The Incredible True Story of Blondy Baruti

by Blondy Baruti

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure where this was going.

  “We think you have the talent to become a successful actor, and we want to support you in that endeavor. And we don’t want you to have to worry about how you will pay your bills while you’re trying to find work.”

  What came next was truly incredible. Jami and Tony offered to set me up in an apartment in Koreatown, with the rent prepaid for three full years. They would also pay for a car and health insurance, and give me a monthly stipend so that I could buy groceries and gas and other assorted necessities. In other words, they would pay for my life so that I could concentrate fully on trying to make it as an actor.

  “Jami, I don’t know what to say.”

  She smiled. “You don’t have to say anything. But it’s not free, Blondy. What we expect in return is that you will work your butt off. Show us what you can do. Make something happen with your life. No excuses.”

  “No excuses,” I parroted back. Then I gave Jami a hug and thanked her again. I no longer felt sorry for myself; in fact, I was rather embarrassed for having ever indulged in such behavior. How many struggling young actors in Hollywood would have wanted to trade places with me at that moment? I knew what it was like to be alone in this town. I knew what it was like to have no friends, no contacts, no home, and no food.

  I knew what it was like to have no hope.

  But now?

  Anything was possible.

  CHAPTER 28

  * * *

  My job was to find a job, and I embraced it with all the energy and enthusiasm I could muster. For a young actor on the hunt for work, one of the biggest challenges is creating a productive rhythm to your life. The temptation is great to let inertia win the day: sleep in, take meetings over lunch, do some surfing, hit the clubs at night. Work when there is work, and spend a lot of time playing. I tried hard not to fall into this trap. I wanted to make Jami and Tony proud; I wanted them to think they had made a wise investment. So I filled my days with acting classes and auditions and meetings; I coached youth basketball and took a very intense class designed to reduce my accent. Untitled NBA Project notwithstanding, writers in Hollywood are not sitting around and dreaming up parts for unusually tall African actors with thick, almost unintelligible accents. I had to make myself more marketable.

  It’s fascinating the way things work. I had no experience whatsoever, and a résumé that was virtually blank when I earned the lead role in an ABC pilot. Now that I had that rather impressive line on my résumé, along with some hard-earned insight into the casting end of the business, I couldn’t get a job. There were nibbles, to be sure. I went out on auditions and did my best. Sometimes I would get a callback; sometimes not. But there were no offers. I could usually tell when I arrived at the studio whether I had a chance. If the other actors were all white and under six feet tall, I knew I was a long shot. Often, I could tell simply by reading a synopsis if I was a legitimate candidate. I was not blind to my own weaknesses, or to the peculiarities of my physical appearance and voice. Sometimes, if I was completely honest with myself, I knew within the first page of dialogue that I was inappropriate for the role. Nevertheless, I accepted every opportunity to audition.

  After a while I came to realize that this was the new normal. As with just about every other aspiring young actor in Hollywood, rejection became a staple of my diet. And I learned to swallow it without complaint. Each unsuccessful audition—to say nothing of roles for which I was not even considered—took me further from the rarefied atmosphere I had come close to occupying. After a while I began to wonder, Was I really a good actor? Or had I merely been lucky? The stars had aligned so perfectly with the pilot. I mean, how often does an actor stumble across a part that seems to not merely have been written with him in mind, but is almost like a reflection of his own life.

  Perhaps it was fate, or a fluke, and it would never happen again. But then I reminded myself that I had earned the role through a series of auditions. If I could convince the creators of an A-list project such as that, then surely there were other roles for which I would be a reasonable fit. It was a matter of perseverance.

  At the same time, it never hurts to have a friend in high places, someone who can open doors with a single phone call. Once the door opens, you have to walk into the room and act like you belong there, but I have learned the first step is much harder than the second.

  In October of 2015 I received an email from Bob Iger.

  “How are things going?” he asked.

  I responded honestly. Email, like texting, often has the unfortunate effect of putting a particular emotional spin on something that might not be accurate, so I merely stated the facts.

  “I’m working hard, going on auditions. So far I have not been able to get a job.”

  Bob’s response was short and succinct, but it nearly made me fall off my chair.

  “You’re going to be getting a call from someone at Marvel.”

  Marvel?

  As in Marvel Studios, the film company responsible for many of the biggest blockbusters of the last decade? Marvel? One of the most lucrative brands in the entertainment industry? Home to Spider-Man, Iron Man, the Incredible Hulk, the Avengers, and so many others?

  Yes, that Marvel.

  And then I remembered: Marvel was also a subsidiary of the Walt Disney Company.

  “Hang in there,” Bob wrote.

  A couple days later I got a phone call from the office of Kevin Feige, the president of Marvel Studios. The call came from his assistant. There was a role available in one of the upcoming Marvel movies, a sequel to the wildly successful Guardians of the Galaxy.

  “We think it might be right for you,” she said. “Would you be interested in coming in to read?”

  Was it this easy? Is this the way world worked? The CEO of Disney calls the head of Marvel Studios, and just like that I get an invitation to read for a part in a multimillion-dollar movie? I could barely spit out my answer.

