Stephen Tobolowsky's Blog

The pandemic recalls the sting of several books I was required to read to my children at bedtime. One of these books was Where’s Waldo.  Where’s Waldo was the opposite of a go-to-sleep-book. It had the effect of giving the children a thermos of black coffee. Once the loathsome question was asked “Where’s Waldo?”, you were stuck staring at the same page for minutes, hours, days, who can remember – trying to find the elusive nobody in a sea of different but still inconsequential nobodies.

I think Where’s Waldo is the Rubicon of bedtime stories. It is the great divide. Before Waldo, all of the books I read to my children emphasized uniqueness: Runaway Bunny, Goodnight Moon, Horton Hatches the Egg. The theme is the preciousness of the individual. Waldo is different. The singular character has no important qualities. He is not kind, or loved, or smart. He is only a pair of glasses and a toboggin cap.

That may be harsh. Waldo had a nice smile. I have a sort of affection for him – especially when my kids screamed with joy in finding him. The larger point is – after Waldo there was no going back. Goodnight Moon no longer brought the sweet peace of sleep, just impatient page-turning.

I recently took a walk around the neighborhood pushing my four-month old granddaughter in her stroller. The lessons of Where’s Waldo came back on me with a vengeance. It seemed like everyone at our park was wearing a pandemic mask. Some black, some striped, some with a cartoon mouths printed on the fabric.  The sea of color and patterns created an awful sameness.  A sea of anonymity.

This has been one of the worst aspects of the era of The Virus. It has taken away the simplest expression of ourselves – our face in the mirror. Where’s Waldo was warning us of this danger. The excitement my children had in studying every blasted page for hours was not a curse, it was the book’s gift. The fight of our lives isn’t against a disease, it is to remember the holiness of the individual.

Me at the Grand Canyon.  Not in a low-budget movie.

I was asked to be in a SAG low-budget movie. I think that is what they called it. SAG has developed so many new sub-basements in their contract hierarchy, I wasn’t sure what I’d agreed to do.

It could have just as easily been a SAG ultra-low budget or a SAG extremely, ultra, ultra-low budget, or a SAG so-incredibly-low-budget-God-knows-why-there-is-even-a-contract, contract. I didn’t know.

The reason I did the film was not for the money. The script was good. The part was very different from anything I usually get to play. It’s been my motto that it’s almost always better to do something than nothing. Then, at least, you would have lived a life that provided more to forget.

As we began to shoot the film, the entire ensemble of actors had to endure many hardships. Dawn call times, No stand-ins, no dressing rooms, no toilets.*

*To be clear, there were toilets on the premises. We could use them. However, by the end of production, they not only ceased to be functional, but they began to fire human waste at us.

I had to re-examine the question why.

We have already established it wasn’t for money or being well-treated. It wasn’t for the snacks. By noon, the only things left on the food table were a jar peppermints and a bowl of orange salt left behind from yesterday’s taco-flavored Doritos. 

One of the actors joked that they hoped the movie would get nominated for awards. I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t doing the film for recognition.

There were times during the shooting when I doubted whether the film would ever see the light of day. Not because of the quality of the movie, but the complexity of the film business. The expense of marketing and post-production have sunk many a low-budget ship. That didn’t bother me either. I wasn’t doing the film to be seen. 

What? Impossible. Now we are beginning to defy the very idea of what acting is. Why was I doing this project? Why was it important to me? If not the money, or the career, if not even to be seen? Why?

The answer came to me after the last day of the shoot. It was not to be seen or heard –  but to speak. To stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon and yell into nothing, to see if there is an echo. Whether there is an echo is unimportant. What is important is the search for something that returns: a sound, a friendship, a memory, an insight. A reason why.

It could be that art and prayer have a lot in common. The act itself creates its own echo, even if we never hear it.

Live Reading with Alan Mandell, Dec. 10, 2017 5:30pm, Road Theatre Company: roadtheatre.org/

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People have often asked me, “What is your favorite story.” It’s a complicated question. What does “favorite” mean? Do you mean the one I like the most? The one I think is the best written? The one people seem to like the most?

I don’t know. I am the old cliché. All my stories are my children. I don’t pick favorites.

But to keep from completely avoiding an answer, the story that changed me the most is “A Good Day at Auschwitz.”

