By AARON SCHRANK
James stands on the terrazzo sidewalk surveying the bustling foot traffic along Hollywood Boulevard, a notorious thoroughfare in the land of dreams both realized and broken. The colossal façade of the Kodak Theatre stands before him, blocking the sun from casting its rays directly in his eyes. Even the promise of extra cash in his pocket does not always sweeten the proposition of putting on a solid black Batman suit and standing gallantly in public for hours at a time, but this is his job.
James stands on the terrazzo sidewalk surveying the bustling foot traffic along Hollywood Boulevard, a notorious thoroughfare in the land of dreams both realized and broken. The colossal façade of the Kodak Theatre stands before him, blocking the sun from casting its rays directly in his eyes. Even the promise of extra cash in his pocket does not always sweeten the proposition of putting on a solid black Batman suit and standing gallantly in public for hours at a time, but this is his job.
As a street performer, a Hollywood costumed character, James is one of hundreds who masquerade as film or TV personalities and pose for pictures with tourists. Dressed in a Dark Knight-era Batman get-up that would make Bruce Wayne jealous, James glances down at footway tributes to Spielberg and Hopkins then slowly lifts his head to meet the beam of a spellbound sightseer. He remembers why he does what he does. He’s doing exactly what he came to Hollywood over a year ago to do—entertaining.
While these may not have been the roles many of these Hollywood hopefuls had imagined for themselves, a colorful cast of characters—from a cheery Buzz Lightyear, to an amazingly authentic Jack Sparrow, to a dismal chain-smoking Marilyn Monroe—canvass the sidewalk-stage between the historic Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and Hollywood & Highland shopping complex. The performers deliver their shtick or stage photo-ops for tourists in exchange for tips. For those with the right assets, the activity is surprisingly profitable.
While he preferred to remain confidential as to his exact earnings, Batman James explained that “the Boulevard” was his primary source of income.
“On a good day, I make well over minimum wage, let’s put it that way,” James said. “You can make good money when you have a good costume, a good attitude, and you can show people a good time.”
James said that many of the characters are driven only by money and described how the reprobate and unprofessional demeanor of some has introduced an unfair stigma upon the entire group.
“We’re not all about the same thing,” James said. “I’m not trying to be mean, but I don’t really associate with the ones who come out here and shove a prop in your hand and say ‘picture, picture, picture’ or ‘tip, tip, tip.’ That’s not cool. Nobody likes that. Nobody wants that. I don’t support that.”
While these costumed characters have served as bastions of the gimmicky glamour of downtown Hollywood for years, a string of incidents over the past several years has brought negative attention upon the mob of superheroes, cartoon characters and lookalikes. In 2006, a Freddy Krueger look-alike stabbed a man during an altercation. In 2007, a Chewbacca was arrested for allegedly head-butting a tour guide. A few months prior, an Elmo and Mr. Incredible impersonator were taken in for aggressive begging. The Los Angeles Police Department organized a ‘superhero summit’ in 2007 to address escalating tensions among the performers, the effects of which, according to James, have mostly dissolved.
While some are territorial, and many appear desperate, a number of characters, James included, approach their occupation with an artistic professionalism.
Jim, a convincing Jack Sparrow, complete with an eye-patched entourage and controlled queue of pre-teen admirers, is the true star of the show. Radiating Depp-like charm, he even collects claps from passer-byers. “You will remember this picture forever, my dear,” he declares to a young brace-faced blonde.
Jim, who despises the negative attention, brought upon his profession by “crack heads and beggars in Halloween costumes,” sports an outfit so authentic that he attracted the attention of “Pirates of the Carribean” costume designer Penny Rose, who gifted him an original bandana worn by Johnny Depp in the films.
Captain Jim and many of his colleagues advocate for a higher standard of showmanship among the characters.
“He and I made a vow five years ago to put the best costumes in front of the Kodak,” Jim said, gesturing towards a yellow Autobot, straight out of Michael Bay’s “Transformers.” “We’ve been trying to outdo one another ever since.”
Both competition and camaraderie exist among the characters.
To compete with a series of Batmen, James employs the assistance of his on-screen enemy.
“That’s the Joker I work with on a regular basis,” James said, pointing to a Ledger-lookalike prowling behind a pack of giggling tourists. “We met out here on the street, and we just became really good friends over the past year or so. I’m pretty cool with everybody who’s a quality character out here.”
While a living can be made street performing, many of the men and women behind the masks are involved sporadically with film and TV projects. Batman James produces short films and music videos. Ronald Ortiz, a Guatemalan immigrant who plays Nacho Libre, builds sets for Universal Studios.
“It’s supplemental income in between all the acting and other things that I do,” said Adam, a member of Jim’s pirate-entourage who frequently plays the cephalopod-faced Davy Jones. “I just come out here when I don’t have any regular acting gigs. I don’t want to have a regular job where I have to beg and plead for the day off to go to an audition or do some acting.”
The described disparity between the quality and lackluster characters is visible even to the untrained eye. A woman dressed as an unrecognizable bear taps children on the shoulder, soliciting a picture, as she clutches sweat-stained dollars in her frayed paw. A mustached man in a headless Scooby-Doo costume ironically holds out a Beggin’ Strips doggie treat bag, stuffing cash donations inside. Dora the Explorer sits against a storefront, rolling a cigarette.
“They just ruin the thing,” Adam said. “The negative characters give negative energy, but, luckily, there are also positive characters with good costumes that produce positive energy”
According to James and others, it is the inferior characters that garner most attention from the media, rendering the vocation a laughingstock. Higher caliber characters yearn for regulation.
“I think it would just make it more professional, higher quality; better characters would be out here,” James said. “I’m all about it, if we were licensed, then people with crappy costumes who are just out here harassing people for tips wouldn’t be allowed to be on the streets.”
For now, as the two-tier hierarchy of values continues, as shoddy Halloween costumes intermingle with screen-accurate ensembles, a select few endeavor to overcome the social stigma and re-establish their status as legitimate and exciting entertainers.
“The money is just a byproduct of a job well done,” said James. “I’m only here because this makes kids smile. If I saw that my presence on the Boulevard ever became bothersome to people, I would just stop showing up to work.”
