End Of The Movie

End Of The Movie

I've lately become somewhat obsessed with a particular type of movie ending.

You know the one.

Our protagonist/antagonist has overcome whatever it is Joe Campbell said they must overcome. Happily ever after feels imminent, as underlined by perhaps the opening riffs of a familiar pop-tune. But our hero, they've still got one final punchline to drop, whether verbal or otherwise, right before a cut-to-black.

And that music? It plays. We hit the chorus, or an ironic line, or something that makes us smile almost as much as the punchline, hitting its stride just as the first names appear.

It's a very specific type of ending, and to be honest, I have no idea if there's a particular cinematic term for it. But you know what I'm talking about, right?

In case you're unclear, here's one - the final scene of the Wachowski's paranoid red pill, The Matrix:

At this point of the movie, we've just seen the protagonist literally return from the dead, a god reborn. The new, subversive king of an artificial world populated by human slaves spending their entire life asleep as part of the plot's major twist: as our evil robot overlord's organic power supply. Seeing Neo fly up out of shot like that for the first time, it's a real moment. People do superhuman things inside the Matrix, but nobody's ever flown. And to suddenly drop an entirely fresh twist like that, literally a few frames before the cut to black? The effect it has on the average nerdy viewer is close to orgasmic. But then consider the tune itself : Wake Up, by Rage Against The Machine. One of the seminal anti-establishment protest songs of that odd late-90s era, with no accident that it both matched the subversive themes of the film itself, but also that it quite literally has a title matching the central demand placed on all the major characters (and presumably the millions of sleepers) as the film closes - an awakening this new god will hopefully bring about.

It all works. All a bit obvious, perhaps, but in the heat of the moment, if you're too caught up in the action to ponder it, the resulting end-of-the-movie moment is electrifying.

Though this technique does not necessary have to be a high-powered fist-bump, of the likes of Fight Club ('Where Is My Mind?') and Iron Man (though does that one count, the music starting arguably a touch late?) There's also the softer, smoother exit via the exact same route, often creating as evocative and energetic a moment as the punches-in-the-face.

Take the final scene Wes Anderson's classic, Rushmore:

While our protagonist doesn't actually do much more to advance the plot here, he does succeed at taking the hand of the woman he'd attempted to woo so unsuccessfully throughout the film. And perhaps in that final moment as the music begins to play, by hearing the mature way Max accepts his defeat, in taking his glasses off, Rosemary's finally looking at him as a man, not the ridiculous young boy he'd been throughout the film. And the song itself… well, that says it all. As the verse swells, the film slows to almost a halt, as we see all major characters assemble for one final photo, our couple still very much the focus of the frame. And just as the cut to black (or in this case, the curtain close) finally occurs, the music reaches the chorus: "I wish that I knew what I know now"; a line whose relation to everything else one can hardly ignore. But are these the character's thoughts, or that of the director himself? With Anderson's name revealed immediately as the line is sung, perhaps this busts the fourth wall for us slightly, the director having said on occasion how much of his own past he threaded into the film's central character.

I love these moments, and yes, I've become obsessed.

Taking note of them for months. Collecting them. Stashing them away for some unknown purpose, unknown even to me at this point. The novel I'm currently developing has accidentally wound up with moment like it winding through the narrative and tying up the ending. Part of me even thinks there might be an idea buried amongst this odd collection to form the premise of an entire story in itself. Perhaps a tale about someone bound by a collection of endings, the same way the protagonist in High Fidelity (another great end-of-the-movie play-out moment) seems bound by the songs and playlists of the women in his past.

Or is that just too obvious? Would it be more appropriate for a literary tie-in of this device to be something more down the 'random swing track' path Die Hard treads, or merely a stretching of the final mood as per the much-drooled-at Gosling-fest, Drive? Or is it foolish to even be trying to force this round cinematic peg into square literary hole?

