I’m a Bollywood Bond. Why Do They Keep Putting Me in Sweater Vests?
Dear Remy,
As a working actor of Indian descent, I often find myself grappling with a recurring challenge, much like an unwanted movie sequel. Frequently, I’m offered roles that are characterized as the “seductive, robust, roguish charmer,” the type who exudes a powerful presence and leaves everyone spellbound. Of course, it’s gratifying to be considered for such roles; who wouldn’t aspire to play Bollywood’s James Bond or the Prince of Deceit?
However, here’s the unexpected part: when I arrive on set, the atmosphere changes. All of a sudden, the scriptwriter or producer feels compelled to alter my character. They suggest adding thick-rimmed glasses or a sweater vest to my appearance. They ask me to play it cooler, more “scholarly,” or even “endearingly awkward.” One moment I’m meant to be a seductive love interest, and the next, I’m doling out financial advice in an awkwardly affected accent.
On numerous occasions, I’ve found myself in situations where my role didn’t align with the script. For instance, in one production, I was initially cast as a charming doctor, reminiscent of a blend between ER and Grey’s Anatomy, but when filming began, I ended up playing an inept general practitioner who struggled to locate a patient’s pulse. In another project, my character was intended to be a smooth-talking con artist, but during production, they changed me into a nervous accountant who couldn’t even trick his way out of a simple envelope.
I find myself growing increasingly conscious that my confidence may be perceived as intimidating, yet I’m unsure of the reason. Should I continue to play along and collect the rewards, or is it appropriate now to challenge the status quo and demand the part I was originally intended for? Remy, your insight would be greatly appreciated in this matter.
Sincerely, The Maharaja of Mixed Signals
Dear Maharaja of Mixed Signals,
Initially, allow me to express my amusement at your knack for seamlessly transitioning from a suave Bollywood Bond character to an endearingly clumsy general practitioner. Your versatility is undeniable, and your wit is so captivating that it would win over anyone, regardless of whether they’re wearing glasses or not!
Isn’t it puzzling, isn’t it, that despite being cast as the leading man, you’re often required to play the role of a tax accountant on set? It seems like you’ve been invited as the main course to a dinner party but ended up serving as an appetizer instead. It’s not quite the role they advertised!
Could it be that these creators are attempting to categorize you in a way they find familiar? Maybe they perceive your charm as overpowering or uncontrollable – like it could trigger an unexpected wave of adoration among the audience. So, they might be trying to make you seem more approachable by giving you glasses, believing this would soften your image.
However, here’s the question: Should you continue or not? It seems like you’re making these unexpected situations work in your favor, creating performances that shine, and your payments are still coming through. But if these constant surprises are becoming tiresome (and honestly, who wouldn’t feel that way?), perhaps it’s worth having a chat. Not an argument, but more of a curious investigation.
Wondering how it might feel to inquire from the next creator about their motivation behind this alteration? What’s their vision, and where do they see your character fitting within it? Could you diplomatically suggest that this wasn’t the vibe they initially cast you for, but you are more than capable of delivering the captivating portrayal they originally imagined? They may not fully understand the impact of their decisions until someone, like you, brings it to their attention.
And keep in mind, just because they dress you in a cardigan, it doesn’t diminish your style. After all, you’re the Master of Ambiguous Gestures – no one else can navigate such delicate situations quite like you.
Keep charming,
Remy
Am I a Prop Master—Or a Plagiarist?
Dear Remy,
I should start by saying: I’m not proud of myself.
I serve as a prop master, though I must admit it wasn’t necessarily my first choice. You see, my family has a long-standing tradition in this field; my father and his father before him were also involved. So, it seems like destiny led me to this profession.
As a fellow enthusiast, I too possess a treasure trove housed in Atwater Village, where I offer exclusive glimpses into my personal collection via guided tours. This endeavor serves as an additional source of income amidst the escalating cost-of-living predicament we both find ourselves grappling with.
Visitors often drop by for an unusual yet delightful tourist attraction, where they express admiration for the assortment of items I’ve carefully crafted over time—it’s filled with vibrant feather boas, vintage books bound in leather, and antique medical accessories (feel free to contact me if you require a Victorian-style intravenous stand).
Now things become quite intriguing. The main attraction for guests here is an artifact from a well-known movie series I was involved with. To avoid disclosing my own identity, I’ll keep the details vague, but let me put it this way: it’s a spacecraft used for traveling. Regrettably, the original piece got misplaced on set. The one I currently have is… a replica I crafted myself.
