I have a confession to make. I am not an actor. I do not, nor have I ever, claimed to have any skill in acting, nor a desire to be an actor of any kind. Despite this, I often find myself on various stages, doing various things in front of people I don't know, aka "the public". When I was younger, I did a lot of singing, which put me on the stage often. I was in musical theater classes, performed in one musical theater production (which left a somewhat sour taste in my mouth, since typecasting was apparently all the rage, and geeky girls wearing glasses don't really get the flush parts, no matter their vocal abilities). I sung the National Anthem. At conferences, minor league baseball games, etc. I performed in a couple of bands (one jazz, one pop) and a few choirs.

I also danced. I loved ballet, and being on the stage never bothered me. I danced in college as one of those girls wearing the sparkly figure skating outfit with the gold pom-pons, counting and marching during halftime twenty feet in front of the University of Colorado drumline, hoping our beloved Buffs would win (they were actually pretty good back then).

I played sports. Gymnastics. It's not exactly a stage, but if you fuck up, you do it all by yourself in front of a lot of people while wearing a leotard. How's that for scary? I even did it through my teenage years, until I was 19, so I confronted fear on a national level while feeling extremely self-conscious about pretty much everything, but mostly my awkward and un-curvy body.

Then somewhere along the line, I got myself behind the curtain, writing and directing films in school, which was surprisingly comfortable. I loved being able to show up and tell people what do to and not have to worry about how I looked, because no one was going to remember and no one was looking at me anyway. They would only remember what was on the screen after everything was said and done, and most of the time (save for a couple of small films), I was nowhere to be found, except in the stories we could regale one another with afterwards over a few beers. And that, my friends, has been lovely.

And yet, it seems as though the stage has found me again. I have gone a bit of a foray into writing comedy for film and television, as practice, on spec. I do it for fun at this point, and I cross all my fingers and toes, hoping that someday soon I'll be able to do it for money as well. So I work to improve my craft. And part of improving that craft has been improv. I recklessly decided to sign up for a seven week improv class here in San Diego at a place not far from my house. So far, I've had two classes, and while I'm not going to say it's easy, I feel a certain comfort with just making things up. It's so much easier than having to memorize something and then pray you don't forget it at the exact moment you are supposed to show it to the world, which has definitely happened to me more than once.

Until this class, I had no idea what improv was, other than a shortened version of the word improvisation. I had never seen improv, or heard stories from people who do improv. It was something that was vaguely related to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler and there was something called Upright Citizens Brigade and another thing called Second City. And something called Groundlings. But other than that, I've been clueless. But I'm learning. I don't have a choice. They don't mess around up there at Finest City Improv. They get you on the stage and get you out there. 

So the other night was my first time on stage, doing improv. If I could think of something to liken it to, it would be for someone to ask you if you knew how to train a Whing-ding-a-saurus, and you looked them straight in the eye and said, "Why yes, I know exactly how to do that." But in the back of your mind, you are thinking: Train a what? Even my dog doesn't listen to me.

But that's something you should know about me. I never back down from a challenge. So I grilled my teacher on what was going to happen, which of course, he can only answer so much. I love rules and knowing there's a plan. And improv doesn't really have a plan. Or rules. So, I show up the other night, and Amy, one of the other instructors, gives us the rundown for the evening. We're going to start out with a game where you have to name things in a category until you either repeat one or can't think of one. Okay, I can do that. I love brain games. Then, little scenes. 

Me: How long is a scene?
Them: However long it needs to be.
Me: How will I know it's over?
Them: You'll know.

Hmm. These guidelines are a bit fuzzy. But oh well. I'm going to roll with it anyway. The music starts, and we all go out on the stage. Somehow I'm bringing up the rear, with just one other person behind me. We start the brain game. Cars. I got this. Dictators. Easy. Candy bars. Fine, but I didn't hear one person say Snickers, so I've got a hit against me. On to the next one. Swear words. US Cities. Come on, people, how about a challenge. Beers. Puh-leese. (all those years in bars are finally paying off). Cartoon cats. At least three pop into my head, but it's over before it gets to me. And before I know it, I'm the winner. So far, improv is working out.

