OSCAR WEEK 2014: Dreaming in Gold

Once upon a time, a boy dreamed of winning an Oscar. He wrote and wrote and wrote. Fingers numb and calloused as he searched for the perfect combination of words that created the scenes that would ultimately build a story that could be made into movie that would move the soul. 

This movie would go on to limp through the box office race, yet be critically acclaimed and eventually get a big publicity push and receive an Academy Award nomination for best screenplay. 

Eventually, a majority of the Academy voters—comprised mostly of Caucasians (94%) and males (77%)—would select the little script and the boy’s name would engraved in the envelope called during the live ABC telecast from the Dolby Theater.

Yes, a Media Guy can dream. As a matter of fact, dreaming on the red carpet would make an excellent ad campaign for the show one year. After all, we all dream in gold, right?

And dream I did as the red carpet was cobbled together at Hollywood and Highland over the golden stars of the Hollywood Walk of Fame across from the El Capitan movie theater. In a couple of days the world’s greatest stars—Leonardo DiCaprio, my one-time golfing buddy Matthew McConaughey, Amy Adams and my future ex-wife Jennifer Lawrence, among others—will be strutting in their $15,000 Haute Couture and Armani tuxedos.

One thing I know for sure is that the Academy Awards is a dream for ABC television. Ad rates for the show are up about 10% to a lofty $1.8 million for thirty seconds of ad time. For those of you keeping score, that’s the second priciest chunk of air time on television. (For those of you living in a cave deprived of proper media, the Super Bowl is the costliest at the astronomical rate of $4 million for a 30-second spot.) If you're choking on the costs, check out this fact: Last year, each commercial was seen by an average of 40+ million viewers. That’s a whole of lot of exposure.

Oh goodness, forty million viewers! I just got a little more nervous practicing my would-be acceptance speech that may not happen for another decade or so.

As a started doubting myself, and pondered what I would do if I didn’t win that beautiful eight-pound statue named after some golden age star joked it looked like her Uncle Oscar, I was told by a reporter from People Magazine (or was it US Weekly?) that each nominee gets an $80,00 SWAG bag. 

A peek into the goodies in the SWAG bag.

You know what SWAG is right? SWAG stands for “Stuff We All Get" (I think). In this case, only the nominees get this level of stuff—all assembled nicely by the LA-based marketing firm Distinctive Assets. What kind of stuff you ask?

We start with a $15,000 tour of Japan, vacations to Mexico and Hawaii, a $9,000 trip to Las Vegas that includes a face-to-face with all or some of the Boyz II Men, a $2,700 O-shot procedure (what’s that? why, of course, a vaginal rejuvenation and enhancement…yikes!), his-and-hers Mace guns, along with various candy maple syrup and artwork.

Time to call my agent because I need that sweet SWAG bag and get into the Oscars nominations discussion. It’s time to walk the red carpet instead of work it.

Stage Fright

I remember the first time I had to speak in front of a big crowd. It was 1993 at the New York City’s Marriott Marquis. Epson was giving me their MVP Award for an advertising campaign and the luncheon was filled with 1,000 or so industry mucky-mucks and some of the holdovers from the Mad Men era were in attendance. The only thing I that saved me from passing out was playing Alfred Hitchcock’s 1950 classic Stage Fright over in my head.

Stage Fright starred a young Mrs. Ronald Reagan (Jane Wyman) and Marlene Dietrich focusing on Wyman’s search to prove her friend's innocence and a cameo by Hitchcock. I kept telling myself if the unattractive penguin (sorry Sir Alfred!) could overcome his own stage fright and appear in his own movie then I could speak for ten minutes to a bunch of starch collars about a campaign I had poured my heart and soul into for the past year. And, just like that I never looked back. Now I can speak to anyone about everything.

But certainly there has to be a better way, right? That’s when I ran into award-winning film director, producer and writer Dr. Richard R. Reichel whom recently penned the new book, “Everybody is an Actor,” (www.everybodyisanactor.com), a guide to achieving success in the film industry and in life.

MEDIA GUY: More confidence, less stress, discovering inner resources, improving relationships – there are thousands of self-help books to help us accomplish these, but do they work?

DR. REICHEL: Self-help strategies can work, as far as they go, but they don’t address a key component that affects everything from how we feel about ourselves to how successfully we interact with others.

MG: What’s the key component to make it all work?

DR. R: That key component is the fact that we’re all actors -- at work, school, home, even alone in front of the bathroom mirror. We’re always playing the character of ‘Me,’ but we also have to play other characters. The better we are at it, the happier and more successful we’ll be.

MG: What exactly is stage fright and how does it affect the psyche?

DR. R:  Stage fright undermines concentration and we lose our character objective. Why do so many people cower in light of their dreams? Why do they procrastinate on getting their degree? Why do they tremble at the thought of approaching Mr. or Ms. Right? It’s because of stage fright.

To overcome stage fright, Dr. Reichel offers these tips from the Psychophantic System he developed to mold both life and film actors:

• Control stress with a “mind walk” and “confocal contemplation.” Today, stress is associated with a variety of chronic illnesses. In addition to regular exercise and sleep nourishment, consider a “mind walk,” or a pleasant thought that stops the stress and replaces it with something positive. In the same vein, practice “confocal contemplation” by allowing your mind to wander into a cloudlet of peace and relaxing your body. Then, while thoughts are peacefully drifting, flex your feet, ankles, calves, shins, knees, buttocks and hips – and release. Feel the weight of your entire body while your mind remains free, and repeat the exercise. 
• Practice projecting your emotions. How many times have you daydreamed about how you will express yourself when a particular situation arises? In the same way, we need to rehearse how we project our emotions in social situations. Try practicing emotional expression in front of a trusted friend or loved one. If someone has made you happy and joyous, rehearse how to show them in the moment. Showing love and laughter can strengthen bonds, and learning how to express anger, sorrow and fear in appropriate ways will improve your ability to communicate and foster understanding.
• Winning your audience by emphasizing character strengths. No one is good at everything, but everyone is good at something. In order to get what you want in life, you simply need to do what you’re good at. Your audience may be an employer, coworkers, family or a potential date. Can you make them laugh, understand or otherwise feel deeply what you’re expressing? Appealing to their emotional responses can go far. Keep in mind the hearts and minds of your audience, including the setting and what they must be experiencing during the “performance.” Be aware of your vocal projection and body language. You will be remembered for your performance, which will lead you to better roles and, in the case of daily living, better relationships. 

