Holy Headshot!: A Celebration of America’s Undiscovered Talent

I can’t say I really enjoyed my years working as an account executive at an advertising agency, but it wasn’t without its moments. One always arrived when it came time to audition “talent” for commercials. We’d pour over stacks of headshots provided by the would-be actors and actresses, and laugh at their ridiculous poses, their suspect lists of credits, the shoddiness and self-importance of it all.

HOLY HEADSHOT!: A CELEBRATION OF AMERICA’S UNDISCOVERED TALENT takes me back to those days, only Patrick Borelli and Douglas Gorenstein have found the absolute most desperate, self-deluded wannabe stars in existence, whereas mine were limited to the greater Oklahoma City metro.

From a reported pool of more than 50,000 submitted headshots, they’ve narrowed the field to a hundred or so to represent the best of the worst, reprinted in full, sometimes-horrifying color. These are presented as is, without commentary, so make of them what you will.

Doing so, of course, won’t take much making. Not when:
• Kitten Kay Sera (star of a Vytorin commercial) makes clear that she will only wear pink — the color of her résumé, incidentally, and her dog.
• Shelly M. Crawchuck (PART-TIME NINJA) is shown sitting on the toilet, pants at her ankles, and lists “teak and wood refinisher” as a special skill, because we all know how many blockbuster movies hinge on such an ability.
• Clement Dyer (he’s been in “a black film”) claims — in all caps, mind you — that he’s “VERY GOOD AT PLAYING THE ROLE OF AN ANTOGONIST THE MAN FEARED VILLAIN THAT COMES TO TOWN JUST TO PICK A FIGHT ON THE WEAK, TAKE THEM AND RIP THEM OFF FROM THEIR BELONGINGS, AND AT THE SAME TIME RAPE AND KILL THEIR YOUNG DAUGHTERS JUST TO LATER BE HUNTED BY THE UNION ARMY AND NATIVE BOUNTY HUNTERS WHO PRACTICE CANNIBALISM ( I OWN THE SCRIPT).” That, of course, completes his credits on the stage.
• Ray Normandeau (emcee of the Bare Breasted Mermaid Parade) is legally blind, yet able to hold up a box of generic corn flakes with the best of ‘em.
• Nick Denes is a good ol’ boy with no acting appearances yet, but his handwritten (poorly, at that) résumé lists Donald Trump as one of his favorite actors and “SHEHEK” as a fave film.
• Ken Glatt’s credits are completely blank, but hey, “Voice-Over Big Time. Can throw my voice, it is hard to see my lips move. Do Kermit the Frog Voice. I’m like a Doctor Doolittle.”
• Nikolay Shimunov so admires Steven Seagal that his headshot includes five — count ‘em, five! — photos of him dressed like the action hero.

And so on and so on, with breakdancers, the morbidly obese, jugglers, mimes, tattooed and pierced monstrosities, gender benders (“willing to perform nude”), people who really shouldn’t have their shirts unbuttoned and people who I swear aren’t allowed within 100 feet of schoolyards, parks and playgrounds.

It’s awfully funny, and then genuinely depressing. To think that these men, women and mullets are investing in a dream that likely will never pan out, at least into recognition greater than this book, which makes them a laughingstock. Then again, the headshot is all their creation and they willingly sent them in for inclusion, so that makes them fair game. Fire away.

Comedian David Cross must corner the market on introductions of books of freakish portions of the public who don’t know any better, given his recent contribution to NO REGRETS: THE BEST, WORST, & MOST #$%*ING RIDICULOUS TATTOOS EVER and now this, in which he posits: “How do you think that any of the greats were cast for their roles? Daniel Day-Lewis in THERE WILL BE BLOOD was cast by Paul Thomas Anderson on the strength of his multiposed headshot wherein he showed his range by setting himself as a doctor, a sexy businessman, a 1950s-like tough guy, and a thoughtful construction worker. Meryl Streep was cast in SOPHIE’S CHOICE once the director saw the headshot wherein she was wearing what looked like a prom gown, sucking on a lollipop, and making ‘crazy eyes.’”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. In fact, a picture is worth a thousand words. And here, three of that thousand are “oh,” “my” and “God.” —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

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