gregdunham.com Blog

I have not written here in awhile. For once in my lengthening life, I have had nothing to say. However, as I am working on a screenplay about the War of 1812 (truly a most ignored conflict these days), I thought I would point out there are within the next week or so, three anniversaries upcoming involving two of the most noted participants in that long ago struggle. Today (October 5th) is the 196th anniversary of the Battle of the Thames in 1813 (sometimes known as the Battle of Moraviantown). This was a decisive American victory near modern day Chatham, Ontario. It is also the battle where the legendary Shawnee war chief Tecumseh was killed. Tomorrow (October 6th) is the 240th anniversary of the birth of Major General Sir Isaac Brock on the Channel island of Guernsey. He was born the same year as both Napoleon Bonaparte and Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington (1769). The third anniversary is next Tuesday (October 13th), one hundred and ninety-seven years since the Battle of Queenston Heights in 1812. This so-called “brilliant affair” was a decisive British-Canadian victory where Brock died leading a “forlorn hope” charge uphill against the Americans. So, now that you know these things, do celebrate accordingly

Oh, sweet winged Mercury, god of messengers, please let the weather be dry and warm -but not hot. Let there be no wind except at my back. Make my legs strong and my bike run without fault. Let every package be small and light, at top rates and addressed properly. Let every elevator be waiting and every traffic light green. Let every route be straight without any backtracking or hills. Let me encounter free food and unlocked bathroom doors Let every receptionist be gorgeous and friendly. Grant me these things and I will try not to yell, to curse, to kick or take my bike lock to someone’s car. And one further thing, oh great Mercury, a day without cabbies would be nice.

· – (On being this actor in this town at this time)

This last week has been one of those that was. And testament to how things can change. First, I booked a small role in an episode of Warehouse 13, a new TV sci-fi series. Then, one day after another, three people I have previously worked with, got hold of me for other work. One, a music video, I could not do. It is a non-union shoot, but that was moot as I was unavailable anyway. For I am shooting Warehouse 13 that day. The other two, a play and a short film, have not yet been confirmed and maybe nothing will come of either of them. But, gosh darn, it sure does feel good to be wanted. And I guess it’s true: it’s who you know.

I must have been doing something right of late to be thus considered. The thing is, if I knew what it was, I’d keep doing it. Still, it never ceases to amaze me that a tentative job offer can send one’s spirits rocketing in to Sherpa territory. As The Dresser (in Ronald Harwood’s play of .the same name) says: “What saved him was an offer of work.” So, no complaints here. Now all I gotta do is just see how it all unfolds.
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· – (On being this actor in this town at this time)

Yesterday I shot a webisode for the Canadian Film Centre. The six part series is called My Pal, Satan (written by Dennis Heaton and directed by Vivieno Caldinelli). This is seriously funny stuff. The scene I worked on was very complicated, including several characters and lots of action. Therefore plenty of time and resources went in to something that will be, ultimately, a couple of minutes of screen time. Yet everyone involved went above and beyond in our attempts to get it right.

I feel blessed that so many of the projects I’ve been part of in recent years have been happy and dedicated work places. There are enough horror stories out there to sink through even this thick skull that I am very fortunate indeed. I have always been an advocate of team first in theatre and film. This is something I credit to those bygone days of playing hockey. I was certainly not the most gifted player, but I recognized that by hard, relentless play, I filled a valuable position on the team. As an actor, I channel that attitude both to the project as a whole and to its many components. I attempt to put the same energy and focus, whether it’s my time to shine or to support someone else’s moment, in every scene, every shot. And everyone on My Pal, Satan approached things the same way, which made it a most pleasurable and rewarding experience. Therefore, I heartily applaud everyone involved.

Otherwise, the film biz in this city at this time seems to be undergoing a revitalization. As a bike courier, I am again seeing shoots all over Toronto. And I have delivered several packages recently to the new Filmport complex. And, these days, it is very much a happening place. I suspect the drop of the Canadian dollar is in part responsible for this upswing. But I have also heard that New York state has filled its film tax credit quotas, which, no doubt, would result in more projects on our door step. Because Toronto loves nothing better than substituting for NYC. Whatever the reasons, for complete selfishness, I hope the business keeps improving.

