Theodore Angelopoulos died on January 24th after being hit by a motorcycle in Athens

By Alexis Varouxakis*

I never really got a chance to properly thank you. Thank you for ‘Ulysses Gaze’, for ‘Landscape in the Mist’, for ‘The Travelling Players’ and for Eleni Karaindrou. On a more personal level, thank you for changing my life.

I was 19 when I came to work for a few months on the set of ‘Eternity and a Day’. It was the first time I was on a film set, the first time I met an actor. It was the first time I saw a production designer take a derelict house and transform it into a luxurious 19th century villa. And it was the first time that I got to work with a producer, a path I was to follow a few years later. The minute I set foot on the set, I felt at home. You and Mrs Phoebe made me feel welcome, you were both so gracious. ‘Eternity and a Day’ went on to win the ‘Palm d’Or’ at the Cannes Film Festival.

Since then you very kindly let me into your house and your family. I always felt welcome by you and the formidable Phoebe who I consider a second mother to me. You both gave me direction when I needed it. The most important thing you taught me, although indirectly, is to give back to the younger generation. Your door was always open for me, giving me advise, encouragement and guidance. It is a marvelous gift when someone who has reached the top takes the time to help the young.

I remember the conversations we had and with what intensity and focus you spoke. I always felt that you were never really present, or rather that you lived in two worlds. The material world had no meaning for you; you lived in the world of ideas, of dreams. It seemed to me that your body was only a vessel which allowed you to bring that other world, your real home, to this world. Your films, these images and moods you gave us, were part of that other world. And I know that there was so much more of that world that you wanted to show us.

I will never forget that summer day that changed me forever. You were setting up a shot on the beach. It was an ugly, deserted beach in the north of Greece. You put a few actors in the background and an actor with an accordion in the foreground and then.. and then you said ‘Action!’. Before my eyes something magical happened. This dead beach came to life. Out of nowhere you breathed life and color into something that was sad and void of life. Then time stopped. The sky opened and thunder struck me, electricity went through me and my hair stood on my body. It was at that moment that I said to myself: ‘I want to make films for the rest of my life’. It is to this day one of the most powerful experiences I have had. It is still what keeps me going today, that passion that was unleashed that summer day. For that and for everything else, thank you Mr Angelopoulos.

 

Alexis Varouxakis is a Hollywood based film producer

*Alexis Varouxakis is a Los Angeles based film producer. He is currently finishing post-production on ‘Dark Hearts’ a psychological thriller starring Kyle Schmid, Sonja Kinski, Lucas Till, Rachel Blanchard, Juliet Landau and Goran Visnjic. He has a number of films in development including ‘The Cure’ set in the Jazz world of 1950′s New Orleans. The film is inspired by the life of Chet Baker and Louis Armstrong.

Sasha Grey with first graders at Emerson Elementary School

Sasha Grey is proud of how she used to make her living and she is talking openly about it. Her job – at least until a few years ago – was this of an actress in pornographic movies.  Later, the Greek-American girl had a few opportunities to start acting in mainstream movies, and she did.

A few days ago media started firing at her for one more time when she wrote on her twitter account that she had volunteered to read for elementary school kids.

But who is Sasha and how did she transform from Porn Star to a mainstream actress?

Her real name according to wikipedia is Marina Ann Hantzis and she was born on March 14, 1988. After quitting porn and getting her mainstream feature film debut as the lead in Steven Soderbergh’s The Girlfriend Experience, she shifted her focus to acting, starring in the black comedy/horror film Smash Cut as April Carson, as well as having a supporting role in season 7 of HBO’s Entourage. She has also appeared in independent films Quit, The Girl from the Naked Eye, and Mark Pellington’s I Melt With You.

And everything was going great for the young Sasha until she decided to volunteer for a school reading. She read a book to a group of underprivileged first graders at Emerson Elementary School in Los Angeles. The image of a former porn star walking in a school was spreading like fire on the internet and most rushed to criticize her community service. Outlets used Grey’s former profession in their headlines almost if she was going to read to students with the identity of a porn star. Here we need to note that school children could not know what was her former profession.

In regards to the incident, Grey said, “I believe in the future of our children, and I will remain an active supporter and participant in education-focused initiatives.”

Supposedly we live in a tolerant society, and someone’s sexual past should not be a factor when he or she does community service. In this case we should either ban porn consumers from community service too, or let Sasha participate as well.

Below you can see a clip from the View with Sasha responding to questions about the incident.

Let us know what you think in our comments section. 

