I didn't write a blog post last week because I knew I would be working with one of my favorite idiot screaming directors. No not Mr. Evil. Just a director that falls into the screamer category and who's generally harmless. I figured I'd come home with several blog posts from the job....
Day 1 Interior shot lots of extras, confusion, tension, trying to get the first shot of the day in the can. Just as we're getting ready to roll a newbie producer runs up to the monitor and points out several spots on the screen. "Look at that!, What is that?" Now, being the old scripty that I am, I know that the spots she's referring to are on the ground glass (of the camera) but it's not my place to correct her. I just looked to the director as did she. I had my pen in hand ready to chronicle his first rant. He paused for a long time (possibly doing his anger management 10-count), then respectfully said. "It's just on the ground glass nothing to worry about." Crap!!!! And this un-blogworthy behavior continued for the rest of the job. He was polite, funny and at one point during down time he even asked me how things were going. We enjoyed a nice conversation (the nerve). There may have been some accidental bonding. Dang.
But fear not gentle reader, I can always find something about which I can rant. For example, our eating location. For those civilians out there, many film jobs are shot on location, and thus we break for lunch at said location. During my tour of duty I have dined in more garages than I care to admit. I have had lunch in a strip club, a bar, an animal shelter, a homeless shelter, a vacated senior home, and a former hospital...but none faded my appetite more than this location did.
Lunch was being made and served in a small-engine workshop. If it wasn't unappetizing enough knowing that the meal was to be served in this petroleum and carcinogen-laden hole, but it also was being cooked there. I watched the craft service girl/catering cook clear her work station of old greasy carburetors and fan belts before setting down the cook stove. Attempting to give common sense a nudge I meekly asked, "Isn't the oil smell bothering you?" She fanned the air towards her face and took a deep sniff, "Oh, I love this place, the smell, the parts, this is awesome!" For you maybe. My eyes began to burn from the wood stove/benzine smell and I wandered outside shaking my head, not only to clear away the haze that was forming around my peripheral vision, but also pondering why in the world someone would think this was an OK place to have lunch. One of the grips saw me and asked what was wrong. I declared my reluctance to eat in Gasoline Alley and he said, "Yeah, they probably could have found a better place." Then he shrugged and said, "Oh, well."
As lunch neared the camera assistant commented on his disgust of the dining locale as well, and I smiled at him. I had found a brother in arms. We decided to forgo the Wing Nut Primavera instead opting for six bags of chips and a couple of snack bars. We enjoyed our "lunch" sitting on the tailgate of the truck, not sure if our choice was healthier, but we both felt safer having inhaled less benzine than the rest of the crew.
Care to share your most interesting lunch location?