The old shark at the top of the food chain. That's the way Robert Warner comes across nowadays, sitting high on his pedestal-cum-director's chair. He's a tough guy, the one that's all about the QUALITY, QUALITY, QUALITY! and never lets anyone give less than 110%. If you come in hung over, tired, or generally not ready to make a masterpiece, he'll bust your balls. Literally.
He's not really out to make your life miserable, gentle actor. He's passionate about his work, and by proxy, passionate about you. The human form is his art of choice, and none could be said to be a better judge of male flesh than him. He is Leonardo and you are Mona Lisa. He's not one of those drooling sleazes who wanks behind the camera, or an immature joker who wants to see how many golf balls you can fit where? He truly treats pornography as if it's a movie with sex in it. Each character is given all the love it deserves, and damn if he isn't tough on the cameramen and lighting personnel too, if they don't get his Vision right. He never let a movie leave his hands until he was satisfied that wardrobe was flawless, music was weaved in just so, and the script was engaging.
So you, darling boy, had better find that 110% somewhere. Never, ever give your lines in a stiff voice. Never kiss like a hungry walrus, and your partner is a sardine. Never twitch or swish your hair or chew gum unless you plan on doing something interesting with it. Never moan like an overeager feline.
And for God's sake, don't. Ever. Look. At. The camera.
( If you dare. )
Storylines:
Mr. Director: Open The man who made Warner's career. At the least a year or two older than himself, who Warner never heard from after dumping his company.
This is an rp journal and is in no way related to or meant to impersonate Julian McMahon or Blas Elias. |
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