To fill my idle moments these days, I am continuing my researches in to the War of 1812. My goal here is to develop a screenplay (working title In Defense of the Colony) based on that conflict, which, though largely ignored today, had such a critical impact on the very existence of Canada. So, if anyone has an extra, say, twenty million lying around, they should let me know. Cheers.

Gracie, my mom, passed away yesterday. She had just finished lunch and was having tea with her friend from across the hall when she reached for her heart and was gone. I am glad to know that she did not suffer and that someone was with her at the end.

This might be the first time Gracie’s name is mentioned on the internet, for she had no interest in such newfangled things. It could be argued she had little use for anything invented after about 1947. But for all that, Gracie was both a wonderful mom and person. She loved children and made them her life’s work. She had six kids of her own and adopted a seventh. She ran a day care out of her home for years. And for even more years she took in foster children, over a hundred in all. I remember the difficulty she had in handing over a child who had been in her care from the age of three days and then over a year later was being adopted. Somehow she found the strength to go against her instinct to hold on to that child and she handed the toddler over. The latter howled while my mother’s heart broke. But all of it -all of it- was done for the sake of what was best for that child. She remembered each and every one of those babies and tried as best as she was able to follow their lives from a distance.

I also remember how sad she was when the authorities informed her and my dad they had become too old to take in foster children. However, they were not too old to travel and they now had the freedom to do it. They spent many happy winters in the southern States together.

Gracie was predeceased by Ed, my father, in 2000. They were married almost sixty years. As my brother Brad says, they are now together once again and for always. That is a very nice thought for they were wonderfully in love.

Goodnight dear Ma, I will miss you mightily.

Emma Grace (Vokes) Dunham 1919-2009

· – (On being this actor in this town at this time)

Well in to another year now and doom and gloom is predicted all around. Not much has changed for me, in that it is still a struggle to pay rent and I have no visible prospects in the acting field. But I do have hope because I know things in my world can change quickly.

Three years ago at this time, I was in the same position. Wondering again if there was an easier way to pay the bills than riding a bicycle in winter delivering packages that don’t pay enough. Then I auditioned for the role of Bone in a film called The Lookout. Usually, if I haven’t heard anything after a week, I assume I didn’t get it. I was surprised, therefore, when I got a call back audition for Bone about ten days later. Well, a week went by after that and I heard nothing, so… A second week went by…

It was a Friday morning about ten o’clock. I got a page from my dispatcher to call my agent, Yanick Landry. Yanick tells me it looks like I got the role of Bone, but -yes, of course, there is a but- but the word has to come down from Hollywood and they’re not even out of bed yet, so we’ll know about one o’clock… Yeah, I really felt like delivering packages then. Hard to contain the excitement, et cetera. I amused myself by remarking, I was the subject of a conversation in Hollywood… One o’clock comes with no word… two o’clock… three o’clock… Then Yanick tells me the director wants to meet with me. Well, I told Yanick I was up for that. And he says, okay, this is the way it goes: Pack as if you’re gone for two weeks. Tomorrow morning at eight you will be on a plane to Winnipeg. There you will be taken to meet with Scott Frank, the writer/director of The Lookout. If he likes you, you start work on Monday. If he doesn’t, you’ll be on the next plane back to Toronto. I told Yanick I was up for that. And that is the end of Yanick in this story.

I got on that plane, though it was all hastily arranged. And now I had a couple of hours to think about what I was going to do when I met Scott, the screenwriter of such gems as Out of Sight and Get Shorty. Panic, uber intimidation, a fear of screwing it up somehow all grasped at my focus for but an instant. They were all wiped out by these simple thoughts. This is all happening now, so just let it unfold. I don’t know if it was a lack of sleep, the altitude of the plane or just plain instinct but I then began to breathe deep and slow.

