates according to many factors depending on the commodity, there’s a best/worse case scenario that can be estimated as a basis, barring unforeseen events like a natural disaster, unexpected blight, economic crisis, etc. In any given contract period the trader calculates the risk involved going in and may gamble that a certain crop’s yield will do well or poorly based on what’s known about that commodity, interest rates, weather patterns, even political climate for less stable countries. The “gamble” is a calculated one.

Being a gambler and investor and having worked in entertainment finance for over 15 years, the last thing I would ever advise anyone to bet on or invest in is film box office grosses. Why? Oh, I don’t know, let’s ask renowned screenwriter/playwright/author William Goldman:

“Nobody knows anything.”

You said it, Bill.

Mr. Goldman’s statement, which has been quoted ad nauseum (including by me with great frequency) and attributed to all manner of people about pretty much anything that’s unpredictable in life, was in fact a statement about show business, Hollywood in particular, and the unlimited surprises (both good and bad) awaiting any individual or company venturing into the entertainment industry. Yes the rewards can be great, but they’re so sporadic and impossible to predict that even big movie studios often lose their nerve in the face of an expensive, potential flop.

Entertainment finance people spend untold hours and sleepless nights trying to figure out the monetary potential of any given film and the closest anyone in this business ever comes is to approximate a best-guess based on a virtual house-of-cards of assumptions. When something hits a mark we set or, thank the heavens, exceeds it, you never hear the words, “I told you so.” No, the wise man or woman who made that prediction is too busy worrying that the other 10-15 films in that year’s slate will miss the target. Like good ol’ Charlie Brown, one minute you’re the hero, the next you’re the goat.

Here’s the thing, people with a lot of money and/or people with access to a lot of money almost never have the slightest understanding of how the movie business works, especially from a finance point of view. But they almost always find out.

The hard way.

But go for it, boys, and don’t worry. As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely 88mph the instant the lightning strikes the tower… everything will be fine.

One of my closest friends, a brilliant, gifted, dedicated teacher at California State University, Los Angeles, was recently informed that because of budget cuts she is to be laid-off. In my conversations with her over the past few months (she knew this might be coming) something became very clear to me.  It would appear that “we the people” of California would rather take money out of the pockets of the most important and egregiously underpaid professionals in our society than pay a little more in taxes.

Teachers in California are being forced either off the payroll entirely or are being given so few classes to teach that they will need to find other work to supplement their already abysmal salaries. With unemployment in the Los Angeles area topping 10%, this is a sorry prospect for them indeed.

So rather than hit up the wealthiest Californians and most successful California businesses (like the oil companies) for a little extra dough they’d never miss, our representatives in Sacramento along with the Govenator are hacking furiously away at the public school system and other vital social services as if every well-off Californian has made it clear that they are unwilling to have their taxes increase by even the smallest amount.

I‘ve lived in California my entire life. I do well and don’t pay much state income tax (never have), yet I watch year-after-year as a supposedly liberal state congress led by a usually centrist governor fight and wrangle as they allow education and social services to suffer at the effect of budgetary deficiencies. Does anyone making more that a teacher’s salary in this state really think it’s fair for those worse-off than they are to carry the burden of our current economic downturn?  Obviously our lawmakers do, but they’re not representing me in this, that’s for certain.

This isn’t just about dollars and cents or teachers’ salaries, either. Along with cuts to education come  higher fees and fewer classes offered to students who can barely afford their current curriculum. It will cost them far more now and take a great deal more time to graduate. These people are the future wage-earners of the state. It doesn’t take an economist to tell you that the higher one’s level of education, the higher one’s earnings tend to be. It’s a no-brainer. People who earn more pay more in taxes and spend more in the economy. This is good for Caaleefoarneea, Arnold!

But for those who are in charge, raising taxes on the oil companies or the wealthiest businesses and  individuals in the state (and there are a great many of them) is entirely out of the question. Even though young teachers who have recently entered the teaching profession are losing their jobs. Even though Education graduates have no prospects whatsoever as they exit even the best universities with high honors. Even though everyone is in agreement that a well-educated populace has a positive effect on absolutely every aspect of the quality of life of a community.

Every state in the country is suffering along these lines. Many are much worse-off than California because they don’t have a ridiculously wealthy mother-lode of residents and companies to even consider tapping.   Schwarzenegger has the magic wand in his thick fingers that could readily alleviate all the financial woes the state currently faces.

The California Legislature needs to stop catering to the greedy, ivory tower residents that would put the likes of Meg Whitman in the governor’s mansion. They need to stop punishing the people at the bottom and in the middle with regressive tax schemes and unconscionable budget cuts by representing everyone in this state, not just their peers.

