Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Catering? Some fava beans, please


We're standing in the woods by the Liberty reservoir, outside of Baltimore. It's a beautiful strip of land, the water calm and clear, a perfect little finger of land from which lead actor is fishing. And the actor is Brian Cox, the original Hannibal Lechter.

It's amazing watching him work, as he's one of those old pros who can make the process look effortless. I am reminded of a indie I worked on a few years ago, with a young actor (26 or so) and an older actor (62 or so). The latter had done over 100 films. The younger actor had considerable talent, but needed to prep to get himself into the proper mood. For one bit of denouncement, the younger actor played morose tunes on his iPod for half an hour, and the crew was forbidden to speak to him at all until we shot the scene. The older actor prepared by joking around with the crew until the cameras rolled, then, like flipping a switch, he was a bellowing, red-faced, disappointed mentor. He stalks out of frame, realizing that he has done a great take, and flips the switch back, silently mouthing "yeah!" as he pumps his fists into the air. I think it really is like flipping a switch for the more experienced ones.

The film is called "Red," and while it wouldn't be much of a spoiler to talk about the scene's context, let's say the entire story was being set up from this scene. Me, I was a props specialist, technically a weapons wrangler. It was a nice cool day, hanging out in the woods next to the water, getting paid to handle firearms. What's not to like? Well, other than the massive case of poison ivy that I wound up with...

Sunday, June 24, 2007

I'm a Whore


Carl is looking at me with a bit of concern. "Why don't you sit down, and have some water?" We've been loading and unloading the world's smallest box truck for a couple of days now. The heat just doesn't seem to stop, and even though it's only been summer, officially, for a couple days, the humidity is debilitating.

But that part is just regular set dressing. Nothing new there. No, what's interesting (at least to me), is the project: A Q&A session, recorded on DVCAM, for Piyush "Bobby" Jindal, a candidate for governor in Louisiana.

MOM, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, STOP NOW.

A Republican candidate.

Yep, I'm doing a political ad. The rate is good. The work isn't that tough. We do a nice job. It will look nice. And it's always nice to work with Carl. But we're working on a GOP spot.

Then again, those who know me shouldn't be that surprised: I consider myself a professional. I won't do something illegal -- no snuff films or kiddie porn, thank you very much -- and if I don't like the project I probably won't discount my rate (I've turned down indies that had what I considered to be sub-par scripts), but if it's a legal gig and the rate is good, I will pitch in and do my best.

Plus, no one ever votes for someone because of the quality of his ad videos, right?
Right??

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Upon further review

Ok, my Sopranos summary was off-base. This fellow has convinced me otherwise. Tony's dead. David Chase doesn't do things by accident.

In my own defense, I only watched it once, I didn't tivo it. But it's hard to argue with his analysis.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Arrivederci, Tony


So we all wondered what would happen to Tony Soprano. Would we go into witness protection? Would he die in a blaze of glory? Would he take out Phil, and become head of southern New York too?

Nah. Tony did what he always did. He used luck, more luck, and a little brains to work things out in his favor.

The ending? I'm ok with it. You can't really wrap up all those disparate stories in an hour. We get a glimpse of Tony's life from now on -- looking up every time the door opens, noticing strangers, wondering why those two fellows decided to pop into the diner at just that time. And worrying about his family. This is Tony's life. And it might end in a few seconds, next week, next year, or he could wind up like Uncle Junior, alone and confused and so decidely old.

Hitchcock used to say that a bomb going off in a scene was pointless, but watching two characters sit at a table, idly chatting away over lunch, while we the audience have seen a sneaky character put a shopping bag under that same table, that's suspense. Excruciating suspense. The Sopranos finale gave us a taste of that. As Journey bellowed "Don't Stop Believing," we waited. My heart pounded. I ran all kinds of scenarios; why was Meadow being delayed? Who was that guy at the counter? Who were those black guys?

We'll never know.

Bravo.