I arrived in Winnipeg in a blissful calm state. I felt confident and relaxed and ready to charm Scott as only Bone could. First, however, I had to find my chauffeur. This proved easy for the airport in the ‘Peg is not large and there at the bottom of the escalator in Arrivals was a man holding up a sign that read: Mr. Bunham. This proved highly amusing to me and I took it as a sign that I was about to have a great time just by letting it all unfold. On the way to see Scott, I explained to the chauffeur what I was about, that I needed him to wait for me and at the end, I would tell him airport or hotel. He replied he got paid by the hour and waiting was therefore no problem.

My meeting with Scott was intense and laid back at the same time. We had green tea and talked and talked. He is a person with whom I immediately felt at ease. After an hour and a half, Scott announced our time was up. But he did not go on to say whether he liked me or not -that is to say, whether or not I was to play Bone. Excuse me, I said, pulling on my coat, but it’s just that there’s a chauffeur waiting outside and I have to tell him whether he should take me to the airport or the hotel. Scott looked baffled and asked, what did they tell you? So, I explained it to him and he said, I just wanted to see if I could work with you. We start on Monday.

I went out and told the chauffeur to take me to the hotel. He folded his newspaper and said, that’s funny. He pointed across the street and said, there’s the hotel. Well, you’re getting paid by the hour, I said, so you might as well drive me. And I gave him my last six bucks as a tip. Yesterday I was a bike courier in Toronto and today here I am in Winnipeg in a fancy hotel, but I still got no money. Ah, but that’s a story for another telling. My point is that things can change around in a hurry in this crazy exciting business.

Now that was three years ago, it’s true, but this story is the inspiration for the hope I have today. Besides, three is a lucky number, right? Anyway, I can’t complain. I was fortunate enough recently to work on another film, an indie horror called Medium Raw, written and directed by Andrew Cymek. There are no dragged out casting stories here, but I did learn something profound amongst all the wonderful aspects of working on Medium Raw. It has long been my truth that I feel most alive when on stage in front of an audience. But with Medium Raw, I realised I feel most at home on a film set. There are probably many reasons for this, but mostly I just feel at my best on a film set, most relaxed and confident. And all of that, I like to attribute to a plane ride I once took to Winnipeg. This is all happening now, so just let it unfold.

· – (On being this actor in this town at this time)

Well, not much has changed -and everything has. Mr. Harper got in with a minority. The dollar went down and up, but mostly down. Actra voted to strike and is now voting to accept a new agreement covering commercials. I got a gig, shooting a movie called Medium Raw. Here in Toronto. Play a killer who doesn’t speak. It is ironic how often I play a silent character since I love the sound of my own voice. Almost as much as I love my own jokes. It does feel good, though, to be working again. And I’m not worried about being type cast, cuz I’d rather be type cast than not cast… Anyway, the big thing today is the American presidential election. If the world got to vote, Obama would be a shoo-in. But somehow McCain -and you gotta admire his perseverance- has stayed within vote riggin’ distance in most of the polls. Keeps it exciting down to the end, I guess. So, after it is all over, let’s just hope there is a big sigh of relief and we can all get back to doing whatever it is we need to do to survive and better our whole wide world.

He should be the most hated man in Canada. After all, he was born in Toronto, lives in Calgary and works in Ottawa -what’s there to like? Yet, the polls are basically unchanged, probably leading to the Pillsbury Minister’s once and future minority government. Around 35 per cent of polled voters are for him -which means 65 per cent aren’t. Argh…

On a personal note, because I do take this personally, there is something good that came out of Steve’s stupid remark about “elitist arts’ galas”. He ain’t getting laid for awhile, since his wife had to cancel out hosting one such event.

