the town I live in is pretty tiny--there's 2 places to rent movies, one of which is also the only grocery store.
I went to the other place last night & flipped thru the meager collection of dvds (pretty much mass market blockbusters--the only foreign or independent features being: Spirited Away. that's it. period)
however:
flipping thru the selections this time I happened to come across:
a movie I'd worked on a couple of years ago. a movie I'd forgotten about.
some backstory (about me--it's always about me) in summer 99 partner & self finished a movie & drove from NYC west. many hilarious & bloodcurdling adventures ensued & after about 2 months or so we ended up in Salt lake City. we both worked temp labour for a while, & then she got hired to do craft service for a movie. I helped her out for about a week & then ended up doing the job myself.
(part of craft service involves you yourself doing the actual work, & part of it is the "kit", or the equipment required to do the work. the kit--coolers, containers, coffeemaker, knives--usually is making more money than you, by which I mean me, are)
anyway--she was hired, & then I took over. the kit belonged to a woman who moved from crafty to boom. (boom--boom mike, the mike that dangles right out of frame that catches actual on-set sound, that's usually edited-out & re-dubbed in post)
I did crafty for maybe 2 weeks, & ended up staying with the woman who owned the kit (who had moved to boom) (not entirely sure why, it's just how it happened)
partner decided she was going to go back to NYC, so there was a going-away party for her, which I went to. as the call--or time to be on set--was rather early the next morning, boom-woman who had the kit figured I was blowing off the film when I wasn't back by eleven & left a note on the door saying my services would no longer be required.
I spent a couple of days getting good & drunk.
then, while wandering around one day, I was in the proximity of the producers of the picture, who asked me why I wasn't on set. I told them.
next thing I knew (working on movies is weird this way) I had a new job, a car, a beeper, a thousand dollars worth of clothes, & a very nice hotel room.
the car was a rental, & used to, part of the time, take film to the developers & pick up the actors at the airport. mostly I just drove it around.
as far as the movie goes--I rented it tonight & I might watch it--or just the credits to see my name (which is kinda cool--I know it's lame, but it's still kinda cool to see yer name scrollin up like that.)
most of the movies or t.v. shows I've worked on, I haven't seen. there was one film I worked on that went by the working title of "[Academy Award Winning Actor] Untitled Winter 1999 Project" & there was a sheet of paper up by the craft service table with "name this movie!!!" on it, & the number one entry was : "Jesus Christ, Bob", because that scene took THIRTY FUCKING TAKES, & it seemed, eventually, like that was the only line in the movie.
anyway, now I'm fully ensconced in trailerpark America, with faded memories of when I used to Hobnob with Celebrities.
pretty god-damn pathetic.
I went to the other place last night & flipped thru the meager collection of dvds (pretty much mass market blockbusters--the only foreign or independent features being: Spirited Away. that's it. period)
however:
flipping thru the selections this time I happened to come across:
a movie I'd worked on a couple of years ago. a movie I'd forgotten about.
some backstory (about me--it's always about me) in summer 99 partner & self finished a movie & drove from NYC west. many hilarious & bloodcurdling adventures ensued & after about 2 months or so we ended up in Salt lake City. we both worked temp labour for a while, & then she got hired to do craft service for a movie. I helped her out for about a week & then ended up doing the job myself.
(part of craft service involves you yourself doing the actual work, & part of it is the "kit", or the equipment required to do the work. the kit--coolers, containers, coffeemaker, knives--usually is making more money than you, by which I mean me, are)
anyway--she was hired, & then I took over. the kit belonged to a woman who moved from crafty to boom. (boom--boom mike, the mike that dangles right out of frame that catches actual on-set sound, that's usually edited-out & re-dubbed in post)
I did crafty for maybe 2 weeks, & ended up staying with the woman who owned the kit (who had moved to boom) (not entirely sure why, it's just how it happened)
partner decided she was going to go back to NYC, so there was a going-away party for her, which I went to. as the call--or time to be on set--was rather early the next morning, boom-woman who had the kit figured I was blowing off the film when I wasn't back by eleven & left a note on the door saying my services would no longer be required.
I spent a couple of days getting good & drunk.
then, while wandering around one day, I was in the proximity of the producers of the picture, who asked me why I wasn't on set. I told them.
next thing I knew (working on movies is weird this way) I had a new job, a car, a beeper, a thousand dollars worth of clothes, & a very nice hotel room.
the car was a rental, & used to, part of the time, take film to the developers & pick up the actors at the airport. mostly I just drove it around.
as far as the movie goes--I rented it tonight & I might watch it--or just the credits to see my name (which is kinda cool--I know it's lame, but it's still kinda cool to see yer name scrollin up like that.)
most of the movies or t.v. shows I've worked on, I haven't seen. there was one film I worked on that went by the working title of "[Academy Award Winning Actor] Untitled Winter 1999 Project" & there was a sheet of paper up by the craft service table with "name this movie!!!" on it, & the number one entry was : "Jesus Christ, Bob", because that scene took THIRTY FUCKING TAKES, & it seemed, eventually, like that was the only line in the movie.
anyway, now I'm fully ensconced in trailerpark America, with faded memories of when I used to Hobnob with Celebrities.
pretty god-damn pathetic.