I don't know. And if I'm completely honest here, I have no idea why I'm collecting these. And yes, I am collecting them. Check out these sweet puppies on Spotify. Each one of them one of these very deliberate end-of-the-movie music moments (if you can guess them all). Well, not this one, which I kept on the list for no good reason than… well… who doesn't think every playlist deserves a little Backstreet? And no, it really doesn't count as one of my obsessional types. Party tracks, such as the play-out at the end of Dirty Dancing, or the odd moment at the end of 40 Year Old Virgin; this type of ending isn't quite the same. They're literally just playing the track, delivering a performance. Where's the irony, the punch-in-the-face, protagonist's final punchline? No, not quite as magical, no matter how awesome or appropriate a party playout can be as an ending.

My search shall continue, but until I reach whatever the unknown destination is, let me know if you think of any more.

And like, don't you… forget about me…

 


A Penis Or A Poo?

I’ll let you in on a little secret : we’ve all done it. Well, most of us. Anyone who has spent any time working the front lines of the Hollywood visual effects industry probably has several midnight-dark secrets they could spill, or if not, has heard a mother lode of first-hand confessionals while loitering at various water-coolers.

I’m talking about that thing every artist does but nobody wants to risk their career talking about : the dangerous art of sneaking photos of schlongs or faeces (or Sesame Street characters, or a tasteful shot of your smiling nephew or your initials or Keyboard Cat) into the frames of major Hollywood feature films.

You’ve probably heard of some of the popular cinematic vandal-lore of yesteryear. Plenty of myths have birthed in the world of traditional animation for instance — things like Jessica Rabbit’s famous ‘crotch frame’, or the clouds of a certain Disney movie spelling the word ‘sex’. Not to diminish the anarchic efforts of my subversive brothers and sisters of days gone by, but the current fleet of popular examples are all getting mighty stale by today’s standards. Hell, most of anything written on the topic online is so old the pieces they describe were made with a paintbrush (as in bristles and ink, not the type you get when you hit ‘B’ in Photoshop).

Fantastic as their pioneering work was, we’ve most certainly moved on. The art of sporadically hiding man-junk on celluloid has matured into an entire industry of the subliminal. Not only have the genital insertions gone digital, sprouting up in as vast numbers as the general increase in visual effects shot-counts in modern cinema, but those very same genitals are now often flying out of the screen at you in 3D.

Oh, and you’ve definitely seen them. You just don’t know it.

Before you get too excited that I’m about to unleash a whole fresh swath of urban legends upon the world with a juicy, blow-by-blow, tell-all list, I should take a moment acknowledge the speed at which someone in a studio legal department is about to go and google my film credits list, sharpen their knives, pull out their trusty plastic calculator, and begin calculating all the possible damages I may (or may not) have inflicted upon their clients’ intellectual property. We artists are contracted to the teeth, and you’ll not get that list out of me today, not with anything short of at least two (perhaps three) beers (less if you’re paying).

What I can give you is this, in all its ambiguous glory:

I may (or may not) have, at some point during my career in visual effects, personally hidden within the frames of many feature films you will have seen, without the knowledge or consent of my supervisors (clients, directors, studios), the following items :

  • Male genitalia (flaccid)
  • Male genitalia (not-so-flaccid)
  • Female genitalia
  • Exposed breasts (deliberately added)
  • Exposed breasts (passively added through omission — neglecting to mention/fix the nipple slips nobody else picked up I would have been paid to “fix”.)
  • A poo* (*Note: ‘a’ poo, not ‘my’ poo)
  • A poo* (*Note: disregard the above clarification)
  • Friends’ faces into backgrounds / windows etc.
  • Relatives’ faces into backgrounds / windows etc.
  • Porn-stars’ faces into backgrounds / windows etc.
  • Objects or references to one the lead actors’ or director’s more embarrassing prior films.
  • Website URLs (the friendly sort that would pass SafeSearch)
  • Website URLs (the other kind)
  • Website URLs (an honest-to-god Rickroll. Yes, really.)
  • A blatant shoutout to the good and attentive people at Reddit who love cracking ‘easter eggs’ written in easily-decipherable code. (This one is an ongoing disappointment for a very select group of us. So much effort went into this one joke — a much larger sting than just that single greeting. Sadly, to this day, the film-loving crypto community continues to let us down. From one nerd to another, I speak directly to you now, Reddit : shame on you!)