Nude Modeling

It’s been a whirlwind month.

It’s award season. That means that my trusty Canon and I have traveled the red carpets around Los Angeles and Hollywood at the American Music Awards, the Golden Globes and the Grammys. And let's not forget that the Oscars are only a month away... 

Lots more on Instagram

It also means that my Japanese television drama, Miss Pilot, started filming another season in Tokyo, fully replete the super Asian divas and a giant language barrier…

So you can imagine how delightful it was that I was finally back in my office hunkered down imagining another communication plan and wondering if my Clio nomination was going to gain any traction.

Yes, just another day at the office.

Then the phone rang shattering the silence of thinking into a million pieces. The call from my side went something like this:

“Modeling, huh?”

“Oh. Nude modeling?”

“Interesting…”

Twenty-five hours later I was in my car trying to find the art studio in the middle of North Hollywood’s newly fashionable NoHo Arts District. It was time to attend my first nude modeling art class.

The media guy in me was intrigued.

The male in me was intrigued even more. Would the next Marilyn Monroe be there? An unknown beauty perhaps? How would my drawing be?

So there I was, the only guy (read: The Media Guy) in the room. Blue pencil poised, ready to sketch the sleek lines of tan-legged, cash-strapped sorority co-ed and then, my world changed all at once. In sauntered a guy in a silky white robe. I hoped he was someone eccentric who painted his best in a modified smock of sorts. Then it happened. He dropped his robe and stood tall, possessed with the body of an Adonis.

I wondered what was going through his mind. Was a room full of people studying his nakedness appealing? Was it arousing? Was modeling lucrative? I let out a huge smirk as this scenario hit my mind:

I was very quickly distracted from my self-induced humor as I listened to the instructor explain the way she wanted him to pose.

“Lay on the floor on your right side with your back to the students.”

His legs were extended to my left and his right elbow was propped up on a chair, curving his spine and bringing his shoulders parallel with the floor. And guess what? His manhood was pointed right at me, staring me straight in the eye. I must say that he commanded the room as the nine women in attendance busily mapped out his body on their linen sheets. The students began to draw. And me? I began to meditate.

This was definitely not my gig—so far things were not going according to plan.

All of the sudden there was a commotion in the back of the class as the back door slammed open and there she was. Six-foot tall, also clad in a silky white rope (is that the art class model’s uniform?). So was an Amazon for sure. My savior angel had arrived; someone to distract me from the anaconda slithering in front of me. Oh goodness, I had never been so far out of my element.

At the end of the session, the male model shook hands with everyone but me. It seems I my little giggle at the top of the class was highly offensive (ooops!). However, Margrét, my new favorite Amazon model stuck around after class to look at the artwork created in her likeness. She was particularly interested in mine, as I drew her very modest and with an interesting angle.

I spoke with her a bit—I mean why not?—surely I wasn’t getting this account and I had offended nearly everyone who was in the room at the start of the class. Making a new friend was my only hope to salvage this day.

Media Guy: I noticed that you didn’t follow the instructor’s suggestions on how to pose, why?

Margrét, My New Favorite Amazon Model: She couldn’t expect me to really lie down like the guy. They was he was dangling like that was embarrassing for even me and I have seen it all! That and the fact that I was growing out my, uhhhhhhhhhh, uhhhhhhhm, “carpet” for a 1960s pinup photo shoot that had to be authentic for this insane French photographer, Dr. Y., who demands everything be about the details. Talk about swampy! That’s me and my jungle.

MG: At least it’s a good payday, right?

MMNFAM: Now, one thing about Frenchy Dr. Y is that he’s generous to a fault. Since our friendship has long transcended the What’s-Your-Price-rigamarole, he doesn’t pay me for my time anymore. He just flies me around the world and enjoys lavishing gifts on me. Aside from taking me to some amazing dinners, and plying me with Vegas’s finest overpriced booze, he also brought me a bag full of gifts — just like Santa Claus!

MG: And these 1960s pinups? Have you ever done them before?

MMNFAM: [Smiles] I did that ’60s pinup shoot before with a British photographer. Yes, I was growing everything out, and we did the shoot in this amazing retro car store, but the day of the shoot was super effing hot and humid. It was one of those 110-degree days, dammit! The place isn’t air-conditioned, only swamp-cooled. To make matters worse, I couldn’t really blast the a/c in the cab on the way there for fear of messing up my beehive. I was so freaking hot when I got there that the second I walked in the store I ripped off my dress and stood there nude, fanning myself madly with my appointment book. I didn’t realize that the store was still open to the public during the shoot. I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies that day....Just like you did today! [more smiles]

EPILOGUE

Back at the office a few days later I had to report to my would-be client that I wasn't the the right guy to take this job. Alas, Margrét is going to join me on my next round of wedding crashing. At least I made a new friend.

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UPDATE: March 9, 2015 ... PART II can be read here: Catching up with Margrét, My New Favorite Amazon Model