Acting Classes for Superstars. Or Believers.

John Marengo is one of the most highly recognised acting coaches working in South East Asia today. His last placement as a coach on set was working on The Hangover 2, which was shot on location in Bangkok. Click here to read the full Acting Coach career guide.

What made you decide or choose to get into this sort of career?

A love of the arts, and specifically, a love of film. Acting was not a passion that existed in my family. Actually, my family tried to talk me out of it! I felt like I was going against the grain; they told me to go get a real job! I was working as an actor in New York from the age of 18, and I graduated from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. I started as an actor, then built my own theatre company in Boston. I then decided to start teaching others. I’ve been doing this for all of my adult life, in one form or another.

 

Do you have a standard day or a standard type of `exercise’?

No. Nothing is standard. In fact, most days, there is no exercise, because there is no work.

 

What is the most common type of problem/call-out/enquiry to which you must attend?

Both teaching and coaching are different. An acting coach is private, so you work on a one-to-one basis with an actor, or when they have a role they need to develop. Sometimes you work with an actor for call-ups, and the other main form of work for a coach is actually on set, working on a movie. Teachers are classroom based, by distinction. On set, you mainly work with people who have never acted, or with experienced actors to make them work. Sometimes they have ability but lack the craft, so you cannot use the tool of vocabulary. I do voice coaching too. This is harder because they often don’t know what I’m talking about! You encourage them to use and develop new muscles. And work miracles!

 

What do you like most about the job?

Using creativity and being able to see someone develop, by giving them the tools and technique.

 

What do you like least about the job?

The business side; finding work, getting paid. And getting results, because there is no guarantee. It’s a very ad hoc life.

 

What are the key responsibilities?

Being able to explain things in a way that allows the actor to develop, whether they have experience or not. Some have experience but do not have the ability to learn, and vice versa.

 

What advice do you have for someone who is looking to get into this as a career?

Get a day job. Truly, having the experience is crucial. Working in Asia is harder because guys take 3 classes and think they are qualified to be coaches themselves. Get out there and learn, no matter what side you decide to go in to. You need to be able to understand actors, and for that to happen, usually you need to be an actor yourself. This is why there are so many great directors who cannot direct character acting or dialogue.

 

What are the most important qualities an applicant must and should possess?

Having precise training and a great insight into people and their behaviour; wanting to push, having patience, and not accepting things that are just okay. People pay well because they want a top notch service, as that facilitates a top notch performance, whether it is for an audition or a shot at an academy award.

Malaysian Viking Movie

By guest blogger, Hugh Gallagher. Click here to read the full Comedian career guide 

 

My plans for Bangkok didn’t include auditioning for a Malaysian Viking movie, but plans in Thailand have a way of shifting. You learn to go with the flow, or you go home. So I finished mis-memorizing dire predictions for Thor’s war in Middle Pleather, and his unholy quest for the Horn of Al Jarreau. Rising at 8, I mashed myself into the rush hour MRT train and found my way to Sukhumvit Road. There, I searched for the Dutch stuntman.

Lex De Groot is a stunt double from Holland. He looks like one. Describing the man revolves around the decision to follow the words “tall” and “tan”, with either “ripped”, “buff”, or “pumped”. Turning down Soi 13, I spied him standing in front of a cement mixer by his girlfriend’s apartment. He greeted me with his tough, yet cultured European accent which I have placed as “North Van Dammish”.

“Be not afraid of destiny, my brother”, I replied in my best faux British.

Lex laughed at the one line I’ve managed to memorize. I’ve seen enough movies to know that English accents are the defacto tone for films set Far Away and/or Long Ago. This is why the Ooks and Plonks in “Lord of the Rings”—set in a parallel reality where England doesn’t exist– speak as if they were munching meat pies in Picadilly Circus. The filmic equation of British Accent = Every Time, Place, and People Not Here and Now irks my Celtic soul. (I mean, come on, Dangerous Liaisons?) But I imagine lavish fantasy worlds filled with wizards from The Bronx would be worse.

