Is There a Method to This Madness? Or Am I Stuck Being a Cobbler?
I’m an A-list actress known for my dedication to Method acting. When I played a mime, I spent a year training at Gaulier. When I played a sheep farmer, I became an expert shearer. And when I played a heart surgeon, I wound up with a restraining order that prevented me from going within 50 meters of Cedars-Sinai.
My latest role has been in a thoughtful and understated period drama — I play a 19th-century cobbler, who falls in love with her assistant. (In a particularly beautiful scene, they confess their love to each other wearing nothing more than the sandals they crafted earlier that day.)
To fully immerse myself in this walk of life (no pun intended), I spent weeks apprenticing with an actual cobbler. I learned to craft shoes by hand, stitching leather to felt, and even picked up a slight stoop to truly understand the character’s physical toll.
But here’s where it gets weird: the movie wrapped six months ago, and I’m still living like a cobbler.
My home has turned into a workshop, with leather scraps, awls and thread cluttering every surface. My partner is fed up with the constant smell of shoe polish, and we’ve been arguing often. I even found myself fixing my neighbor’s shoes the other day — which got me in a terrible amount of trouble because. apparently, Manolo Blahniks shouldn’t have chunky straps nailed across the front. (They gave me vertigo just looking at them, Remy — I was only trying to make them safer!)
I’ve got to admit: I am as mystified by this turn of events as everyone around me, but I just can’t help myself. I’m reaching for my tack pullers and thread each morning before I’ve even made it to my second coffee. Have I found my true calling?
Sincerely,
Cobbled Together
Dear Cobbled Together,
It sounds like you’ve truly walked a mile — or several — in those cobbler’s shoes. While it’s admirable to commit so fully to your craft, I wonder if you’ve allowed the character to overstay their welcome in your life? I can understand why your partner is so miffed—they’re in a throuple now with you and your awl-wielding alter ego!
Have you considered the possibility that the cobbler isn’t just a role but a mirror reflecting something deeper within you? Perhaps the comfort you find in the routine of cobbling speaks to a need for stability or simplicity in your life outside of acting. Working with one’s hands can be meditative and release a different part of the creative brain. Some people do Sudoku, some people do sound baths — you have found a calming space in footwear, and there is nothing wrong with that.
Authenticity in your craft is important, but at what cost to your personal life? Can you find a way to honor the work you’ve done on this role while also allowing yourself to step back into your own shoes — both literally and metaphorically? You’ve spent so much time being someone else that perhaps it’s time to reintroduce yourself to who you are outside of this character. Could setting boundaries for your Method acting help you maintain balance?
Remember, your ability to let go of a role can be just as powerful as your ability to inhabit it.
And before I finish — I would definitely check the ingredients of the shoe polish you’ve been using as they often have addictive or mood-altering properties.
Always putting my best foot forward for my clients,
Remy
Illustration by Russ Tudor
Help! My Dog Has More Instagram Followers Than Me!
Dear Remy,
Since the TV and film industries have been in a bit of a tailspin, I turned to the social media space to keep building my profile. I‘ve made a name for myself as a comic actor in a pleasant stream of television roles, but I know that in this day and age, it’s a wise move to have a consistent online presence.
After building a steady following on Instagram, I set up an account for my dog — a King Charles Spaniel called Delroy. It was something I did as a joke with some friends one evening after a few too many glasses of Shiraz, but — would you believe it? — Delroy now has more followers than me.
From being entirely unbothered about social media some months ago, I’ve found this latest development has really bruised my ego! Delroy sneezes into a row of dahlias at Holmby Park, and that somehow gets 21,000 views. Meanwhile, I spend an hour getting into makeup before rehearsing and filming a well-observed skit in which I play every single member of the cast of Love Is Blind UK, and it only makes it to the low hundreds.
I know this is wild, but I find myself riven with jealousy of Delroy. I have honed my craft at the Tisch School, followed by a long stint at UCB — whereas the most training Delroy has ever completed was via the American Kennel Club, and he still came home deathly afraid of mailmen. Nevertheless, he has the sort of dedicated fan base I have always dreamed of. They truly seem to love my little mutt, whereas the most praise I have gotten was from a malfunctioning bot.
Remy, I genuinely don’t think I can stomach managing Delroy’s online account any longer. On the other hand, he brings in brand deals that have afforded us a modest extension. So I ask you: Can I afford to let my envy get in the way of a good income stream?
Yours,
Parent to a Prized Pooch
Dear Parent to a Prized Pooch,
It sounds like Delroy has become the A-Lister in your home, while you had your sights set on the spotlight. I must admit, I’ve never come across this type of conundrum before but 2024 continues to surprise.