In fact, Jennifer has a lot to smile about. Apart from bagging a handsome new beau, she was recently told that she was one of the several celebrities selected to receive a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. She will join Jennifer Lopez, Kate Winslet and Scarlett Johansson also being honored.

Jennifer, the 42- year- old ‘Horrible Bosses’ actress, also appears on the cover of ‘Marie Claire’ magazine’s July 2011 issue, (on newsstands Tuesday June 31). Wearing an Ann Demeulemeester jacket, Gucci briefs and a dazzling smile, Jen looks remarkably like a fresh-faced teenager. Perhaps that also explains her being presented with the ‘Decade of Hotness’ award at the Guys Choice Awards earlier this month.

Whatever the reason, Jennifer is looking so fab, it’s great to see the Hollywood star apparently enjoying life and Justin Theroux with his rugged good looks probably has a lot to answer for that.

Watch Stamos as Elvis:

Read the TIMES Mag article

Being paired up in an audition is like being set up on a blind date. It either works or it’s a complete disaster. Chemistry, even between actors, cannot be manufactured. Worst of all is that if it’s not present you can play the heck out of the part but eventually it’s going to ruin your chances of landing the gig. Like what happened to me today, for example. I can still see the blonde girl who got paired up with the tall glass of water (otherwise known as Curtis) and it cuts like a knife. Sometimes, there is simply no justice.

On the drive home I was thinking about some of my favorite on-screen couples. It’s no wonder so many of them have made more than one film together. As the audience we see that magic onscreen and it’s magnetic – you don’t want to take your eyes off them for a moment.

The best person I ever worked with was on a small independent film a hundred years ago that no one ever saw. He was an actor from Toronto and the very first scene we had was a shot of us sleeping in bed together. There’s nothing like wearing flannel pajamas the first time you meet someone to help break the ice. We were both so nervous we were giggling uncontrollably. It got to the point where the director actually had to come up and tell us to cool it, which just made us laugh even harder. We must have shot that scene fifteen times. Not because it was technically complicated but because I was laughing so hard you could see my body shaking under the covers where I was supposed to be lying dead asleep. I’m sure the director thought about firing us both more than a few times that day but the chemistry between us was so obvious he must have figured he’d be better off to stick it out, even with our shenanigans.

I still remember the last day of filming on that project. We had a horribly difficult scene in some skuzzy motel room somewhere and afterwards all the cast and crew hung out and partied well into the wee hours of dawn together. By then we were so over the budget we couldn’t even afford limes for our Corona’s and if I remember right our buffet consisted of a couple of bags of chips and bag of stale chocolate chip cookies. Nevertheless, it was a wonderful night as we all took turns sharing our stories of on-set catastrophe’s and events. When I finally left to go home it was the saddest I’d ever been leaving a set. Even now, quite a few years and jobs later it was still the most intense energy I’ve ever shared with another actor and I realize how lucky we’d been.

If only he’d been there yesterday, damn it.

When one of “those days” strikes, as they sometimes do, I wish the casting directors could understand – or the editor of that magazine who’s waiting for my new article. I wish that I could just roll over onto my side, stare at the sheet of paper or script lying beside me as if they were a faithful old partner and simply say, “Sorry honey, I’m just not in the mood right now.” Then perhaps the script could make a consoling gesture, something profound like patting me softly on the shoulder as if to say, “That’s ok, dear.” That’s never happened though; which isn’t to say I’ve lost hope or anything, just that perhaps my expectations are a bit unrealistic.

Yup, sometimes I just don’t want to. For example, I have an audition this weekend. In about forty-eight hours to be exact. My lines are sitting on my desk staring at me, bold little black sentences with the intermittent word in italics for emphasis, but I just can’t bring myself to learn them. Maybe it was when I found out that a bloodthirsty insect won’t be eating me in my first horror film, maybe (as the Greeks would say) it’s the weather the last couple of days; it doesn’t really matter. I’m down and out. If only I knew how to play the saxophone – it’s always seemed like an instrument that understands being down in the dumps. The only problem is that today I’m so lethargic I don’t know if I could find the strength to pick it up and press all those keys. Plus there’s all that blowing involved and that’s got to take an awful lot of stamina.

I wonder if people in other occupations ever feel this way? Surely they must. I’m certain that somewhere out there is a heart surgeon who’s rolling his eyes as he performs a transplant. Or a baker who would rather still be at that great party drinking a margarita instead of kneading out seven pounds of bread dough in an apron. I wonder who would win if we had a sighing competition? I’ve been doing it all day. Looking at this or that and just letting out a huge exhale. Pwwweeeeeeeh… Still nothing.