This is just a small sample. While it may seem a hefty list to the uninitiated, let it be known that I am by no means an extremist, a malicious rogue, alone in my sordid addiction. Perhaps I sit on the pointier side of the bell-curve, but I’m not all that far from the middle. Just ask anyone. On some films there have been unofficial competitions between a larger group of artists, seeing how many times people could get away with inserting exactly the same image/character into different shots or scenes from the same film. On other stricter productions, would-be vandals regularly shroud their attempts in secrecy, working alone, only daring a confession during crew-only drinks after the film’s première.

What I mean to say is that these aren’t isolated incidents, random blights on occasional blockbusters; we are prolific.

“But why?”

Sometimes acting on an opportunity has been nothing more than a gentle letting-off of steam in what can regularly be a high-pressure, long-hours job. Some projects have started well, but suffered a catastrophic drop in morale for whatever reason, and the lowly artist-soldier-types were left to quietly vent the most appropriate way we collectively could.

Other times, for me at least, it has been to test the limits of the art of vfx vandalism itself. Like, if I could hide a photo of my friend ‘taking a dump’ in the middle of a super-bright explosion in such a way that you’re only going to see him if you turn the brightness of your screen all the way down to ten percent of maximum in order to see it, why wouldn’t I just go ahead and do it? Going one step further, if I got away with it that first time, why wouldn’t I do it again in the shot that directly follows it in the film, for continuity’s sake? Then, the shot after that — the aftermath of the explosion — would it not make sense to slip in the broken remains of a toilet, and a large smear of brown at the blast’s epicentre? Possessing that level of attention to detail is what they’re paying us for, after all. It’s a deep, dark rabbit hole that goes deep once you start down it, especially if you have a long render time to kill, and a desire to better yourself and your art.

There are other times when these unorthodox blemishes arrive on the silver screen out of pure necessity. Certain visual elements may not have been captured as part of an ‘library shoot’ (where the visual effects supervisor films all the extra bits and pieces we might need to complete our work — the additive squirts of blood, a few seconds of crumbling concrete dust, filming a room full of roof-mounted sprinklers for us to add into a shot as rain) and we may be forced to “just fix it” with whatever we can lay our hands on. I’vecertainly heard some stories on that count. One of the best of recent years was the tale of an Oscar-winning actor who’d been given some ugly facial hair as part of his on-set makeup, something which didn’t end up holding up well enough during close-ups. Nobody had ever factored in the fix as part of the visual effects bid, so when there was no time/budget for any CG hair fix (or no other elements shot), the artist came up with the ingenious solution of snapping a photo of their own scrotum hair, “patching up” the similarly-textured side-burn without further ado.

Hey, whatever works — and it did. You saw that close-up too, remember.

Often our best work is simply the by-product of garden-variety nerd-rage. When you’ve been sitting there all week painting out camel-toe until two in the morning to meet some overly-reactive client-side producer (who’s decided that’s the only way the film is going to hit its PG-13 rating), sometimes it feels like highly appropriate payback to slip a still pic of an erect phallus into the shot. You know they’ll be too busy looking at the character’s freshly-Barbied pubis to notice the feisty little pecker lurking within the shadows of her handbag. You just know it, and they never let you down. The hyper-sensitivity used when predicting conservative outrage during post regularly wastes so much of our time (and other peoples’ money) that it can be a truly satisfying piece of comeuppance to bounce that straight back, the offend-o-meter turned up to eleven.