Let’s paws for a minute — sorry, pause for a minute. Jealousy is an entirely reasonable response here and has a rightful place in the full gamut of human emotion. The fact that it’s directed at a canine competitor makes the situation unusual but no less deserving of your holding space for it.
The very acute reaction you’re having may tell you something about your deeper wants and needs. You say you have had success as an actor on television, so what is it about the online space that has you feeling you are missing something? Social media offers a very unique opportunity to engage with one’s fans — albeit in a parasocial manner. Perhaps you might find this type of connection via live performance? Delroy certainly can’t have you beat as a stage performer (unless you teach him some circus tricks).
I think it’s worth remembering that YOU are behind the account, so the adoration Delroy receives is still yours to enjoy. And before you delete Delroy’s account, consider this: could he be leading you to a new career, perhaps even pioneering a new business entirely? Beverly Hills is teeming with dog moms and pops — perhaps you’d be missing a trick by not working with them to monetize their furballs. Could you launch the careers of the next feline sensation or even branch out into exotic animals?
How would it feel to challenge yourself with a creative outlet that leans into your natural abilities with pets? Don’t let Delroy overshadow you; think of it as a pet-human power partnership.
Your unfiltered confidante,
Remy
Why Is My Guacamole More Famous Than My Films?
Dear Remy,
I’ve been directing films for over a decade, and while I’m no Spielberg, I’ve carved out a decent niche for myself. My overall Rotten Tomatoes score is 66 percent — not too shabby.
But here’s the thing — no one seems to care about my films as much as they care about my guacamole. It started as a simple on-set snack: catering had ordered too many avocados on Instacart, and I couldn’t help but whip out some red onion, lemon and get to mashing. My dad always made guacamole when the weather was poor, or we were sick — so I think of it as a way of caring for people and always repeat his recipe.
In no time at all, word spread, and my guac became the stuff of legend. It’s the first thing cast and crew now ask me about before signing on to my projects, which makes me feel a little like they’re insulting my directing skills, though I try not to show it. One actress even requested it in her rider (though she is a bit of a diva — she also requested all the runners on set wear camo).
You’ll never guess what happened next. One of my actors went on a national morning show and spoke to the host backstage, and…now I have been invited on to do a cookery segment with them.
Remy, I’m starting to take this idea seriously. Maybe I could be the next Rachael Ray, or Martha Stewart (though without the felony charges)?
The film industry is relentless, and I’ve begun daydreaming about book deals, product lines and TEDx talks on ways to get the best out of avos. Am I totally insane here? This feels like a fork in the road, and I truly can’t decide which route to take.
Best,
Guac and Roll
Dear Guac and Roll,
Your guacamole is clearly the stuff of legend, but is it really enough to sustain you — or more importantly, fulfill you — long-term? While the idea of trading the pressures of directing for the thrill of being “the talent” might sound beguiling, I wonder if you’re seeing this passion as an escape rather than a genuine calling. Have you asked yourself what it is about guacamole that captivates you so? Is it the simplicity, the creativity or perhaps the way it brings people together?
Midlife crises often come with a strong urge to simplify or shift gears dramatically, but they can also be opportunities to rediscover what you truly love. Rather than seeing this as an either/or decision — guac or directing — could there be a way to integrate this passion into your existing career? Maybe your guac could be the inspiration for a new film or a way to connect more deeply with the people you work with.
I think your serendipitous route into the morning TV show game speaks to the wonderful unpredictability of our industry and, if I may be so bold, of life itself. Did you ever see yourself being called upon by the nation to share your homespun recipe? How wonderful is that? And the fact that you can bring your dad’s recipe to a wider audience sounds like the stuff great movies are made of.
You don’t mention in your letter whether you have any dependents or if a career change is something you can afford, but there are definitely times in life when you can afford to be bold and take a bit of a risk. Is this one of those times for you? The world of being an entrepreneur and a “face” has its own challenges, and I would counsel you to think about the strains that would entail. For every Gordon Ramsay, there are 100 faceless chefs who thought they might have made a career yelling at underlings in white uniforms while cameras rolled.
But if the call of the spotlight is too strong to ignore, ask yourself: What do you hope to achieve in that new life? Is it about escape, or is there a deeper desire for something you’re not getting from directing? The key is to ensure that whatever choice you make, it’s driven by passion, not just the need to get away.
And if you haven’t thought of it already: Smoked garlic makes a wonderful addition to any guacamole recipe. You can have that one for free.
Avocadon’t stress,
Remy
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.