Producer-director Mike Elliott -- he of the Carnosaur death scene that proved so deathless that it got re-used (without his knowledge) in Roger Corman’s Raptor – is kindly trying to help me drive more traffic to “Beverly in Movieland. “The other day, after I’d griped that fans of Blue Crush 2 are no longer clamoring to read my post about Mike’s wet-dream of a surfing film, he blackberried me some cryptic advice: “Put this link on your site and get a shitload of hits as it goes viral.” Of course he included the link, which I opened with trepidation. The last time Mike sent me something, it was about the bad-ass exploits of a honey badger. Educational, yes, in the way of tooth-and-claw nature documentaries . . . but not destined to be favorite viewing in my house.
Anyway, “Shit People Say in L.A.” turns out to be an ingratiating, if somewhat predictable, discourse by two wannabe actresses on all the usual L.A. topics: traffic, permit parking, improv classes, beach weather in January, sightings around town of actors with minor roles on major series. The fact that we’ve heard it all before doesn’t distract (well, not entirely) from the deadpan delivery and the accuracy of the details: Intelligentsia coffee, In-N-Out Burgers served “animal-style,” Coachella, commuter shortcuts through Cahuenga Pass.
What intrigues me is the way YouTube has taken hold as a way for all of us to become movie stars. I’m told that from the earliest days of Hollywood moviemaking, everyone wanted to get into the act. Just after World War I, Carl Laemmle turned fans’ curiosity to his advantage by letting them tour his Universal City backlot for 25 cents a head. Afterward, they got to sit on bleachers and watch movies being made. But it wasn’t long before merely watching wasn’t enough. Average folks were just dying to be on camera.
The advent of television gave a lot of us a chance to be seen over the airwaves, if only briefly. You could try to become a guest on a quiz show, tell your sob-story on Queen for a Day, or at least applaud wildly as part of a studio audience. For kids, there was the possibility of joining Howdy Doody’s peanut gallery, or even being chosen for the Mickey Mouse Club’s weekly Talent Round-Up. Back then, of course, we also had respect for stars. You might be picked for the Talent Round-Up, but that didn’t mean you were the next Annette.
In today’s reality-TV world, though, the stars have largely been replaced by just plain folks (the plainer the better). Because it’s widely understood that bad behavior is a valued commodity, everyone’s busy acting up for the cameras. (Remember that Colorado couple who created an uproar when they claimed their six-year-old son had floated off in a helium balloon? It was a hoax, designed to get the family its own reality show. All that free publicity for “balloon boy” was in vain, though: no production companies came calling, and sponsors weren’t buying.)
Then there’s YouTube, which offers the opportunity to be not only star but producer, director, and distributor. If you have a cat who plays the piano, a cute kid who sings off-key, or a bride who falls into the swimming pool on her wedding day, you too can go viral. If the shit YOU say is entertaining enough, you stand a good chance of being the next big thing. All right, world -- I’m ready for my closeup.