But alas — I feel ours could be a dying art. It would be folly to suggest that the fine art of dick-and-poo hide-and-seek will ever truly leave the visual effects industry, not while any individual artist still has strength to wield a Wacom and suffer from poor impulse control. However, given how drilled-down our daily tasks have become in recent years, it it clear that it’s getting a lot harder to sneak a meaty, veined, one-eyed trouser-snake past the gatekeepers.

It used to be that an individual compositing artist may take a shot through from start to finish, performing most of what needed to happen (within their skill-set) without many pairs of eyes beyond the powers-that-be to catch them out. If you were particularly lucky, you could even get to the raw footage and sneak your poo in there, baked into the scan, even before ‘version one’ or your actual work. Now, shots get passed around more. Tasks have been broken down into much smaller pieces for efficiency — less-senior folks end up doing the less-senior tasks, the tricky stuff gets left to the veterans, and a lot more people encounter a particular script. The more critical eyes your subversive art is exposed to, the more chance someone’s going to try and talk you out of the joke, or worse: turn snitch. (There are still some glaring holes in the system, but to give you some idea of the increased difficulty level, I didn’t get anything at all filthy — neither scat nor scrotal — into the last couple of films I worked on — and not for lack of trying.)

Eventually, I’ll be gone from the film industry entirely, but in such a transient age where bits and bytes come and go, it’s nice to know I’ll have left a legacy, a handful of tiny stains on a few elements of popular-culture which are likely to be preserved and viewed long after my somewhat-depraved soul has departed this earth. Getting your name in the credits is one thing, but none of that glory adds up to the pride I’ll always feel at being able to pull a dusty old download off iTunes’ digital shelf, pause on a particular frame of a memorable blockbuster from my youth, and point out to the youngest members of the family: “See? It’s definitely a poo. Notice how it glistens? No leaves or branches growing off that branch, buddy.”

It’s just too bad you blinked and missed it.


Top 10 Reasons Why 'Die Hard' Is A Better Christmas Movie Than 'Love Actually'

There comes a point during every Christmas holiday where an inevitable war for the remote is fought - a battleground nobody wants to speak about at any other time of the year, one which divides families, ruins relationships, and regularly results in bloodshed. You know what I'm talking about: The Die Hard vs Love Actually Christmas Movie Stand-Off. Naturally, I have my own feelings on the matter, and despite you likely having yours, I've decided it's time we all put this matter to bed for once and for all, proving (most decisively) that Die Hard is by far a more superior Christmas film than Love Actually:

 

Two very different Rickmans...
Case in point : the two very different Rickmans...

1. The Rickman Factor

Both films are blessed by the inclusion of Alan Rickman, but he’s WAY cooler as Hans Gruber than as weak, womanising Harry. Also, Hans is far more Christmasy - he even performs a memorable Santa impersonation at one point.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

 

I can't even... I just can't...

2. You (Mostly) Get A Break From Ridiculously Insipid Child-Actors

Christmas entertainment is vicious time where practically everything on television is packed full of horrible child-actors. There are only a few insignificant seconds of terrible child-acting in Die Hard, as opposed to Love Actually, with entire sub-plots, musical numbers, and several minutes packed full of children dressed up as cute animals. Eww.

 

3. Die Hard Embraces Multiculturalism

In McTiernan's opus, characters with English as their second language went to a lot more effort to ensure they could directly communicate with people of other cultures (even if it happened to be down the barrel of a gun). In the Kurtis film, the same rely on shrugs, sheepish grins, and don't seem to care about blatant mistranslation and the significant cultural offence this may or may not cause those around them. I'd call that "naughty" not "nice", as opposed to Die Hard's foreigners who took the time and came prepared.

 

4. "The Quarterback Is Toast"

The only toast you ever get in Love Actually involves cheap, miserly-poured sparkling, often accompanied by depressing moaning or attempts at infidelity.

 

5. Die Hard Has Better Retro Value

While Love Actually may have Bill Nighy, it does not contain any actors from legendary 80's classics including The Breakfast Club, Ghostbusters and Magnum PI. It doesn’t even try. That's just not in the spirit of the season.

