SAG since '43!

Maybe my time has passed. Sure, I had a good tilt at it but in the end it just never seemed to come together. Truth be told, I blame my agent. "Italian New Wave is just what your career needs!" he told me. "You can come back to the States an international star!"

I wonder where I fucked up. I mean, what did I do wrong? There I was: partying with the movers and shakers, moving in the right circles, living the life. The real deal.

THE WHOLE ENCHILADA.

But after a while it all became nothing more a soggy tostada. A limp, flaccid chimichanga oozing failure and disappointment, if you will.

I really should have won it back in '63. Some of my best work, even if I don't mind saying so. But how could I compete with Poitier? Come on, he pissed it in. Of course I wasn't even nominated, but I don't let such trifles bother me. That's what agents are for.

But what really gets my goat is "On the Waterfront". I really should have gotten that role, but it went to Brando instead. That was the one that got away. What a travesty! Best Actor? Please! I could have had a good chance. Well, a fair chance then. I could have been a contender. Maybe I could have been in that “Island of Dr. Moreau” remake if I had delivered those immortal words, not that overblown hack.

Don't tell him I said that of course. Doesn't do to burn bridges in this town. Come to think of it, perhaps my useless agent could try to line me up some gig in his next movie. The start of my comeback! Honestly, I'd be happy with a cameo. No need for a special trailer, although it would be nice considering my pedigree.

Oh. Really? When did that happen? Last year?

Well, serves the fucker right.