Cul de Sac Family Cast photo
I had to share this photo of me gorgeous screen family – we wrapped on this TV children’s series earlier this year. Roll on series two!
To appear on acting page
Making waves
Read the full article here – and discover how 50 year old Feeney is giving hope to aging Thespians everywhere…
That tricky darn emotion!
It’s true that often-times we feel the obligation to emote very strongly – and we must rise to the occasion if the script’s big print tells us something like: ‘Bill bursts into tears.’ But anything that over-stimulates the actor’s inner censor is bad news. And apart from this there is the fact that when an actor is enjoying an emotion through a scene they may feel great but the performance may well be rubbish. Feeling something is no guarantee of quality of result. Which is why we need directors – they get us back on track.
Even so, through years of correction, some actors will still persist in putting feeling first in their acting. It’s a tough trap to crawl out of. I’ll never forget Cecily Berry’s tirade to some hapless actor in a master-class guilty of this (in her view) cardinal sin. Something similar pops up in one of her books and it’s worth quoting in full: “You must get rid of all the rubbish! By that I mean you have to constantly pare away all unnecessary coloring and tension and the paraphernalia which you feel you need to convince an audience and which, in fact, gets in the way of direct communication. I am sure that one of the actor’s greatest concerns is the fear of not feeling enough and, therefore, of not being interesting enough. The greater the emotion in the part the more he tries to convince the audience of his feeling and so ceases to be specific. You know that this often occurs but it is difficult to trust yourself. You must believe you have a right to be there.”
In a class with American Broadway director Bob Benedetti he once demonstrated to us his take on the place of emotion. At the end of a scene he asked the actors – how did that feel? Great, said the actors. That, Bob pronounced, is the place of emotion in acting.
Sometimes I think you can take this stiff upper lip attitude to emotion a bit too far, as if feeling anything in acting might be some kind of failure. In fact emotion, real human ever changing emotion, is at the heart of what we do. The words in any scene are just our starting point for investigation, clues as to what the writer’s intent might be – a springboard to discovering the real life underneath the words, what the characters are really thinking and feeling – which is often at variance to what they are actually saying. This is what interests any viewer: not what we are saying, but what is REALLY going on. Yet the emotion has to happen as a result of the playing. Emotion needs to be put in its proper place, the place it holds in real life: as a by-product of the playing, the result of what we do – not the thing to go for in the playing itself.
The buzz that we can find in our acting is, like Benedetti says, not emotion as such, but feeling great because we are living in the moment. In performance, when we act well, we are fully alive. We are sensorially more activated than at any other time. Our left and right brains, our conscious and creative sides, are working together. As you play you are discovering insights and seeing moments unveil themselves in ways miraculously in line with the requirements of the scene – all the while meeting the necessary technical requirements, such as hitting your mark or staying in your light – all simultaneously. Actors that get hooked on that other fix – emotion – may not actually be fulfilling their (usually quite simple) obligations to the scene. They are certainly missing out on a better creative buzz than they could have imagined.
Five days in Bali-wood
It was the arsenic hour – 8am, the wife at work, three kids running amok in various states of undress – when the phone rang. Stu, a producer at Curious Films, told me I’d just been cast in a TV commercial. I did a triple take, then remembered an old audition I’d mentally binned. Could I play golf? I’d swung a club only a few times – but heck, I wasn’t going to tell him that! I was going to Bali!
I had two hours to shower, shave, pack, panic, trip down some stairs and organise emergency child-care. Thankfully my elderly Mama leapt into the breech. I left her a note outlining snack and activity options. Mum’s eyesight isn’t the best and she rang me to ask why my son needed a smack. She was game to give it a go, but I was able to put her straight in time.
At the check-in there was a happy surprise – my cousin and good buddy John Glass, acting in the same advertising campaign. Somewhere over the Tassy, three drinks down, it sunk in that we’d won the acting equivalent of a (small-ish) lotto win. We clinked plastic happily. Free Bundy had never tasted so good.
I’d packed in haste and once in paradise discovered a staggering litany of omissions: camera, cell phone charger, power adapter, sunglasses, insect repellent, sunblock, shaving cream and jandals. I’d also brought a leather jacket, jeans, converse shoes, multiple pairs of socks and one pair of thermal trackies, but none of those items were very handy in the 30 degree plus heat. So it was off to cut price Kuta for some emergency shopping. It was perhaps not the wisest introduction to Bali’s charms. Kuta had been confidently recommended by the hotel staff as THE place for cheap authentic Bali bargains – but turned out to hundreds of identical knock off shops. Hawkers tailed John and I chanting ‘special morning price! You make my luck! One cheap two cheaper!’ With not a price tag in sight it was surprisingly easy, in the throng of humidity and humanity, to drop a decimal point off your currency exchange rate calculations, increasing the cash offer ten-fold. The highlight was a tee-shirt sporting a logo with the hygienically dubious birth control advice: ‘Up the bum – no babies!’
