Women: Hardly Seen & Rarely Heard

Some worrying news emerged for actresses this week. No, it's not that the casting 'She's kind and hot. She's thin but she has big boobs' exists but it's news that female speaking roles in films are the lowest they've been in five years. A study of the top 100 grossing films in the US in 2012 showed that of the 4475 speaking roles, just 28.4% of those roles were female. If you're wondering what that looks like in graph form, wonder no more...

Pretty upsetting, right? But all joking aside (please, take time to appreciate it, it took far longer to make than you'd think...) it's a pretty serious statistic. If just over a quarter of speaking roles in films are being played by women then something has gone seriously wrong. And what's even more disturbing is that a third of those women lucky enough to be allowed to speak on screen were then put in clothes deemed sexually revealing. Those who read my website Casting Call Woe won't be surprised that this figure is so high, but still, it makes for pretty depressing reading. And it gets worse when you look at female teenage roles where just over half were considered to be dressed provocatively. That's bloody horrible and what's worse is that these figures are improving, they've been very steadily getting worse.

And it's not just actresses that are getting a rough deal, it's happening for all women in the industry. If you look again at the top 100 grossing films in the US last year (don't look too hard, Prometheus is in there...) then the lack of female writers, producers and directors is even worse. In that list there are just 9 female writers, 35 female directors and 164 female producers. Compare these to the 103 male directors, 223 male writers and 693 male producers and it all starts to get very disconcerting indeed.

So what's being done to redress the balance? Sadly 2013 doesn't look like it's going to help balance the scantily-clad figures. First up we have The World's End which I know a lot of us are excited about. But take a look at their trailer and it's a minute before a woman utters a line, and that's the only line said by a woman amidst shots of women dressed in school uniforms. And it's hardly surprising as when you look at the film's IMDb page there are just 2 women listed on the first page among 13 men. But that's just one film that focuses on male friendship so what about the other films coming up this year? Well there's The Hangover 3, Pacific Rim, the next in the tedious The Hobbit trilogy, the next Anchorman, This Is The End and The Wolverine. Yes, these films have women in but it's safe to say that men feature pretty damn heavily. Most of them are written by men, directed by men and feature a lot of men. "Where are the women?" I hear you cry. I honestly have no idea. There's a few in the new Hunger Games film and I think The Great Gatsby got a couple but, on the whole, there few and far between, much like their costumes.

The problem isn't the lack of women within the industry. There are women out there. Lots of them, all doing brilliant and wonderful things. The problem is that the industry seems to want to target a male audience and that seems to mean that men are top of the menu while the ladies are at the back in the 'sides' section that no one can seem to find.

Oh, and if anyone dares use Bridesmaids as an argument, that came out two years ago. It won't work any more.

Acting Chops

Casting: 'Must have acting chops.'

Times have been hard lately. The cost of living has gone up dramatically to the point where people can barely afford to eat. Consumers have little money but they have even less trust when it comes to what they eat. The horse meat scandal has left buyers wary about the meat they buy and the industry has had to come up with a cheap alternative to ensure shoppers don't ditch meat entirely and all become reluctant vegetarians.

The meat producers of the UK sat around a table and wondered what to do. Where could they find a cheap source of meat that wouldn't cause a scandal? The world had already shown that there were only so many animals they'd put up with on their menus so what could the possibly do? Suggestions flew around the table but they knew the public wouldn't put up with eating cushions, reformed sand or reconstituted feathers. Running short of ideas, they take a break and put on the TV. And that's when they realised there was a resource they'd completely forgotten about: actors.

They hurried back into the meeting room, revealed a crisp new piece of paper on the flip chart and after only a couple of minutes they realised this idea could work. They firstly looked at the population of actors and soon saw that if they marketed this as a humane cull then the government would have to go with it. The country was awash with actors, most of them hadn't even been nominated for a Soap Award so surely they wouldn't be missed.  One of the representatives had a quick flick through a TV guide and saw that actors were barely being used anymore. Most of the channels were full of reality shows and adverts only want 'real' people now so what use were actors anyway?

They then looked at the best way to farm actors. It's well known that actors are able to live off very little, often not needing much more than a suspiciously wet egg sandwich and the promise of a Viscount biscuit later. This would keep their costs low and also ensure their meat was lean and healthy, just want consumers want. And, thanks to drama schools, there would be an endless supply of new meat entering the food chain.

But would buyers go for it? Although the general public aren't that fond of actors, even they would realise that this is cannibalism? That's when the marketing team got involved. They could put on the packs what the actor had starred in. A bit strapped for cash this week? Why not try the budget range where you can eat minced Johnny who appeared in a schools' tour of Little Red Riding Hood for 8 miserable months or maybe some diced Matilda who once worked on a short film where they forgot to take the cap off the lens. Had a pay rise? Then you'll be wanting the Premiere range where you feast on the finest cuts of Stella who starred in Doctors...twice!

