@Davidkrumholtzy: Ok. Last story for a while. Th...


Ok. Last story for a while. This one’s my fave. A tale of real time ego deflation. It’s 2002. I’m 24 years young. I shoot the Santa Clause 2 in Vancouver. It’s been 8 years since we shot the original. I am miserable. Long shoot. It’s raining in Vancouver, all day, err day,…

I’m having a mini nervous breakdown complete with daily episodic panic. Working with Tim Allen, who has an early out from work everyday, he gets to leave no later than 3pm. Mind you, he’s there at 2am every morning, thick prosthetics applied to his face. Also working with kids..

The kids are the elves. 200 of them. And 200 moms to accompany them. They, too, can only work until 3pm. My coverage in every scene is shot last, and as a result, I’m acting with tennis balls on c-stands. All day, err day. For 3 months. I am deeply depressed.

Quarter life crisis. Dressed in an Elf costume. The crew was compassionate as I was noticeably disturbed. One day, the top level of the toy workshop caught fire from an overheated light. I calmly alerted the producers to the fire, I saved that set and many lives.

Cut to months later. November, the film is released in theaters. Once again, I’ve hired a publicist, god help me. She calls. “You and two guests have been invited to Disneyworld for 3 days. You are appearing in the Disneyworld Christmas Parade”. That’s it. That’s all I was told.

I bring my buddy Mike and my weed dealer. The 3 of us fly first class to Orlando. We have no weed on us. Just Vicodin. Which will do. They put us all up at the newly opened Yacht Club resort. We’re gonna get the “treatment”. First two days all access to Disneyworld.

We get a guide. Front of every line, BTS looks, the “treatment”. I am grateful! Least Disney could do. I’m popping Vics with my weed dealer and one of my best buddies and it is AWESOME. I’m a Disney nerd. This could not be more ideal.

The night before the parade, we hit up a large Christmas light display at MGM studios. Hey look! There’s a small Santa Clause 2 display, behind the window, two mannequins wearing both Santa’s costume and Bernard’s costume!! I take a pic in front of the window. I’ve made it, Ma!

I figure I should grab a Disney Christmas sweater to wear in the parade. I grab a deep red sweater with Pluto in a Christmas hat sewn on the front. I’m high as hell, and I’m ready for anything… well, not anything…

The next morning, I leave my buddies behind and report to the parade set. I’m greeted and told that my makeup artists are inside. Hey. Hold up. Hee Haw. Whoa. Makeup artistS?? PLURAL? Why? I’m a glowing 24 yr old movie star with perfect skin!

My elf ears are there. They tell me they have my costume, but not the wig or the shoes… Time the fuck out. I can’t adjust to this news. I will be in full costume (no wig) “elf dancing” on a float with Hillary Duff who will sing the song she recorded for the film’s soundtrack.

“I just need to call my publicist, one sec.” I inform her. She swears up & down that they never mentioned dressing up as Bernard AT ALL. Someone’s lying. Here’s where my inflated ego comes in. I can’t do this. My IMAGE under threat! PTSD! I never thought I’d wear that shit again!

I tell them I won’t do it. They are openly pissed off. I feel awful, I got the “treatment” but I was never told about this! I refuse. I pitch myself riding solo on a horse drawn carriage in front of Hillary Duff’s float. As me. Myself. David fucking Krumholtz. In a Pluto sweater.

I put them in a bind. I know it. They make it crystal clear. I feel bad, I do, but I feel justified. They agree to my pitch. Phew. It’s ALL good! I take my seat in the horse drawn carriage. Behind me, Hillary Duff stands alone on the Santa Clause 2 float.

I turn & look back at her & give her a friendly wave hello. I’ve never met her before, She responds with a pissed off “what the fuck?” shrug. I turn back around. “Ok, don’t look at Hillary Duff again”. I’m high. I’m fine with myself. This is gonna be great! Regis Philbin hosting!

We take off. Hillary lip syncing behind me. Regis announces me to the crowd, but does NOT say that I play Bernard. Seemingly, the entire crowd of tourists starts yelling “Who ARE you?” at me. I’m yelling back “I play Bernard the Elf!” They can’t hear me. Excruciating.

Cut to 20 minutes later. All the celebs in the parade will now gather around the massive Christmas tree on Main Street and sing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”. They put me front and center, next to Big Blue Bear. You remember Big Blue Bear?…

This thing.


Big Blue Bear is dope. Huge. And there’s a man inside the suit and he can talk and control his mouth from inside. We start talking while waiting to roll on the song. I tell him what just happened, the near debacle. He makes me feel better about it. Hugs me. Then, a man approaches

Big smile, the man introduces himself. He’s the director. We had yet to meet. “So, I heard you didn’t want to put on the costume?”…. “Yeah, man, no one told me about it beforehand”… “Well, you really put us in a bind”… with that, the director turns and walks away… Eek!

Big Blue witnessed the whole thing. He leans over to me and whispers “That’s fucked up” in my ear. AND ACTION!! We start singing, a strained smile on my face. “We Wish You A Merry Christmas, We wish you a…”

I didn’t work for Disney again for 20 years. Looking back, I should have done it. I would totally do it today. I’ve yet to reunite with Hillary Duff, I owe her an amends. Maybe she’ll read this. I’ve been my own worst enemy in this biz…

I accept the elf thing now. Note to actors: Never poo poo any work. You are not above the privilege of working in film and television. I’m a fool. The end.


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