Fassy's Features - or, how I grew to love Oscar snubs

Biannually, I emerge from my ivory tower to grace you all with the lessons I have learned in film. Today's lesson? Politics in the Academy Awards, and why they are not necessary a bad thing.

Okay. About a month ago, I saw Shame. I like to boast that I'm one of the few who knew about Michael Fassbender before others knew about Michael Fassbender, even though that really doesn't meant anything. It just seems like bragging rights, for some fucked up reason. Don't even lie, you guys do that, too. Everyone does. It's especially exciting when an actor gets notoriety to be able to turn up your nose and say, "Oh really? You just heard about him/her/it? Psh, I've known about him/her/it for a while now. Did you see This Really Obscure Movie? Pshaw, I judge you. You're not really a fan." Whatever, I admit it. Fuck off.

Anyway. Michael Fassbender, in Shame, easily gives the best performance I have ever seen. He is completely unconsumed with "what the hell he looks like," or what other people think of him. In Hollywood, let's face it, that's rare. He plays Brandon, a sex addict, confronted his addiction when his routine is threatened by the presence of his sister (Carey Mulligan). I went to this movie thinking that my ovaries were going to spontaneously combust with all of the sexiness exuding from the film screen, and sure, for half of the film I was gripping my friend Brooke's hand until it was sore. The popcorn I had smooshed between my legs spilled over, and I couldn't stop myself from grinning like a three year old in a candy store.

But! Then things got weird. Really weird. Really awkward. Spoiler alert ahoy!

Towards the end of the film, at a bar, Brandon hits on a girl. Not out of the ordinary, right? He graphically describes how he wants to go down on her. My thighs were clenching. He fingers her right there at the bar while her breath catches. Guess what? So did mine. Then, her boyfriend pops up. Instead of acting like it was nothing, Brandon decides to shove his fingers, smelling like his girlfriend, under the dude's nose. Arousal done. Awkward! Then, in an extreme moment of self-loathing, Brandon slips into some club in the gay underbelly of Manhattan, and guides a guy (who's been scouting Brandon from across the street) alllll the way to his knees.

If that wasn't enough, soon, we see Brandon heading into a room with two women. Threesome! While, sure, it starts out a little erotic, gets a little hot and heavy… but soon, it turns extremely uncomfortable. Brandon's face contorts, almost like he's in pain. Pushed on by this animalistic need, and that's it. I started with a lump in my throat, but I ended looking around the theatre, glad that my mother didn't come see this movie with me.

Okay. Now, let's talk Academy Awards. Michael Fassbender received a well-deserved nomination for a Golden Globe for Best Actor for his performance. I mean, it's pretty fucking amazing when you can make a movie about one of the sexiest men I've ever seen having sex and masturbating and walking around with his schlong hanging to his knees, and make me feel like I want to dive under the seat in front of me to stop watching it. I think we all know how political award shows can be. While I did think Michael Fassbender stood a chance, the other part of me figured that not enough of the voters for the Globes would have seen it, what with the aptly deserved and elusive NC-17 rating. I mean, the only theatre playing it in my city (and I live in a damn big city) was a rundown piece of shit with homeless dudes hanging out and begging for change. Sorry, motherfucker, I'm paying with a credit card.

Anyway. To be perfectly honest, I thought Leonardo DiCaprio was going to win. I mean, famous-ass actor plus portrayal of a real life political figure equals award, right? Time after time again, this has

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been proven. Much to my surprise (though honestly, not really too much surprise), George Clooney snagged the award. I appreciated the nod in his speech to Fassy's Fulsome Flesh. I really appreciated the finger-bite that accompanied. And when the Academy Award nominations were announced, I fully expected a nod to Michael Fassbender. I didn't think he'd win, but I assumed he'd at least be nominated. In my opinion, it's rare that an actor who deserves to win actually wins (Christoph Waltz received a well-deserved win for his role as Hans Landa in Inglourious Basterds, but that's kind of been the extent of my "holy shit, that wasn't a political move" observations in the recent past). Obviously, you can challenge me on this, you may not agree, but come on… the music for The Social Network won over the music for Inception? Really? But I digress.

