Super proud of the entire team that came around and helped me bring this dream of mine to the screen.
Ryan Smith called me up a couple months back and asked if I’d be down to jump in on this project.
I love it when people don’t just talk about making stuff . . . they pull on their boots and do it.
If you find artists who put some bite behind their bark, befriend them; work with them; learn from them.
They’re the ones who won’t still be sitting in the same place five years from now.
As I was going back through pictures of past jobs, I noticed that some of my favorite roles included characters wearing some kind of hat (I’m including helmets and wigs).
Interesting wardrobe allows an actor to disappear into a character much more easily than when I hear “and can you bring a bunch of your own clothes for wardrobe options?” I realize that using your own clothes is part of the deal on a lot of low budget films, but I love it when a director has a vision for their characters that’s super specific. It tells me that they’ve done the work to honor their characters, and it puts me at ease.
Just something to ponder for you directors out there…
Projects (left to right from top to bottom):
Popeye the Pizza Man
Travis Manion Foundation PSA
House of the Righteous
Popeye the Pizza Man
Marine Corps training video
Burt’s Eye View
Two years ago, I was in South Carolina working with my buddy Justin Robinson on his latest short film “Popeye the Pizza Man.” It was an experience that left me drained. I put so much preparation into that role, and when the time finally came to step in front of the camera… I’m not gonna lie, it was hard. It was a hard film to do. Not just for me… for Justin as he wrote and directed, for the other actors, for the crew. It was heavy. It was dark. I’m thankful for the splashes of comedy sprinkled through it, because when I go back and re-watch it, I tend to forget how heavy the whole thing was.
Not long before filming, Justin emailed me and said he wanted to give my character, Lewis, a little more depth. He wrote this monologue at the tree house and sent it to me. Man, reading that scene… I kinda sat back and took a minute because I knew what it was going to take. But I wanted to do it. The gift of a nuanced character combined with great dialogue is what I live for… I hunger for it. I need it.
That night on set, I was walking around in circles in the dark listening to my music while Brent Christy finished setting camera, and when we finally sat into it… it was like a graveyard, it was so still. Because of the camera and lighting set up, a couple of crew guys were only feet away from me. I remember watching the audio guy check his set up, and then turn his back to me to give me even more privacy. After the first take, no one moved. Justin came around, knelt next to me, whispered some direction, and then he crept back around the camera and called action.
To be given that much respect as an actor… if you’re not an actor, I don’t think I can describe it. I’ve been on sets where I had an emotional scene and people from the crew, to the producers, and even the DP once, were cutting up, telling jokes, standing in my eye line… completely not getting what they were doing. Clueless. And so I say I’ll always work with Justin and with Brent because they protect their actors.
Lewis was a gift. I’ll always remember him. I’ll always have a part of him left with me, and I know I left some of myself with him that night.
A month or so ago, I had the pleasure of working on a new short with some buddies in SC. I posted the following to Instagram shortly after filming…
“Two days after filming the fight scene, I’m still finding new bruises . . . the price happily paid for another chance to work with amazing friends.
It’s about relationships–relationships built over years of hard work and trust. Years of (gasp) completed projects . . . not “someday” ideas but meticulously planned, executed, and completed films.
Bradford is on my list of directors who I’ll show up for no matter what. I’ll take physical risks for him that I wouldn’t necessarily take for others because I know his attention to detail. I don’t hope the risks will be worth it . . . I KNOW they will. Because he doesn’t just talk a big game—he actually shows up and delivers.”
Check out the final result here:
A quirky little film with a big heart — a wonderful story of love and the passion that drives us.
Written and directed by Shea Sizemore and shot by the always fantastic Brent Christy.
Back in March, I tackled a role in my seventh collaboration with filmmaker Justin Robinson (J-Rob Productions). It was dark–there’s not really any other way to say it. My work with Justin has spanned quite a few different characters (I talk about it here in an earlier blog post). It’s been a rocky journey of growth and one where both Justin and I have learned a lot about ourselves (as a bonus, check out Justin’s post about his struggle going into the filming of RIFFRAFF).
I’ve had to work through my own reservations, fears, and beliefs as an actor. Each artist comes to their own understanding of what they’ll tackle and how far they’ll go. I believe this is healthy and necessary because none of us are the same. But I believe that too many Christian artists tend to shy away from dark roles or roles that require an exposure to things that make us uncomfortable or to feel unsafe. If I believe in God and His power in my life, then I should be most willing to lean into the darkness because I know what I’m anchored too. It’s more dangerous for an artist who doesn’t hold to any particular belief, because they don’t have the direction in place to reel themselves back in once the role is passed. I’m not espousing working on roles that serve no long-standing purpose and throw gratuitous nonsense in the audience’s face for shock value. I want to work on roles that convey a necessary message–even if that message is a dark one. David Oyelowo said it well when he stated that he wants to play roles that he can defend to his children when they are the appropriate age to watch them.
I learned from Coen. I learned a lot. I don’t believe that people are inherently good, but people are very good at hiding it. I needed to get outside of my comfort zone. I listened to music I wouldn’t normally go to. I watched dark films.
“The hate was all we had
Who needs another mess?
We could start over
Just look me in the eyes and say I’m wrong
Now there’s only emptiness.”
It was tough, but it was necessary. I read once that the best villains think they’re heroes. They’re so committed to their belief that they follow through with a devotion that puts most of your “everyman” characters to shame. As Coen says, “I know what I am.”
Andrew Bradford grabbed this picture to incorporate into the film’s poster.
I keep this picture as my laptop wallpaper and my phone’s lockscreen so that I am reminded constantly of Coen’s 100% commitment to who he is. I haven’t “made it” yet as an actor. There are still days when I look at my bank account and wonder how I’m going to make it. There are days (and nights) when I wonder if I’m where I’m supposed to be. There are times when I wonder if I’m making a difference. And it’s in those moments when I look at that picture and hear Coen’s gravelly voice in my head telling me there is no other option–“this is what you’re meant to do, so suck it up, and figure it out.”
And so I do.