 

6. Love Actually Isn't Actually A Christmas Movie

The complete chronology of events in Die Hard take place during the one, long Christmas Eve. Love Actually is spread all over the calendar, some of the earlier scenes quite possibly taking place closer to Halloween than late December, the final airport montage obviously taking place the following Easter*

( * I can't back this last point up, though I swear there's someone holding a toy rabbit in one shot.)

 

7. Die Hard = Less-Questionable Casting

The producers of Die Hard managed to cast actors far more believable at playing authority figures and Americans. Also, the new associations between Hobbits and pornography invoked by Love Actually doesn't sit right with me at all - Christmas gets enough midget action as it is.

8. More Explosions

There are no explosions in Love Actually. Not one. There isn't even a helicopter crash.
Seriously. It's like they've completely forgotten the true meaning of Christmas.

 

 

9. Stronger Female Role-Models

Love Actually is brimming with old-school 1950s female stereotypes, whereas 100% of Die Hard’s major female characters represent a much more modern approach to gender roles (eg. Holly and her high-powered executive position within Nakatomi, versus Natalie who doesn't fight back at all after being sexually harassed and unfairly dismissed from her job).

Okay, okay... to be fair, while there is only one major female character in Die Hard, she still kicks more ass than half the Love Actually women. Further, I'll put $50 on the table right now that says Bonnie Bedelia would beat Keira Knightly in a straight-up fist-fight. Think about it.

 

10. Die Hard Has A Better Ending

In its closing minutes, Love Actually (disrespectfully) brandishes a Denise Richards cameo, a terrible non-Chrismas Beach Boys song and truly horrendous and tacky heart-shaped graphic montage. A travesty, as opposed to Die Hard - a classy 'Let It Snow' Christmas play-off as the camera pulls out over the mist, mere seconds after this shot :

 

In Conclusion...

I think that's all settled then, don't you?

###


Tipping Point

Ok, so I'm back. Last post was July, but who's counting?

Things got a little crunchy on Thor : The Dark World, but I went with it, without complaint, knowing there was a substantial writing break coming once it wrapped. Normally I'd be whining like a baby about a bunch of lost weekends and strings of back-to-back 18-hour days, but not this time. The work was genuinely satisfying - a really fun show to have been on for all sorts of reasons, and I hope it shows.

But, all this talk of Thor is SO last month. October is all about "The Brave". For the patient few who have followed it's meandering journey from afar these many long months, the wait is nearly over. I'm predicting several more weeks before I can release a beta draft to a few testers, but release it I will. Enough is enough. While it's far from a perfect manuscript, it's starting to read like 'a book', one which is about ready to have a shot at standing on it's own two legs, just see what sort of feedback it generates in the wild.

I am still looking for a few more literary randoms out there to donate some reading/commenting time to the cause, in particular "near-total strangers" who don't know enough about me or my history to be able to pick the book up stone cold. (No offence to the rest of you - you're either on the readers-list already or not, based on some really boring demographic criteria. Hell, I've got to save some of you to actually buy the thing...). By all means hit me up if you read a lot of books, won't be upset by the swears and typos, and have your interest piqued when I say : "one man's year-long journey back to relationship enlightenment, set in a quirky, globe-trotting world of sex, drugs and men in kilts". (Hey, so I haven't locked down my final pitch yet. So shoot me.)

For the rest of you, watch this space. I've got some big things in the works - not just the book - and a whole lot of non-vfx-filled time to do it. 

Until then, here's some music to get you into the appropriate frame of mind: Training Montage! :)

 


10 Epic On-Screen Music Moments

Someone recently asked me if I could name my favourite musical moments in film - a classic all-time top ten. Tough call. There are so many to choose from, and even if we tried to narrow things down by saying "only films which aren't musicals", we'd still be left with a fairly solid list to start culling down.

