When late bloomers finally blossom, they do so with a vengeance. When you take a bit of time to figure out what makes you tick, you can go after roles that mean something to you – and your audience. While having undeniably fabulous hair never hurt anyone, Connie Britton says she owes her best work to projects that make her feel empowered, and these days doesn’t spend much time waiting around for someone else to hand out the go-aheads. We discuss how she came into her own as an artist, her experiences on The Brothers McMullen, Friday Night Lights and Nashville, losing what felt like the role of a lifetime. We also surprised the unsuspecting Ms. Britton with our little version of This Is Your Life, but after you’ve risked singing on national television, not much ruffles you. In fact, she believes seeking out the scary stuff is key to helping her career continue to flourish. We can’t wait to see what her next risk will bring – just as long as it doesn’t involve scissors.
When you leave home at 17 and spend the next 15 years creating every possible substitute for one, it can be exhilarating, and also exhausting. Either way, it makes for a great story. Writer, actress, musician and Portlandia co-creator Carrie Brownstein realized her story was largely the story of her acclaimed indie rock band Sleater-Kinney, which came out of the Pacific Northwest alternative scene and got about as famous as you were allowed to be in that world. What makes her new book different from most rock memoirs (besides a notable lack of drugs and decadence), is that it goes beyond the seminal recordings, reviews and concerts, and explores what drove her need to create, and sadly for Sleater-Kinney in 2006, her need to destroy. Brownstein says the book is mostly about trying to find her way into a world she hoped would be her salvation. You’ll have to read the book to see if she found it. For now, you just have to enjoy a really interesting conversation.
When you leave home at 17 and spend the next 15 years creating every possible substitute for one, it can be exhilarating, and also exhausting. Either way, it makes for a great story. Writer, actress, musician and Portlandia co-creator Carrie Brownstein realized her story was largely the story of her acclaimed indie rock band Sleater-Kinney, which came out of the Pacific Northwest alternative scene and got about as famous as you were allowed to be in that world. What makes her new book different from most rock memoirs (besides a notable lack of drugs and decadence), is that it goes beyond the seminal recordings, reviews and concerts, and explores what drove her need to create, and sadly for Sleater-Kinney in 2006, her need to destroy. Brownstein says the book is mostly about trying to find her way into a world she hoped would be her salvation. You’ll have to read the book to see if she found it. For now, you just have to enjoy a really interesting conversation.
When you leave home at 17 and spend the next 15 years creating every possible substitute for one, it can be exhilarating, and also exhausting. Either way, it makes for a great story. Writer, actress, musician and Portlandia co-creator Carrie Brownstein realized her story was largely the story of her acclaimed indie rock band Sleater-Kinney, which came out of the Pacific Northwest alternative scene and got about as famous as you were allowed to be in that world. What makes her new book different from most rock memoirs (besides a notable lack of drugs and decadence), is that it goes beyond the seminal recordings, reviews and concerts, and explores what drove her need to create, and sadly for Sleater-Kinney in 2006, her need to destroy. Brownstein says the book is mostly about trying to find her way into a world she hoped would be her salvation. You’ll have to read the book to see if she found it. For now, you just have to enjoy a really interesting conversation.
Readers, do you come to Off Camera seeking the cogent, the chronological, the coherent in your conversations? Well, stop looking, because you’ve just encountered the not-strictly-proverbial hot blast of cheese. Which is to say, this ain’t that conversation. Which is not to say you won’t find the usual inspiration, wise words and artistic insights. They’ll just be doled (and possibly rolled) out by the inimitable Jack Black, who has a way with words that is more than entertaining, but less than linear. You will also be treated to the usual captivating tales, this time involving certain amounts of Tim Robbins and drought-friendly grass, on-set angst and awesomeness, and in an Off Camera exclusive, the SNL audition that never was. Missile Head, we hardly knew ye. Why the departure you ask? There’s just too much dorcus domingai in his soup.
Readers, do you come to Off Camera seeking the cogent, the chronological, the coherent in your conversations? Well, stop looking, because you’ve just encountered the not-strictly-proverbial hot blast of cheese. Which is to say, this ain’t that conversation. Which is not to say you won’t find the usual inspiration, wise words and artistic insights. They’ll just be doled (and possibly rolled) out by the inimitable Jack Black, who has a way with words that is more than entertaining, but less than linear. You will also be treated to the usual captivating tales, this time involving certain amounts of Tim Robbins and drought-friendly grass, on-set angst and awesomeness, and in an Off Camera exclusive, the SNL audition that never was. Missile Head, we hardly knew ye. Why the departure you ask? There’s just too much dorcus domingai in his soup.
Readers, do you come to Off Camera seeking the cogent, the chronological, the coherent in your conversations? Well, stop looking, because you’ve just encountered the not-strictly-proverbial hot blast of cheese. Which is to say, this ain’t that conversation. Which is not to say you won’t find the usual inspiration, wise words and artistic insights. They’ll just be doled (and possibly rolled) out by the inimitable Jack Black, who has a way with words that is more than entertaining, but less than linear. You will also be treated to the usual captivating tales, this time involving certain amounts of Tim Robbins and drought-friendly grass, on-set angst and awesomeness, and in an Off Camera exclusive, the SNL audition that never was. Missile Head, we hardly knew ye. Why the departure you ask? There’s just too much dorcus domingai in his soup.
When Olivia Wilde told her mom she wanted to be an actress, her mom didn’t say, “Oh that’s cute, honey,” nor did she start dialing agents. She carefully explained the steps involved. Young Olivia’s takeaway? Actors study and work hard. Through more recent experience (specifically, Drinking Buddies, Meadowland, motherhood) she’s learned to become more present, open and confident. Both are valuable lessons – one’ll help you get to be an actor; the other will help you be a really good one. The second member of the Sudeikis/Wilde clan to grace Off Camera joins us to talk about what’s become most important to her as an artist, the characters we relate to versus the ones Hollywood usually shows us, and why she could make “the shittiest movie ever” and still have it be called an important film.