The plan was put in motion and within weeks the world was feasting on the choicest cuts of prime actor. But of course, they soon ran into problems. As they dined on the best resters in the land, they noticed they couldn't go on holiday any more because there were no temps to cover them. Charities started making less money as there was no one making calls and harassing people in the streets. The perfume industry completely collapsed. But who cared? The tubes were quieter, the streets of Soho were empty and they no longer had to make polite conversation with out of work actors. They had entered a golden age that had the hue of roast thesp and it was glorious...

The Resters' Awards 2013

I'm sure we all watched the Oliviers on Sunday. We peered through the window and watched a world that we're supposedly part of but, if truth be told, we didn't entirely recognise it. Maybe we felt a little embarrassed by it or there was a small part of us that even wishes we were there too. However, it's likely that despite the constant calls for people to support the arts, it made us feel more kinship towards ET than it did the theatre. So, please welcome the Resters' Awards. An awards ceremony that's for The Great 98%...

The Resters' Awards, sponsored by Asda SmartPrice Range, celebrates the tenacity and the downright wonderfulness of the out of work actor. We want to recognise the hard work that actors put into a career that often gives very little in return and we can to reward an actors' unwavering loyalty to its often cruel master. So, before we begin, please make yourselves a cup of tea (1 teabag per row) and settle down for an evening of disappointment, fixed smiles and frequent napping.

Before the awards begin, the audience are upstanding for the Resters' National Anthem, a medley of daytime TV hits including such themes as This Morning, Cash In The Attic, Countdown and even BBC News 24. The audience hum along and high fives are exchanged when people guess each tune correctly.

The first award of the night is Best Alternative Career to Pay Your Bills. Do you regularly find yourself with a headache induced by an ill-fitting headset, loud ring tones and flickering strip lighting? Still getting over that illness brought upon by standing in the rain handing out flyers in High Wycombe for 9 hours? Got photocopiers arm or receptionists knee? Then this award is aimed at you, my temping friend. The prize is a year's supply of painkillers (that you'll end up giving to fellow co-workers as they seem incapable of buying their own.)

Next up we have the Worst Audition Award. Found yourself in a church hall in the middle of nowhere pretending to be a moth? Turned up to a casting only to find it's for porn? Or, even worse, have you had to endure a workshop audition? Well, my little survivor, this is the award for you. The prize is a marquee-sized hankie to cry into on the way home.

Our third award is Best Rester, the highlight of the evening. Have you managed to spend all day in your pyjamas? Do you your Cash In The Attic from your Homes Under The Hammer? Have you been able to survive on 1 chewy satsuma and a sheet of lasagne because you couldn't be bothered to go to the shops? If you said yes to just one of these then this is your award. The winner of this prize will receive a pair of vintage C&A slippers.

Unfortunately. it's at this point that we all realise that you're all eligible for these awards. How can we possibly pick out one winner when you've all done these things? There's no way we could possibly call anyone a loser when you're clearly all winners. For every dodgy casting call and soul-destroying job you've ever taken on, you've made yourself into a champion. For each question about your career that you've dodged and for every excuse you've given for it being quiet at the moment, you've proved you deserve to call yourself an actor. So please, raise a glass of tap water, and join me in a toast to the glorious resters...

Spare Any Change, Mate?

Today, a casting call arrived on my laptop screen offering the actress it was looking for the princely sum of £3 an hour. Yep. £3 an hour. Sometimes there are jobs where I think I'd prefer they just paid nothing rather than price-matching the first job I had at the age of 14 where I found myself holding the head of a dead pig while an autopsy was carried out. In 1997, that's what £3 an hour bought you. A teenager holding a dead pig's head. Now, £3 an hour buys you an actress. Apparently.

It was only when I read through the rest of the casting that I saw the film also required the actress to get naked. Of course. If the world of casting calls are to believe then all films need at least one lady to get her bits out. And fair enough. I mean, that's totally why we got into this job. We like to watch the male actor folk do what they love while we wander around in the background wondering if our nipples are in shot.

The thought of getting £3 an hour for bringing your boobs to the yard is pretty grim. Unless the filmmaker is paying by BACS then there are very few positive outcomes:

1 hour of filming: the filmmaker sheepishly drops three pound coins into your hand and you slope off into the night without even having your bus fare covered. You later find that no machines will accept one of the pound coins.

2 hours of filming: you get a grubby pound coin wrapped in a tattered £5 note. You use the money to buy a KFC Hot Wings Box to cry in on the way home.

