My Pride: It's What's For Dinner!
I am so fucking disgusted.
No, really, I am.
I just had to sit through a two-hour meeting with people who I am supposed to be leading (by default, because the leader isn't there and I'm second in command; actually, I'm tied second with someone else, and that person isn't there either) and NOBODY respects me. It's so obvious that although I am hustling to get these people to where they need to be (because several of them won't do it for themselves) it's not appreciated - at all - and they could really give a rat's ass about what I have to say.
In fact, let me not use any metaphors here, any smokescreens. Maybe I'll regret this tomorrow, but I'm super pissed off, and I created this site as a forum to rant and discuss - and by god, if I have to take shit outside I can at least come here.
My fucking theatre company does not appreciate me. I am the Associate Artistic Director. I am also the daughter of the Artistic Director. Now maybe some offspring of certain actors have gotten parts or gotten ahead due to their connections and they can't act their way out of a paper bag.
That is not me. Sophia Coppola I am not. And it's not like I got the keys to the kingdom here; more like the keys to a Ford Pinto.
I can honestly say, and this is coming from someone who is about as neurotic and insecure as you can get, that two things in this world I know I can do: I can act and I can write. And I'm developing an eye for teaching acting and critiquing - and I intend to direct. People whose acting I respect and who are happy to see a peer flourish are very enthusiastic about the work I have done and the vision I have about where I want to take it. These are the people who I will have to start my own company with. Who I will teach beside and carry on my father's name. It's as simple as that.
Why should I struggle to put together a production or a showcase of scenes with people who patronize me and barely tolerate my running the show in the absence of my Dad? Why should I hold my tongue when I try to assign scenes (because some people can't seem to figure out that three pages does not a 10-15 minute scene make) and offer to direct and they roll their eyes?
Because I said I would do this, and I'm going to do it. I didn't ask for this responsibility - I'm not some egomaniacal asshole who is trying to take over her Daddy's empire. My father is not well and is starting to run down, and this was dropped into my lap like a pile of steaming shit.
I've been busting my proverbial balls to keep these people entertained with material when we didn't have any. Did anyone else bring in scenes to do? One person - and that is one good thing I can say. What would have been a happy ending to that side road is if she wouldn't roll her eyes when I critique the acting. Apparently she doesn't think that a fellow student of Ernie's should be offering suggestions to peers. She can kiss my half-Puerto Rican ass.
I say that's what a fucking theatre company is all about: acting peers helping each other, through an understanding of the work, and being on the same page. Warming up together, working together toward a common goal of honesty and reality on the stage. Trust. Respect. Understanding.
Jesus Christ. This is harder than any marriage I've been in - and I've been married twice - currently working on divorce #2. My friend told me to walk away from these people - tell them to take their fucking scene night and shove it if they were going to treat me with such disrespect.
"Well, I was married for four damn years in an unhappy marriage, I suppose I can deal with three months of hell." I said.
"Yeah," he said, "but it's like you were married to a whole little army of husbands all in one shot."
He's got a point.
posted by Billychicat 11:25 PM
5 Comments:
If you are to work with these miserable wretches, even if it is only for the next 3 months, it would behoove you to do at least one of the following:
1. Accept the way they patronize you, smile back, back your tongue until it's almost severed and do the best you can (then go out and put a Mack-10 or AK-47 on your VISA)...
or:
2. Call a short meeting to regroup and make it aware to these nimrods that you, yes you aware of their "ahngst", but that YOU are the person in charge, unless they want to run the motherfucking show themselves and if they're lucky, can rub two fucking neurons together to make a spark....
Now, there is a subtle, more effective way of achieving this (and I'll tell you what it is as soon as I find out). No, seriously, I would like to sit with you and further discuss how this can be done(if you're interested). I wouldn't bust any blood vessels trying to appease these circle-jerks, but we need to make it known that the queen of the nest "is not pleased". And...you need resolution.
I appreciate it, sweetheart, but I don't consider myself to be a Queen of the Nest - I'm just one really, really pissed off chick who has been patronized by a bunch of socially retarded wannabe actors who scoff at the idea that someone might have a clue - when they themselves couldn't find their own ass with two hands and a road map.
I think it was the one lady who scoffed when I suggested that I direct the scene that she would be in that sent me over the edge. It's been 14 hours later and I'm still pissed.
Actors, writers, and artists - more than even Evil CEO's - are the most jealous, sinister, two-faced, evil bunch of bitter old bitches in the world. The irony is that they call complain that because they are the "creative people" they are somehow doing the world more of a service...
Hey. At least you know that a CEO will fuck you in the ass up front.
I can't begin to tell you the bullshit that I've been through with actors who would sell their mother's teeth for a part as an understudy to the supporting actress's walk-on part with one line.
The fact that these people are giving you grief when you're just trying to lead (are they taking into consideration that your father is very ill and how that's effecting you? no) in your father's absence, because nobody else has the sense or inkling of what needs to be done is absolutely fucking ridiculous.
Jealousy - at least on most of their parts (probably the women) and insecurity (they are like lost children without Ernie) are at the root. I say get your evening of scenes done and then cut 3/4 of these fuckers off like the plague.
What's the saying? Don't ever let them see you sweat or some other bs like that. Corporate life/acting life, funny how it's all the same.
You have to continue, unruffled, but you have to be firm maybe dictatorial. It's like running in a pack of dogs, you've got to maintain the lead but never respond with rudeness.
In the end, fuck 'em. You got the Pinto - what more is there?
Sounds like a toxic environment, but I say tough it out for the next three months. In that time you'll learn more than anything how to deal with the roughest that theatre can give you, and that'll make you stronger, smarter, and savvier when you start your own theatre company. You'll know what to look out for, and what to expect.
Post a Comment
<< Home