Reflecting on: The 19-year old dreamer...

Yesterday I found a box in a cupboard marked “For Storage – America 2001”.

I took the box off the shelf, dusted it off and realized that I hadn’t seen the content of this box in nearly 13 years.

 

Like an excited child on Christmas morning, I ripped off the packing tape, opened the top of the box and a flood of memories filled my head, taking me back to 2001 when at the age of 19 I took a big brave step to go and explore America.

I found my plane ticket to New York, a book with names of people I met during this time, some photos, a subway pass, another plane ticket to LA… and then the callsheet and production notes from the first movie I ever worked on.

Digging deeper in the box, I found a love letter, a copy of the Hollywood reporter, an Oscar statue a friend gave me and a copy of the Los Angeles Times with the 9/11 tragedy printed on the front page.

Suddenly my original dream came back and confronted me. Head on! 

At the age of 19, all I wanted to do was to make movies. I found myself living in Los Angeles, doing just that. Working with incredible people – some who are now quite prolific in the Movie Business – but back then, they were just my mates, colleagues – people who I learned from. I was just this young kid from Potchefstroom who wanted to work in Showbiz. 

I lived in a dodgy spot on Hollywood Boulevard with the Walk of Fame literally on my doorstep. I hung out at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel’s pool on Saturdays, I shopped at Ralph’s – and sometimes at the 99c store because I was broke; I made small talk with the Elvis and Marilyn Monroe impersonators outside Mann’s Chines Theater and always greeted the prostitutes who stood around the corner between the bus stop and where I lived. 

It was a very different place to the small conservative University town where I came from.

The people were colourful. Open. Interesting – and interested in me – and my “German-sounding accent”.

Like our friend Charlize, I watched TV to try and emulate a generic American accent – but one day I’d sound like I’m from the Midwest and another day I’d sound like I jumped the border from Mexico…  never getting it down quite a 100% - but being the Afrikaans boerseun that I am, I learned to speak English properly in America – and to this day – when I’m drunk – a bit of the twang comes through…

I remember taking the bus to the Beverly Centre in Beverly Hills to see where “the rich people” shopped… wandering around Rodeo Drive and the Reg Bev Wilsh (Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel) where famous scenes from Pretty Woman was filmed, hoping to catch a glimpse of a star – or a talent scout.

I’ve actually done that agent walk – where you walk from agent to agent hoping one of them will rep you… Yes, you – the unknown kid with no experience from Africa.

Then there was the randomness of befriending a girl, who happened to be the daughter of one of the biggest stars in Hollywood… (Insert name-drop here)… 

Ending up at their house for Breakfasts, being driven to the 3^rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica by her mother – thinking – how fucking random is this…!
A year ago, I was cycling on my bicycle to school in Potchefstroom… and now I’m in the back of their Lincoln Towncar… 

 

 

I dug a little deeper in the box, and found the key to 7038 ½ Hollywood Blvd… the place I stayed.

It still had the Ralph’s discount tag on the key ring. Coupons and discounts were clearly a thing when you’re 19 and don’t have much money.

 

  

I read through the production notes from that first movie – Red Herring – it was called. An independent movie that never really went anywhere – but it was good! It was a start. And I needed a start!

Then one autumn day in September, tragedy struck and the world as we know it, changed forever.

The morning of September 11, we were filming scenes for the movie in the (now closed) Radisson Hotel in LA Westside when we were woken up by our Producer only to be told what had just happened in New York.

Immediately I thought of my friend Isobel and here boyfriend Jesse – because about 2 weeks earlier, I had stayed with them in New York and visited the World Trade Centre with Isobel because Jesse worked in one of the towers.

Jesse survived 9/11.

George W. Bush had just been elected President. America was unstable, I was 19 and from a small town in South Africa… Bush declared war – and I was scared. Very very scared.

Filming on The Red Herring wrapped towards the end of that year – it went into Post, I took a job on another independent movie but Christmas was around the corner, America was at war and I wanted to get home.

But during all of this, I met a boy. He lived in West Hollywood, he was an Actor (like most people living in LA), he was charming, funny and he was very intrigued by the fact that I was a white kid from Africa.

He called me “Africa”.

He knew that I wanted to go home – but nevertheless invited me to stay with him for the time being. 

When you’re that young and impressionable a three-letter word like “War” scares the living daylight out of you. No one knew how serious the war situation could become and I knew that I would be able to get a job in South Africa when I’m back.

So, at the end of that year, I called the airline and booked my ticket home.

Going through the box, I came across a notebook where I scribbled down possible flight options and times – and when I read it again yesterday, it took me straight back to that day when I wrote it. 

 

I also found the note where I wrote what time the cab was picking me up.

Dido’s song “Here with me” was playing in the cab on the way to the airport.

It was drizzling.

I remember it vividly.

Since then, a lot has happened. I’m still making movies, albeit in a slightly different format – but if it wasn’t for that leap of faith, buying a ticket to a place I’ve only ever seen in movies – how different could my life have been?

Now, older, wiser, a bit more successful, this box filled with memories evoked quite a lot of emotion when I opened it yesterday, but gosh, what an incredible incredible story to reflect back on!

When living your story, make sure it’s worth writing!

LSx