3 hours of filming: the filmmaker asks if you have change for a £10 note. You've now become the shopkeeper of your nudity.

4 hours of filming: you get a £10 note, one £1 coin and two 50p coins. While you depressingly funnel the change into your purse, you wonder whether this was really worth it.

5 hours of filming: this doesn't include change! You rejoice...until you're left waiting in the filmmakers living room while he spends 15 minutes searching his flat trying to find a £5 note.

6 hours of filming: you're cold now. The crew bought two pizzas an hour ago but ate them all while you were crying in the bathroom. You're given a £10 note and a load of change gathered up from the rest of the crew. You can't even be bothered to count it to check.

7 hours of filming: you've forgotten that you're even naked now. You get given a £20 note and somehow you're made the feel the awkward one when receiving the additional pound coin.

8 hours of filming: the filmmaker asks if you have a pound. You don't. You spent it on crisps. Although he could just give you £25, he instead spends the next 10 minutes nervously asking the rest of the crew if they have £4 in change to give you.

9 hours of filming: you don't really care what happens any more. You just want to go home. You're given an envelope with your £27 in as a lot of it is made up of coppers and 5p coins.

10 hours of filming: £30! YES! You skip home with the newly acclaimed knowledge that pride is apparently worth 10 hours of sitting around nervously with your boobs out.

So, when you think it can't get any worse. Just imagine receiving change for getting naked.

The Not-So-Secret Actor

The Guardian has started a new blog called The Secret Actor. You can read it here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2013/apr/15/the-secret-actor-auditions?INTCMP=SRCH As an anonymous actor blogger myself, it made me bloody angry. In fact, I've barely stopped thinking about it all day. The thought that people might even consider that this accurately represents all actors has stuck with me for hours. So here is my response, the result of nearly 8 hours of festering musings. Enjoy (I hope)...

I'm not a well known actor. In fact, you'll never have heard of me. Yes, I'm anonymous but that's because I'm one of thousands. Even if I told you my name it would mean very little because there are hundreds like me. Y'see, I'm part of The Great 98%. I'm in an exclusive club made up of a collective of actors who are lucky if they earn 35p a year and a lifetime's supply of sweaty sandwiches. Yes. I'm one of those 'unsuccessful' actors.

The Lucky 2% may have had some depressing, hilarious and outrageous encounters along the way. They've had tortuous auditions where they've had to hold up a bit of paper where their name has been misspelt. I know, makes your heart bleed doesn't it? But don't worry, that's in their past now. It's an amusing little anecdote they can tell while they remain safe in the knowledge that they can pay their rent without having to sign half their life away to a soulless call centre. The Lucky 2% may have some funny tales to tell but it's The Great 98% who are living it. Our lives are one long depressing, hilarious and outrageous encounter.

Oh to be humiliated by a piece of paper. Those of in The Great 98% can only dream of auditions where the worst that can possibly happen is someone spelling our name wrong. If we're lucky enough to even get an audition we face far more degrading ordeals than the 'mugshot experience.' I've crawled around on the floor for three hours pretending to be a neanderthal while a production company threw chunks of stale bread at us to fight over. I've had to nervously hum 'Happy Birthday' in a dingy cellar, lit only by an angle-poise lamp and my own shame. I've had to pretend that I'm reading the news while aliens try to contact Earth via my teeth. I've run up and down a church hall for a solid 10 minutes in a swimming costume. I've been told that I should be ashamed of a reasonable character choice that I made. I've wandered around a building site for nearly 2 hours because the director didn't show up. I've fallen over more times than I dare to remember and I've fluffed my lines in front of some of the biggest casting directors in the world. I've misunderstood directions to the point where I've essentially made a fort out of every object in the room and I've worn the tightest jeans in the world to a movement audition. So, when all someone asks me to do is hold a piece of paper with my name spelt a bit wrong, you can see why it takes all my willpower to not hug them forever.

Yeah, being an actor is tough but a lot of people are struggling right now. I know actors can sometimes come across as selfish and self-obsessed but those traits aren't exclusive to actors. We chose this job and yes, we may complain about it but no ones making us do it. The 'poor me' routine won't work while there are around 2.5 million people unemployed in the UK at the moment and the majority of people are having a far worse time than we are. The nature of our work means we have to keep a close eye on ourselves most of the time but many of us are pretty good at keeping that other eye trained on the rest of the world. It makes us better actors and better people.

People think the acting industry is hugely sociable but I'm sure I speak for many actors when I say that it's very easy to feel rather lonely in this career. The reason I started writing this blog is because I wanted others to realise that it wasn't just them. We all, whatever job you may do, have those moments where we wonder what the heck we're doing and can't imagine anyone else is going through the same thing. So thank you, Secret Actor. Thank you for bringing solidarity to The Great 98%.

