JB-san To the Rescue - Part 5 - A Hero Rises (Slowly)

I am too young - just barely - to have followed those Saturday morning serials like Flash Gordon, where at the end of each episode it seemed certain the hero was about to meet their doom, only to miraculously escape almost certain demise and come back to fight the following week.

Today, we like our heroes a bit darker, so we need them muddied up a bit before they reappear.  I am old enough to remember a time that when you wondered about the fate of a certain Batman, all you needed to do was bring your youthful certainly that good would always prevail to this same "Bat time" and same "Bat Channel." A "Ka-Boom!" and a "Pow" later, all was right with the world, before it went wrong again.

Each hero today must have his or her "forty days in the wilderness," must have not only their life but their very soul challenged by everything and everyone from the Devil to the Borg*.

A dark side of Snow White?  Really?

"The Temptation of JB-san" lasted something briefer than 40 glasses of Jack Daniels, but not by much.

I did not have to avoid the seduction of Satan (though if she were cute, I most assuredly would have succumbed), nor did I have to survive assimilation from which "resistance is futile" or climb up an incredibly high wall with my bare hands and then leap to my freedom.

I was more old-school, and when JB-san did rise, it was after about the fourth phone call and with an serious hangover.

The first call went to my voice mail.  It was from Mr. K's assistant, a nice young lady.

"Hello, JB-San.  Know last night was a bad night.  Get some rest.  Hope to see you soon!  Give us a call."

Yeah, right.  When I get up, I have to look up the word "Quit" in Korean.

The second call was from my Korean assistant translator.  She left a very sweet and very sad voice message saying that she was sorry I was gone and hoped I would reconsider.

Geez, she was so sweet, it made me feel bad.  But, really, I had made up my mind.  I would call and explain it to her later.

An appeal to my heart.

The phone rang again.  Better I explain it to her now.

It wasn't her.  It was Mr. K.  He was very understanding, and he said if I would change my mind, he would be the go-between dealing with the South Korean crew, and I would only have to deal with him. Oh, by the way, he understood with all the long hours, I would need to be compensated in my weekly envelope.

An appeal to my greed.

The money was good, but I didn't see how I could come back.  After all, I had my pride.  Oh, and could I just get some sleep.  You folks can stop calling me.

A little while later, and the phone again.  This time it was Peter.

"JB, I understand if you don't want to come back. Nobody could blame you. I just want to tell you I appreciate all that you taught me.  There's a lot here, and I don't know everything you know, but I'll do my best.  I just wanted you to know we'll all miss you."

Then, the worst.

"I really look up to you, JB."

The Hell with Kryptonite, you want to take a guy down, there is no more time-honored weapon than guilt.  Yeah, I had taught him a lot, like how to quit and walk out on his team when things got tough.

Regardless of position on a staff or crew on a film, there are times you hang in there simply for the people around you.  It's one thing if you are easily replaceable, and no one is irreplaceable - after all, they fire directors and lead actors in extreme circumstances.

This wasn't big picture, though, and Peter, and to a lesser extent, Hakim, were going to have to do a lot more work with a lot less back-up with me gone.

I gave Peter some instructions to get him going for the day, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I don't know how soon I'll be in, Peter, but...."

Peter jumped in. "Doesn't matter.  Whenever you can get here is great, just great!  See you later, JB!"

I think he wanted to get off the phone before I changed my mind.

Time for that cold shower.

I didn't ride in on a suped-up vehicle, but a yellow cab.  There was that walk back to my desk, and smiles and hand shakes exchanged, and, thankfully, not a lot of words. Its one of those times when most of what anyone says on either side is awkward.

Just move on.

Among our bigger challenges yet to come was a hotel lobby that we had to take over.  The SK crew had money, but not the type of money the hotels wanted for their lobby, and the old courthouse down by the Brooklyn Bridge, which I had used for an elaborate lobby or mansion because of its chandelier and marble staircase, didn't work for the director; not that the MOFTB was anxious to give it to us.

I had pulled out the big guns, and while we weren't in a position to hire him, I leaned on a location manager friend, Mitch, to help us with this and a few of the tougher locations.  It was purely a favor to me, though Peter would follow up with him.

One morning I noticed Peter a little shaken after getting off the phone with Mitch, who is Jewish.  It was a High Holy Day, and Peter should not have been calling him, which Mitch now had made clear to Peter.  Another mea culpa for me to offer.

A few days later, before I had a chance to call him, Peter tells me that Mitch is on the phone for me.  I am about to apologize when Mitch offers one of the funniest un-PC things I've ever heard.

"You know, you should be careful.  We killed your God once, we can do it again."