Normally, when days like these roll around I just give myself permission to sink into the couch with a bag of Cheesies and Pretty in Pink and try to recover my Mojo. After all, I am an artist and we always seem to be suffering from one condition or the other: melancholy, stomach cramps, alcohol poisoning. But around the time that Molly Ringwald tells Andrew McCarthy that she doesn’t want him to take her home after their first date Madonna pops into my head and I realize Madge has probably accomplished more in the last three minutes than I have all day. Suddenly I feel even worse.

I try visualization. Nothing. Positive thoughts. Nope. Going to get my favorite coffee at Starbucks – the one with all that delicious caffeine and chocolate – but it just gives me the shakes. A few more hours go by, I doodle in my notebook and walk around in circles on the carpet and then I see it. It’s a trailer for a movie – a movie I had auditioned for. I see the actress and I turn green. Once the trailer’s over it’s as if a magic spell has been reversed – my competitive streak is in full swing. I run upstairs to the office and pick up the pages thinking there’s nothing quite like a good old-fashioned dose of jealously to set things straight.

Ten minutes later my life has changed dramatically. My laundry is whirling in the washing machine, soon to be pressed and hung up like a prom dress waiting for the big day. I’ve highlighted my lines with my favorite yellow highlighter (the one I use only for my special auditions) and they’re actually sticking in my head. I even flopped onto the floor and did a few sit-ups for good measure. I feel like a new person, or at least a little bit of a better version of the same one.

Forty-two hours to go. Inspiration: affirmative.

The others are of course those poor, sad dopes who didn’t get a callback; who tortured themselves by learning their lines, sitting for hours in traffic to get to the audition, smiling politely at the casting director, and wasting a perfectly good head shot and resume only to return home to sit by the phone for the next 24 hours, hoping it will ring with the news “you have a callback!” Today that’s not me, though. Nope. Today I’m kicking it with my callback posse.

Once over the initial elation that comes as a result of feeling like I’m in a league far superior to those other actresses, a deep dark fear of bombing the callback crept in. Why? Because now I want it even more. The one bad thing about getting this close to a role is that you begin to envision yourself playing it; as if you’ve already won the role. You imagine everything – from the first read-through all the way down to winning your Oscar. It’s like writing a script without first buying the rights to the story but I can’t help it; I’m consumed by monsters and horror movies and glass-shattering screams. How will I look when I die on screen? Will I be wearing something stylish?

Horror isn’t exactly a genre I’m comfortable with. This makes me even more nervous. When I tell my TV boyfriend I think that huge smear of red on the kitchen floor isn’t spilled Cabernet or my foiled attempt at a lipstick art installation, how do I react? I mean, if this were real life I would run screaming from the house faster than you could say one, two, three. My boyfriend would be left eating the dust storm made by my high heels in the dirt. I know myself pretty well and will freely admit that if I saw a three-foot long blood stain in my own home I wouldn’t be any hero. Sorry, but even grandma’s on her own under these circumstances – survival of the fittest and what not.

It’s something that’s always bothered me about horror movies – how stupid everyone in them seem to be. They do things like see chainsaws hanging from the barn rafters dripping with blood and then call on their brother Joe or their “pa” to come and take a look. “Gee, Pa. What by golly do you think it is?” The man will scratch his head and take a step even closer to inspect it, bringing himself within inches of sudden death and then everyone’s surprised when a man in a red leotard and leather BDSM mask jumps out with a whale hook. I mean really, they couldn’t have been that surprised by the body nylon; all real psychos have one.

I know, I know, this is acting. That means I have to muster up the courage to be whatever they want me to be. As long as no-one’s ripping my shirt off and I’m not running through the woods in my Wonder Bra from the nut in the body stocking I’m resolved to do my best at the callback.

I’m going to look in the mirror before I leave today and tell myself, “I’m different than the others.” I’ll go over my lines once again, sit in traffic, smile at the casting director, hand them a glossy head-shot and then scream my little heart out until they’re satisfied. Then I’ll go home and spend the next 24 hours looking at the phone and wondering when they’re going to call to tell me, “You’ve booked the job!”

Ah yes, another run of the mill day auditioning, I thought to myself. Imagine, some poor schmuck is stuck in a cubicle somewhere playing solitaire on his computer and here I am, being eaten by a monster. It hardly seems fair, but if there’s one thing we all know by now it’s that life’s not fair so let’s get on with it.