Inside The Mind Of A Student Filmmaker

He's excited. He's been given a new brief. He's mid-way through his degree course at a university that he often has to convince people actually exists. He sits at his computer and starts to write. Ideas come flooding out of him like a leaky tap in the middle of the night. This has never happened before. He's suddenly got ideas for characters that he's never thought of before. He types long into the night, eager to make sure that this incredible idea isn't lost.

He wakes the next morning, his head squished into the keys of his laptop. He looks at what's on the screen and finds a script he's fairly sure he hasn't written. It's crafted beautifully, it has interesting characters and a story arc that he can't quite believe he has created. As he scrolls through thrilling action and delicate conversation, he begins to get worried. He must've stolen this. This gorgeous creation can't possibly be his. As the script comes to the most stunning end, a mash of words start to appear on the screen. It's what his sleepy forehead has brought into the world as it crashed down in exhausted slumber. He starts to breath a sigh of relief as his work becomes familiar again. The characters wave at him like he's a lifelong friend. The gangster and the woman that's naked throughout both smile at him knowingly. The female character has her knickers round her ankles and an awkward sex scene plays out. This is the work he recognises. This is the film he has written.

He hastily deletes the mystery script, hoping no one ever discovers his act of accidental plagiary. Now it's time to get this film made. As he's student, he doesn't have to worry about budgets or paying actors so he sets about finding himself a cast. He's described the actress as being in her 40s so he needs to find an actress, preferably in her 20s, that he can insult as much as possible by offering her the role. And that's when he finds her: Miss L. There's her face, all happy while she desperately clings on to the final dying months of being 29. He scowls at her as she endlessly smiles at him through the screen. She knows nothing of what is coming her way and is blissfully unaware of the 20 years that are currently being added to her. While she sits there in her all her comfortable clothes like a normal human being, he's planning to humiliate her as possible with unnecessary sex scenes and gratuitous nudity.

He looks back over the dialogue between the two characters to check that it's as unrealistic as possible. "They'll struggle with this," he thinks to himself, barely able to contain his utter glee. He giggles as he imagines how much they'll agonise over his poorly written lines, misspelt words and baffling construction. He pictures their constant awkwardness on set while they trip up over the clunkiness of it all and he wishes he could high-five himself. He realises that high-fiving himself is the same as a clap and he applauds his masterfulness for the next hour.

Once his hands have cooled down from 60 minutes of self-congratulation, he emails her, adopting a friendly tone in hope of fooling her. If he's polite in his cover letter then she might just fall for it. In just a couple of months she could have nearly 30 minutes of material that makes her cringe so hard that she has to work in a call centre for the next 6 months to afford enough Botox to correct it. He'll become a legend for creating the first film that's so excruciating that she can't even bring herself to put it on her showreel. Her experience on set will be so horrific that she talks about him for years. People will think she's lying but she'll know. Her nightmares will remind her.

He fires off the email, sits back and waits. Waits for her cries to echo across the internet.

A Real Actor's Tax Return

Earnings:

Sandwiches: all unidentifiable except 1 tuna sandwich that had been left out in the sun for 3 hours. Food poisoning. 

DVD copies: 1 that doesn't play, 1 that's supposedly been in the post for the past 4 months, 1 so awful that even my mum can't sit through it.

IMDb credits: spelt incorrectly.

Experience: therapy still being received for resulting rage, nightmares and irreparable damage done to my CV.

Money: huh?

Outgoings:

Travel: most costs are for my desperate attempts to build a time machine so I can go back to the moment that I decided to become an actor.

Clothes: none. As all female roles require full nudity, clothes are no longer needed.

Casting website fees: see a penny, pick it up, spend all day getting angry over it hasn't come anywhere close to covering the amount of money you've chucked at casting websites.

Headshots: if photos of you gurning with your eyes closed paid the bills then you'd be a bloody millionaire.

Showreel: because spending money on an eternal reminder of all the terrible student films you appeared in is the key to happiness.

Voicereel: ah yes, that was a great day. Spending a week's earnings on a new voicereel only for people to constantly remind you that "getting into voiceovers is the hardest thing in the world." They weren't wrong.

Tickets: stupid non-comp giving 'friends.'

Entertaining: yes, Mr Accountant, all those drinks I bought were while I was out networking. I sat in the corner with my large glass of red and complained on Twitter about actors. 

Compensation: for all the people I've injured after they've asked me when I'm going to be in EastEnders, why I don't just do acting as a hobby and whether I've been in something they might have seen.