It seemed like nobody would notice, but a recent guest mentioned that they suspect they spotted the item in a storage area at a studio lot more recently. I tried to dismiss it as their error, but I’ve been unable to sleep since then. What if they verify this and discover that I’ve been selling fake tickets?
Instead of pondering whether I should admit my mistakes now or hold off and cross my fingers, or consider fleeing to Panama for a fresh start despite the high humidity, perhaps I can weigh the pros and cons of each option more practically?
Yours, Prop Tart
Dear Prop Tart,
Initially, I’d like to point out that many of us have added a touch of exaggeration to our professional experiences – given that Hollywood thrives on illusion. However, your issue isn’t about the weather conditions in Panama being harsh due to humidity; there’s something else troubling you.
The question is: how long do you want to lose sleep over this? The guilt—and the potential discovery—will hang over your head like a boom mic just out of frame. Honesty might seem terrifying right now, but it’s likely your best course of action.
You could even spin this situation into something clever. How about reframing it as a test of your guests’ “prop knowledge”? The real fans would catch on, and those who don’t are just happy to see the shiny object. “Guess which one’s real” could become part of the allure! Think of it as the Willy Wonka golden ticket of prop tours.
Fundamentally, it’s about honesty. Can you rest easier at night if you are truthful? Perhaps you don’t have to make a dramatic revelation, but you could subtly change the story by saying something like, “This is a reenactment of the original.” In this way, you can maintain some level of transparency while still adding a touch of drama.
Keep calm as much as possible. But if you find yourself getting upset, there are at least ten attractive fans for you to select from. You’re doing great.
Remy
Help! My Old Mentor Is Driving Me Mad!
Dear Remy,
Let me tell you about Steve (not his real name).
For the past thirty years, Steve has served as my mentor – this relationship started when he delivered a guest lecture during my Directing course at UCLA. At that time, I admired him immensely; he had an impressive collection of awards for his feature films, was highly sought-after, and incidentally, always carried a cigar cutter attached to his keychain, which I found quite stylish.
Fast forward to 2024, and it’s hard not to notice the incredible success I’ve achieved. Bragging isn’t really my style, but let me share with you a highlight of my journey: I’ve graced the pages of The Hollywood Reporter on more than one occasion!
In a different perspective, Steve appears to have reached his prime during the ’90s, producing the type of overly sentimental romantic comedies which no longer resonate with today’s audience. The problem is, it hasn’t occurred to him that I no longer require his guidance. I’ve outgrown him.
He continues to contact me via landline, offering what he terms as “Words of Wisdom,” sends extensive emails detailing his vision for a business I’ve been managing, and labels me as his “protege” in industry gatherings. Overall, it can be a bit awkward—particularly when he uses phrases like “slay” and “brat summer” to appear trendy among younger crowds.
Remy—I think it’s time to let go of my mentor. How do I let him down gently?
Mentee No More
Dear Mentee No More,
Initially, I’d like to extend my congratulations on your achievement – it appears you’ve put in a lot of effort to reach this career milestone. However, it seems Steve is stuck in a time loop, still embracing the spirit of the late ’90s. To be fair, he needs more than just an update in his choice of words; I believe a break, perhaps a “Brat Summer,” might help him unwind and modernize a bit. Nonetheless, it’s evident that his intentions are genuine.
How can we transition this relationship gracefully instead of ending it abruptly? Perhaps we could shift the dynamic from a regular mentor-mentee interaction to something less formal yet still meaningful. Instead of frequent guidance, maybe it could become more about casual catch-ups filled with shared memories. You might express to him, “Steve, I’ve truly valued your insights throughout the years, but I find myself at a different stage now. I’m concentrating on fresh opportunities and charting my own path.” By doing so, we acknowledge his past contributions without making him feel obsolete.
Burning bridges should always be a last resort—because, let’s be honest: you never know when Steve’s skillset might be of use once more. Who’s to say 2025 won’t bring a renewed appetite for plots involving cheerleaders falling for geeks, long-lost identical twins, or ‘glow-ups’ to win the heart of the football captain?
…and maybe, just maybe, there’s some insight hidden within those phrases, though it might be obscured by numerous outdated references to popular culture.
So perhaps keep the landline, but let the “protégée” title fade out with Steve’s cigar cutter.
Remy
***
Remy Blumenfeld, an accomplished TV producer with extensive experience, runs Vitality Guru – a service that provides professional guidance for top-tier individuals in the media industry on their businesses and careers. Should you have any questions or queries, please direct them to: guru@vitality.guru.
Questions edited by Sarah Mills.
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2024-09-14 20:26