Mitch, who is also an accomplished harmonica player and guitarist, happens to be one of the funniest and sincerely nicest guys around.  He once stood on his head on my desk to get my attention when he needed to leave on a scout on another shoot and I was dealing with something else.  He always had the perfect way to make me laugh (he still does) and break the tension in an difficult situation.  This time, he outdid himself.

The shoot crawled to it's conclusion, and Peter and Hakim would work with me on other projects, including Paper Blood.

Oh, and the part about things that start silly end silly?  Big Mr. K was very interested in having a nice wrap party for the American crew.  I explained that the important things about crew wrap parties was free alcohol and the discretion to forget who went home with whom.  Big Mr. K thought that too simple, and had an elaborate sit-down dinner at a too-nice Korean restaurant.  The idea was very nice, but the crew sitting around in a fancy restaurant - eating Korean food, of all things -  wasn't their idea of a wrap party.  The crew thought it odd, and Big Mr. K silently resented the crew's lack of appreciation.

Much like the shoot, too much money spent and nobody happy.

Still, lost in translation.

Big Mr. K did take me to another dinner another day to talk about doing another project.

"This one will be different," he promised.  "We will get it right from the start."

Sorry, Big Mr. K, but there would be no sequel to this action adventure.  Sometimes, the hero needs to know when to ride off.

*Picard. Star Trek Enterprise. You want me to start explaining every cultural reference, these posts are going to get even longer - and brevity has never been one of my strong suits, as regular readers have figured out.

(Un)Lucky Stiffs - Part 6 - I Need A Hero!

We were behind schedule, and it was now looking as if we would be going into the third week of October.

We had bad weather, un-cooperative dogs, possessed PAs, wacky lead actors and just about every challenge we needed.

With all of these obstacles, we also needed to do stunts; fights, gunplay, car chases and more.  This was a  screwball comedy about a heist gone wrong with many double-crosses, and most of those ended up with physical comedy and comedic violence.

We had nice actors, but none besides Bobby were seasoned pros, and Bobby was far from physically-adept.

If these stunts were to go well, and work within our schedule and budget challenge, we would need a real pro to help us with the stunts, someone with skill who could work with people without physical skill, someone who could give audiences a thrill without giving the AD a heart attack, someone who embodied a daredevil with unquestioned safety.

We needed a hero.

He rode a motorcycle, not a horse, but he rode to our rescue and his name was Shane.

His bio starts, "In 1982, a young man named Shane "Butch" Grier saddled up his motorcycle, cleared his bank account ($200 in cold hard American cash), and drove 1563 miles from Tulsa, OK to the Big Apple to pursue the stunt end of the film and television business."  The logo for his company, United Stuntman's Association, Ltd. (USA) had a representational American flag, and that logo was on the back of his denim jacket.

This was a superhero costume I could like.

Every question from him ended with "Sir", and every greeting from him came with a firm handshake.  He had a young son, maybe 10 or 11 years old, who rode behind him on his bike, and looked like a mini-me version of him, complete with the hero stance; arms folded or at his hips, shoulders square, head held high.

When the kid would stand by the motorcycle and refer to his dad ("You have to ask Shane") it was like right out of the movie.

As Lorelei, our 1st AC, said in mock Hollywood swoon one day, "Ah, Shane."

He worked with another guy Michael who everyone called Critter.  Together, watching them set up stunts in a scene, making complex choreography look simple, was pure art.  They would assess what the actors could and could not do, and make the most of it.  Matt and I would have suggestions (Matt with principals, me with background) but when we were on stunt days, it was his show.

While I loved Shane most of all, let me say this about stunt people.  In all my years in the business, I've worked with tons of people in every department, and, as in life, some are better than others.  Some are lousy in their jobs, or can be difficult or rude or have a bad attitude.  That's just life.

Not stunt people.  I've never met a stunt person I didn't like, who wasn't professional and courteous as well as good at their job.  The irony is that for all the daredevil stuff they pull off, and all the risks they take, no body is more serious about their work or about safety.  They have to be, or people get hurt or even killed.

One of the biggest challenges of complex stunts and fight scenes is adrenaline.  In the times I've heard of actors being hurt on set - and crew people have told me some gruesome stories - it always involves an actor who, after having been warned of how to do something safely in rehearsal, gets his adrenaline going and tries something extra during a take.

Shane and Critter knew this, and did a good job of keeping the tone calm on set.

One of my favorite days with them was a day we were blocking a car stunt.  We needed someone to sit in the car next to Shane as he did the stunt for the first time for camera blocking, and my actor's stand-in looked a little afraid.  I volunteered.

Before you think this is where I tell you what a brave soul I have, let me preface by saying I think I only have been on a roller coaster once, and I guarantee you my eyes were closed the entire time until I faked being brave at the end.  I'm terrified of heights, cannot walk over high bridges, and look away when a car drives over one that is close to the edge of the bridge.  I cannot even watch bungee jumping, no less would I try it.