I have had it with secretive, mean-spirited, arrogant. self-righteous, bullying politicians. I’ve lived through the twin torments that were Brian Mulroney and Mike Harris. Steven Harper is their unholy love child. Not one of them, for all their braying about being fiscally responsible, has the ability to run a surplus. Anybody but Harper. I don’t know why we’re still having to provide proof the man has a secret agenda. Perhaps if we examine one of his political ad statements. “This is not the time to take risks.” This is presumably referring to the American banking crisis. Then why is Washington attempting to nationalize every bank in sight? Seems pretty risky to me. And it also seems, when American capitalism is eating itself, this is the perfect time to take a risk. For one thing, while they’re distracted, we can make ourselves a little less dependent on them. What are you trying to hide, Steve? Why, oh why, do you want to prop up a system that has obviously outlived its usefulness? It’s not going to get any better by doing nothing. So, Steve,when is the best time to take a risk? When gas is five dollars a litre? Oh, yeah, you are an elected member from the oil patch.

The economy is not separate from the enviroment. And it is time to turn the economy green. I am not advocating any political platform or party. But every other major political party gets it and Harper’s gang does not. Let’s take global leadership in turning the economy green. We’ve got the resources, the technology and the expertise. Let’s get a jump on the rest of the world and make ourselves rich by selling the product to them.

So vote. Hold your nose if you have to. At least by voting, you have the right to complain. And, I’m sure, there’ll be lots to complain about whoever wins. Let’s just not complain about more of the same. Anybody but Harper.

- (On being this actor in this town at this time)

As promised in my last post, I am going to address what it is like being this actor in this town at this time. This is a huge topic, in that to do it any justice, I feel it important to throw in a lot of background. As Obtattatt has already become a series, I will concentrate on my personal journey here and merely touch on other issues that I will expand upon at a future date.

I have bounced around theatre since the 1970’s. I have been a member of the Canadian Actors’ Equity Association for almost twenty years. My introduction to paying work came in 1976. I was one of three university students who portrayed the first-ever Mr. Grape for the Niagara Grape and Wine Festival. I received a hundred dollar honourarium and all the wine I could drink. It was a great gig with no rules. As it had never been done before, we were breaking the ground of what this mascot could do. The following year, they imposed a set of rules. Though invited to participate, I politely declined.

My first paid job in the conventional theatre came in 1978, when I was hired as the sound man for the now defunct Press Theatre in St. Catharines, Ontario. I later became their lighting technician and worked there for two years. I even got paid for designing the lighting plot for one of their shows. In 1980, I got my first legitimate paying acting gig. A summer long cabaret run of comedy skits. That fall I went to Vancouver Island, the beginning of what I now think of as my young-man-grand-tour. I had some offers to go to Toronto at the time. If I had followed that route, I may very well have been vaulted upwards by the explosion of theatre in this city in those days. This is something I have bytimes thought I should regret, but I do not as I was on a different road. I was in search of life experience and though I did not comprehend this then, I was also in search of a home.

In 1982, I washed up on the shores of Prince Edward Island, where I would live for the next eleven years. There was not much in the way of competition for acting jobs when I first arrived. My friend, Bill McFadden, was the only serious male actor who lived full time on the Island. Yeah, I had found a home. In my early years on PEI, my theatre artist friends and I were always bitching that the Charlottetown Festival (holder of long term high paying acting contracts) hired few local actors. This all changed in 1987 when Walter Learning arrived as the new artistic director. I worked five seasons at the Festival, four or five months of the year. This is still laughable to me as the Charlottetown Festival was known primarily for its musical theatre and I am the first to admit I cannot sing. But there were also lots of straight acting jobs and I sang when they asked it of me. In the off-season, I had a hand in running two theatre companies, was an actor for hire, did role play training at the Atlantic Police Academy and got occasional grants and commissions as a freelance playwright. There was one memorable week that highlighted this patchwork of employment. Monday I recorded a radio play for CBC. Tuesday I disrobed for life drawing classes. Wednesday I yelled at, lied to and generally belittled police cadets. Thursday to Saturday, I performed my own one person play, A Man Looking Out A Window. So, here I was, the proverbial big fish. And in 1992, I guess the time was finally right for my road to head to Toronto.