The Irrefutable Stupidity of Sarah Palin 

x

While this has given me a great deal more insight and understanding as to why so many people are ill-informed and/or misinformed, it has given me a rash as well.

In the old days I was blissfully unaware of the positions held by pseudo-journalistic personalities such as Limbaugh, Coulter, Hannity, Beck, and Scarborough, and I was also largely oblivious of those I might tend more to agree with like Olbermann, Maddow, Cooper, or Brown.  For me, getting my news fix had nothing to do with the people presenting the news except in terms of a particular reporter’s expertise (such as NPR’s Cokie Roberts reporting on the Supreme Court).

There was a time when if someone told me something crazy like they “don’t trust the United States Census”  I would have fallen slack-jawed and silent with no ability to comprehend how anyone could have come up with the strange idea that the US Census could be something to be feared. In this case in particular, the person’s census statistics haven’t changed in any significant way since the last census 10 years ago, so their answers on the current census would be largely the same. Even so, the Census had somehow become something to be feared. Now that my awareness has been expanded to include television news, I no longer wonder how a person gets such a harebrained idea, because after being indoctrinated in the ways of disinformational media the answer is obvious. “You read Drudge or watch Fox News on a regular basis, don’t you?”

So while I appreciate that I no longer wonder about such things, I find myself in a constant state of perturbation over the unbelievable level of intentionally misleading “news” with which people of limited intelligence are bombarded every day. So do I thank the aggregators and online watchdogs for keeping me informed about what the dark side is up to (known thine enemy and all that) or blame them for my inability to resist watching Glenn Beck’s “education” rally or Ann Coulter’s latest hate-strewn interview? Seriously, those  two make me want to hurl my PC through the window, but I can’t stop myself from watching them, and just as I start to calm down, them what would keep me informed heat up another spoon of the stuff for me to mainline.

I know I’m not alone in this. I can tell from the comment sections of those same infuriating posts that this is wearing many of us down. The irony is that even as  I complain about people like Beck and Coulter getting far too much airtime, positing that if they weren’t given so much attention they wouldn’t be able to sway the sheep so easily, online news outlets are giving them more attention, and I, in turn, am giving them MY attention. And it doesn’t stop there. I occasionally am so outraged that I forward the link to my friends and colleagues, giving those same people who should be ignored even more attention!

I understand that we must remain vigilant against intolerance, fear, hate, and prejudice. I am thankful that I know what the real “evildoers” look like and that I know what they have to say, however, I have long been aware of the Ku Klux Klan and I don’t need to see interminable video of their cross-burning  events to maintain that awareness. I further understand that it’s my responsibility to filter what I allow in to my perception on a daily basis, but when The Huffington Post chooses to put headlines like: “Commandant Beck Not Joking Anymore”  on the front page, I find it easier to  look away from a bad car crash on the highway.

I know there’s a great deal of interest in this sort of thing just judging from the sheer number of comments such a post will garner, but it bothers me that news sources I’m addicted to which I expect to maintain their poise and position above the fray, sometimes fall victim to sensationalizing a story with its headlines, or worse, running a piece merely because of its outrageousness (such as anything Rush Limbaugh has to say).

I’m not in any way suggesting content be eliminated, but just as in the old days of newsprint journalism, certain stories deserve Page 1 status and others belong just before the Sports Section. For legitimate news, this continues to be a better rule of thumb than the TV news mantra, “If it bleeds, it leads.”

In his book, Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell makes a compelling case for the notion that the “self-made man” is a rare exception at best, but more often than not, a complete myth. Nowhere is this more true than in Hollywood.

Several months ago I started working with a group of actors on what it takes to find consistent success in that vocation. The general principles apply to many chosen careers in the entertainment industry, but I wanted a challenge and seeing as how, in my mind anyway, acting is one of the most difficult professions to produce consistent results in, I felt that if any sort of road map could be developed it would be revelatory.

Anyone who wants to make it in the arts is confronted with an overwhelming number of “realities” (most of them harsh) that they must overcome in order to one day quit the Coffee Bean job and do their art full time. The first reality is this: No one, and I mean NO ONE, makes it all by themselves. This truth begins with the decision to pursue a career rife with roadblocks and remains so regardless of the level of success one achieves.

Like the old joke that the success of a musician is measured by his girlfriend’s take-home pay, short of getting someone else to cover the bills, anyone who wants to act must find a way to survive whilst knocking on doors that open only erratically. So most will need a “regular” job that allows enough flexibility to go on auditions during the day and attend classes and the occasional play in the evenings and on weekends. There are only a tiny handful of jobs that fit this description, so most soon find themselves the beneficiary of an understanding boss or helpful coworkers.

