No More Tween Movies

“I love acting. It is so much more real than life.”

I remember reading that Oscar Wilde quote once and having it ring within my subconscious just how truthful that comment was. Although Oscar Wilde never had to star in ridiculous tween movies, so what the hell does he know.

I became an actor, I thought, for the same reason everyone else became one. The fame. The fortune. And all of those free perks you get when your face is plastered all over US Weekly. But then I realized a year or so ago that I wanted much more than that.

In short, I wanted to be taken seriously as an actor. I went all Jeremy Irons and decided I needed to do Shakespeare. But, of course, the only roles I could get were leads in stupid movies like The Kid’s Got Game, a football-movie-mixed-with-musical-genre that really didn’t make any sense to me but that teens ate up. Then there was the vampire movie series Bitten, based off of the book series that I’m sure one would need a lobotomy in order to understand, in which I played one of the title blood-suckers who was actually five hundred years old but only looked twenty-one.

Did I mention my theory that my agent secretly hates me?

Brian Wilder’s the name. Shitty movies are my game.

Of course, my private life seems to be nothing but glamorous; nightclubs and house parties and sneaking out of stars’ homes at five in the morning. Trips to Vegas, shopping sprees for the newest tight jeans, drinking Starbucks every place I go with the ridiculously large Aviator sunglasses on.

Yeah…that’s all publicity. Every single bit of it. Truth is, my private life sucks too. It’s all made up; a fabrication that my agent and manager concocted along with the studio who produced the Game movies. It’s to make me seem far cooler than I actually am. I’m a serial dater who goes from girl to girl, date to date, never really seen with the same girl twice.

Gee, maybe there’s a reason for that…

Yeah…I’m not interested in girls. Haven’t been for a long time. Thought it was clearly obvious from the start, but teenage girls flock to me like a pack of seagulls, clearly oblivious to the fact that I’m a ‘mo. So for the interest of my career, I flew back into the closet and locked the door behind me. Still, to this day, no one’s really figured it out, even though from time to time I recognize some Blind Vice about how “Boy Worshipper” was seen in a gay club making out with two different guys and wonder if I’d finally be outed. But somehow my agent or manager would find another starlet for me to date.

It’s really getting old now, and I need to figure out something else to do with my life.

I’m caught in a rut. I know if I don’t want the crappy movie roles there’ll probably be nothing else for me to do. And I know if I do decide to finally come out, there sure as shit won’t be any roles for me either. But I’m tired of this bullcrap.

I met my manager and agent for drinks one day at some off-the-beaten-path restaurant that the paparazzi refuse to travel to in order to tell them exactly this. Either they find me some new roles or I’m out of Hollywood.

“Well, there’s this great new script…you’ll play a basketball player…” my agent started to say, but I interrupted him by reminding him that there would be no more sports movies in the future.

“Here’s another script about some kid finding out about his heritage…” and with that another script was thrown at me. I was intrigued by the premise until I learned that the main character was half-leprechaun. Typical.

“How can I be taken seriously when all I get are stupid Disney movies?” I screamed at them, throwing the script into a nearby trashcan. “That’s where that crap belongs.”

I then mentioned that if any movie required me to sing multiple ridiculous songs, to pretend to be the young version of an old guy that decided to go back in time to save himself, or to play the teen heartthrob in anything, I would immediately reject it. Naturally, they had nothing else to offer me. After which I decided to start looking for other representation.

I hoped William Morris had a free agent somewhere.