"It was the most potentially disastrous decision I had to make," says Gross, who doubles as the show's executive producer. "It's like a marriage. I spend more time with Callum than I do with my wife." But the partnership has clicked. "It has, on balance, been a riot," says Gross. "Callum's also very daring physically, and that really benefits the style of the show. David didn't like to do stunts, which becomes very limiting. Whereas if you chucked Callum out of a plane, it would be fine."
Replacing a character on "an established show that has a huge fan base," says Rennie, "means you're gonna be judged as, 'Well-you're-not-the-other-guy.' " And it took him a few episodes to feel secure in the role. But there was instant
chemistry with Gross. "I understand him as a good ol' Alberta boy," Rennie explains.
"I know how whacked he is. People go, 'Jeez, you guys are so different.' But we're so much the same. We both have that outside-looking-in-at-the-ridiculousness-of-things. We keep a cool exterior, and underneath it's sort of a lot of other stuff."
Still, Rennie does not expect to stick around. he insisted on a rare one-year contract--and it is doubtful Gross would risk type-casting myself as a Mountie for another season. When this one ends, Rennie plans to head straight for Los Angeles. "I just want to up the ante," he says. "In this country, I seem to work with a lot of first-time directors. And at this point, I can't risk being f---d with by people who are too neurotic with their material to allow me to do what I want." And, like Gross, Rennie is unhappy with the kinds of roles available in Canada. "Things have to change in the way we make movies," he says. "We don't write for heroic characters." Rennie seems to have his mind set on leaving Canadian the archetype in the dust. In Vancouver, he owns what he calls "a racing truck--a 1964 Mercury shortbox with a 390 El Camino engine." And he is looking forward to a long drive--due south.
Re: *rethinks*
Date: 2008-02-14 12:36 am (UTC)"It was the most potentially disastrous decision I had to make," says Gross, who doubles as the show's executive producer. "It's like a marriage. I spend more time with Callum than I do with my wife." But the partnership has clicked. "It has, on balance, been a riot," says Gross. "Callum's also very daring physically, and that really benefits the style of the show. David didn't like to do stunts, which becomes very limiting. Whereas if you chucked Callum out of a plane, it would be fine."
Replacing a character on "an established show that has a huge fan base," says Rennie, "means you're gonna be judged as, 'Well-you're-not-the-other-guy.' " And it took him a few episodes to feel secure in the role. But there was instant
chemistry with Gross. "I understand him as a good ol' Alberta boy," Rennie explains.
"I know how whacked he is. People go, 'Jeez, you guys are so different.' But we're so much the same. We both have that outside-looking-in-at-the-ridiculousness-of-things. We keep a cool exterior, and underneath it's sort of a lot of other stuff."
Still, Rennie does not expect to stick around. he insisted on a rare one-year contract--and it is doubtful Gross would risk type-casting myself as a Mountie for another season. When this one ends, Rennie plans to head straight for Los Angeles. "I just want to up the ante," he says. "In this country, I seem to work with a lot of first-time directors. And at this point, I can't risk being f---d with by people who are too neurotic with their material to allow me to do what I want." And, like Gross, Rennie is unhappy with the kinds of roles available in Canada. "Things have to change in the way we make movies," he says. "We don't write for heroic characters." Rennie seems to have his mind set on leaving Canadian the archetype in the dust. In Vancouver, he owns what he calls "a racing truck--a 1964 Mercury shortbox with a 390 El Camino engine." And he is looking forward to a long drive--due south.