And so it begins. No lone gun ever traded shifts to make it to a last-minute Pop Tarts audition.

Once basic survival is covered with the help of those mentioned above, there’s the task of finding an agent and getting work. An actor can forward the ubiquitous headshot and resume to every agent, producer and casting person in town, but the likelihood that any of them will respond is slim-to-none unless someone else’s name is attached to their humble request for a meeting or audition. This is because the amount of blind requests these people get each week is so voluminous that the time it takes to sift through them all is just not available.

It’s all about filtering and it’s done all the time in many professions, but nowhere is filtering more pervasive than in Hollywood. Agents filter requests from new actors by requiring that they have certain types of credits, training and/or be referred by a current client. Likewise, producers and casting directors will often restrict audition submissions to actors with agents, sometimes only certain agents, or they may require that the actor be a member of the Screen Actor’s Guild. This is done to limit the number of submissions they receive from being in the thousands to being in the hundreds. Filtering as I’ve described is random and certainly unfair, but necessary lest the machine grind to a complete halt.

So in the beginning, before the actor’s name is a door-opener in and of itself, the game is less about who you are and more about who you know (which is the truth behind the old adage). So while it’s nice when an actor’s resume includes “University of Southern California” under Education, a note from esteemed USC alumnus, Will Ferrell will get everyone’s prompt attention.

This doesn’t mean that if one didn’t go to school with a famous comic actor or their father didn’t direct Apocalypse Now that there’s no hope. It also doesn’t mean that an actor needs to harass famous people all over the city for an introduction to the big time. This will likely only result in restraining orders. In fact, the process of being assisted by others in one’s career in this town is most effective and reliable with one’s peers. They’re the people who get together for a beer after work or class. The ones who are equally committed and driven to succeed. Those who might make it big one day and possibly become a “name” for you just as you will do for them if you get there first.

In my work I call it one’s “Personal/Professional Network,” but really they’re friends. More specifically, friends who happen to be pursuing a dream similar to one’s own. Remember that opportunities come not only from meeting people in the business and making professional connections as anyone pursing any worthwhile career does, but from developing deep, authentic friendships with like-minded individuals along the way.

Trace the path of any successful actor in Hollywood and it becomes clear very quickly that the many opportunities afforded to them came because someone they knew liked them enough to extend a hand. In turn, most of them reach back every now and then and give a lift to others who need a step up.

This is the way it’s always been, and how it will continue to be in Hollywood.

What always gets me is how, just when I think I have a good idea about the workings of life-as-we-know-it and things are going along pretty smoothly, something grabs me by the collar and says, “You know nothing!”

This is one of those times.

I had a conversation with my mom a few weeks ago about that she’d likely be moving on from this phase of her life fairly soon.  At the time it struck me that the only real difference between her and the rest of us was that she had a little more information. She had been diagnosed with Stage-4 cancer. No one knows when that big event will occur, and we live with a blind trust that it won’t be anytime soon, and thereby live under the illusion that there is “plenty of time.” 

Writers, artists, philosophers, scientists, the faithful and atheists alike, have spent more time dwelling on the subject of mortality than any other except maybe love.  Many who have gone before us and those who come after will continue to ponder the mystery of life and death, and, as they always have, will come to the same conclusion. 

Learning what’s really important in life doesn’t come easy. For most of us it takes not much less than the mental equivalent of being hit over the head with a 2×4.  The realization comes differently for anyone who makes it:  The birth of a child, the death of a parent, catastrophic life-altering events, euphoric experiences that expand the spirit, any experience that raises our awareness to a new level. 

I’m not sure how she got there, but my mom was one of the lucky ones who understood and it’s so simple:  Surround yourself with love and laughter.  That’s the wisdom great thinkers have spent lifetimes uncovering that was second nature to her. In terms of love, I think she would agree with the statement, “Spend as much time as you can in the company of your loved ones.”

When she knew her time was limited, she didn’t run out and book a cruise or schedule a whirlwind trip across the continents. She told us that all she wanted to do was be in her home visiting with everyone. We all thought we had many months in which to do this, and while we would gladly have taken many more years, the little time we were given was put to good use in fulfilling that desire for her and us.

During that time, just like it always had been in my family, we didn’t sit around having serious discussions about sad inevitabilities. Nope.  We laughed and laughed. As hardily and frequently as possible.  Even the day mom left us the love and laughter continued to flow. My sister, Julie, said something that day which moved everyone and is a perfect demonstration of what I’m talking about. She said, “Oh my God! They dropped her. She’s on the sidewalk!”