  “Yes, I would like very much to come in and read. Thank you.”

  It all happened so quickly. The next thing I knew, I was in the office of Sarah Finn, one of the top casting directors in Hollywood. I had been told absolutely nothing in advance beyond the fact that I would be reading for a role in the second film in the Guardians of the Galaxy franchise (the movie did not even have a title yet; or if it did, I wasn’t told). I did not know the name of the character or his importance to the movie. I knew nothing about the story or who else would be appearing in the movie (although I presumed that Chris Pratt, the star of the first film, would be returning). Marvel productions tend to be shrouded in secrecy, and this one was no different. Marvel fans are both zealous and resourceful. Any leaked information can be quickly disseminated through social media and spun in ways the studio might not find desirable. Every aspect of a Marvel production, therefore, is withheld from all but a small circle of studio executives and creative personnel. It’s not unusual for the actors themselves to know almost nothing until the production begins. And even then, they are often provided only information that is pertinent to their own characters.

  This was much different from my experience auditioning for the ABC project. To help with preparation, I had been given a series overview and a character synopsis, along with a full scene to rehearse. I went into that audition feeling like I knew my character intimately. I was Mo Gosego. But when I walked into Sarah Finn’s office, I had no idea what to expect. It was like walking into a college exam without having studied. You know you aren’t going to get a good grade; you just hope that you can somehow manage to avoid failing and embarrassing yourself.

  I cannot honestly say that I left Sarah’s office that day feeling strong or confident. This wasn’t really even an audition; it felt more like an interview, and while I got the impression that they liked me, I had no idea whether I was a serious candidate for the job. I still didn’t even understand the job. A broad range of possibilities existed, everything from You’re the only person we are con
sidering for this role . . . to . . . We’re bringing you in as a favor to Bob Iger, but you have no shot.

  Then came the waiting game. It’s never a good idea to sit around waiting for the phone to ring, so I jumped right back into the routine of classes, teaching basketball, working out, and trying to line up more auditions. Finally, about two weeks after I read for the role, I got a phone call from my manager, Adena.

  “Marvel just called. The part is yours.”

  For a moment, I did not say anything. I simply held the phone to my ear and stared out the window of my apartment. And then I began screaming.

  “YES! YES! YES! I am going to be in a Marvel movie!”

  I was so loud that I must have frightened the neighbors. But I could not help myself. There was so much pent-up energy flowing through my body looking for an exit. I found myself dancing around the apartment, singing out loud. I could not get over the idea that I was going to be in a Marvel movie. Whether the role was large or small, whether I would play a villain or a hero, I did not know. And I did not care.

  When I got off the phone with Adena, I waited approximately two seconds before sharing the wondrous news with friends and family. The first person I called was Jami. Without her I would not have been in this apartment. Without her I would not have met Bob Iger. Without her, I would not have gotten this job. As I waited for her to answer the phone, I was struck once again by the wonderful unpredictability of life, and the blessings that come to us in ways large and small, and the importance of finding people you love and trust.

  “Jami, guess what?” I blurted out as soon as she picked up. “I am going to be in a Marvel movie—Guardians of the Galaxy! Can you believe it?”

  There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of Jami crying softly.

  “Blondy, I’m so happy for you,” she said. “You deserve this.”

  ON MY FIRST DAY in Atlanta for principal production on Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, in March of 2016, I woke to the sound of an alarm clock bleating across the blackness of a hotel room. I opened one eye and looked at the numbers. It was 2 a.m. The world is eerily quiet at that hour, as even the biggest of cities slows its breath while resting up to greet another day. Most people hate getting up early, especially so early that when you peel back the drapes in your hotel room it still looks and feels like the middle of the night. Not me. I had barely slept at all the night before—or for most of the previous week. Not because of anxiety—although I’ll admit to a small amount of nervousness—but simply because I could not wait for the day to begin.

  On that first day, and for most of the next two months, while I was on location, I felt no sluggishness. It was almost as though I didn’t need to sleep. I jumped out of bed, put on some lively African music, and began dancing around the room, singing out loud. I’m sure this did not make me the most popular resident on my floor of the hotel, but I simply could not contain myself. In less than an hour, a car would arrive to take me to the movie set. That alone was enough to blow my mind. Never mind that I still had not seen a script and knew almost nothing about the story of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, or my role in it. I was a performer in what was sure to be one of the biggest movies of the year.

  What more could I ask?

  I discovered almost immediately that the process of making movies, particularly special-effects-laden blockbusters, is an extremely slow and tedious affair that bears almost no resemblance to shooting a network sitcom. Every day for me (and for many others in the film) began with several hours in the makeup chair. It took roughly three hours each morning to transform me into the character of Huhtar, an alien who is part of the villainous Ravagers. I knew almost nothing of the Guardians of the Galaxy universe when we started filming, and only marginally more by the end. Even as filming commenced, I was privy only to that which I needed to know for the scenes in which I was included.

