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| Actor Anthony LaPaglia, years after he appeared as a terrorist in our student film. |
When you're starting off in film school, or any other creative endeavor where you have to write, the first instructions you usual receive are "write what you know" and "keep it simple." Taking that to heart, it will be no surprise to hear that what I wrote and directed as my first student film (Super 8!) was a simple story about an Australian terrorist (the terrorist's nationality wasn't stated in the script, that change was made after casting) threatening to blow up the Olympic Marathon. All it required was numerous actors, several vehicles - including a large limousine - and locations all over Southern California, including a house along the coast in Newport Beach and a Hollywood mansion. It was anything but simple.
It's been written many times by filmmakers and historians that there's something indefinable about what makes a movie star, but you immediately know it when you see it. It's why screen tests have been a staple of Hollywood for decades. Someone may be beautiful and a great actor or actress in person, but for reasons that no one can predict or quantify, they just don't come off well on camera.
Others - a lucky few - are touched by the gods of cinema. They may be someone you would never even notice on stage or at a party, but you put them in front of a camera and magic happens. The phrase you often hear is "The camera just loves them."
I unexpectedly learned this lesson in star power on my first student film in college. Local struggling actors would leave their 8 X 10 "headshots" - consisting of a photo and their acting resume - in numerous binders in the main office of the film department. When we were looking for actors for a film project, we would browse through binder after binder of actors willing to work in a student film.
We would take notes and call the ones that matched a look we wanted for our film. You would give them a call and meet them somewhere to go over the script, get a sense of how reliable they were, and see if it was a good match. In exchange for working in our film for free, we would provide them with a ride (if they needed it), food and a credit in the film, of course, and, most importantly to them, a copy of the finished film on VHS tape for their demo reel. You usually had to kiss a few frogs to find your Prince. That's casting.
On my first film, we got lucky. We saw a picture of a young man, thin and in his mid-20's, newly arrived in L.A. from Australia. He was looking for film acting work. We gave him a call, had a brief meeting and quickly cast him as the lead in our little film. He reminded me and my producer of a young Mel Gibson. He was articulate, looked great and seemed enthusiastic to work with us. His name was Anthony LaPaglia.
We shot the film over the next two weekends in Newport Beach and Hollywood (for those of you unfamiliar with the geography of Southern California, those two places are 50 miles apart). Anthony was money. He was punctual, easygoing, engaged, knew his lines, worked his butt off and was just a great guy. I tried to treat him with the utmost respect and professionalism, but I felt a little sheepish having him work in my cheesy little Super 8 student film.
We got the film developed and watched the dailies - the raw, unedited footage - at school a few days later. We were all impressed. Anthony just came off incredible on film. The camera "loved" him. I wish I could say that my brilliant writing and directing gave him a firm basis from which to perform, but I was just a stupid, young kid and he elevated the material.
My producer and I really thought this guy was the real deal. He had all the tools to become a huge star. We were curious if he was as good as we thought or if he would eventually have a career. There are so many variables to success in Hollywood. Talent is such a small part of the equation. Timing, luck, work ethic, looks and access to casting directors all play such a crucial role in becoming a working actor.
It took Anthony about two years to start getting regular small parts in television. His big break took four years, when he got the leading role in a TV movie in 1988. He didn't do anything spectacular, but he kept working. Kept plugging away, pounding on doors, working at his craft, and going on auditions. My producer and I would let each other know through the years when we'd seen him in something new.
But a funny thing happened along the way. He didn't become the next Mel Gibson, as we would have predicted when we worked with him; he lost his Australian accent and developed an East Coast American accent and started playing the ethnic/Italian guys. Eventually, he was rewarded with large roles in the shows Murder One, Frasier and Without a Trace. Usually playing an Italian guy from New York, not an Australian.
So he didn't quite become a huge film star, but he's had a damn fine career. And we gave him his first break in Hollywood. As young and inexperienced as we were, our star detector was spot on, even way back then. It was just so obvious. We were lucky enough to have a star in our first little student film - and then sit back and watch how a star is born.
Now here's the sad part: I've moved around so many times since then, that I have NO idea where the copy of that film is. I know I wouldn't have ever thrown it out, and it will probably show up in the bottom of a box when I'm old and gray. I know I took a couple of rolls of pictures on the set during filming, and I can't find any of those either. You shoot the film, turn it in and get your grade and finish the class - and then it gets boxed away somewhere never to be seen again. A common story in Hollywood.
Here's a link to Anthony LaPaglia's IMDB page.
My best friend who produced the film with me? Yes, we're still friends and she had a damn fine film career as well. Here's a link to her IMDB page.
Turns out I was the real slacker on that set. And that's a wrap.
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