The SoCal Years 45: Wake Up And Smell the Rainbow
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The Riveting Adventures of A Filipina-American Actor-Girl in the Southern California Jungle
The SoCal Years hubs comprise a series of narrative essays from the late 1990s, pre-9/11, immediately after grad school when, knowing she would run screaming back to the East Coast in the end, a young-ish Pinay New Yorker, armed with her new Drama MFA, decided nonetheless to dip her toes into the Hollywood swamp.
Resolution. We had words. Unfortunately his skirted around the real subject, again—found something else to pick a fight about. I ended with this:
"One day you'll realize that I was probably your soulmate. But by then it'll be too late. Hell, it's been too late for the last two years."
Dramatic CapriCat. I need closure Now.
Did I mention that, during the whole final reckoning week with J., I did a bad thing with a new friend (a fireman, with girlfriend issues) that I'm very sorry for? Sorry partly because, though stunning, he was totally selfish and thoroughly unskilled. What's worse, he defended J.'s bad behavior.
Yes, I miss him. A bad week all around. But at least (as promised) you'll never have to hear about him again.
The last Guild-sponsored meeting I attended was called to address an amazing occurrence in the new Fall Season. Not one of the networks had cast even one non-white regular in their new Fall lineup of television shows—not even UPN or the WB.
Apparently, when the Guild brought this fact to the attention of the network bigwigs, the predominant response was, "Oh, my god. We had no idea—it's a mistake, a terrible oversight."
Uh-huh.
There was a mad scramble to add minority supporting characters, recast minor roles. Apparently one of the networks even dumped a scheduled show and began a search for ethnically-themed scripts.
(I was part of that scramble when FOX hastily added a Cambodian housekeeper, along with a butler and chauffeur of ethnic persuasion, to Manchester Prep.)
SAG reasons that if the US is 12.6% African American, 10.7 Hispanic/Latino, 3.4% Asian Pacific and 0.7% Native American, then television roles should correctly reflect those percentages. TV should strive to accurately reflect the reality of the American landscape.
Hah. Good luck making that stick. Think the powers-that-be give a flying frick? And incidentally, those powers aren't, as you might imagine, the network execs. They're the TV advertisers, folks—your CEO's of Jack-in-the-Box, Banana Republic and Mercedes-Benz.
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SAG commissioned a report recently examining this issue. According to the accompanying chart, the biggest gaping hole between population percentage and TV role percentage occurs in the Hispanic community.
Here is the make-up of this week's Billboard Top Ten: TLC, Ricky Martin, Carlos Santana, Lou Bega, Enrique Iglesias, Christina Aguilera, Marc Anthony (plus some white guys). Four Hispanic artists, two African American, and one who, I assume, with a name like Aguilera, has to be at least partly Latino.
Seven of the ten top moneymakers in the music industry this week. All with videos of course. Get a clue, people.
Think more Americans would rather watch a truly goofy white boy shout off-key than they would an olive-skinned god with hips like some native drum, all perfect rhythm and a smile so blinding you could use him as a homing beacon during your New Years Eve Party blackout?
Make a great nightlight, that Ricky Martin.
Do advertisers honestly believe that folks with money won't buy products advertised on a show that has Latinos in it? They buy Jennifer Lopez' CD in droves. Pay to see Banderas and Hayek in films. Elevated Jimmy Smits to Sexiest Man Alive status. Made Freddie Prinze a legend.
Wake up Mr. Moneybags—stop insulting the intelligence of the American viewing public.
Best shows on TV? ER, NYPD Blue, Ally McBeal, Voyager. All with ethnically-diverse casts, with more than the token African American. You got your Ling Lee on Ally, young Martinez on Blue, First Officer Chakotay on Voyager, assorted regular nurses on ER...
(Okay, there needs to be a Filipino doctor on one of these hospital shows, because that's practically a cliché—and of course, she has to be played by me...).
These shows do well, not because of the minority casting, nor despite it. My point is that there's nary a correllation between a show's success and its ethnic percentage. A show is watchable if the writing, performances and production values are top-notch—never mind the ethnic make-up.
So why not accurately reflect the American landscape? Why the hell not?
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Apparently all the focus is on the kids. Advertisers have this idea that the youth of America's got the bucks to toss around, and the will to do so these nutty pre-billenial days.
This would account for the fact that screens large and small all over the US are littered with teenagers, killing and being killed, exercising cruelty for the sake of popularity, focusing on sex rather than books in college, living apparently nothing but soap-opera lives.
Did you do that in college? We put on plays in mine, held sit-ins and candlelight vigils to protest injustice, debated William Carlos Williams' use of imagery. And yes, some of us had sex and elements of soap opera lives, but didn't dwell on them 90% of the time, for chrissakes.
I have a close friend in the college dramcom of the moment—the token minority principal, African American. They wrote the part into the script after the original casting. Told her they felt they needed someone with "that kind of energy." Come out and say it already. They forgot to put in the token minority.
She's the sexiest one on the show.
Hey, how come there aren't any Asian kids in college? Felicity and her love-angsty gang are supposed to be at New York University (NYU said no to using its actual name, so the producers decided to call the college "The University of New York" instead). NYU—and every college in any major city in the United States, for that matter—has a gigantic Asian population. More than half at my grad institution.
Nuts and dumb.
What—Asian kids don't have money to spend? Are you kidding? And though they do, they're not interested in watching themselves on television? Know who Asian kids date? Other Asian kids. I should know—I watched it for years and years in the Apple and at grad school.
(And no, in my case, a man can be orange with green and purple polka dots, as long as he's so sexy it emanates from his pores like a scent.)
Think Hispanic kids, or African kids, or Native American kids don't need to see themselves represented on television, so they can feel comfortable going out and buying a Bacon Bacon Cheeseburger?
A waste of a potential cash cow.
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I won't pretend that this whole tirade isn't partly selfish. I'm frankly sick of only being considered for characters whose sole scripts consist of "Next, please." I auditioned recently to play a bartender, whose first line is, "What can I get you boys?" I have nightmares of putting together my reel, full of "Next, please."
The director of that film doesn't really want any minorities in the film. It's being cast by a friend who snuck me in. She had to fight to get him to make even just one of the four leads non-Caucasian, and he chose Native American.
I have a million stories to tell on a personal level, of course. About the Miss Saigon hoopla, the Japan leg of my King and I tour, "non-traditional" casting in general. Maybe another time. Remind me if I forget.
Strolling on the Promenade with Candy prior to season-premiere week, and there they are, jailbait, thin and pasty-white (like everybody on Dawson's Creek), a slew of Gen-Ex starboys and starlets, dressed in that sickly ABC yellow. Passing out free promo VHS tapes of their new Fall season. Candy accepts the one suddenly placed in her hand.
"Do you want one too?" asks the promo-princess. She of the perky-blond and rouged, lip-glossed California-dudette variety.
"No thanks. I'm an actor and none of the networks' fall lineups have a single minority regular—did you know that?"
"Actually, ours has one," she returns quickly, half-earnestly.
I tilt my head (oh), suppressing the urge to laugh out loud. What does the "one" play—janitor, gardener, Cambodian housekeeper?
I smile kindly at her, as Candy and I walk on. ◊
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