Choking on motorcycle smoke, slipping in splattered noodle spills, we made our way down the Soi. Like me, Lex looked like he’d been up late. But maybe it was just his work: as a stuntman based in Bangkok, the Dutch double has been shot apart, blown up, and shoved down stairs from Chiang Mai to Krabi. This has got to wear on a brother; which is probably why Lex is branching into production. We had met a week back, regarding a sit-com he’s shooting. I’m helping on the script, and in return, Lex is helping me find work. Little things like auditions for Malaysian Viking movies.

“I won’t be an extra and I don’t do porn,” Lex had Van Dammed, “But this has some OK parts. Maybe you can make a little money, meet some people.”

The next day, he emailed me the sides for the bit parts. “Priest” had one line; he tells Thor to “be gone”, which is apparently not such a hot idea, in that Priest is subsequently crucified upside down. “Lord Fey” was the larger part, but his character description– “passionate God of Plenty, proud and beautiful” challenged my masculinity. My feeling is that a man can be proud. And a man might be beautiful. But both together lean towards a deity whose special powers might include spontaneous chest waxing, unstoppable interior design, and the ability to whip up a delicious little clams casino in no time at all. But facing an impending visit from the Lords of Rent, I decided to stretch my artistic horizons.

After a short stroll, we arrived at the chic boutique hotel where the auditions were being held. Trip-hop lounge music played in the tiny lobby. Lex asked the pretty Thai desk attendant about the Malaysian Viking Movie. What seemed at first to be some confusion over the English words “Malaysian Viking Movie” revealed itself to be confusion over the concept “Malaysian Viking Movie”. The desk attendant, in perfect English, related her entire lack of knowledge of any casting, for any movie, in any part of the hotel, whatsoever.

Lex turned to me with mild resign. “This is Thailand.”

Pulling out his cell phone, the towering Dutchman placed a call his people. Assured that the casting will soon be underway, we repaired to the adjoining café. A movie shot in the South of Thailand was looping on the plasma screen. Note I do not say the movie was “playing” on the plasma screen. The necessary time frame to ascertain that a movie is indeed “looping” and not merely “playing” is four hours, which is how long we waited. During this time, Lex provided commentary on the film. Shot along the gorgeous, sun dappled coast of Krabi, he had stunt doubled in the production. As terrorist mercenaries stormed a resort hotel on screen, Lex followed the explosions, pointing out his moments.

“That’s me probably, falling down the stairs.”

Meanwhile, I took unfortunate advantage of Hotel Chic’s generous coffee refill policy. Exceeding all rational caffeine limitations, I began to hum, bounce, and eventually oscillate at a frequency which altered reality, entirely. This is the only reason I might offer for my decision to audition for the part of Thor, when we were finally motioned to the rooftop deck by the Malaysian casting assistant.

Smoking cigarettes behind massive mirrored shades, she wore a designer green army hat, a designer T-shirt with a death skull on it, and fantastically skinny designer jeans. Having conquered zero body fat, she seemed to be working on zero body. In addition to motioning at people, her job was providing the set with a fresh supply of absolute indifference. She was like a toothpick who wanted you to die.

Following her, we joined the crowd of Potential Thors on the blazing rooftop deck. Framed by the towering skyscrapers of Bangkok, the hugely muscled actors handed their headshots to the Toothpick of Doom. One of them mentioned that he had his own battleaxe, but didn’t want to bring it on the MRT. I scribbled my name on the call sheet in a jagged, caffeinated scrawl. Then following Lex, I jittered through the throng of lats and pecs, finding a far corner of the roof deck to rehearse.

Hammered by the high-noon Bangkok blaze, my reality wavered. Heat stroke boosted my caffeine rush, forming a speedball of total delusion. Forget Priest, Forget Fey, My buzzing, tilted mind reasoned. Thor is where it’s at! Why shouldn’t I be the God of Thunder? Who says you have to be huge to be evil? Regular psychos are far scarier: think Robert Mitchum in “Night Of The Hunter”! Play against type! Play big or go home! Shoot for the moon! Hands shaking, mind flying, I absently rehearsed with Lex, while internally preparing my acceptance speech at the Malaysian Oscar (Abdul?) Awards, for “Best Normal Sized Thor”.

