Recurring Themes

"The one recurring theme in my writing, and in my life, is confusion. The fact that anytime you think you really know something, you're going to find out that you're wrong -  that is the rule. The moments where you think you have something figured out - those are the exceptions."- Conor Oberst, musician

This blog can sometimes be like a bad movie pitch for me, where Bill Murray movies meet other Bill Murray movies. Right about now, it's Groundhog's Day meets What About Bob meets Lost in Translation, only without Scarlett Johansson.

After over twenty years of practicing zazen meditation, it is not surprising that my therapist recently said to me that I had 'introspection down pat,' nor should it be surprising to regular readers of this blog that I have a therapist, something that should be a requirement of anyone who is or, for that matter,  aspires to be, a line producer.

I had found myself on the doorstep of Shooting Gallery after experiencing a dark night of the soul after working with members of my close movie family on Town Diary, a feeling similar to the one I felt more recently after finishing Keep My Brother, where I questioned if this was the right direction for my life.

In preparing this post, recurring themes in my life presented themselves. How similar the challenges and questions of one film is to the next. The feeling of being pulled back in to a world that often did not serve me well. Wondering if this was the right path. Returning to my movie family like the grown kid who keeps going back for that nightmare, Home For the Holidays, Thanksgiving get-together.

The Oberst quote above has more truth for those of us who work in any of the arts than it seems at first glance.  We are constantly chasing after the truth, and scared that we might actually catch up to it. What would we do then? How empty our lives would be if we ever found all the answers.

Likely,  I could have been happy at Shooting Gallery for years, had it not hit that damn iceberg.  For sure, there was a period of time after Shooting Gallery had it's doors closed (that request came from an eviction marshall) where I found myself adrift in a lifeboat,  which was, in my case, funded by that small inheritance I'd received from an aunt.

That time was filled with pursuits both artistic,  where I pursued my writing,  and wanton, which included stays in Atlantic City playing poker. Indeed, there had been times in between shoots where I had made quite a good living after the movie Rounders and amateur  Chris Moneymaker's World Series of Poker victory had driven a number of would-be poker players to the table. It was a time when the quote from Rounders, "if you can't spot the sucker in the first half hour at the table, you are the sucker" rang true.  Those of us who had played for a while could make a tidy living.

All good things must eventually come to an end. Poker players started getting better about the same time that the dotcom bubble burst, stock prices tanked, and it seemed a good time to get back to work.

There is a great story about actor  Omar Sharif. The dashing co-star of Lawrence of Arabia and star of Dr. Zhivago and Funny Girl was a world -renowned contract bridge player, good enough that he had a Chicago Tribune syndicated column on bridge that was distributed worldwide.

Sharif did not simply engage in cards as an academic endeavor,  and he enjoyed all forms of gambling.  As the story goes, he had lost most of his money while in Monte Carlo, something that seems to have happened to him more than once. *

Legend has it that after a particularly rough night,Sharif ordered a large breakfast,  asked for a house phone,  called his agent and said, "It looks like it's time to go back to work.  Get me a movie."

My Sharif moment was less exotic with troublesome annoyances such as paying rent and utilities getting in the way.

It was about that time that Phil and Donna from Paper Blood were actually getting close to finally getting funding for their second feature, a script we will call The Holoflux

Years from now, it's possible that a film historian will analyze my career by the fact that two of the films I line produced had names involving the fire of the unattainable and the holoflux universe.  No one will ever accuse me of chasing commercial scripts.

I was back working with close members of my film family,  two people who were closer to me than blood relatives. I would bring in people I knew and trusted. 

Famous last words . What could go wrong?






* Sharif Quote from IMDB "I stopped making movies because for the last twenty five years I've been making a lot of rubbish because I was in debt all the time. You know I used to gamble quite a bit and then I was always broke. I was always one film behind my debts and so at some point you know I had to work all the time to support my family and myself and all my expensive tastes and then I decided that it became ridiculous at some point. "

The Unattainable - Part 4 - Groundhog's Day

"I was in the Virgin Islands once. I met a girl. We ate lobster, drank pina coladas. At sunset, we made love like sea otters. Why couldn't I get that day over and over and over...?"
-Phil (Bill Murray, Groundhog's Day)

What's exciting about making movies is that every one is different. What is enervating about producing or line producing indie films is that you answer so many of the same questions, and see so many of the same things over and over and over.

None, I assure you, involve pina coladas or making love like sea otters.

Every department thinks that you are giving money to every other department except theirs.

DP: "But look how many people you have in the art department."

Art Department: "I saw that camera package. Now I know where all the money is going."

Gaffer: "Those curtains alone must cost you $5000."

Costume Designer (looking at back of G/E truck): "I never saw so much equipment on an indie film"

Key Grip: "Those costumes must cost a fortune."

Probably why I like sound and makeup. Sound recordists are usually quiet with dry senses of humor. Makeup folks are love and hugs.