  And that was perfectly fine. It was better to aim small, and to concentrate on my little corner of the film, rather than get caught up in the sheer massiveness of the production. I came away from the whole experience with an immense amount of respect for the director, James Gunn, whose job was so vast and demanding that I couldn’t imagine how he ever got a moment’s rest. In a television sitcom, you can shoot an entire episode in a single day; in a movie like Guardians of the Galaxy, you might exhaust weeks shooting a single scene. And when it was done, James and his team of special effects wizards and tech masterminds would apply all manner of digital tweaks and enhancements. Like so many current Hollywood blockbusters, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 was a movie created both on the soundstage and in darkened rooms filled with computers and other technological gadgetry.

  My training came on the stage, which is about as literal an experience as an actor can have. Even my brief foray into television was decidedly low-tech and human. To suddenly be thrown into a situation where I was covered in makeup and instructed to deliver lines or complete a physical task while standing in front of a blank green screen, which would later be replaced by digital images, was quite an eye-opening experience. In some ways, especially in the beginning, it did not feel like acting, but I soon realized that this type of performing is almost more demanding, for it requires an extraordinary amount of discipline and imagination.

  Despite my comparative inexperience, and despite all the pressure he must have faced, and the large number of stars and studio executives with whom he interacted on a daily basis, James Gunn treated me with respect and endless patience.

  “If you have any issues, or any questions, don’t be shy about speaking up,” he said. “We’re all on the same team here.”

  In the end, though, it was incumbent upon me to put forth the best possible performance under the circumstances. If I needed help understanding a particular plot point, or a technological element, the crew was more than happy to oblige. But the actual performance—the acting—was on me. I had to bring it every day, regardless of how large or small my role might have been.

  The fear of embarrassment or failure can be a powerful motivator, and I used it to my advantage. For a while I was somewhat starstruck not only by the scope of the production, but by the presence of so many famous actors—from veterans like Kurt Russell and Sylvester Stallone, to younger stars like Chris Pratt and Zoe Saldana. They were all extremely nice and friendly; they were also intensely professional when it came to their work. I was not about to be revealed as the amateur in the crowd. Pages were usually distributed a day in advance, and I made sure that I showed up each morning thoroughly prepared. I would study my lines or choreography well into the night, and again while sitting in the makeup chair. By the time the cameras were rolling, I had memorized every second of my scene, including every line, whether spoken by me or someone else.

  Movie acting, especially when special effects are involved, can seem like silly, almost childish work. But it is work nonetheless, and it takes significant preparation and focus to do it well. When you put $200 million into a movie, as was the case with Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, the stakes are high indeed. And everyone knows it. For me, there was the added pressure of knowing that my presence in the film, while not necessarily unwarranted, was certainly facilitated by a phone call from Bob Iger. I suppose it’s possible I was not the only person in the cast or crew who got his job based on a recommendation from a Disney executive, but it sure felt that way. As a result, I left nothing to chance. I might not have been the best actor in the cast, and I certainly wasn’t the most experienced or best-known; but no one was better prepared for his job. I couldn’t control much, but I could make sure that no one outworked me or had a better attitude. If motivation was ever a problem—which it wasn’t—all I had to do was imagine someone calling Bob Iger and saying, “Why did you recommend this guy?” I felt like I had to prove that I was worthy of the job, not just for myself, but for Bob; I didn’t want to let him down.

  Huhtar, I was told, would be in several scenes throughout the movie, though it was difficult at times to ge
t a feel for the overarching story and my place in it. But it felt like I had a fairly substantial role, albeit one that was mostly physical in nature. A lot of running and jumping and fighting, including a showdown near the end of the film involving the Ravagers and the Guardians. This was my death scene (actually, it was the death scene for all of the Ravagers), and while it wasn’t exactly an emotional showcase, I did my best with the exit.

  On my last day, I made a point of personally saying goodbye to as many people as possible. A movie set is a remarkable machine, dependent on the contributions of countless professionals of wildly disparate talents. Everyone plays a vital role. Some are just more visible than others. I sought out James Gunn before leaving. He thanked me for my time and effort and gave my work a solid review. Maybe he was just being nice, but it felt genuine.

  “Thank you, James,” I said while shaking his hand. “Don’t forget about me.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  EPILOGUE

  More than a year passed before the release of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. In the meantime, I continued to take classes and work on my accent and maintain my Huhtar-like physique with long sessions in the gym. You never know when a call will come, so you must be ready on a moment’s notice.

  I filmed another pilot for ABC—a reality show based upon a popular Swedish television program called Six Degrees (of Separation). I was one of two hosts (the other was Erik Anders Lang) who would travel the world in an attempt to bring together people who have some sort of connection that they might not even realize. In the pilot, we began by introducing a woman in a small town in Nepal. Our goal was to connect this woman and her life to that of a Hollywood celebrity—Rob Lowe, in this case—in six steps or less. I won’t tell you exactly how we did it, but we were successful, and we had a lot of fun along the way.

  Still, every project is a dream, every pilot a long shot. That much I had already learned. Although ABC was happy with the pilot and it tested well, we still had not found a home for the series by the time Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 was released on May 5, 2017.