We all know what the Holocaust was. At least we think we do from the grainy black and white photos and film recorded during World War Two. It is the truest horror story on the largest scale any of us have witnessed. The Holocaust is proof that mankind is not good by nature. It is proof that evil is real. It is proof that all of us are capable of terrible things – not necessarily in taking part in mass murder, but perhaps in aiding and abetting evil through our silence. After all one of our most lauded presidents, Franklin Roosevelt, did not allow a ship filled Jews escaping from Europe, to land in New York. He sent the more than 900 men, women, and children back to out to sea. The ship could only return to Europe where many perished. And F.D.R. was one of the good guys.

When I met Abe I was already in grief. I was mourning the passing of my mother. Abe was mourning the loss of his wife. I expected to hear a sad song. What I was unprepared for was Abe’s joy. His humor. There was always a joke. For anything. For a corned beef sandwich. A bottle of beer. For his car. For my unemployment. For his guards at Auschwitz.

“A Good Day at Auschwitz” took me completely by surprise. It did not become a retelling of the horrors of human evil. It. It became a love story. A story of wit. Survival. Joy. Hope for us all! It is the true story of the unimaginable resilience of the human spirit as exemplified by Abe. Abe has become my shining star that no matter how dark the night, we are protected by a light far more powerful than anything we imagined we possessed.

Sunday night Stu makes dinner a little stranger on @WhiteFamous on @Showtime. April, our TV food coordinator from Californication, made the dinner we ate during the scene. We ate it for TWO DAYS! (It was good).

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[Photos: (clockwise from upper left) Stephen Tobolowsky, David Cheaney, Allison Braitkrus Wood, Jennifer Parsons in Theatre 40’s 2004 production of Holy Days by Sally Nemeth, directed by Ann Hearn.]

I wrote a story a few weeks ago for The Tobolowsky Files about holy places. For me that is usually a theater. There is something special about a stage where you acted or where you directed. I’m not sure why. Maybe it is the memory of the challenge. Or a certain production made a difference in the community. Or perhaps a performance had one moment that changed you.

There are very few places that still exist that check all of those boxes. One of them is Theater 40 in Beverly Hills. Here are some memories I cherish.

I directed Morning’s at Seven at the theater with wonderful actors from their company including my wife Ann. After we closed, quite by chance, I got a call to audition for the same play on Broadway. Ann told me I had to accept the audition. After directing the play and watching it in performance for two months, there would be no actor on earth better prepared to do the show. She was right. I got the part and we ran for almost a year. I traded one holy place for another and the vehicle was one of the great American plays that Theater 40 does so well.

While I was doing the show in New York, I had a surprise backstage visitor – my old college roommate Jim McLure. We went out afterwards. Jimmy asked me to take part in a reading of his new play, Blue Silence. The reading was fantastic. I asked Jim if he wanted a production in Los Angeles. He said sure. When we closed Morning’s at Seven, I took his play back to Theater 40 where we had a successful run. Jim and I were able to bring our decades-old fantasy of working together to life. Theater 40 once again provided the holy place – this time for reunion.

I directed Ann in What Every Woman Knows – a beautiful play by J.M. Barrie, the author of Peter Pan. The play is about the triumph of love against all odds. Our second preview performance happened on the evening of 9-11-2001. The world stopped. Except for us. We were doing a play so we went to the theater. I was amazed. The audience came as well. Before the show began, all of the actors came on stage. We lit a candle and joined hands with the audience. Together we prayed for peace and for hope. Then the actors gave one of the most courageous and beautiful performances I ever saw. Holy.

I have acted at Theater 40 in new plays. Classics. Twice I even was an understudy and had to go on. Lord. I never saw that task the same way again. Respect.

Now I have an opportunity to give something back. Copies of My Adventures with God were donated to the theater for a benefit. I will perform “The Afflictions of Love,” one of my favorite stories from the book and also one of the most incredible. For the cost of the ticket ($30) you see the show and get a signed copy of the book. All of the proceeds (and “all” means 100% in this case) go to the theater.

If you are free, come and enjoy the show. Take home a book. And help one of the holy places continue to do its good work in the community.

For tickets: click Theatre 40  and scroll down to the picture of me.

Theatre 40 is located at

the Reuben Cordova Theatre on the campus of

Beverly Hills High School

241 Moreno Drive Beverly Hills, CA 90210

(At the intersection of Moreno Dr. & Durant Dr.)

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(Photo above by Jenine Baker, from Live Wire Radio.)

In the next few weeks, I will be performing  at several Los Angeles venues. I’ll be telling stories from the new book, My Adventures with God, taking questions, and providing an opportunity to purchase signed books.

June 8th, At the Skirball Center, I’ll read my stories “Eye the Monster” and “The Call.”  Admission is free, but reservations are recommended.  Go here for details.  (Note this is an afternoon event.)