On to the scenes. I'm not sure what the hell is going on, so I just watch. But before too long, Amy pulls me out and we are eating fudge. Lots of fudge. And I don't know what I say, I just go with it. Keep going until they say stop. Then another scene. And another. And so on and so on and so on. It just keeps going, rolling through one after the other. And I still feel like I have no idea what's going on, and sometimes I'm just watching as if I'm also in the audience, and other times an idea pops into my head and I jump out there, full force. Thank god I'm not wearing a leotard. And I catch a glimpse of a couple friends who came out, and a couple of guys in my class. And I feel supported, which gives me a boost of confidence. And then it's over, and I'm left to over analyze everything I did or didn't say or do. Which of course, will take days or even weeks to thoroughly pick over.

But the funny thing is, it wasn't uncomfortable. I wasn't all that nervous. I spent most of my energy just trying to figure out what was going on, and trying to keep up. I can't wait to go back.

Benjamin Bratt is a busy man. But you would be too, if you were as talented as he is. He's one of those actors who manages to morph from role to role, whether it's comedy, sci-fi, or drama, he seems at home. I recently took a foray down memory lane to review some of his work. Full disclosure: I never watched Law & Order. Or Private Practice.

Still, Mr. Bratt has an entertaining and impressive body of work. Many of my California friends invoke the title of Blood In Blood Out as a film that has had a significant impact of their lives, whether they are Latino or not. If you haven't seen the film, it's interesting to see that it features some actors that were fairly new to the scene back then, but are now well known and respected actors, including Ving Rhames, Danny Trejo, and Billy Bob Thornton. The film plays out as a brother against brother drama, but is really an exploration of community, family, belonging, and forgiveness. Just under 10 years later, Bratt played the lead role in Piñero, a biopic directed by Cuban-American Leon Ichaso (who is known for directing the TV series Miami Vice). A fascinating film about a fascinating man, it moves between modes of storytelling that makes the film seem like an extension of the man, and Bratt pulls it off well. 

I did see Bratt on a couple of TV shows; Andromeda Strain and Modern Family. While he has great charisma and comedic timing as Gloria's ex-husband on Modern Family, it's nice to know he's able to play roles that aren't specifically Latino, like the scientist of Andromeda (and of course a doctor on Private Practice and detective on Law & Order). I know you didn't ask, but I'm just going to throw it out there: not enough Latinos are cast in roles like that, whether it's television or film. Bratt pulls it off effortlessly, because hey, that's what actors do.

And then a few weeks ago I saw him in a quiet film from Canada titled The Lesser Blessed that explores the coming of age of a young Dagreb tribe member of the Northern Territories. Bratt plays the boy's father-figure; a strong, sometimes absent presence in the boy's life that brings direction and peace to a tumultuous and confusing kid struggling with bullies, a crush, and remembering traditions. It's not Bratt's most high profile role, but it's a really good one. This film stuck with me for several days; the grayish darkness at what seems like the top of the world, the buttoned up parkas hiding who-knows-what beneath downy feathers and long underwear. It's a film for those who want something smart and different. I know I've never seen a film like this, from a place I literally know nothing about.

And for anyone who is wondering (or will let me brag a bit), I had the privilege of meeting him and his brother a few years ago at the San Diego Latino Film Festival, when their film La Mission was playing. Not only was it a powerful film that truly moved the audience, but the Bratts(Ben's brother Peter directed La Mission) were delightful. It's difficult not to like people who are charming, witty, smart, and hunky. I for one, look forward to seeing more great work from Ben (and Peter!).

Not too long ago, I started talking about how I make certain choices when I program movies. It has to do with the actors, and it has to do with the photography.

And it has to do with the writing. Sometimes I watch movies and think that the writer is some sort of evil genius because they seem to be inside my head, writing exactly what I want to hear, even though I don't know I wanted to hear it. The first season of Dexter did that. Mad Men does that.

Then there's the other kind of movie. The kind that has half-formed characters reciting ridiculousness that has you rolling your eyes so often you think you might have seen your brain at one point. Transformers gave me lots of glances at my own grey matter. So did Avatar.