When I first read this script I was terrified; I’d never auditioned for a horror movie before. I don’t even remember the last time I let out a real, honest-to-goodness scream. It was much easier than I thought it would be though; I pretty much just conjured up my ex-boyfriend and things took a natural course from there. I believe that’s what they refer to as “method acting”.

It is one of the greatest joys of this business – you never know what’s around the corner or when you’re going to have an opportunity to do something you’ve never done before. A few years ago I may have snubbed the chance to play in a horror movie but today I am Captain Gung Ho. Get ripped apart limb by limb? Yes, please! Run around a haunted house holding pom-poms? You bet! Watch as the monster who bears a disturbing resemblance to a certain insect eats my beating heart. Why not? At my age, I’m jaded just enough to know better but still young enough not to care. Will a horror movie advance my career? Probably not. Would it be a great acting experience? I think so. More importantly, at the end of the film I could get a shirt made that says “A MONSTER TORE OUT MY BEATING HEART AND ATE IT AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID T-SHIRT”, and it will be true. Well, almost.

One thing I’ve always found fascinating is that what a performer wants to play and what they actually will play are often very different. My old acting coach had a student many years ago who went on to become a very famous Hollywood actor. Today he’s one of the biggest names in the business and has more or less become an action hero. I was stunned when my coach told me that what this guy had really wanted to do was act in romantic comedies. “Rom-com’s?” I blurted out in disbelief as I conjured up this guy’s image – the six pack abs, the years of martial arts training, that brooding, mysterious stare he’s so well known for. All that hard-core action artillery when all he really wanted to be doing all along was cuddling Meg Ryan under an afghan.

Oh, us actors really do have it rough. If people only knew. Sometimes I feel like walking down the street and taking people by the shoulders, shaking them and trying to get them to understand. But it wouldn’t help; it rarely does. Not that I’ve tried it or anything. All we want is a little understanding, right? And the chance to play our dream role in our dream film with a dream cast of which we are the biggest star. I don’t know about you but it doesn’t sound all that unreasonable to me?

In the meantime I will take whatever sounds like fun and is a challenge, because that’s what Hollywood is – one big roller coaster. Winding your way through this town is not for the faint of heart. Ok, so it’s not Pride and Prejudice but that doesn’t mean that running for your life from a monster can’t be all that and a bag of chips too. It’s not something I ever imagined I’d do but the longer I’m in the business the more I find myself wanting to explore new territory and being eaten alive seems like a great place to start. That and the t-shirt, of course.

I know, I know. You were all on the edge of your seats these past few days just waiting for me to continue spilling the beans about what living in Hollywood is really like. I had every intention of doing so as well until I began meditating on a different topic. Age.

Age is a subject most Hollywood performers would rather pretend doesn’t exist. But if you’re in the business age is not just about getting older. It has everything to do with the roles you’ll play and how much competition you have.

This all occurred to me the other day after speaking with a casting director from a big city in Canada who told me they had a serious shortage of 30-something actresses in town. How odd, I thought. Until I realized one of the reasons there’s probably such a shortage is because (as I’ve talked about before) by the time many performers enter their thirties they begin to seriously reconsider their choice to pursue acting. Many people realize that their dreams of having a family, or buying a home, or of having some kind of normalcy don’t necessarily gel with the unstable life of an actor and they opt to leave the profession. This is when things get interesting for the rest of us.

If you’re a performer in your early twenties the pool of competition is ridiculously big. You’re going up against every other twenty-three year old wannabe starlet who’s fighting tooth-and-nail to land that “big job”. It can be pretty hairy until many of the others realize that eating bananas for dinner is not so glamorous and at the ripe old age of twenty-six they retire. But not us, no sir; we like bananas thank-you-very-much.

If you can stick it out during this tumultuous time (and that’s not to say one won’t work in their twenties because there’s plenty of performers that age out there) you’re already yards closer to the finish line. (I think that’s the phrase they use?)

This also brings up another interesting point – where a performer is located geographically at any given age will have a huge impact on how much they work. I will never forget my old agent in Toronto, bless her heart. We were both frustrated at the number of commercial jobs I was losing to women who were just a few years older than me and we vowed to change it. We tried everything from new head-shots that were meant to portray me as an older “simpler” woman (to use an unpopular, politically incorrect term we basically tried to ‘ugly me up’ a little), to me going into castings with pleated linen pants and horrendous pastel sweater sets I wouldn’t be caught dead in normally. Still, nothing worked.