Having performed every possible task in theatre, I felt my versatility was my strong suit. When I arrived in the Big Smoke, I applied for any and every theatre job going. Many times I was told I was over-qualified for the position. Just as often, I was told to find success in Toronto, I would have to specialize. Be an actor or a playwright or- You cannot be an actor and a playwright. Thank the gods this particular discrimination seems to have gone away. Especially as it never made any sense to me. Anyway, upon my arrival, what I viewed as my strength, the locals saw as a weakness. So I would have to do it another way. I fully accepted that I would be required to take on some unpaid acting work in order to get my name out there. I performed in three plays for no money my first six months in Toronto. Though I received a lot of personal positive feedback, no one of any clout took notice. Bills still needed paying however and as I did not have the network I had established in PEI, I ended up taking on the dreaded “real” work. I now had less time, energy or focus for performing unpaid work.

I also possessed an irrational dislike of the whole agent system. I had nothing against agents, I simply disliked the parasitic barrier set up between the employers and the employable. I understood the value of someone taking care of the uninteresting and necessary details on my behalf, but I’m a stubborn so-and-so and thus refused to play the game. With no agent looking out for me and having little free time due to the dreaded “real” work, I drifted away from theatre. I did not appear on stage for eight years, though during that time I did stage manage two shows and acted in three student films.

In 2004, out of a desire to bring about a change in a personally unhappy time, I auditioned for a Fringe play. Turns out I was cast as Charles Bukowski in The Blood of a Coward. This was a very big hit of the Festival and people treated me as if I was an overnight sensation. Though this last brought about great sensations of pleasure, it was also baffling as I was just doing that which I had done for years. Ah, the bitch goddess, as someone once said. Anyway, my road now led to the door of my wonderful agency, Newton Landry. They offered to represent me, even after I expressed my dislike for the system. But I was thrilled to be sought out and told them if they made it easy for me then the answer was yes. Done and done. Since then, they have gotten me a couple of stage successes in Halifax and Port Hope. Which brings me to my current situation. Like so many others I know, I still cannot get paid acting work in this town.

First off, more government cutbacks to the arts is a constant problem and one that I will address soon. For now, let’s just say, less money results in less employment availability across the board. Beyond that, Toronto is a great theatre town. At any one time, there are scores of productions going on. In the case of an actor looking for work, I place these productions in to three categories. The top category belongs to the long term big bucks contracts. The Mirvishes are in this category and so too, by their proximity, are the Shaw and Stratford Festivals. The second category is mostly comprised of those theatres that were born during the aforementioned explosion of the seventies. Both of these categories revolve around the old phrase, it’s who you know. Directors -myself included- are going to hire friends and people they feel confident can do the job. As I first complained and then benefited from this system in Charlottetown, I am not going to complain about it now. I recognize it as just being the way of things. So, ultimately it comes down to getting one’s foot in the door. Unfortunately, I am a terrible travelling salesman (and cannot even tell any of those old jokes right). Being big on having a plan, however, keeps me going. I am hanging around, waiting for someone to hold open the door for me.

Now I come to the sprawling third category of theatre in this town at this time. And it is this place where I am most often found. For lack of any other term, I call this free theatre. Although these gigs sometimes do pay, it is never enough and seldom guaranteed. Fortunately, Actors’ Equity listened to its members a few years ago and it is now possible to get permission to perform in free theatre. Because as my friend Cayle Chernin (check out her website www.cayle.ca) says, it’s all about the work. I take this to mean the doing of it. Getting paid is wonderful, of course, but ultimately an actor wants to act. It’s a calling, it’s an addiction, it’s who we are. Although I cannot speak for others, I love equally the differing processes of rehearsal and performance. And I feel doubly fortunate that I am blessed with my own particular talent and that I get to bring it out to play sometimes. And, you know, on your way out, if you would remember to prop open the door, I mean I might be in the bathroom or something….

* – (On being this actor in this town at this time)

Hello there. Welcome to my first official blog posting.