Somewhere in my hallucination, I sensed a flicker of ambient blasé and turned to see T.O.D (Toothpick of Doom) behind me. She motioned us to the cameras, and Lex and I followed her designer skull shirt around the corner. A stylish Malaysian in neat dread locks and perfectly drooped designer jeans was holding a digital camera. Lex went first. He’d been on sets before, he’s taken classes, and within moments he totally shredded his “Thor” monologue. I watched, spellbound, as his North Van Dammish roar boomed echoing off of the surrounding skyscrapers, a magnificent tirade at the Fates, before artfully lulling into lament over the futility of revenge.

When he finished, the entire city of Bangkok seemed momentarily silenced. There was a hush of reverent respect from the meaty crowd of Potential Thors. Even T.O.D. seems to have been roused from profound indifference to mild disinterest. The dreadlocked Malaysian casting director respectfully asked Lex if he might do it once more, this time without his shirt on. Lex obliged. After two more half naked takes, the casting director turned to me. Taking one look at my skinny frame, he said:

“Fey or Priest?”

“Thor,” I say softly.

As the director stared at me, I made a mental note to remember “Thor, He Said Softly” as the title of my breezy, rollicking Malaysian film world memoir.

“You, uh, want to read for Thor…” the director repeated. Absently tugging a dreadlock, his eyes darted towards the throng of bulking Bangkok actors, literally flexing for the part.

“Right. Crazy Thor,” I told him. “Like Mitchum in “Night of the Hunter.”

His blank face related the fact that Robert Mitchum’s oeuvre had yet to impact the world of Malaysian Viking cinema.

“Do you want me to take my shirt off?” I asked. “I do push-ups.”

“That’s alright.” Sighing, he lifted the little digital camera to his eye. “Do the Church Scene where Thor beheads Priest. Rolling: Crazy Thor.”

The following minute is not clear in my memory. I do recall starting with the line “I am a God!” delivered with chilling maniacal cool. Then I shouted some stuff about holy relics and doom, at which point I made the decision to literally “sack the chapel” as noted in the script. Hurling down my pages, I leapt into an intense, imaginary sword fight. Then I flew boldly in the face of the scripted “beheading”, and made an artistic decision to slit Priest’s throat. Upon finishing I froze, staring at the distant horizon, beholding a frightful vision only the mad Thor could imagine…

Like the moments following Lex’s audition, the rooftop was deadly silent. But this was not the moment of silence that slowly dawns after a moving work of art. This was the moment of silence before people start slowly moving away. The would-be Thors quickly returned to their flexing. The director avoided my eyes, visibly embarrassed to be seen filming me. Behind her impenetrable shades, T.O.D. filed away one more reason to regard mankind with total, crippling disdain. Evidently, I had missed “psycho”, but nailed “weirdo”.

To his credit as a gentleman, Lex left with Crazy Thor. On a quiet walk down the sweltering, crowded Soi, the Dutch stuntman politely avoided mentioning the fact that I just attempted to land the starring role in a multi-million dollar Malaysian Viking Movie by making “vssssh!” and “booosh!” sword sounds with my mouth. Leaving me on the corner, he promised to let me know if there were any more upcoming Asian epics in production.

Back in the burning, smoking grind of Sukhumvit road, my caffeine/heatstroke rush crashed totally. In a black daze of Post Thor Stress Disorder, I trudged past the street vendors. Although the working girls had yet to appear, industrious tradesman had set up tables filled with brass knuckles, bootleg Viagra, and marital aids. My pages about the Hounds of Scrotum fell from my hand; Erick BearRunner was on his own. And so was I. Where to? I stopped in my tracks, and teetered on despair. Then the words of a Thai girl I dated bloomed softly in my mind.

“In Thailand, we believe that if you do your best today, tomorrow will take care of itself.”

In a soul searching moment, surrounded by dildos, I concluded that I had done my best. Yes, it was my best “Crazy Thor”, but that was still my best.

Happy in that realization, I walked towards a Thai tomorrow that would take care of itself.

Hugh Gallagher