My girlfriend was the one to inform me. Michael Fassbender wasn't even nominated. In fact, Shame wasn't nominated at all. Not the brilliant script, not the cinematography (which is amazing, and includes just a very few number of shots, period), not Carey Mulligan, none of it. Not Michael Fassbender. Did I mention that already? Oops.

But here's the thing. Okay, yes, at first I was pissed. I mean, whatever, maybe he wouldn't have won, but he at least deserved to be nominated. Academy Award Nominations are huge, it says, "Good job, you don't suck." Any award nomination is pretty badass. And he would forever be known as, "Academy Award nominee Michael Fassbender." Pretty badass. Much cooler on paper than, "Golden Globe Nominee Michael Fassbender." But here's the deal.

After I got over my initial "fuck the po-leese" state of mind and logged online, I saw articles everywhere. "Michael Fassbender snubbed at the Oscars!" "Michael Fassbender not nominated for Shame! What a damn shame!" And guess who got the notoriety he deserved?? So what if he didn't get nominated? With everyone talking about his movie, and the fact that he deserves a fucking award for it, interest in the film and his career has skyrocketed. I mean, fucking skyrocketed. So take that, Academy Award bitches! Take that. Look, if I was an actor, yeah, I'd be pissed about the "snub," but frankly, I'd rather the country be in an uproar because I didn't get the prestige. It's basically a shoo-in for next year's award ceremony. At least in my humble opinion.

And when that nomination comes, I will still claim that I saw him first.

One-Trick Actor

Today, boys and girls, we are going to have an extremely important lesson: the one-trick actor. I'd like to use a personal favorite in today's lesson, if I may. The man. The myth. The ear-slicing genius that is... Michael Madsen! Let's face it: the sexiest thing about Michael Madsen is... the fact that he's Michael fucking Madsen. No one else looks quite as fearsome when getting jiggy with it to the oldies, and he's completely ruined Stuck in the Middle with You forever, for thousands and millions of people worldwide. Here are the things I've learned from Madsen's career.

1) The right director can do wonders. What Quentin Tarantino does as a director is astounding. Watch everything he's ever directed. I'm serious. You'll see actors who are shit elsewhere, but who suddenly deserve a fucking standing ovation. Brad Pitt, who usually pisses me off by just being there (overexposure is dangerous... later lesson, folks) suddenly had me rolling in the aisles in Inglourious Basterds. And stuntwoman, Zoe Bell (not normally an actress at all) shines in Grindhouse, in all of her New Zealand-er glory. And think about it... Tarantino has taken the careers of many character actors and shot them into superstardom. So maybe I'm a little Tarantino biased because of my girlfriend's conspicuous obsession. Maybe. But as an actress, I would literally give my left tit to work with a director like him. Watch Reservoir Dogs, and study the character of Mr. Blonde. His eccentricities. The menace and the near psychosis behind every word, and every glance, even if it's only for a split second. Then watch Madsen in Boarding Gate. By all intents and purposes, this should be a sexy as all fuck film. But it isn't. It's just two sexy people (Madsen and Asia Argento), sitting in a room, talking. And talking. And talking. May I suggest fast-forwarding to the balcony scene, in which she rides him while holding a belt around his throat? No sex, but heavy petting. Then, quit watching the film. Seriously. It's shit.

2) Character acting can make careers. So maybe Madsen only makes a living doing shit roles. That guy in the corner. The dad in Free Willy. The alcoholic husband. The creep. Whatthefuckever. But let's face it... those roles are necessary. More than necessary. And even though you may not know some of those actors' names, you will know their faces. According to IMDB, Madsen boasts about 194 roles. I don't know about you, but those numbers are fucking impressive. If his film career was a wad of semen, he could impregnate a small country with one shot. Look. To be fair, not all of his movies are good. Most of them are shit. But he's working.