Enough pleasantries, time to be blunt. Being this actor in this town at this time, well – it sucks actually. I have not had paid acting work in two years. I lost money producing my own play just to give me the opportunity to be on stage. This, so you know, is not whining. These are facts. And the following are my personal observations on why they exist.

Over the past few years, I have worked very hard at developing a positive attitude. Whereas before, I raged in the darkness, I now see ways out of dead ends and take decisions to seek out the sunlight. The minutiae of my personal journey are not important to this piece. I am just letting you know I have a plan.

But first, let me mark my observations on why it sucks being this actor in this town at this time. I will address this premise regarding theatre on another day. For now, I’m going to concentrate on film (by which I mean and/or television). And, just in case there is any doubt, the town of “this town” is Toronto, Ontario. Toronto once held the title of Hollywood North. Apparently this title is not unlike one bestowed in boxing. You only hold it so long as you defend it. The title transferred to Vancouver several years ago. Perhaps the title is now vacant as I understand Vancouver, too, has lost it.

When I first became a bike courier back in ’99, I used to curse film shoots because they took up so much of the road. And they were everywhere, sometimes two different ones a block apart. Now, I count myself fortunate if I see one a week. Obviously, there is less filming going on than there was in days of yore.

There are many factors for this but the primary one is we are no longer a Hollywood branch plant. Love it or hate it, Hollywood sustained the industry in this town But not at this time. The higher Canadian dollar has contributed to this decline, as have encouragements for American productions to stay at home. I suspect labour unrest on both sides of the border have also had a hand in these, quite literally, dark days. Unfortunately the homegrown film industry is unable to fill the gap. It has never been robust and is spread quite thin across this vast land. A possible bright spot here is the recent opening of Filmport down in the Docklands, which has the largest soundstage in North America. However, at this point, I do not think they have any work lined up. There are, undoubtedly, other factors at work here of which I am unaware. This is a very complicated situation, but the thing that most directly concerns me is the Reaganesque trickle down theory.

Now, I have had a few successes in my day, so I seemed to have achieved some higher status in the quality of auditions I am privileged to attend. I don’t get many auditions (1 or 2 a month) but they are all for good jobs. So I am often competing for roles with notable Canadian actors. Believe me, I cannot ask for anything better than playing with the big boys. But the thing I’ve noticed of late, many more notable Canadian actors are showing up at auditions for voiceovers and commercials. Now, if I think of these guys as A-listers, then that puts me firmly in the C-list, on tiptoes, reaching up and scratching at the bottom of the B-list. I know I don’t have much of a chance. Especially when a casting director addresses an A-lister with this sort of question: “How is my godson?” Now, I’m not suggesting the A-listers are either slumming or purposefully taking work away from me. No, it hurts being at the top too when there’s less work available. Food chain, trickle down, whatever you call it, it’s real. The A-listers are desperate, too, and are just trying to get any job they can.

So, in such a situation, one needs a plan. And here’s mine. Outlive them all. I can hardly wait to get all the really great parts they write for really old guys. And the other wonderful thing about my plan is, I am graced with a lot of time to work on it. Of course, the downside it, I have to survive until then. Hence, the aforementioned work as a bike courier. No doubt I’ll get in to that work at another time. For now, it will suffice to say that I have chosen to be a bike courier. I suspect I could make more money doing something else, but for me, flexibility is far more important. I can come and go as I please as a bike courier. Just in case plan B comes in to effect and I get the call from Hollywood. Hey, it’s happened before. No reason to assume it won’t happen again. You see, I have been in this business for thirty years and know there are ups and downs and monsoons and droughts. I have also come to see, through many a hard knock, that it always works out. Maybe not in the way I wanted, but it is, as they now say, a way forward. I have also come to understand one of the simplest things I’ve heard a million times: I am blessed with good health. So, whenever this current drought gets me down -and some days, it is powerful- I remember these paraphrased words of Anne Frank. No matter what happens, recognize the beauty that remains.

And have a plan. So here am I raising a glass to outliving them all.