AJ's Piece o' The Web

AJ Gentile Host Reel

Updated host reel.

I Have No Personality

Among other things, I'm an actor. But I have a secret: I hate actors.

Yes, that's kind of a blanket statement. I should say I hate *most* actors. There's a certain kind of actor that I hate. That "always on, always funny, always performing" type of actor. We all know people like that, don't we? Loud. Constantly needs to be the center of attention; the life of the party. Being a showbiz guy, I'm around people like this *all the time.*

Ok, it's no secret that *all* actors are needy for attention and approval. That's why we do it. Hell, that's why bloggers blog. But there is quiet, put-yourself-out-there-and-hope-people-like-you narcissism (me) and in-your-face!, look-at-me!, I'm-a-star! narcissism (them).

Example? Of course. You knew it was coming.

I go to my voice-over agent, ICM, just about every morning. If you're in The Industry (or watch Entourage), you know that this agency is the real deal. As such, there are lots of talented, successful actor-types in every day. The typical morning goes like this:

1. Arrive at agency.

2. Immediately run into their kitchen for FREE and DELICIOUS coffee.

3. Sit in the green room until an agent notices you.

4. Receive your scripts for the day. (1, 5, 10 scripts... random)

5. Read scripts.

6. Wait to be called and directed into one of four voice booths to read your copy.

7. Voice the bitch.

8. Ditch the script and sit back down, reading and waiting to be called to do the next script.

9. Go back to Step 6 until you have no more copy left.

10. Refill your cup of FREE and DELICIOUS coffee.

11. Laugh at the hand-written sign in the kitchen that says, "Refreshments are not to be taken home!"

12. Go home.

Ahhh... if it were only that simple.

Twixt the above steps wages a raging battle of mindless chatter and witless banter. An ebb and flow of comic one-upsmanship that is relentless to the point of maddening.

Example: There are some voice-over people who can only speak in their “voice-over voice.” Thus, there are several men who rather than say, “Good morning, AJ”, greet you with a deep and resonant: “In a world on the edge of time... One man, alone in a bustling metropolis... An epic battle of good versus evil. It’s AJ.”

Yes. Really.

Example: Lots of comedians (and former comics) in there as well. “Look at these walls. How blue are these walls? If anal sex with a priest were a color, it would be this blue right here. And what about this tray of cookies? Who baked these? Alton Brown’s arch-nemesis from the Food Network’s bizarro alternative universe? Nice sandals, Walter. Who are you? Jesus? The last time I saw feet like those there was a tag on the toe.”

Yes. Really.

For the most part, all of these people are very nice, very intelligent and very talented people. Really, they are. But they don’t know how to TURN IT OFF.

I was chatting with Josh, my manager’s *superhuman* assistant. Josh told me that one of the things they like about me is that I’m not ALWAYS ON. That’s not a skill, people. That’s good manners.

Recently (I won’t say when, lest she be reading), I was trapped in a voice booth with an actress. We had finished reading our copy and were exiting when she began “riffing” on the director. Fine. Make with your funny, let’s get outta here, I got 7 more scripts to get to.

But she went on and on… funny voices… witty observations… clever anecdotes… none of which were funny or witty or remotely clever.

But what can I do?

I have to stand there with this big fat smile on my face. I’m not going to just walk out. I’m not an asshole like that. I can’t really laugh because, frankly, I'm not that good of an actor.

She went on and on. And I can see that the director is wearing the same Bozo-esque smile that I’m wearing. She's dying to get this lady out of the booth so she can get readings from the 30 actors behind us and get the tape off to the client and then go pee or get coffee or call her boyfriend or whatever: LET'S GO.

Why don’t people realize this? When I go off on a tangent or tell a story that’s a tad too long (like this one), I can start to read the faces of my audience. I’ll suddenly say, “I’m rambling on and on, I’m sorry.” Yeah, you do that, too! Of course you do! You're normal!

But people who are always on can’t do that. They can’t see it. They just have to perform their shtick.

Everyone knows that old comedy saying: “Leave them wanting more.”

Every conversation I have with an actor leaves me wanting less.*

(Present company excluded: Shane, Wil and anyone I work with at ICM who may read this)

Final Cut

Well, I've got a final cut of my hosting reel which you can view here, if you care.

It was really tough coming up with this edit because I am a *control freak*. I want to write my own stuff, perform it, direct it, edit it, score it myself, etc. Obviously, there are better people than me at *each* of those things. But that's how I am. I'm the older child. I want to always be the boss.

That's why I can't can't thank Gino enough for helping me shoot the footage. I'm difficult. But I was [mostly] on my best behavior with him. Besides, I picked up almost all the tabs.

Anyway, I presented Rick (my manager) with my rough cut on Thursday. Naturally, I thought it was done. It ran five-and-a-half minutes. We watched it and he gave me a page of notes and edits.

*gasp*

You mean it's not done? It's not brilliant??

*sigh*

So, I spent *ALL* of Thursday night editing.

Friday morning, I woke up to another email full of notes.

More editing.

A few last notes.

It was really hard to make the changes emotionally. I put in what *I* thought was funniest. I had slick transitions from piece to piece. I chose a great soundtrack. I timed scenes to the music. I hit song posts twice for emotional impact. I thought my piece placement was perfect.

Hell, I was Scorsese, Spielberg and Fellini all in one.

Apparently, I was all wrong.

When I came out to LA, I had the opportunity to work with several managers. Some of whom promised me great things. When I met Rick, he promised nothing. He promised to "take me up a level." What level that was would be up to me.

I liked that. It felt honest, but also optomistic. It felt real. So I went with Rick.

Another thing I like about Rick is that he's a former stand-up comic. I'm also a former stand-up. So we can speak to each other using the same language.

I can tell him that "I think this piece really showcases my voice", and he'll know what I mean. He can tell me, "move this scene earlier in the reel because a good joke is either recognition or surprise or both", and I'll immediately get it.

When writing a joke, the hardest part is keeping the set-up short. And when I write, I choose EVERY WORD SPECIFICALLY. (aside: I do *not* do that here. On my blog, I ramble and brain dump). So with a joke set up: "anything that doesn't add, takes away." So, my transitions didn't add: out they went.

We took out some of my more "sexual" humor and replaced it with my softer stuff: pieces that would showcase likability and vulnerability.

I trusted him. I took the notes and did every single edit without question. Even though inside I'm saying: "NO! Not the elevator bit! That's hysterical!"

Cut. Cut. Cut.

This final reel is not as flashy. But I think it does capture my voice, show my range and showcase my skills without being repetitive.

Now, let's hope the rest of Hollywood thinks so.