3) Typecasting is not a bad thing. If you do only one role well, do that fucking role well. Be "that guy." Madsen has created an entire career off of his badassitry and menacing gravely voice. He will always be "the crazy motherfucker who sliced off a cop's ear," but THAT'S OKAY. Why? Because he's made a living off of it. How can I say this enough? In an actor's life, it's necessary to work. Those of us who have a passion for it... we'll do whatever it takes to keep working. Keep that passion rolling. I'd take any sort of shit role necessary. Hell, I'd do Boarding Gate 2, if it meant I got to have a script in my hand and a character added to my arsenal. That's not to say that selection isn't important. Careers have been made and broken off of shit movies. But at this point, all I'm saying is that beggars can't be choosers. I've worked on a shit movie before. Not acting, but off camera as a production assistant. It's literally probably the worst film known ever to mankind. But guess what? I got experience. I got to know the ins and the outs of the feature length film. See how the indie market worked. I got to experience, firsthand, what it felt like to be on a hot set. And experience is more than important.

In short, I recommend that everyone watch the documentary Starz Inside: The Face is Familiar. It's available streaming on Netflix, and it parrots much of that which I've said in this blog. Except the bit about the semen. That was just weird.

E.

Inaugural Post

So let's face it. There are a million and five actors and actresses out there. And when you look at the massive numbers and compare it to the number of actors who are actually working, the statistics can be fucking depressing. So what can make you stand out as an actor in this competitive world? Well, that's what I intend to research through this blog.

I've found several things discouraging thus far. One of them: most of the actors I truly admire have had at least two or three films under their belt by the time that they were my age. Take Aussie actor Sam Worthington (more on him in later posts, along with superfluous fangirling, as promised). By my calculations, he was 24 by the time his first film, Bootmen, was released. Which means, in actuality, he was probably 23 when the movie was filmed. Say whaaat? Tom Hardy was 22 when Star Trek: Nemesis was filmed and/or released. Neil Patrick Harris was still in the womb when his career took off ("Mr. and Mrs. Harris...it appears the fetus is...reciting Shakespeare?").

I've done all the right things. Years of acting lessons. Workshops. College, for God's sake. I've been in almost forty different plays (one-acts included). I've trained with a voice coach since I was eight years old, trained in classical music since I was fifteen. I've done everything, and yet, look at me. Here I am, 24 years old, just marveling, drooling, and envying the careers of these actors I admire. It's enough to send a person on a one-way trip to IPityMyselfville. I've done everything except one thing:

I haven't gotten out there yet.

Two birds with one burger?

Why? Because I don't feel like I'm ready. Look, people, I don't want to sit around for seventeen years, casting couch after casting couch, hours waiting in line, just hoping the "right audition" comes along. I don't want to rely on three waitressing jobs and prostitution to pay my mortgage. No, when I get out there to start "trying," I want to do so with guns blazing, and nothing in the world standing in my way. And, simply put, I have too many ducks out of line right now, and those little fuckers need to get in a row first.

My mom once asked me, "What exactly is it that you want out of this acting thing? What would be your ideal final situation?" I could respond to that easily. I want to be able to support myself, solely on my acting career. Do I want fame? Fortune? I mean, hey, that'd be kickass, and I won't turn it down. But trust me when I say this: I would be perfectly happy playing a two-bit role in a soap opera, or being the tree swaying in the wind in the back of an off-off-off-Broadway production of The Mikado if it just meant that I could wake up every day, walk straight on set, or straight to the theatre.

And I will gratefully work three waitressing jobs, and prostitute, if it means that I can make it. But I'm going to do everything in my damn power first, so when I'm there taking off my clothes and carrying fifteen plates of food at a time, I'll know with every certainty that I've put myself in the best possible position (that's what she said) to start this life.

This will be my journey. This will be me, sharing my influences. The people whose careers have given me much to work from. The people whose careers have shown me everything I don't want to be (aka The Room, in all its infinite awesomeness). Films I've admired. Plays I've experienced (either through participation, or through observation).

Suggestions for films to see, performances to check out, are always appreciated. After all, what else is going to shape my craft?