For now, I'm not going to bother with the 'all-time' tag. Too tough. Plus, this is the Internet, and even though by next week my list will have completely changed, I'll still be tried and executed by the court of Google for crimes of bad taste I'm unknowingly committing today.

So my list for today, in no particular order:

1. Wayne's World : Bohemian Rhapsody

It's iconic, it's a cliché, but honestly, what is there not to like about it? The mark this one scene left on an entire generation still stains this killer Queen track to this day, none of us likely to ever hear the smashy guitar solo without feeling the urge to headbang. The film may have dated a bit now, but the epic opening is timeless. Even better in French...

2. Buffy - They Got The Mustard Out

There's far too much back-story to explain here (like, six seasons plus six episodes preceding) but in short: a demon has come to town and is sucking everyone's lifeforce by making the townspeople involuntarily sing and dance 'til they burn up in a ball of all-singing all-dancing flame. I know this isn't a "movie" by any stretch, but in the stand-out episode of this classic Whedon series, this small interlude still makes me laugh. Quintessential 'if life was a musical' moment if ever there was one.

3. Magnolia - It's Not Going To Stop

A couple of hours into this fine, multi-threaded film by Paul Thomas Anderson, at arguably the bottom of the rollercoaster for each character (of which there are many, their pitfalls very dark and deep), they suddenly break into song. I found it an odd, uncomfortable moment when I first saw the film, but have come to love the craziness of it. That, and I'm totally down with Aimee Mann as a rule. Great movie. Tom Cruise was robbed of an Oscar that year (the only thing I'll still defend him for).

4. High Fidelity - Let's Get It On

Say what you will about Jack Black and his music career nowadays, but when High Fidelity came out and he got up and belted out this classic Marvin Gaye track, not many in the audience knew he could even hold a note. The setup throughout the film is perfect - the boisterous all-talk music-snob, getting up at the make-or-break moment for John Cusack's character, then nailing the shit out of the song to everybody's complete surprise. We all know Black can belt, but every time I watch this bit I still buzz.

5. South Park Movie - Uncle Fucker

You have to remember that when this film came out, nobody had *ever* heard the South Park kids swear. After sitting through a fairly lame, tame opening scene or two (wondering why the hell I'd paid to see it on the big screen)  we were all suckerpunched by this sweet puppy of a song. I remember laughing so hard a little bit of wee came out.  What still gets me to this day is how superbly overdone and polished everything else (apart from the lyrics) is about the track - a fantastic arrangement littered with nods to many famous musicals, perfectly executed. And farts.

6. Beetlejuice - Day-O

I was torn between this song and the one from the closing scene (which I think I honestly prefer), but I think this has to win out on style points, memorability and the fact Tim Burton managed to combine both demonic possession and Harry Belafonte in the same scene. Another song I cannot hear in any other context without thinking of plates of shrimp grabbing people by the face and beating them up.  

7. Donnie Darko - Head Over Heels

I love a good "geeks and jocks" scene in any high school movie, but because Donnie Darko isn't your average teen flick, its G&J gets an equally special treatment. The kick-ass Tears For Fears track introduces the viewers to practically every character in the film (we haven't met yet) in this glorious steadicam sequence, wordlessly telling us everything we need to know about them all. Brilliant. (UPDATE - had to change this clip over to someone's remix of the music video and Donnie Darko clip because of a copyright notice from FOX - alas, you'll have to watch the movie to see this scene in full!)

8. Reservoir Dogs - Stuck In The Middle

Who doesn't like a spot of easy-listening while they're maiming tied-up policemen? Not much to say about this that hasn't been said elsewhere before, except that it's another song forever linked to this gruesome visual...

9. The Big Lebowski - Just Dropped In

Fine, okay, so I'm getting quite 90s heavy on this list in general, but hey, you promised you wouldn't judge!  Just shut up and watch the clip. It's Kenny Rogers for crying out loud - show some respect! This movie moment is so full of awesome I don't even know where to start.

