It was the Fall of 2023. Just after the strike. Both of them. I had spent months with my fellow t-shirt clad writers and actors in L.A. and New York, picketing studios and streamers as we fought for higher wages, better healthcare, streaming residuals and more protections and guardrails against A.I. At long last, deals were made. But the strike lasted longer than any of us had anticipated. It not only depleted the savings accounts of so many in our industry but our hope and confidence in our ability to work in the future. All of us were scared. I know I was. We all just wanted to work. We deserved better.
A few weeks later, around the holidays, I was sent a script of a fun holiday movie, Our Little Secret, for Netflix with Lindsay Lohan attached. The role was “Leonard”—a button-up guy in his sixties. “I’m not in my sixties!?” I thought. Playing older is a HUGE no-no in Hollywood. I mean, “ALWAYS play younger,” right? And, if possible, thinner. But work was scarce and I could likely get over the vanity if they were okay with my requisite man-Spanx and greying my hair.
Even better, I would play Kristin Chenoweth’s husband! I was already a huge fan—and I hadn’t experienced a role like this in a long time. Not playing a husband, of course. I mean, I’ve played dozens over the years, even Tim Meadows’ husband on an NBC comedy and, of course, most notably, Jeff Perry’s husband on Scandal for almost 30 episodes—we even had a baby. This one would have to end a little better. And I liked the idea of playing against type. Being married to a real, life woman. Imagine that! It was a challenge and an opportunity I was eager for.
Then I got the script. I liked it. But my role, Leonard, didn’t appear in many scenes and had little to say. Now, we’ve all heard the adage “there are no such things as small parts, only small actors.” But this? I don’t know how else to say it: It was a small part. And maybe it was “small” of me to say so—but I didn’t think my ego could take being what seemed like such an insignificant part of this Christmas rom-com.
“I’ll be a background performer in most scenes!” I whined to my representatives. One of them suggested I pass—feeding my ego with all I’ve accomplished in more than two decades in this business. “Wait for something better,” another said. I thought about it over the holidays. “Wait for something better,” I kept thinking to myself. But waiting—is what I’d been doing for the last six-to-eight months. And don’t get me started on the pandemic. What else would I be doing besides licking the wounds of unemployment? Imagining myself headlining in projects that didn’t exist?
Sure, I could play MUCH bigger roles in my head. And then I remembered my friend, colleague and previous boss, Shonda Rhimes, talking about in her book The Year of Yes: “Losing yourself does not happen all at once. Losing yourself happens one ‘no’ at a time.” I remembered starting out as an actor and only dreaming of having opportunities, ANY opportunities, and vowing to the universe that I’d gratefully accept any and all of them if they ever came. What happened to THAT guy?
So. I got over myself. My ego. My hubris. My grandiosity. I said “yes” to the offer to play “Leonard” and went off to Atlanta for the month of February. And all I can say is: I am so grateful I did.
The month I spent in Atlanta with Kristin Chenoweth, Ian Harding, Jon Rudnitsky, Katie Baker, Jake Brennan, Tim Meadows, Judy Reyes and of course, Lindsay was one of the most enriching, satisfying, challenging and, yes, fun experiences of my career. Kristin and I became instant friends. And together, we vowed to take the marriage laid out on the page—and fill it with a real sense of history, chemistry, humor and all the tensions of a true troubled marriage. The cast spent time together on set and off—creating an immediate intimacy needed to portray a genuine family on screen.
Steven Harek was encouraging of our collaboration, ad libs and suggestions. And before too long, Leonard became a more integral part of the story—part of a real, long-term couple with grown kids and a treasure trove of secrets that would only be revealed as the movie unfolded.
I will count my castmates as among my most valued, close friends for a long time to come. And Kristin and I have forged a deep friendship that feels like it was not only meant to be—but will be a part of who we’ll be for a long time to come. Our Little Secret premieres on Netflix on November 27th. Who knew one of the secrets of playing a successful family was to create a sense of family off screen as well? The other secret? Say “yes.”