Yet all that changed the day I began working in Greece. My very first commercial was for baby formula, and I did an offensively large number of TV ad’s after that which all required me to play a mother. Had I been in Canada I would have been looked at as far too young to play the average mom, but in Greece my age was just right and it led to many opportunities I wouldn’t have had if I had been younger; or older for that matter.

There are a lot of performers with similar stories. One actress who comes to mind is Julianne Moore. She worked from a young age but it wasn’t really until she hit her late thirties that her career really took off, and look how talented she is! This is usually when people start using phrases like “she was at the right place at the right time”. Instead, maybe we should start saying things like “she was the right age at the right time”.

In Hollywood everyone seems to be scared about aging and I think it’s tragic. There are only so many roles for twenty-five year old women and men out there and as a performer the best roles usually come later in life. Not because young people aren’t interesting, but because with age comes life experience and there’s nothing more exciting for a performer than attacking a role that has real meat to it; something you can sink your teeth into and play the heck out of. Remember, when you’re forty you can use moisturizer to stave off Father Time, but trying to make your role as a high-school cheerleader interesting is substantially more difficult.

Yes, age can be a blessing and a curse. Many performers may not even begin working until they’re well into their thirties or forties, or maybe they’ll work like crazy when they’re young but not at all later on. There’s just no accounting for how kind show business will be to anyone. But it can be something wonderful to look forward to. A kind of cosmic acting karma, if you will, that allows everyone a time to shine – it may not be when you want but you will enjoy the ride anyways because you know you deserve it.

I never cease to be amazed by the types of question people really ponder, but I realize that Hollywood has done such a great job of marketing itself as a paradise for the rich and famous that it’s only normal people are so curious. But just to clear the record, if you’re really looking for paradise it’s a little country in Europe called Monaco, not LA.

It occurred to me this week that I’m supposed to be telling all of you what Hollywood is really like, and that includes more than talking about casting calls and bad auditions. So I thought I’d take some time today to answer some of your most pressing questions.

Question #1. Have you ever been to the Playboy Mansion?
No, and I don’t plan on it either. But I do have a reasonable description of the old fab pad on good authority from a friend of mine who went there for an event a couple of years ago.

The night my friend went Hugh must have been busy de-linting his robe because he was nowhere to be seen. Apparently he does this often – rents out the mansion for an event – so everyone invited shows up pumped to spend the night hot-tubing with a bunch of Hollywood babes and instead find themselves meditating on their swivel stick outside a rickety old house that’s in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint.

Question #2. Is everyone in Hollywood beautiful?
It’s hard to answer this question without sounding like a jerk (what with all that inner beauty that’s so important these days) but because most of the people in Hollywood have such enormous ego’s I feel pretty ok taking a swipe at them.

Of course there are a few heavenly looking people in this town, but for the most part there are a disturbing number of jogging suits, acrylic nails and deep tans which apparently double for beauty in LA. On a good day, you may see some nice bodies playing volleyball on the beach but if you’re expecting Pamela Anderson to jog by you with her day-glow orange bathing suit or that all the women will look like Halle Berry you’re going to be very disappointed.

Question #3. Are there movie star’s everywhere?
Kind of. Most Hollywood stars live in LA. You will see them in your yoga class, at the organic fruit market, or even more likely – stuck in traffic. Although watching George Clooney pick out a ripe melon at the grocery store is hardly my idea of a heart-stopping good time, if that’s what really gets you going you won’t be disappointed.

Question #4. Is LA really that big?
Bigger. In fact, LA is so huge that sometimes I wonder if the maps have been tampered with? Maybe we’re actually living on the moon and we just don’t know it?
Once you come to LA there is something you will have to accept – traffic. Traffic jams the likes of which you have never seen before I assure you. I have lived in big cities all over the world but I have never spent as much time in a car as I have since I came to LA. Sitting in a car for a total of six hours a day is not uncommon.
Everyone deals with this problem a different way. Some people move to a beach community and never leave it. Others hire drivers to take them to and fro. Most just spend all day on their mobile phones. Personally, I have devised what I like to refer to as my auto-picnic; a little smorgasbord I take along with me in the car containing CD’s, my favorite iced coffee, tobacco, cookies and protein bars. If only I could drink alcohol I could pretend I was at home listening to music.

So there you have it; a few Hollywood rumors cleared up. I’ve actually been inspired by this topic and have decided to continue it into next week where we’ll continue with Hollywood rumors debunked.