As a film-obsessed 10-year old stranded in a rural suburb of Virginia, Danny McBride went with his parents to pay the cable bill so he could see where all those movies were made. Maybe the magic didn’t happen in that small strip mall office, but a film he made in a small strip mall 20 years later launched a career he never imagined. He made it with friends he still works with today, a group with the hubris to think they were just as talented as the guys they saw working in Hollywood. When you’re right, you’re right. McBride’s genius lies in pulling the rug out from under his characters, and often, his audience; he lulls us into stereotypes and comedy tropes one minute only to detonate them the next. We chat about the hard work of comedy, the Foot-Fist Business Model and the joy of finding your fellow bees.
As a film-obsessed 10-year old stranded in a rural suburb of Virginia, Danny McBride went with his parents to pay the cable bill so he could see where all those movies were made. Maybe the magic didn’t happen in that small strip mall office, but a film he made in a small strip mall 20 years later launched a career he never imagined. He made it with friends he still works with today, a group with the hubris to think they were just as talented as the guys they saw working in Hollywood. When you’re right, you’re right. McBride’s genius lies in pulling the rug out from under his characters, and often, his audience; he lulls us into stereotypes and comedy tropes one minute only to detonate them the next. We chat about the hard work of comedy, the Foot-Fist Business Model and the joy of finding your fellow bees.
As a film-obsessed 10-year old stranded in a rural suburb of Virginia, Danny McBride went with his parents to pay the cable bill so he could see where all those movies were made. Maybe the magic didn’t happen in that small strip mall office, but a film he made in a small strip mall 20 years later launched a career he never imagined. He made it with friends he still works with today, a group with the hubris to think they were just as talented as the guys they saw working in Hollywood. When you’re right, you’re right. McBride’s genius lies in pulling the rug out from under his characters, and often, his audience; he lulls us into stereotypes and comedy tropes one minute only to detonate them the next. We chat about the hard work of comedy, the Foot-Fist Business Model and the joy of finding your fellow bees.
Billy Crudup’s post-theater school plans for a steady, workmanlike, and hopefully long career spent perfecting his craft were jackhammered by Almost Famous. Suddenly he was Hollywood’s Next Big Thing, and completely unprepared for the dubious responsibility that comes with that crown. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t even want the crown. “It throws you into some confusion about yourself and what you do and how each next move could affect that.” Going with his gut and opting instead for interesting, “weird-ass” parts that would foster growth meant saying no to really smart people who made really big movies. Not becoming a “star” also meant he had to keep reaching for something, and to find out what kind of an actor he really was. As it turns out, he’s the best kind – one who does it for all the right reasons.
Billy Crudup’s post-theater school plans for a steady, workmanlike, and hopefully long career spent perfecting his craft were jackhammered by Almost Famous. Suddenly he was Hollywood’s Next Big Thing, and completely unprepared for the dubious responsibility that comes with that crown. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t even want the crown. “It throws you into some confusion about yourself and what you do and how each next move could affect that.” Going with his gut and opting instead for interesting, “weird-ass” parts that would foster growth meant saying no to really smart people who made really big movies. Not becoming a “star” also meant he had to keep reaching for something, and to find out what kind of an actor he really was. As it turns out, he’s the best kind – one who does it for all the right reasons.
Billy Crudup’s post-theater school plans for a steady, workmanlike, and hopefully long career spent perfecting his craft were jackhammered by Almost Famous. Suddenly he was Hollywood’s Next Big Thing, and completely unprepared for the dubious responsibility that comes with that crown. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t even want the crown. “It throws you into some confusion about yourself and what you do and how each next move could affect that.” Going with his gut and opting instead for interesting, “weird-ass” parts that would foster growth meant saying no to really smart people who made really big movies. Not becoming a “star” also meant he had to keep reaching for something, and to find out what kind of an actor he really was. As it turns out, he’s the best kind – one who does it for all the right reasons.
From the this-just-in file: “Being in a band is not a normal job.” Chris Shiflett knows it’s a laughable understatement, especially when the band in question is the Foo Fighters, one of the few remaining rock acts that can record, tour and provide a (very) nice living for its members. So why does he still take guitar lessons, humble himself in songwriting workshops and log 14-hour days in the back of a van? The answer is love, friends – an all-consuming passion for making, discovering and understanding music. He didn’t always work so hard; he dropped out of school to enjoy the L.A. rock scene and “make it” in a band. Improbably and inevitably, he did. Yeah, there’s a lot of story in between. Shiflett shares it all, including his harrowing brush with bookkeeping, whoring, drinking and gambling. The last three of which come in handy when you’re writing excellent new country songs.
From the this-just-in file: “Being in a band is not a normal job.” Chris Shiflett knows it’s a laughable understatement, especially when the band in question is the Foo Fighters, one of the few remaining rock acts that can record, tour and provide a (very) nice living for its members. So why does he still take guitar lessons, humble himself in songwriting workshops and log 14-hour days in the back of a van? The answer is love, friends – an all-consuming passion for making, discovering and understanding music. He didn’t always work so hard; he dropped out of school to enjoy the L.A. rock scene and “make it” in a band. Improbably and inevitably, he did. Yeah, there’s a lot of story in between. Shiflett shares it all, including his harrowing brush with bookkeeping, whoring, drinking and gambling. The last three of which come in handy when you’re writing excellent new country songs.
