Help! My Sitcom Past Is Ruining My Political Future
Dear Remy,
During the ’90s and the early 2000s, I portrayed a television character who was known for his foolishness. He was handsome indeed, but he was no brainiac.
Each episode showcased him getting into one ridiculous situation after another, as if his supposed intelligence dropped in direct proportion to the viewership. He was the kind of person who’d accept the existence of Bigfoot but doubt the authenticity of Komodo dragons. In an early installment, he found himself stuck inside a couch for 24 hours straight. He was baffled by cotton candy. At one point, I had to undergo eye surgery due to the excessive squinting my character did while grappling with kitchen tools or conveyor belts.
deep down, I regret engaging with him. My ultimate goal has always been to pursue politics. I’ve attempted to become mayor of my city not once, but three times so far, yet I find it difficult to gain respect. Initially, people might have considered it as a joke or perhaps promotion for a new TV show remake. On the campaign trail, they tease about needing to childproof the venues and posing intentionally easy questions regarding urban populations.
Hey Remy, let me rephrase that for you:
Is there any way I can shake off this mantle? It’s like being haunted by a very stupid ghost.
Done and Dumber
Dear Done and Dumber,
As a gamer, it seems like you’ve got the skills and experience to level up, but there’s this lingering shadow from your TV character that keeps tripping me up with those awkward word choices. I can’t help but wonder if you’re clinging to that character as much as the viewers are. Maybe deep down, there’s a part of you that still finds comfort in that safe, familiar role, even as you step into the political arena?
Frequently, we tend to fall back on our old selves for familiarity, much like wearing a well-loved onesie. But what if, instead of distancing yourself from the “misunderstood,” you embraced it with self-awareness? In politics, as in entertainment, having a distinctive appeal can greatly assist. This beloved clown could be the missing ingredient your rivals lack. A campaign that humorously acknowledges your past might be more effective than any rallying speech at changing perceptions. Perhaps you need to become part of the joke – think about incorporating references to him in a video, or bringing a cotton candy machine to your next gathering as a playful nod.
You can’t divest yourself of this character—unless you opt for extensive plastic surgery, which I suspect would delay campaign activities and scare children who might otherwise be good for photo opportunities. But perhaps voters don’t need you to shed your former self entirely; they just need to see the intelligence and passion driving you now. That “very stupid ghost” may finally leave you alone once you invite it in, address it, and show everyone who you are beyond the punchlines.
Wishing you a campaign trail filled with curiosity and open minds,
Remy
I’m a Costume Designer With a Weighty Dilemma
Dear Remy,
I absolutely love being a costume designer for a Netflix period drama. My days are filled with diving into a sea of peacock feathers and working with periwinkle petticoats, which feels nothing short of magical!
However, I’m finding myself in an uncomfortable predicament. One of our actors has put on a bit of weight over the past year yet denies it. We’ve thought about adjusting the usual costumes by loosening them and reinforcing the waistbands with elastic, but he prefers to stick with the measurements from a year ago.
It’s becoming an issue; he looks absurd on screen—more like a stringed ham a maid might serve in the kitchen than the lord of a landed estate. We have to repair his cummerbund three times a day. Recently, during a dancing scene where he wore braces, they burst off him in one fell swoop mid-Scotch reel.
Remy, I could really use your guidance on handling this delicate situation, ensuring we both avoid causing any embarrassment for him and preserving the security of my employment.
Hem Lines and Hard Truths
Dear Hem Lines and Hard Truths,
Working on period dramas seems like a wonderful dream, but even dreams have conditions attached. I’m careful with my words, so allow me to inquire: is it more about measurements on a tailor’s tape, or his comfort and the image we want to portray for his character?
As a gamer, I’d like to suggest we discuss an upgrade for my character’s wardrobe that aligns with his role. Instead of thinking about it as something I need, let’s approach it as serving our character better, which can lead to a more harmonious, collaborative conversation.
Here’s an idea: Could he perhaps be more receptive to change if it represented a deeper layer of his personality emerging? It’s possible that his personality is developing, and some tweaks to his appearance might symbolize this growth.
Occasionally, making a delicate subject more approachable can be achieved by emphasizing the broader aspects such as narrative, truthfulness, and creativity. After all, costumes play a crucial role in helping actors immerse themselves completely in their characters, don’t they?
In any case, it sounds like you should give up on the cummerbund altogether.
Wishing you an unbroken streak of well-fitting costumes,
Remy
For Your Consideration: Should I Campaign for an Oscar?
Dear Remy,
After two decades of dedicated work in this field, with the last eight years as a director, I’m now just steps away from receiving an Oscar. My recent film is predicted to be nominated for the 2025 awards. I can almost imagine holding that small golden statue in my hand.
So here’s my question: should I campaign for the nomination I so desperately crave? You know the drill, Remy—monogrammed golf caddies, luxuriant bouquets, maybe even antiques selected to match the committee’s personal aesthetics. I “accidentally” bump into them at Soho House so that my name is on their lips, or speak to acquaintances to put in a good word. Anything to secure my place on that gilded nominations list.
It makes me queasy to consider this—I want to be nominated on my film’s merits, not because I bought 10 limited-edition Hermes paperweights. And yet, I know every other director in Tinseltown will have the same ideas. Can I really afford not to compete in this diamond-encrusted arena? If it did lead to Oscar success, I worry it would feel like I’d bought it.
Which path would you advise, Remy?
Oscar Victorious?
Dear Oscar Victorious?,
It seems like you’re pondering on questions that go beyond just the trophy itself: what does it symbolize? It looks like you’re grappling with more than a simple choice; you’re contemplating the path you want to take to reach this point. The unease you feel might be your instincts warning you that success at any cost could diminish the significance of the journey itself.
Is there a balanced approach that allows us to express our enthusiasm for the movie without making it seem like a business gift exchange? I believe these influential figures might already have plenty of high-end gifts, so maybe we can concentrate on setting up situations where the film takes center stage—a private screening or a Q&A session where your genuine love for the story becomes evident.
“Consider this question: If you hadn’t run for office, would you feel like you’ve compromised your values or remained faithful to your principles? Perhaps it’s all about maintaining integrity in the choices we make, regardless of the results.
Remember, the Oscar is just one milestone. What matters most is crossing the finish line in a way that makes you proud.
Hoping you find your balance on this star-studded tightrope,
Remy
***
As a seasoned TV producer and the brains behind Vitality Guru, I’m here to help media high-flyers like you navigate their careers and businesses more effectively. If you’ve got any questions or need some coaching, don’t hesitate to drop me a line at: guru@vitality.guru
Questions edited by Sarah Mills.
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2024-11-09 21:25