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.
Listen closely to Elisabeth Moss’ monologue in Queen of Earth and underneath it, you’ll hear her heartbeat. It’s not nerves; it’s love. When Moss loves a scene, or hits her groove in it, her heart pounds so hard her mic has to be adjusted. She can’t remember ever not loving acting, something she’s done with confounding brilliance since the age of eight, but most recognizably since 17 in The West Wing, Mad Men, countless films and now to devastating effect in The Handmaid’s Tale. But if you’re here for tips, she ain’t spilling. She can’t. Rules and techniques that apply one day (or hour) go out the window the next. She’s willing to ponder it, though, and offer observations on character, directing, sucking, feminism and more. If we fail to solve how a true artist plies her craft, at least we fail alongside one of the best and most instinctual actors of our time.
Listen closely to Elisabeth Moss’ monologue in Queen of Earth and underneath it, you’ll hear her heartbeat. It’s not nerves; it’s love. When Moss loves a scene, or hits her groove in it, her heart pounds so hard her mic has to be adjusted. She can’t remember ever not loving acting, something she’s done with confounding brilliance since the age of eight, but most recognizably since 17 in The West Wing, Mad Men, countless films and now to devastating effect in The Handmaid’s Tale. But if you’re here for tips, she ain’t spilling. She can’t. Rules and techniques that apply one day (or hour) go out the window the next. She’s willing to ponder it, though, and offer observations on character, directing, sucking, feminism and more. If we fail to solve how a true artist plies her craft, at least we fail alongside one of the best and most instinctual actors of our time.
Listen closely to Elisabeth Moss’ monologue in Queen of Earth and underneath it, you’ll hear her heartbeat. It’s not nerves; it’s love. When Moss loves a scene, or hits her groove in it, her heart pounds so hard her mic has to be adjusted. She can’t remember ever not loving acting, something she’s done with confounding brilliance since the age of eight, but most recognizably since 17 in The West Wing, Mad Men, countless films and now to devastating effect in The Handmaid’s Tale. But if you’re here for tips, she ain’t spilling. She can’t. Rules and techniques that apply one day (or hour) go out the window the next. She’s willing to ponder it, though, and offer observations on character, directing, sucking, feminism and more. If we fail to solve how a true artist plies her craft, at least we fail alongside one of the best and most instinctual actors of our time.
Colin Hanks was just looking to fill time between acting jobs when he decided a documentary about Tower Records might be interesting. He had no idea how much it would change his outlook, his approach to acting, and essentially, his whole career. He also had no idea how to make a documentary. But that’s what he loves about his trade – you’re never done learning it. “Anyone who says they’re done learning is really saying they’re done trying to learn.” Here, he shares just a few of the lessons he’s picked up so far: The biggest, truest stories emerge in the smallest moments; ask the right question, and the possibilities are endless; and, work begets work. Oh, and more work can beget a case of total body failure. Which in turn can finally beget Colin Hanks in your studio for a long-awaited conversation.
Colin Hanks was just looking to fill time between acting jobs when he decided a documentary about Tower Records might be interesting. He had no idea how much it would change his outlook, his approach to acting, and essentially, his whole career. He also had no idea how to make a documentary. But that’s what he loves about his trade – you’re never done learning it. “Anyone who says they’re done learning is really saying they’re done trying to learn.” Here, he shares just a few of the lessons he’s picked up so far: The biggest, truest stories emerge in the smallest moments; ask the right question, and the possibilities are endless; and, work begets work. Oh, and more work can beget a case of total body failure. Which in turn can finally beget Colin Hanks in your studio for a long-awaited conversation.
Colin Hanks was just looking to fill time between acting jobs when he decided a documentary about Tower Records might be interesting. He had no idea how much it would change his outlook, his approach to acting, and essentially, his whole career. He also had no idea how to make a documentary. But that’s what he loves about his trade – you’re never done learning it. “Anyone who says they’re done learning is really saying they’re done trying to learn.” Here, he shares just a few of the lessons he’s picked up so far: The biggest, truest stories emerge in the smallest moments; ask the right question, and the possibilities are endless; and, work begets work. Oh, and more work can beget a case of total body failure. Which in turn can finally beget Colin Hanks in your studio for a long-awaited conversation.
Yep, it’s our 100th episode – or issue, in magazine speak – and we can’t think of a better guest to mark the occasion than Ron Howard. He hit his 100th episode at 10, but hey, he had a head start, acting on some of the most iconic shows of their day. But from about that same age, he knew his future as an artist was behind the camera, and once he saw it might happen, “The only rule I gave myself was that I loved the medium, and I wanted to explore it.” And he has, in many genres and subjects. A self-described “nonintellectual,” he’s educated himself – and us – about space, parenting, journalism, schizophrenia, racing, and now, Einstein, with one desired outcome: “I want people to be able to say, ‘Wow, that must be what it’s like.’” He tells fascinating, human stories, and we’re honored to hear him tell his own.