June 18th, a benefit for Theatre 40, a local professional company I’ve been a part of since the early ’90’s and my wife has been a member of since 1980.  All proceeds go to supporting this wonderful theatre; you’ll get a hardcover book which I will sign and personalize as you wish. I will perform one of my favorites,  “The Afflictions of Love”.  All the details are here – scroll down until  you see my name.

June 21st, an evening of wine, cheese and stories at Adat Ari El.  Tickets are free, but please RSVP so they can plan accordingly.  This evening I’ll present the story “The Things We Saved From The Fire.”  To RSVP and for the details for A Midsummer Night Steve event, please click here.

I’m looking forward to all three of these occasions, and I know you will enjoy yourself.  Please come!

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We lost a great talent in the film business a few weeks ago. Jonathan Demme. Jonathan had a big influence on me when he was on the verge of breaking out. He had pushed past his early Roger Corman years. When we met, Melvin and Howard had just been released and was considered a gem. He was just finishing a rough cut of Stop Making Sense.

I was still doing more Equity Waiver local theater (translation: acting for free) than working in film and television. Jonathan and I loved the video game Defender and its sequel, Stargate. We would play and Jonathan would give me advice on show business.

Time has proved his ideas to be absolutely true. Here are some of Jonathan’s insights .

On directing. Jonathan said directing theater and film are different. In theater you have to get all of the actors to the same place at the same time: in top form on opening night. That means you have to speed up and slow down some actors during rehearsal. Directing a film is about managing crisis. There is always a nasty surprise waiting around the bend. You have to improvise.

In preparing to direct a film, study the script and work from the transitions out. In other words, visualize how you want to connect scenes. With an image. With a camera move. With a sound. Then you can develop a visual language to tell the story.

Most importantly – (he said with great emphasis) when you direct – sit down. It is a long day. It is easy to expend nervous energy by walking around. Don’t. Sit. Drink water. Rest whenever you can.

Addendum to Jonathan’s observations. I am currently working on the wonderful One Day at a Time for Netflix and Sony. When you do a sit com, you must pace yourself as if you are doing a stage play. You have to arrive at your performance on opening night. Which happens to be the only night. Shoot night. Nothing else matters.

Jonathan was right about many things but especially to sit down. No matter where you go – it’s a long evening.

One of the challenges of being an actor is something they don’t teach in acting class. Distraction. On movies and television shows you often have an entire crew of people in your field of vision. In Ep. 1 of Silicon Valley Matt Ross and I were on a private jet. That, of course, was no jet. It was a metal tube on the SONY lot crammed with camera people. Matt and I rarely got to make eye contact during our scene. We often had to speak to a taped X on the camera. Once I had to speak to the cameraman’s foot.

BUT NOTHING prepared me for Ep.2. They brought in a real acupuncturist who inserted needles into about twelve of Matt’s facial pressure points. As awful as it was for me to act looking at Matt, I can’t imagine being Matt. I asked him if he knew what pressure points were being stimulated. Matt shrugged and said, “I think my sinuses? Maybe where I hold tension?”

“Yeah Matt, but how much tension are you holding having needles in your face for over an hour while we shoot?”

Mike Judge walked by after the first take and said, “Looks great Matt. I think we’ll be able to use the acupuncture this time.”

“This time?” I asked.

Matt laughed as much as he could with his head covered with needles, “Yeah. We used the needles before but the shot always got cut.”

That – ladies and gentlemen – is a PROFESSIONAL ACTOR!

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My Adventures With God is now available.  Please also see the appearances page to see where Stephen will present stories and autograph books. (We hope to have autographed books from the website in the future for those who are unable to make any of the appearances, but don’t know when that will be, and of course the price will be higher to cover shipping.)

Here’s a link to purchase hardcover book and ebook/Kindle:  Simon & Schuster

AudioBook Version links and an excerpt:

Audible, iTunes, Simon & Schuster

There was a wonderland where we all spent time when we were little. We pretended we were great scientists, soldiers, doctors, monsters, and adventurers. I forgot about that place until I went to my first E.G. Conference five years ago. Michael Hawley created this wonderland for real. I have met heroes and heroines of our world. Great scientists and artists. At first I was amazed by what I saw and heard – what I learned and felt. The E.G. conference returned the vision I had when I was little: that I live in a world where we matter. A world where our ideas have the power to change. Where my voice, no matter how small, can be heard if it is true.

I am very grateful to be able to tell a story here again.

Facebook link here.