2010 marked my 10th full year in Los Angeles. And minus a pile of Oscars and a formula one race car, I couldn’t have asked for a better year, winning lead roles in independent film, television, commercials, and internet. Let us rewind…

WHEN LIFE IMITATES ART: ‘MAD FAN’, the Mad Men parody sketch I did for writer/director Carrick Bartle jingled its way to a front page write-up on Atom.com, and within a few weeks our combined web views numbered 15,000+. Staff also honored us as an ‘editorial pick.’ Expertly packaging and producing the show was Reuben Lim (Lane Street Pictures) and James Perry (Intergalaxy). Chris Wedding of The Cavalry handled cinematography. My lovely co-lead was Katherine Dubois, recently arrived from D.C.

BLOWN AWAY: ‘A CITY TO MAKE ME’ I discovered director Ryan Miller’s production blog in September while he was still seeking a suitable lead actor. So, following a remote audition, I soon found myself on a plane bound for Chicago, where I would spend ten days playing the protagonist in his visionary sci-fi noir piece. His production – while being a well executed, ambitious shoot with heavy CG, stunts, and pyro – was pure, delightful, homegrown indie. Post production will span several months, and is according to Ryan, ‘the best way to enjoy the Chicago winter.’ His feature screenplay is original although fans of William Gibson and JG Ballard will recognize echoes of those near futures in ‘A City to Make Me’. See behind the scenes footage on http://acitytomakeme.blogspot.com.

MESSIEST EATER AND ‘DEADLIEST WARRIOR: ATTILA THE HUN’ Liz Tom of Vega Stunts knew that I had horseback riding and martial arts chops so she cast me as hero fighter ‘Attila the Hun’ in the season 2 premiere Attila vs. Alexander episode of Spike TV‘s Deadliest Warrior. The role called for extensive galloping, snarling, fighting and more snarling as the one and only scourge of God. Although a fun fun fun start to 2010, eating with that beard was downright dangerous.

DEVELOPMENT TITLES IN 2010
‘COIL’ – I went in for another round on Devin Lawrence’s feature script, working alongside Mollie Fitzgerald (Marvel Studios), with some input from Joe Johnston. We took the screenplay back to its black comedy roots and did a little bit of structural retuning. After Mollie went to work on Captain America, I let the option revert back to Devin, whose directing career is gaining much deserved momentum. While I am attached to recent drafts of the script, I don’t know who will answer the bell. Regardless, it’s a terrific story that deserves to get made.
‘ACTION HERO AFTERMATH’ is a series pitch that I’ve been developing with director Geoffrey Plitt and William Brasington (both of whom have been featured on Comedy Central). I play Broc, a low IQ crime-fighter who is comfortable diving out of flaming airplanes and throwing bad guys through windows, but woefully impaired when it comes to civilian life and the finer points of reality.

COMMERCIALS AND BTL VFX – I had a busy year on this front as well, doing a spot for Chevy Silverado as an actor, and pushing pixels in the post VFX realm for directors Penelope Spheris, Tim Chey, Gobi Rami, and others under the Luxfarm banner. On the studio side I worked on Dinner For Schmucks and Life As We Know It under Pacific Vision. Said goodbye to the space (warehouse?) on Sunset in July; I miss the luxury of all that room but not the 20 hour work days and propane stove!

15 second teaser for the short:

Somebody died at Pigeon’s Party but it was no one we knew. At the time, I was standing together with Mitch in one corner of a back bedroom, breaking bottles against the wall opposite. Mitch lived in a basement and the walls were cinder block. Even to this day I believe there is no better indicator of a good time had than broken glass upon the ground. We broke a good fifteen or twenty beer bottles, and then some kid with green hair came in and said that there was a police car outside the house.

“I don’t care,” said Mitch, and the kid left.

“That’s right,” I said. “This is our gig. Nobody can take these memories away from us. Even if we get old, broke, crippled, and thrown in jail we’ll still appreciate this.”

“Yeah,” said Mitch, pausing to blink once at me, perhaps imagining the future–himself drifting gently into oblivion on a tiny island somewhere in the gulf of Thailand, having since married a Malaysian girl he met while teaching conversational English in Asia, their pickaniny children doomed to meaningless lives of pop stardom and easy money.

“Yeah,” repeated Mitch. He threw another half empty bottle which exploded with a lovely, wet, sexual noise against the wall. Mitch had a good arm. Then the kid with green hair stuck his head in again and said,

“There’s an ambulance now outside your house. Somebody died, Mitch.”

“Wow,” I said. The floor was covered in broken glass and beer. There weren’t anymore bottles left to throw.

“Let’s go outside and see who’s dead,” said Mitch.

When we got outside the house, most of our party was already on the lawn, talking quietly and watching the paramedics load a body into the ambulance. It was nobody we knew; just an old man who lived across the street.

“He was so old,” said Mitch. “He was already practically dead when I moved into this house. I could see it coming.”

“Only a real asshole would pick a Friday night to die of a heart attack,” Julie agreed.

But still, there was a certain magic at work, a rare beauty to the proceedings. All kinds of people and their dogs were coming out of their respective houses, and they stood watching on the sidewalks, pleased and indifferent, like seating attendants at a piano concert. The grass was dewy underfoot and the sky glowed pink with the lights from the airport a few blocks away. It suddenly made sense to be outdoors; I wondered why we weren’t all naked. The sirens on the ambulance were quiet but still flashing as the cop took down a statement from the old man’s housekeeper and the paramedics, finished now loading the body, milled around in a circle smoking cigarettes, bored because they saw death all the time and this one wasn’t even gory.

“I’m gonna go bum a light,” said Springer. We watched him stagger over to the other side of the street and exchange a few words with the paramedics and the cop. When he came back, we were amazed; not just because Springer had managed to get his own cigarette lit but because the paramedics had given him two more as well.

“What did they say to you?” asked Mitch.

“They said there was nothing to see and that we should all go back inside.”

“I could have told you that,” said Mitch. “Jesus. This neighborhood. Somebody dies and it’s a party.”

Springer nodded, and then, secure in some secret knowledge, unzipped his fly and peed on the grass.

I too would live forever.