I’m 45 and Playing a Grandmother. Am I Done?
Dear Remy,
I’ve been an actress for over 20 years, and I’ve just landed a role in a new TV show. Sounds great, right? Except I’ve been cast as a grandmother. I’m 45. I’ve still got abs, Remy! I do hot yoga four times a week and could probably bench-press my 30-year-old co-star, but instead, I’m apparently spending my scenes knitting and reminiscing about “the good ol’ days.”
The actor playing my grandson is 30. Thirty! I could date him in real life (and believe me, I have dated in that age range—they just have so much more zeal!), but instead, I’m playing his dear old grandmama. I half expect my next scene to be me handing him a hard candy and telling him how I met Grandpa at Woodstock (spoiler: I was not alive during Woodstock).
I’m worried this is it. That soon I’ll be cast as the wise neighbor who hands out casseroles or the eccentric aunt who gives cryptic advice while pruning roses? I’ve already accepted the role, but what does this mean for my future? Should I just start shopping for cardigans and shawls now? Have a walker or two on standby?
Yours,
Grand-dame, not Grandma
Dear Grand-dame,
You’re right—Hollywood has this charming habit of shoving actresses into “older woman” roles long before they’re ready. Once you’re in the grandmother club, you may indeed get more offers for similar parts. It’s not fair, but it’s reality.
However, since you’ve taken the role, your focus now is how to own it. What can you bring to this character that makes her unforgettable? You have the chance to play this role in a way that completely upends the usual expectations. Think of it as your grandmother—one who does hot yoga, benches 200 pounds, and is still posting thirst traps on Instagram.
It’s also about thinking long-term. Yes, this role could be the first of many grandmother offers, but you can still control what you do next. Start strategizing for roles that break the mold. A grandmother who leads her own heist? Who is the center of a love quintangle? Who is the bodyguard to the president during an alien attack?
Stay vital but play versatile,
Yours,
Remy
Illustration by Russ Tudor
Help! My Gut Instincts Have Abandoned Me!
Dear Remy,
I’ve been a casting director for over a decade, and for most of that time, I was the person everyone called when they needed an actor who could carry a film. I had an unshakable instinct—like I could spot talent from across the room, even if they were just there to drop off headshots. I once cast a lead actor based solely on how they carried a chair out of the waiting room (it was measured but soulful and put me in mind of a young Gregory Peck). I’m pleased to say that decision worked out—just like all the others.
Then last year, I made a huge mistake. We were casting the male lead for a high-budget musical adaptation, and I thought I found the perfect guy. He cried during his audition—literally, tears streaming down his face—and I was convinced we’d struck gold. I thought to myself, “This man will get an Oscar. I will get an Oscar. We will all get Oscars,” like I was channeling Oprah Winfrey.
But once we got to set and the cameras started rolling for real, it was like someone flipped a switch. His performance was so wooden, I half-expected him to start sprouting branches and have a family of bullfinches nest in him. It turns out his big emotional audition was thanks to an aggressive bout of hay fever, not any actual acting ability.
Suddenly, I’ve lost all faith in my decision-making. Now I can’t even make up my mind whether I want oat milk or almond in my latte, let alone cast the next star. Yesterday, I stood in front of my closet for 15 minutes, debating whether my shoes from 2010 were vintage enough to wear ironically or if I should just buy new ones. What do I do, Remy? Is my career doomed because of one guy and a rogue pollen count?
Yours,
Cast Adrift
Dear Cast Adrift,
You’re not over. Making decisions in casting means taking risks, and sometimes those risks backfire. It’s impossible to be right every time. If you were, you wouldn’t be taking enough chances.
This one feels huge because the consequences are public, but let’s be honest—you didn’t make this decision in isolation. Directors and producers backed you, which means everyone saw what you saw. That should tell you something: your instinct is still strong. You just got unlucky this time. We all have our day of reckoning eventually, and you should perhaps be glad that the greatest adversary you have faced is pollen.
You’re second-guessing yourself on everything because this one big choice has knocked your confidence. The best way to move past it? Talk to your peers in the industry. Everyone—everyone—has made a bad call at some point. Amy Heckerling recovered from ‘Look Who’s Talking Too,’ the Wachowskis from ‘Jupiter Ascending,’ and Ang Lee from ‘Gemini Man.’ It’s not about the mistake; it’s about how you recover from it.
You’ve built your career by trusting your gut, and one misstep doesn’t erase that. Get back out there and make the next great casting choice.
Warmly,
Remy
I Long to Be Part of a Power Couple — So Why Am I Stuck as a Power Single?
Dear Remy,
I’m a writer who’s spent the last ten years clawing my way up the Hollywood ladder. I’ve done the grind—scripts for children’s shows, soap operas, whatever I could get. And finally, I’ve broken into premium drama. I’ve had a few things optioned, and one of my scripts was actually turned into a pilot, which almost got picked up. If you squint, you can see me just brushing up against success.
But here’s the thing: all the big-name writers I admire are part of Hollywood power couples. You know, the ones who are dating A-list actors or married to top-tier producers. I’m not asking for much—just someone who can help me navigate this town while looking fabulous in a designer tuxedo. Someone who my name can be linked to on Getty Images, or that we can fuse together, like ‘Brangelina.’
I’ve been swiping through dating apps like a maniac, but it’s all wrong. Realtors, software engineers—there was even someone really into making sourdough bread. How is sourdough bread going to help me get into Sundance, Remy? I’m looking for a guy who understands that I’m only two scripts away from being somebody and, preferably, has access to exclusive after-parties.
Am I being shallow? Maybe. But is it too much to ask for love and a career boost?
Yours,
Power Single
Dear Power Single,
If you’re looking to be in a power couple right now, you’re just going to be someone famous’s plus-one. Power couples are made up of two people who’ve both made it, and right now, you’re still on your way up. The best move? Focus on your career first. Build your name. Then, when you’ve made it, you won’t need someone else’s fame to boost you—you’ll be equals.
In any relationship, especially one in the spotlight, balance and equality are crucial. If you rush into something where there’s a significant imbalance—whether in fame, success, or influence—it can create tension that undermines the relationship before it even starts. Real power couples are built on mutual respect, and that respect comes from both people being able to stand on their own.
The career comes first. The right relationship will follow when you’re ready, and it’ll be based on who you are, not who they are.
Yours,
Remy
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Remy Blumenfeld is a veteran TV producer and founder of Vitality Guru, which offers business and career coaching to high performers in media. Send queries to: guru@vitality.guru.
Questions edited by Sarah Mills.