At the end of the day, every department head fights for their department to have the resources to make the director happy, to make a good movie. As my gaffer one day told me when I was waiting on lighting, "We're making pretty pictures."

As if I didn't care about pretty pictures. It's all about getting the money on the screen, but everyone's idea of what part of the screen needs to look good is slanted by their department.

The same "what about me" mentality takes place during the production meeting. Every department needs more time for their answers; every department gets bored when you are taking that time with another department.

Except for production, of course. We just carry the water and try to make sure everyone else gets what they need, if not, necessarily, what they want.

Then there is the schedule.

As a guy who has been AD on more than my share of projects, I respect the hard work that goes into the schedule. For most others, it's a piece of cake.

Locations wants to know why you can't shoot this great location on the day it is available. Casting wants to know why hiring an actor with conflicts is a problem. Art department can't see why you would be silly enough to put two hard sets to dress together.

People look at the one-liner and say, "Why can't this go there?" as if they were doing a crossword puzzle that was a few levels too easy.

It is the AD who knows that each move has consequences, and if you saw something simple, they probably did, too - as well as why there was a conflict you didn't see.

These are some of the big issues. Then, there are the annoying little things.

Water bottles.

Here's the thing: no matter what you do, you have a lot of half-water bottles. Logic would say to buy the smaller water bottles.

Except people then drink half of the smaller water bottles.

I'm not exactly sure why. Every shoot starts with a lot of people putting initials on their caps. By the end of the first week ,reality sinks in.

There are going to be a lot of half-full water bottles, and that is not some glass-half-empty-glass-half-full analogy. It just is.

While we are in the kitchen, there is catering. I did a long post on the subject; suffice to say here that crew will tire of the best caterer, and will have bigger issues with most. Personally, I did not drink one cup of coffee on this set that I didn't bring myself from outside, and that is the case with so many caterers. The world of food allergies, moral choices, religious restrictions and the dreaded gluten-free has meant that the simple act of providing meals to the crew now requires endless attention.

On almost every project, I insist that we have multiple copies of the keys to the vehicles. On a Teamster shoot, of course, this is not an issue - there is a transportation captain. On small indie shoot, there is usually that dreaded moment - usually when one of the crew vans is going home at the end of an overtime day, when someone says, "Who has the keys to the van?"

It's one of the many reasons I love Living in Oblivion. It had me from "Who has the keys to the grip truck?"

On this shoot, the streak was broken. We never had to wait a moment on keys. A first for everything.

No department has enough walkies. If there is an intern to the intern in the department, somehow, it is crucial that person has a walkie.

As a production person, I understand the need for walkies. I also understand that I always have to save somewhere, so if  the grip department's intern doesn't have a walkie, they will live.

Then, there are the call sheets. Everyone needs them, and half barely look at them. Sides are done and distributed, and most get lost or discarded after the first shot. We all know that these things are important, but the truth is, most don't look at them or look so quickly that it hardly matters.

There are other truths.

No matter how well Day One goes, Day Two will have issues. Everyone is geared up for Day One. Everyone is on the alert for problems.

Our Day Two was completed as scheduled, but without the extra time I thought we would have for voice overs.

The person dealing directly with Screen Actors Guild (now SAG-AFTRA) will be exasperated. It's not the money. It's the paperwork, and the penchant reps have for losing paperwork. They just do.

On one shoot, my producer's assistant, who I normally have compile and handle the paperwork, was an all-smiles, sweet Southern gal. One day, she walks into my office in full Tourettes mode. She had faxed/sent/scanned something like her third copy of something, and the rep said they could not find it.

To paraphrase the advice the detective gets at the end of Chinatown: "Forget it, Emily. It's SAG."

We all love and appreciate ambitious and alert PAs. There seems to always be one, however, who tries a little too hard, and gets on people's nerves. I usually forgive these folks. They do the hardest work for the least pay.  They work silly hours and no one notices them unless they make a mistake. Still, sometimes I have had to suggest they tone it down a bit.

The above are examples from this and other shoots, and, as previously stated,  I get that people's intentions are good, to do the best job possible, even if that sometimes is not the way production sees it.

Whenever anything goes wrong, it is always production. My oft-used quote from Christine Vachon, "It's all my fault. Now, can we just move on?" is still my mantra.

People will bring the most ludicrous requests and problems, and expect production to solve it. It doesn't matter who caused the question. We need to have the answer.

People who are perfectly capable of dealing with simple problems at home will ask production to do things that they can simply solve themselves.

That is part of the job, whether you go the AD path or the UPM or line producer path. If that bothers you, find a different department.In the end, it doesn't matter if it was your fault - it's your responsibility.

Again, from Groundhog's Day, as Phil realizes he is experiencing the surreal and living the same day every day, he approaches Rita.

Phil:      "I am not making it up. I'm asking you for help."
Rita:      "Okay, what do you want me to do?"
Phil:      "I don't know. You're a producer. Come up with something."






N.B. I'm sure every department feels they have to deal with the same things every shoot. Please, leave a comment as to your "Groundhog's Day" experiences.