Next up was our costume fitting where we met the rest of the cast. Kiwi actor Bernadette Brewer, just touched down, was still spinning from her Beach-haven to Bali-wood relocation. The party atmosphere was dented not a jot when a ferocious American producer fronted John and I, demanding could we ‘really play golf.’ Terrified I’d be hog-tied and bundled back onto a plane – and worse still have to pay back my per diems – I wasn’t going to tell him I couldn’t.
Saturday began with a swim at the local Jimbaran beach, the gentle massage of seaweed round my ankles reminding me of home – until closer inspection revealed them to be that planetary scourge, plastic bags. Then it was a lazy day at the hotel, drinking over-priced long island iced teas poolside.
The next day I was up at 4.00am though to catch the cast van to check out the sights and sounds on set. Today this was at a resort in Ubud, a cluster of villages inland, the location for the movie Eat Pray Love. We drove past rice paddies and picturesque countryside. A Hindu full moon Festival was on and we dodged rickety buses disgorging dozens of worshippers dressed in traditional Balinese costume into the many temples along the route. I thought our digs at Le Meridian Hotel were swank, but the resort Komaneka at Bisma, nestled above the Campuhan River valley, is the kind of safe haven the 1% will happily retreat to if the occupy movement ever shut down Wall Street. After scrounging a free breakfast I was off to the local markets. Here was a bit more to choose from than Kuta, and a lot more class: local dresses, crafts, and paintings.
Then I had to do some work – if you can call it that… John and I slummed it at Indonesia’s Leading Spa Resort, the Nirwana Bali Golf Club. I swung my eight iron with gusto, hacking enthusiastic chunks from the immaculate turf of the Greg Norman designed 18-hole golf course, the legendary coastal Tahah Lot temple in the background. There were a few angry frowns from the direction of the video village but I’m sure with cunning use of expensive special effects they’ll make me look like a pro. After three hours of this we were wrapped and sojourned to a richly undeserved five star breakfast at the Golfers Terrace. Job done. Filthy work, but someone has to do it.
On the flight home I chatted with Kiwi actress Julie Collis, who’d first visited Bali in 1980. She found the island a contradiction then and now: the people beautiful and generous, but at times frantic and aggressive; the landscape, beaches, architecture and temples picture postcard – alongside piles of rubbish. But like so many corners of the earth where people are less materially well off they also manage to be far less grumpy. And this is highly infectious. By my last day I was humming as I strolled down the road, happily grinning and being grinned at. The smirk was wiped off my face back in NZ as I burst through my front door – only to be knocked over by ankle biters demanding exotic goodies, and my wife why I’d bought so much duty free.
It was still worth it.
SOME FACTS
The island of Bali is the smallest and wealthiest province of Indonesia; it has about as many inhabitants as New Zealand and a population density 45 times greater.
Climate
The climate is tropical, with temperatures an average 31 degrees C all year round. The wet season (October to April) brings high humidity, with most rain falling December-February. June – August there’s usually a cool-ish breeze. Inland is typically a little cooler than the coast. Until December you can expect humidity, the odd spectacular thunderstorm, and not too much in the way of crowds. Traffic is a challenge at any time of day or year, so limit your vehicular trips to essentials.
Getting there
Plenty of budget airlines offer flights out of Melbourne or Sydney. Direct with Air New Zealand is the way to go, though that’s only an option from 1 June.
Where to stay
We Kiwi’s rather liked our Hotel Le Meridien in Jambaran, which gets a 4.5 star Tripadvisor/ Booking.com rating. You can swim from your room to the bar, it has great facilities (Wifi, kids supervised playroom and pool), LOVELY staff, a good breakfast and eclectic canned music playing 24/7 – the likes of JJ Cale, Marvin Gaye and Louis Armstrong. Jimbaran beach has many fine seafood restaurants – all sporting identical menus.
Shopping
This can be fun – but ask for a calculator to make the currency conversion, and don’t be rushed. Make your final offer and walk. They’ll meet your price. Make small purchases until you have your bargaining skills honed. Where to shop? Don’t worry, they’ll find YOU.
Things to do
Angela Hovey, our Kiwi producer and old Bali hand, recommended us the following: