There’s been something haunting me for the past few days, and I think I need some good old-fashioned blogging to get it off of my back.
Last Thursday was the night of NSCAD’s Thesis Films screening at Park Lane, included in the lineup was BLUSH RESPONSE, a film I starred in with Cheryl Hann.
This was my first time seeing the film, which (for an actor) is about as relaxing as watching a signifigant-other play Russian roulette. I’m fairly certain there’s nothing worse. I’ve had that moment a few times, where I was watching my performance on the big screen, and I did something that I would then title as “bad acting”, be mortified, and sink into my seat. It surely rivals any heartbreak I’ve ever felt.
*Footnote: I drank an entire pint of Rum during THE TOP DOG screening in 2007. Oh, to be young.
So naturally, my stomach was occupied being tied in knots by what seemed to be a very skillful knot-tying stomach sailor…
I don’t think that last sentence made sense, n’or do I know if it was funny or not. Point is: I was nervous. Moving on.
BLUSH RESPONSE started, and 18 minutes later the credits rolled; the endorphine rush hit me instantly. This blog post isn’t about me patting myself on the back, but I was very satisfied with what I saw on the screen: my performance included, as well as everyone else’s performances, the look of the film, the pacing, Rich Aucoin’s wonderful music laced throughout, Ian’s direction, Gabe’s boom-holding, everything!
I’ve long been a believer in not believing the opinions of friends & family when it comes to praise. Of course they’re going to tell you positive things!… I vow to tell my future-children that their finger paintings suck.
The film was followed by 20 minutes of congratulating and being congratulated by friends & family, my ladyfriend and I left the movie theatre. After a couple minutes of walking, a man approached us on the sidewalk, “Great acting, buddy! You gotta get yourself an Oscar!” he yelled at me, I stared at him, still in my “deflect-obligatory-compliments” mode. I unintentionally gave him the shittiest look I could have given him. It lasted for 3 to 4 seconds, which is eternity in shitty-look times.
My mind didn’t understand a genuine compliment, and for some reason, I just looked at him as if he was an asshole. So after one of the most embarassing brain-farts of my life, I grinned like an idiot, thanked him, then ran off.
I want to apologize to that random man, and hopefully he and the cosmos will forgive me for being such a astronomical dick.
And now you know my sorrows.