Police Drama Outside My Window
There wasn't much I could find to watch on TV, tonight. After "Eastenders," I watched a "Seinfeld" episode, then a documentary on "Intelligence Failures." All the films on, tonight, were ones I have seen before. I decided to have an early night and went upstairs to my computer. I tuned in the Clive Bull show, on LBC 97.3, London (Sky Channel 0177, or via the net at: http://www.lbc973.co.uk/ ), for background, while I checked my email.
I opened an email from Jason Young, the film director. Over the weekend, I learned that I have been shortlisted for a small role in a short film project he's working on. In the email, he asks me to give him a call. As it was before 10:30PM, I decided to do so, right away. When he answered, he asked me if I had my copy of the script handy. As it was emailed to me, I have it on my computer. He asked me to read the lines of the character I am being considered for. "Lines?" Actually, my character only has one line. So, he's having me do a read, over the phone. Okay. I started scrolling through the script. The problem is that my character's one line is a good way toward the end of the script. I could almost feel the clock ticking, while I struggle to find my one line. Finally, I find it and read it out loud. Mr. Young gave virtually no reaction and says he'll be back in touch. I could have done it different ways. The character I am up for is a historical figure. Did he want me to attempt to imitate the real person? Oh well, directors who don't say anything get exactly what they ask for.
With my email out of the way, I started pondering what I would write about, tonight. On the Clive Bull show, a caller was discussing the latest James Bond film, "Casino Royale." Clive has finally seen it. Somehow, this caller managed to get things confused and was claiming that George Lazenby played James Bond in the original "Casino Royale," back in 1967. Clive questioned this, but wasn't sure, admitting he's no James Bond expert. I decided to call the show and clarify matters. Lazenby played James Bond in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," in 1969. Everybody knows that. David Niven played Bond, in "Casino Royale (1967). Clive's producer, Bob, answered and I told him what I was calling about. He said he'd call back and it wouldn't be long. It's been an hour now and he still hasn't called back. I suspect he isn't going to. This is the first time Bob hasn't called me back.
While waiting for the call that will never come, I went back to pondering what I will write about, tonight. I flipped through a couple of newspapers, looking for stories that might be interesting to write about. Nothing is really exciting me. All of the sudden, I heard talking outside. My bedroom window looks out onto the street in front of my house. The talking was fairly loud, so I pulled the curtain aside to see what's going on. I observed three police officers questioning a young man wearing a hoodie. Are people wearing hoodies in America? Just in case they're not, and I certainly hope they aren't, a "hoodie" is a sweatshirt with a hood. They seem to have become one of the fashion icons for chavish, street sub-culture, here in the UK. Associated in the public mindset with young, thuggish yobs, It's no wonder these police officers are questioning the man. He looks like he's up to no good. What did they see that led them to stop this fellow? Now I wished I had looked sooner.
One of the police officers is holding a flashlight (they say "torch," here) and appears to be looking at the young man's ID. I turned down the radio to try to hear what is being said. It's frustrating, but I can't make out what's going on. Because most British police don't carry guns, I am unlikely to witness a shootout. Still, I might get to see a beating, with truncheons. Just as I settle in to watch the evening's entertainment, they let the fellow go. He proceeds to walk up the street, while the three cops walk down. Even this element of real life, police drama is disappointing. I closed the curtain, then turned Clive Bull back up. I almost never see police walking down my street. Once in a while, one of their cars whizzes up the road, but that's about it. So what the heck were three of them doing walking down the street at this time of night?
I opened an email from Jason Young, the film director. Over the weekend, I learned that I have been shortlisted for a small role in a short film project he's working on. In the email, he asks me to give him a call. As it was before 10:30PM, I decided to do so, right away. When he answered, he asked me if I had my copy of the script handy. As it was emailed to me, I have it on my computer. He asked me to read the lines of the character I am being considered for. "Lines?" Actually, my character only has one line. So, he's having me do a read, over the phone. Okay. I started scrolling through the script. The problem is that my character's one line is a good way toward the end of the script. I could almost feel the clock ticking, while I struggle to find my one line. Finally, I find it and read it out loud. Mr. Young gave virtually no reaction and says he'll be back in touch. I could have done it different ways. The character I am up for is a historical figure. Did he want me to attempt to imitate the real person? Oh well, directors who don't say anything get exactly what they ask for.
With my email out of the way, I started pondering what I would write about, tonight. On the Clive Bull show, a caller was discussing the latest James Bond film, "Casino Royale." Clive has finally seen it. Somehow, this caller managed to get things confused and was claiming that George Lazenby played James Bond in the original "Casino Royale," back in 1967. Clive questioned this, but wasn't sure, admitting he's no James Bond expert. I decided to call the show and clarify matters. Lazenby played James Bond in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," in 1969. Everybody knows that. David Niven played Bond, in "Casino Royale (1967). Clive's producer, Bob, answered and I told him what I was calling about. He said he'd call back and it wouldn't be long. It's been an hour now and he still hasn't called back. I suspect he isn't going to. This is the first time Bob hasn't called me back.
While waiting for the call that will never come, I went back to pondering what I will write about, tonight. I flipped through a couple of newspapers, looking for stories that might be interesting to write about. Nothing is really exciting me. All of the sudden, I heard talking outside. My bedroom window looks out onto the street in front of my house. The talking was fairly loud, so I pulled the curtain aside to see what's going on. I observed three police officers questioning a young man wearing a hoodie. Are people wearing hoodies in America? Just in case they're not, and I certainly hope they aren't, a "hoodie" is a sweatshirt with a hood. They seem to have become one of the fashion icons for chavish, street sub-culture, here in the UK. Associated in the public mindset with young, thuggish yobs, It's no wonder these police officers are questioning the man. He looks like he's up to no good. What did they see that led them to stop this fellow? Now I wished I had looked sooner.
One of the police officers is holding a flashlight (they say "torch," here) and appears to be looking at the young man's ID. I turned down the radio to try to hear what is being said. It's frustrating, but I can't make out what's going on. Because most British police don't carry guns, I am unlikely to witness a shootout. Still, I might get to see a beating, with truncheons. Just as I settle in to watch the evening's entertainment, they let the fellow go. He proceeds to walk up the street, while the three cops walk down. Even this element of real life, police drama is disappointing. I closed the curtain, then turned Clive Bull back up. I almost never see police walking down my street. Once in a while, one of their cars whizzes up the road, but that's about it. So what the heck were three of them doing walking down the street at this time of night?
posted by Joey B at 4:07 PM
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