You hear a whistling overhead Are you alive or are you dead? It’s only Thursday You feel a shaking on the ground A billion candles burn around Is it your birthday? .. Tomorrow never comes until it’s too late
When I first met Peter Falk, I hadn’t seen any Columbo episodes. I only knew him as the guy reading the story to Fred Savage in “The Princess Bride” and “Max” from Jon Favreau’s movie “Made.”
HOW I GOT THIS PART:
I was in The Groundlings School with Peter Falk’s wife, Shera, who is a wonderful woman and a very funny actress. After our showcase, Peter gave me a bear hug and said, “I LOVE THIS GUY!” Falk meant it too because he cast me in his 2003 Columbo movie, “Columbo Likes the Nightlife,” which got me in the Screen Actors Guild.
If you haven’t read Peter Falk’s autobiography, “Just One More Thing,” you should.
(Before he signed the package, Falk stared at me for a somewhat abnormal amount of time. After the take, he said to me “I did that to give you more screen time.”)
"Swedish James Bond Saves My Life" by Brian Farrell
There was a tall and handsome Swedish aspiring actor who lived in the same Hollywood apartment building as me eight or so years ago. Let’s call him “Sven." Sven always wore a suit and maintained a slick appearance. He looked like a Swedish James Bond. He might have been a limo driver for someone famous, which would explain his suit, but he moved to Hollywood specifically to become an action star. His actor business card was a photo of himself in a suit, holding a gun in a very serious pose.
One lonely late night around 1am, I got really stoned on some high-grade California reefer and thought it would be fun to do some dishes. I was blasting tunes and doing my dishes like a champion and then as I turned the faucet off, the nozzle kept spinning. I couldn’t turn the water off! I started to panic. I ran around in circles in my kitchen with my hands on my head attempting to calm myself down, but my freak-out only got worse. I was really high, losing my mind and my sink was gradually filling up. If I didn’t act fast, my kitchen would be flooded, and then my apartment would soon be underwater! I bolted out of my apartment and into the courtyard to see if anybody could help me. I got the stony idea to lurk around the apartment manager’s apartment to see if he was up. All the lights were out in his apartment. Meanwhile, my sink is probably overflowing and my kitchen is soon to be a dirty Palmolive swamp. Just then, Sven, out of the darkness of the night in his slick suit, appears and says..
"Are yaoo owkay? What’s the prooblhem?” (Swedish accent)
“MY KITCHEN SINK IS OVERFLOWING! I CAN’T TURN THE WATER OFF!”
Sven then says..
“Shoaw me thee prooblhem.”
Sven and I rush up to my apartment. Sven casually takes one look at the situation, ducks underneath the sink and shuts the water off. My stoned dumb ass didn’t think to shut the water off from underneath the sink. Sven saved my life. I thanked him profusely. As Sven was leaving he said in a stern Swedish voice..
“Stey orff thee cocaine.”
And with that statement, he left into the night.
My gratitude towards Sven turned to frustration and embarrassment. I was high on REEFER! NOT COCAINE! I HAVE NEVER EVEN TOUCHED COCAINE! HOW DARE HE THINK I WAS COKED UP!?! Cocaine, to me, was way worse of a drug than weed. Whenever I saw Sven from that night on until he moved back to Sweden, I was so embarrassed that he thought I was a coke head and on numerous occasion I attempted to explain to him that it was weed that I was high on that night and not cocaine, but he never believed me. I’m okay with that now. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sven was currently a famous action star in Sweden, but I know he was my hero that night. He saved me from drowning in my own stupidity. Thanks Sven.