However, I felt completely calm with Shane.  He went over how to strap myself in, and then, in the calmest voice imaginable, went over all the steps to take in case something, like a crash or the car rolling over took place.  The list was pretty ugly, and you would think this is where I bailed, but coming from Shane, it was like a stewardess asking you to turn off your electronic devices  - just part of the routine.

All of the stunt days went well, to the point where we looked forward to it.  Pictured below are Shane (still with mustache)  and Critter today - 20 years later, 20 years older, and they still look like heroes to me.

And, yes, I just had to add this - enjoy the Eighties haircuts and choreography.  Shane, this is for you.

(Un)Lucky Stiffs - Part 1 - Bringing Up Baby

I got back to New York in mid- August, the hottest and most humid time in New York.  The good news was that we weren’t going to start on Lucky Stiffs  until early September, and by then, the weather would be better.  The better news was that my original estimate, before breakdown, would be that we would wrap by the first week in October, before the weather got too cold.

Perfect.

The first people I met were Matt, the director, and Rody, the production manager.

Matt's background was as an editor, though he had co-written and directed one documentary.  For a director, Matt was a good editor.  He had clear ideas on what he needed for coverage, and he had written a simple, comedic story that he could get a handle on.   He was a veteran, one who knew the traditional way to make films, and for the most part, that was how I liked to make them.  Sure, we were low-budget, and the execution was different, but the organizational structure remained the same.

Matt was a pleasant, nice and decent human being.  Those are not always qualities associated with directors, and not adjectives I would use for a few I've known and a few I've worked along side.  Matt was in his late 30/early 40s, and past the ego  that sometimes drives young directors.  He wasn't worried about his next movie, or making a fortune on this one.  He knew the latter was unlikely, given the nature of the business.

He did not have an ego that needed to be stroked, and he didn't need to be king.  He was a successful editor, and would have a career in the business regardless of the outcome of the film.  He was comfortable.

Comfort is not always a good thing for a director or a movie.  A movie often takes on the personality of the director, and comfort for a film crew can lead to overconfidence.  A movie in production develops a psyche, it really does.  Bits and pieces of the personalities involved go into that psyche the way parents,  relatives, teachers and environment go into the psyche of a child.

It took a number of years in the business for me to come to my take on a production's psyche.  Over the years, I have kept a close eye on how this forms, making sure things never got too heavy or, for lack of a better term, too light.  Mostly, I have tried to 'biologically engineer' this psyche through the crew I hired.

Was this film a good fit for them, and how would they work with the other keys?

So, Matt added quiet and pleasant to work with to the mix.  I was never a screamer as an AD, but I'm a Capricorn, and we tend to suck up air in the room.  I'm much more laid-back now; I was much more front-and-center at that time.

You know JR and his main crew by now.  If you missed it, check out When JB Met JR - Part 1 - The Birth of JB.

I had a Second AD I had worked with before named Julie, and I brought on Chris Kelley from my class as 2nd 2nd AD.  This was a working relationship that would continue for some time, and CK (as we called him) and his personality would definitely be a part of the mix.

We had an earnest young PA who tried very hard but who always managed to wreak havoc who CK dubbed Satan's Child.  You will see why.

We had a young PA who became location manager and later became an integral part of our team.  She later went on to become a successful DGA First AD.

I met my mentor.

We had a hero named Shane.  Really.  He even had a little kid calling to him.

The cast included an actress in her mid-thirties named Antonina trying to play mid-twenties, a featured actor playing the "experienced" hood named Bobby who was more of a character off camera than on, and two cool young guys in the slacker roles.

Rody, the production manager, had a background in documentaries and covering her back, the latter of which included working closely and secretively with the production designer who she had brought  on board.

The production manager and the AD must work well together.  There are many films over the years on which I was AD that not only was the PM a partner, but a Godsend.  You make each other look good,  When I moved to more work as PM and line producer, I was the biggest fan of the AD, because I had been there, and did everything I could to have their back.

Rody was figuring her job out as she was going along, which would have been fine, if she had asked for help.  Instead, she covered mistakes and kept things a mystery until small problems became big problems.

This was not the perfect AD and PM marriage.

There was a natural, but not healthy, tension that developed.  Me, JR and his crew were one team; Rody and her production designer was another.  To be fair, all sides tried to make it work, but it got tense at times.

The first challenge we faced was the schedule and locations, which, in a perfect world, is a symbiotic relationship.  They are intertwined, and in the next post, I will talk about the scheduling and location securing process, and the rest of pre-production.

We were in prep, the child was born, and the psyche was being developed.  Stick around for the formative (weeks) years.


*As a treat for having entered the world of Lucky Stiffs, the classic screwball comedy - and maybe Grant's best - Bringing Up Baby