Most stuff lies right in the middle. The stuff at the ends is easier to spot. But the thing about writing is that it's not what is written that is genius. It's the stuff that isn't written. The stuff that characters say without talking: the subtext. Good subtext makes a move great. It can also be very difficult to write, because oftentimes, people write their own lines in those pregnant pauses, and that's not always that the original writer intended. But in a way, that's okay. If someone is willing to invest enough in a character to imagine what's going on in their head, then the writer has accomplished something.

And yet, it's not all about the writer. What's written isn't always what you see. As writing guru Robert McKee says, "Don't mistake words for writing..." (see video here) Actors take what writers write, then make it real. Good actors make it better than it was before. So in the end, what you see on the screen is really just the essence of what was written.

Lastly, writing screenplays is now turning a corner that doesn't really bode well for some. As with most industries, the powers that be are always looking for 'the sure thing' (no one told them that doesn't really exist). In order to find that sure thing, many in Hollywood have turned to fancy analysts, who comb through scripts (at a mighty hefty price, I might add) and suggest changes to the story that will make it more marketable, popular, or whatever it is that makes it the most money possible.

So, you can listen to the analysts, but there are also numerous gurus and experts that have about a bazillion tips and tricks for writing the best script possible. I'm guessing that the real thing is having a great idea, but being able to express it and tell a great story definitely has to happen. Here's guru John Truby with lots to say.

What is the best writing you remember in a movie? How about the worst?

People often wonder why I pick the films I do. It seems like a simple process, and in some ways, it is. Basically, I watch a film, then decide if it's good. But therein lies the complication. What is good? Is it a familiar face? Is it stunning photography? Is it a story with a message? The answer is yes. This is the starting point to a labyrinthian series of decisions and possibilities that determine whether we end up showing a particular film.

Let's start with the famous faces. We all know that when we see an actor that we like in one of those alluring 'Coming Soon' trailers, our stomachs do a little flip of joy and our brains make a little note to put that date on our calendars. But who do we like? Well, there's definitely some debate about that, but filmmakers generally pay more to people they think we like. So according to that notion, these ladies that would seem to carry huge cache for us. Kristen Stewart is at the very top of that list. One of my personal favorites, Nicole Kidman, didn't even break into the top ten. Neither did 2012's Best Actress Oscar Winner (whose work I also enjoy), Jennifer Lawrence. As for leading men? We have the top ten list for them, too. Tom Cruise, anyone? Yep, the action hero still is at the top of the list. So does that mean those are really the faces you want to see? Would you flock to see a film starring Tom and Kristen?

I'm also wondering if you noticed anything funny about those lists. Anyone? In 2012, Tom brought down over twice as much Kristen. Maybe I'll write about that another time. But I digress. 

Then we move on to the photography. This is particularly sticky, in that there are so many ways to shoot a film. It can be ultra-saturated images that include every color of the rainbow, or something drained of color down to a nearly monochromatic visual that sets a particular kind of mood. It could be a carefully composed series of shots on tripods and smoothly moving dolly shots, or a jerky, hand-held film that infuses the visuals with a sense of spontaneity and immediacy. People definitely have preferences for either (I tend to prefer the use of a tripod), but the way a film is photographed can bring great depth to a story that might not have otherwise been there.

And the story? Always key. Some people have an innate desire to see something they can learn from, or something that will lift their spirits from the depths, or share a message of hope, action, or humanity. Some people just want some good explosions. Some people want to see something that has won an Oscar, or other awards that speak to its pedigree. This article has collected all the data you need for the perfect movie. But did it really?

What I'm trying to say is that when I choose movies, I generally pick things that I enjoy watching, which actually includes a wide range of stuff. I know there are people who enjoy movies I don't care for, and I try to keep that in mind as I watch. Things like "Would my mom like this movie?" often run through my head, as well as "How many people on average would fall asleep watching this?"

So tell me. What kind of movies do you like? Do famous actors really matter to you? What's the weirdest movie you thought you would hate but ended up liking?