Stevie Vallance
A collection of projects by Stevie Vallance's production company.
La Eh
by Stevie Vallance, Shared Vision Magazine, Vancouver, Jan 03 issue
backFor me, leaving LA and moving back to Canada, can be compared to having fought in a war zone, and then trying to fit back in to a "normal" society, with no adjustment therapy. Considered to be "the pot at the end of the rainbow" to anyone who has NOT lived there for a period of time, I can always tell if I am speaking to another "returned home Canadian".. Instead of saying "wow", they say, "my blessings". The following is offered to all of the people who have ever asked me the question, "What"s it really like in LA?", and also to any of those veterans who just need to reminisce with another "LA -ex".
When one flies in to The City Of Lost Angels, one can't help but notice the incredible vastness of the city. It is so large that you are actually flying over buildings and freeways for about 45 minutes before the flight attendant announces that you are approaching LAX. The other "noticeable" is the olive black helmet that hovers over the entire mass. Take your last deep clean breath, as it may be your last.
Because of it's proximity there is some validity to the city's self imposed image that it IS the center of the universe. It is a man-made oasis surrounded by desert and ocean, with no other city of any magnitude around for literally thousands of miles - save San Francisco - whose people would no sooner be associated with LA, than be in the same state (which they are currently trying to divide in to "Northern California"). Leaving the city means boarding a plane and traveling at least 4 to 5 hours - not to mention in to another time zone. Unless you are already successful enough to be able to afford these costly getaways, with secretaries and machinery advanced enough to continue running your life while you are in fact not there, the myth that you are missing something will most definitely prove to be true. There IS someone else ready to take the carrot that you have worked so hard to grasp, and more than likely, it will be one of your best friends.
Like all the starry-eyed hopefuls who pack up their bags and head for Lotus Land, I had my heart set on stardom, fame and fortune. When I first got there, over 20 years ago, Los Angeles still held the special magic that is depicted in so many movies and books. I remember floating along Hollywood Boulevard, looking at all the stars on the sidewalk and stopping to slide my shoes in to Judy Garland's imprints at Grahman's Chinese Theatre. The main difference was that the city seemed to sparkle, and not just behind the lenses of my rose coloured glasses, but with a "cleanliness" that is no longer there. For one, you could still breath the air, and for another, there wasn't the constant fear of a stranger approaching you with a gun because you forgot to take off your phony Rolex.
Hollywood is a figment of other peoples' imaginations. Some people go there because they are bored with their jobs and they see shows like Melrose Place or 90210 and they think, "I can do that. I know, I'll become an actor and go to LA and get a series." What they find are 16 million people who look and act just like them. Per square foot there are 3 beautiful, drop dead, "would-sell-your-soul-to-look-like" wannabees, ALL as ambitious and convinced of their stardom as they are. I found that very intimidating, to say the least.
Ironically, no one is actually from LA. Someone once told me that The Almighty created Los Angeles when he tipped America on one side and all the fruit cakes slid to the west coast. The ingredients which make up the city (nuts and raisins not excluded) DO attract a certain type of person. Someone who wants to make it.
What exactly does "making it" mean?This expression is so overrated, yet so undefined, that it deserves a book of it's own. I got tired of asking everyone else, so I finally decided to ask myself. It took me years to come up with what, for me, turned out to have nothing to do with LA. I found some solace in many of the self-help organizations that seem to breed like rabbits there, but mostly, I just started observing the people whom the public had deemed as having "made it". Some of the fortunate few were my friends, and the price they had to pay for their power, fame and riches, meant having to struggle even harder in order to maintain it. There is no 'there' there.
The attitude is "life is short, so why bother with anywhere else? This is the ultimate place to score." Hence, everyone walks around as if they have entered a giant lottery, only no one knows when and where the draw is going to be.
While it is true, that LA possesses potentially the quickest route to fame and fortune, it is not true, however, that it holds the key to everlasting happiness. There is a hypnotic lure that continues to make LA so mysteriously irresistible. People want to believe that Disneyland really exists. The Buddhists call it the "Veil of Illusion". I call it the spell of "La-La Land". At first it was fun. Then one year turned in to five, overnight, and suddenly I was awakening to the realization that I had been there sixteen season less years that had flown by in one blurry flash of Mercedes chrome, casting couch casualties and siliconed body parts.
The sad truth is that LA is not filled with a lot of brainless bimbos, however, I know a lot of incredibly gifted beings who have been really beaten down. They are bright, independent, positive people who have a lot of talent but who can't get anywhere with it, and thus become victims of it. At a certain point, their own bodies become their enemies as they give up their dreams, and start to metamorphose in to the very bimbos they swore they'd never become.
There is a fixation with eternal youth. You can't grow old there - they won't let you. In LA, however, you can buy youth. The only problem is that the obsession becomes an ongoing cycle and by the time you've overhauled the entire body, it's time to start over again. I know a woman who keeps her plastic surgeon on a retainer because she has some kind of plastic surgery done every month. It becomes an addiction.
I often think centuries from now, some archaeologist is going to be digging up Los Angeles and he's going to find all these bones with silicone sacks and wonder what kind of rare species lived in this part of the world.
When I first arrived in LA, I was told "you're not the typical all-American cheerleader type". I learned very quickly that I had to compete against large breasts, tiny noses and blonde hair. Basically, I had to look like Barbie in order to succeed. I think that's when I discovered my talent for playing character roles.
LA became the nucleus of my universe. It's like the rest of the world seized to exist. For years I had to put the rest of my life on hold. I kept telling myself, "after I've made it, then I can leave - then I can do what I love to do." It wasn't possible to have alternative hobbies or studies because I had to be available for auditions that might come up with only an hour's notice.
Employment in another line of work was not only frowned upon, it was impossible to schedule. Vacationing anywhere meant facing the wrath of my agent (gawd forbid) who had me trained like an obedient dog, with the belief that if I dared to leave town, I would surely miss something. Life became an endless road of hustling, schmoozing, knocking on doors, and driving to interviews in my car for an average of 5 hours a day The work I did get became my 'vacation'. That's when I could relax.
I believe it was my Canadian roots that kept me sane. Whenever I worked in Toronto, however, I was constantly bombarded with the question, "What's it really like in LA?" I found that if I told my truth, I always seemed to disappoint my 'glassy-eyed' listeners. They didn't want to know that LA wasn't the story book they had heard all about. They wanted to blame their lack of success on the fact that they didn't have a green card. I felt guilty for having one and not being happy about living in the city they would have given their right arm to live in. Thus, I kept returning, thinking I must need a major attitude adjustment and that that was the problem.
In the decade and a half that I lived there, I saw a lot of changes. The most profound transformation being during the period of the riots, fires and earthquakes. For me it was as if the sky finally opened up and said, in a loud booming voice, "It's time to LEAVE now!" Ten years later, safely nestled in Vancouver, the earthquakes in LA are still going on, and drive-by shootings have become as common as doing your laundry. When I call my friends back in LA, and all they can say to my cries of joy at having found paradise in Vancouver is, "Doesn't the rain bother you?", I say, "A little, but at least I can breathe!"
LA is a world class competitive game and if anyone kids themselves in to thinking of it as anything less, then they are definitely living in dreamland. I think there should be a warning typed at the bottom of every boarding pass to LA that says: "If you don't eat it, drink it, sleep it and think it...FORGET IT!" But hey, at the very least, go there and get a suntan. If you come back, you'll work more in Canada - just for having been there.