Yes, it moved everyone. Into hysterics. My sister wasn’t playing a cruel prank on us. She really thought the guys from the mortuary had dropped my mom as they were taking her down the stairs. They hadn’t, not even close, but you can imagine the images that popped into the minds of those of us who weren’t standing at the window as my sister was.

This is how it’s always been in my family.  Not far behind tears of tragedy follow the healing powers of laughter.  My mom’s dad, our Popa, is to this day the funniest person I have ever known. My dad didn’t have the great gift for humor that my grandfather possessed, but he could tell a good joke and was a comic’s fantasy. He laughed so hard and loud and long that at times it could get embarrassing. Especially if you were 14… Or my mom…

Mom had a keen sense of humor (how could she not being raised by Pop?) but she was also very classy and had a strong sense of decorum. As a result, her laugh was very subtle, especially in contrast to my dad. Getting her to laugh out loud was a major accomplishment. If you could get her to do so in public you were deserving of a medal. 

During the weeks following her diagnosis, kids, grandkids, and one seriously cute great-grandchild, literally enveloped her with their unwavering devotion and humor. As she started to drift from us she was comforted by the simple act of holding a hand and feeling the love conduct electrically between us. During this time, even when she was fading and could  barely speak, she’d get a big smile on her face every time the conversation turned to a funny old remembrance or a quick-witted pun.

Everyone who comes into our lives bears with them a lesson for us.  Often the most profound of these lessons are borne by those with the simplest outlook on life. My mom didn’t need to fill her days with activities and distractions that only serve to “busy” our lives rather than enrich them. No, by filling her days with love and laughter, and teaching that lesson to us throughout her life, she not only gave of them freely, but they came back to her immeasurably.

In our pretense that life goes on forever, even though we’re faced every day with the reality that exactly the opposite is true, we allow ourselves to waste a great deal of time.  That’s why we must continually remind ourselves what’s really important. What my mom knew. Her  wisdom about life is a part of us. That wisdom is a gift to us for having been lucky enough to share this small space of time with her. 

My mother, Shirlee Swadley, died Saturday at age 84 from lung cancer. She didn’t suffer, didn’t linger, had no regrets, was surrounded by love, and laughed with us ‘til the end.

Let’s say you’re an active Facebook user who has 100 “friends.” Of those 100 friends, lets assume a generous 10% of them check Facebook once a day or more. Further, let’s say that another very generous 40% of them check at least once each week without fail. On the other side, lets assume that 30% check irregularly, maybe once every two weeks or so, another 20% once a month, and 10% never return after creating their account. (I would assume  that last 10% is more like 30%, but we’re being generous here with presumed Facebook participation. Your results may vary.)

Okay, now let’s say you’re in the top 10% of people who visit daily or more and you decide you want to let all your friends know about something really important, like you’re being evicted and if all your friends sent you $25 each you could forestall the sheriff one more month. In the old days, you would have made some phone calls or written an e-mail making your request (people with more money, you meet for lunch), with confidence that your request has been heard and (probably) ignored by all. But this isn’t the old days. Now you just throw a post up on Facebook with the delusion that all your friends will read it right away and come to the rescue or not.

Using my generous participation percentages, you’ve just reached about 10 of your 100 friends immediately, 40 more within a week, and the rest eventually or not at all. Eviction is imminent.

The problem with Facebook is that it gives one the illusion that anyone is listening other than the other fanatics like you who spend their days surfing the web and posting ad nauseum on Facebook, which is nothing close to all the people you’d like to be in touch with on a regular basis.  Aside from the emergency scenario above, if one treats Facebook as their primary means of staying in touch, then a whole boatload of people are potentially neglected. People who would like to be included, but aren’t because they don’t have the time and/or inclination to participate on Facebook.

I don’t know if this will happen, but it seems to me that at some point a critical mass of Facebook members will realize that most people aren’t listening and Facebook will be replaced by whatever time-suck is next in line that convincingly gives the illusion of interpersonal connection.

I can’t say much because it really left me speechless, and words would fail miserably anyway. For Baby Boomers like me, think of the first time you saw Star Wars in the theater. Now multiply that experience by 1,000. That’s what seeing short bursts of Avatar felt like to me.  (For everyone else, maybe how you felt watching three other Cameron films: Terminator 2, Aliens, and Titanic.)

Whatever your frame of reference, I predict that the movies will never be the same again after Avatar hits the screens.