Reid Gormly, aka the guy we elected to live vicariously through as he works his way through Hollywood on the yellow brick road of stardom, returns with an update. Mr. Gormly has the conch…
I seem to have gotten lost somewhere in the last month in the passages of inactivity of this journey. It’s not that I’m not working towards this goal, but rather that the casting submissions from my agents must have disappeared in cyberspace. I am quickly learning that even though I went toe-to-toe with Hugh Laurie in the April 12th episode of House, it doesn’t mean that the rest of the television world is ready to go toe-to-toe with me.
Wait a minute–scratch that–you, my faithful followers and readers didn’t even get to see me go toe-to-toe because, as I so bitterly learned, “It ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings,” and more importantly: until the final cut hits the air. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you missed the highly publicized primetime debut unless you were all able to watch the strips of film that cascaded to the floor in the Fox cutting room.
For the average actor, this would be highly discouraging and somewhat embarrassing in having to tell all “the fans” I wasn’t there, but I take the whole experience as a notch on my belt of growth and move on. Moving on also meant getting a little more cutthroat in this town of sharks. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my agency’s use of my hard work, nor my hustle, and I was surely not jumping for joy having all this free time to lose myself in re-runs of The Big Bang Theory. Don’t get me wrong. This is one of the greatest sitcoms of all time and I have discovered laughs coming out of me that I do not even recognize (case in point, download the episode entitled “The Pants Alternative”). It’s just that I would rather be on the show than watching it.
So yes, I finally grew a pair of proverbial balls…and fired my theatrical agent. I know it sounds crazy, but after a poor ratio of TV and film auditions over the five years I was with them, it was time to cut the cord and honestly? It felt great. The Acting Gods even smiled down because not long afterwards, I booked the lead in short film entitled, The October Room (clips to follow). I played a man, tortured with the knowledge that he gave his dying father the pills that sent him into the afterlife. As I stood on set and prepared to walk through the door and into the “Lion’s Den” of my sister and mother, a wave of fulfillment continually poured over me. This affirmation of my pursuit became even juicier, as the entire cast and crew complimented my work. The real icing on the cake came from the over-seeing director/professor who suggested that I send this piece to the offices of Mad Men.
I thought to myself: yes, “someone finally gets me and my work.” I am destined to play a smarmy, scotch-guzzling, nicotine-puffing, secretarial-womanizing, con–no, wait, excuse me–Ad Salesman. You think I am poking fun of the series but in all honesty I would be willing to do anything to get on that show. Well…maybe not anything—I don’t find myself willing to be taken advantage of by some producer on a casting couch. (Which by the way, in my five years here in Los Angeles I have never seen–or even heard of–that actually taking place. Sorry for all you stereotypical hopefuls. That game has changed.
Now I stand on the precipice of opportunity to work with the “Big Dawgs” and I commit to you that I will not tire, I will not slow, I will not rest until I find the right MAD HATTER of a manager who will take my crazy talent and make it grow beyond the walls of the house I have been living in, and into the Hollywood-Wonderland.