February

Note: this is the regular monthly post, not the final in a short series that began here. That post will appear next Sunday. And yes, any O.G. BS&T readers might recognize this photo from a post that appeared there more than ten years ago — hey, think of it as “recycling.”

So, imagine you’re a young actor who’s worked hard to learn your craft while trying to catch a break, then had to beg and plead relentlessly to audition for a role you just knew was meant to be yours — and this is after the director has told you numerous times that he really needs a star to secure financial backing for the film, and that “casting is over — we have the actor we want.” Finally, just to shut you up, he agrees to an impromptu audition, holding the camera in one hand and the script in the other as he reads the part opposite yours … and you absolutely nail it.

You get the part and make the movie, which puts you on the map of Hollywood at last. Then you get married, a new baby comes along, and you buy a house, because you’ve just signed to do a big movie that will overflow your bank account and shift your career into warp drive — at which point you wake up one morning and find half your face paralyzed thanks to a brain tumor.

If this sounds like the bad plot from some weepy soap opera or Hallmark movie — the kind nobody in their right mind would ever believe, let alone green-light — tell that to Mark Ruffalo, who had all this and more happen to him on his way to becoming Bruce Banner the Incredible Hulk in the Marvel superhero franchise.

I’m a sucker for “how I made it” stories in Hollywood — and this is a good one — because everybody who makes it does so in their own unique way. Unlike becoming a doctor, lawyer, or accountant, there’s no standard path for a wannabe actor, director, or writer to follow that leads straight to success in Hollywood. Too many pitfalls and potential detours are involved on that journey — which is what makes it an adventure rather than a plodding step-by-step climb up a nice straight stairway — and the key that finally opens the door usually comes from a high-octane blend of inspiration, perspiration, desperation, and the ultimate intangible, luck.

Like many young actors, Ruffalo took his first acting class in high school after noticing the highly favorable ratio of women to men in the drama program. The urge-to-merge Darwinian imperative that “makes the world go ‘round” has kick-started more than one successful thespian career, and you can hear all about Ruffalo’s journey in this interview on NPR’s Fresh Air.

I wouldn’t lie to you, kiddos — this one is well worth your time.

*****************************************

I first met Matt Price a decade or so ago at CBS Radford as I closed in on the end of my career while he was starting his. Matt was smart, ambitious, and knew a lot more about above-the-line aspects of the industry than I did. He directed several short films, one of which I saw — which was excellent. Since retiring, I’ve followed his career from afar, and was happy to discover that he now has a Subtack called Too Much Film School. Anybody interested in film and the industry would do well to check it out — as a sampler, here’s his 2024 Year in Review. It’s a nice introduction to Matt and his Substack, so take a look. I think you’ll like it.

Another excellent Substack — Great Gigs — comes from the keyboard and photo archive of Peter McLennan, a retired director/DP who veteran BS&T readers know from several guest posts published there in years past. Peter trotted the globe working on features, commercials, documentaries, and the occasional industrial film during his long career, where he had the kind of real-world cinematic adventures not found on a Hollywood sound stage. Although I’ve walked the perms of Stage 16 at Warner Brothers sixty-five feet above the stage floor, I never had to climb a rickety hundred-foot metal tower carrying a camera in the jungles of 3rd World Zaire, then — secured by nothing more than a piece of sash cord — shot footage of workers putting the finishing touches on that tower … but Peter has. He also descended six hundred feet in a diving bell to film inside an undersea facility that was part of an offshore — way offshore — drilling operation. I once dove a hundred feet down off Catalina while scuba diving, but there’s not enough money in the world to get me deeper than that. Six hundred feet? Forget it!

As the title states, his stories are great and very well told — check ‘em out.

*****************************************

We all know that 2024 sucked, but the Hollywood Reporter recently detailed just how much it sucked … and yeah, it sucked. The feel-better mantra all year was “Stay alive ‘til ‘25,” but the massive fires of January pulled the rug out from under that, and could make things even worse in terms of production in LA over the short run. The only thing that seems certain at the moment is that the recovery of the Palisades, Malibu, and Altadena will take a very long time, and the same might hold for the film/television industry. Not a great way to start a new year … but is it all doom and gloom or — as this piece from THR suggests — is this just another in a long series of boom-and-bust-and-boom-again eras in the historical roller coaster of LA? Film and television production may never return to the glory days when everybody was working, but I think things will gradually improve. How fast?

Damned if I know.

Then, of course, there’s the looming threat of AI. Hollywood was recently buzzing about an AI short called The Heist, which is impressive in some ways, but in others not so much. The visual quality of the images is pretty good, but the motion of the cars and people is way off. Still, it marked progress that could someday represent a threat to current modes of filmmaking … but what I hadn’t considered was the speed at which AI is evolving — and with that in mind, check out this freelance Porsche spot reportedly made just for fun by one guy with a laptop. According to the notes, “Everything is AI except the talking head with the strange accent in the behind-the-scenes part.” I’m not sure I believe that, although it came from a credible source, so I passed this clip on to other old friends in Hollywood for their input. Haven’t heard back yet, so again, who knows?

(If the red button doesn’t work, click the “Watch on YouTube” icon in the lower left corner)

But if it is real, that’s scary as hell for anybody whose job entails working on set or those — like me — who’ve retired from the on-set fray but still like to get that pension check every month, anemic though it may be.* If one guy with a laptop can do this today, what are we likely to see in a year, let alone five years from now? Should the time come when a reasonably detailed script outline can be fed into a computer that will then deliver a movie the viewing public will pay to watch, well, the Hollywood — indeed, the global film industry — that we’ve known will be gone with the digital wind, along with countless jobs.

The future just ain’t what it used to be.

• In my case, anorexically anemic.

******************************************

Bob Eucker died in mid-January, adding to the growing list of reasons I already hate the annus horribillis of 2025.

“Okay,” you might reply, “but what does the death of a 90 year old ex-ballplayer turned baseball broadcaster have to do with the film and television industry?”

Bob spent six years on the cast of Mr. Belvedere for ABC, had a juicy role in all three of the “Major League” movies, made a hundred appearances as one of Johnny Carson’s favorite guests on “The Tonight Show,” and starred in a number of Miller Lite beer commercials. That’s a resume any Hollywood actor would be proud of … but more to the point, I had the pleasure of working one of those Miller spots at Dodger Stadium in Chavez Ravine during the early ‘90s. Bob was a friendly, gregarious guy who kept the entire crew in stitches all day long. That wasn’t a “work day” for any of us — it was all fun, all the time. Hell, I’d have done it for free.

If you never heard Bob Eucker behind the microphone calling a game, you’ve missed something special … but here’s your chance: a fifteen minute audio clip that’s achieved legendary status. The man was just a born entertainer.

I’ll leave you with his most famous commercial. RIP, Bob, and thanks for all the laughs.