10. Muppet Movie - The Rainbow Connection

Awww... Kermit sitting on a log all by his lonesome, strumming on a banjo, singing that song. If that's not a perfect way to round out this list, I don't know what is...

 


If They Made A Movie About Your Life, Who Would Play You?

There have several questions posed during the old Bordeaux-fueled late-nights the last couple of years for which I'm certain there will never be a complete answer. Things like "what would you do if George Clooney came up to you in a bar and asked you to cover for him in a massive lie, playing wing-man and alibi with him for the evening while he plays around with someone he shouldn't?" for one. Or: "how much money would it take for you to go up to that old homeless guy across the road and lick (in one continuous lick) from the tip of his fungus-infested toes to the flaky-tassled locks of his mud-encrusted head via any route of your own choosing?" You know, that ol' chestnut?

A new player has surfaced in recent months, which, sadly, seems to have a common answer, gaining traction by the sheer numbers of people who agree upon one suggested answer where the subject pertains to me. I'm talking about the celebrity movie deal. Yes, the title of this post : "If they made a movie about your life, who would play you?". It's a big question, one with plenty of answers, and one with hopefully plenty of Clooney-related ones at that.

Answering the question for oneself is tough. Try it. See? Impossible to try and sum your whole sense of self up in the form of someone you sorta know the look of, but who isn't you. However, it seems throwing the question out to your friends and loved ones is fraught with much more potential danger as your own egotistic projections or lack thereof. Sure, your friends/family love you and all that, but how often do they tell you what they really think? Sometimes, but mostly only the good stuff, the rest either painted with white lies or spewing out at the wrong moments, like nastily during a spat. No, the real truth of how you appear to the outside world? It's in that question.

So, the answer to "who plays Demis"? Jason Segel apparently. And, if the growing consensus is to be trusted, at that I'm torn.  

Don't get me wrong. I love that guy. He's a funny, talented actor (albeit who I'm still waiting for to step out of his comfort zone and take on something with a little more meat than he's historically chosen) with great comic timing and a bright future. I like that he's tall. I like that he was in The Muppets and that he's most always playing The Nice Guy. Hell, I even like that he seems to get his junk out in every second film and waggle it around without shame (not entirely something I can relate to on a personal level, but the brother certainly deserves some kudos for it). He's sometimes carried a few more pounds than I'd be aiming for myself physically, but if his general 'goofy big friendly  every-guy' presence is something people identify in me too, that's not so bad. Hell, they could have said something terrible, geeky and unexpected. Like "Dwight from The Office", or "the guy who plays Sheldon from Big Bang Theory", or "a young, beardless Hagrid".  No complaints there.

But I don't know... what was I expecting? Someone a little more of a leading man or a perhaps even a master villain? I wouldn't be so bold to start with the hint-coughing, pushing magazines toward people with Brad or Leo's face emblazoned on it, but I guess somebody a little less traditionally aligned with "friend zone" roles would've been nice. Or hell, if - okay - I'm not down for "pretty boy" casting, at least steely guys like like Walken or De Niro.

On the other hand, years ago someone said I reminded them of Elvis. Just in the eyes, not in the mannerisms or dreaminess. This was a terrible suggestion, and to this day I still don't see it. Same goes for the one involving Travolta (when we were both in our tubby-with-huge-sideburns phase) and, worst of all, one person's suggestion back in the day that I shared certain dancing/eating traits with Homer Simpson. 

Segel ain't so bad in comparison. He seems like a nice enough guy, and without knowing much about how he gets into a role, I'd be quite happy for him to come hang out for a couple of months to nail the character - the full method experience. I'd be flattered and honoured if he did.

It's just an odd thing to not have an answer to the question of how you come across to people outside your own head - not even a proper guess - then have people answer it so decisively for you in a way you wouldn't expect. 

If you happen to find a shortcut to the whole truth, perhaps it's best left alone. Most definitely if that truth happens to suggest you're in any way guilty of excessive junk-waggling...

So, go on... who would play you?