Responses

I mentioned Desiree in my blog yesterday.  Turns out, she has her own blog, where she posted a response.  Even though I disagree with her view, it’s a well-written blog, definitely worth reading, and I recommend you all check it out.

Along with her own post, she commented on mine:

I’ve never justified him yelling. It is bad manners.

What I reacted to was to fire him as the first and only solution, instead of talking as grown-ups.

He gave up the right to be treated as a grown up when he threw a hissy fit on set.  And a zero-tolerence policy keeps everyone else in line, as well.

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In other follow-up news, AQBemp wrote me about the advice she was given, regarding moving to Canada.  I thought I’d share it with you:

Hi TAPA,

Went round to have a chat with the UPM yesterday. He advised me that being a runner is something I should try and bypass if possible mainly because the runners on the next film he’s working on are the same ones who were on the last film and they don’t seem to be going anywhere. Sorry if you sometimes feel like that, being a PA and wanting to move on, but that’s how he sees things. He’s given me the email addresses of eight script supervisors that he knows are good, working and might let me shadow them for a few days. He thinks the best thing for me to do is contact them and hope that one of them will let me shadow them. This would help me find out what being on a set is really like and if script supervising is something I would actually enjoy as much as I think I would. He said he probably can’t get me on set of the film he’s just started working on as it’s very secretive. Also he thinks a script supervisor from the US is coming as it’s a half US/UK shot film but if it’s a UK scripty he’ll ask for advice.

I found out about one training scheme over here a while ago and he said that applying for that would be the best thing to do. They train one assistant script supervisor a year, to apply you need to have had at least two days on set in the area you are interested in, so I’m hoping one of the script supervisors might let me shadow them. I hope that they are doing the training again this year as I’d really like to apply. It seems really hard to get on to it though, last year 500 people applied for 30 places (out of those 30 only one place is for an assistant script supervisor). Obviously I have no idea how many people apply for each of the different jobs they can train you in but I guess there could easily be around 50 people applying for the script supervisor training.

About Canda, I seem to be thinking I’ll forget about that for now, I did really like Vancouver when I went there and think I’d enjoy living there for a year but if I’m able to shadow a script supervisor over here then I should see if I can apply for the training I was on about. Thanks for your advice though it was useful.

Well, skipping the PA step would obviously be ideal, but to say that the job doesn’t go anywhere is a little strange.  Production assisting is the most common way to start out in the business.  Maybe it’s different in the UK.

No Jerks

"We're allowed to have one."

Yesterday, Desiree said:

His outburst was cocky and out of the map.

But when you say “astonishingly, this outburst did not get the operator fired” I get a little scared.

Everybody must also be allowed to have an own opinion, a freedom of speech and by all means a bad day.

Maybe I didn’t properly convey how big of an asshole this guy was. It’s not his misinformed opinion that bothered me so much as the fact that he screamed at this poor PA, at the top of his lungs, because he didn’t get a preliminary call sheet five minute sooner, when we were rolling. (We were rolling five minutes earlier, not that he screamed while rolling.)

Unless you’re a doctor or a soldier or a police officer, there is rarely a good reason to yell at a work. Maybe if a crane is about to fall on someone’s head. But other than that, it’s uncalled for.

I know someone’s going to say, “But that’s Hollywood, Anonymous! People are going to yell over petty things! Get used to it.”

Yes, that’s true.  But on the other hand, shut up.  Just because it’s common doesn’t mean it’s right.

And it doesn’t mean there’s no alternative, either. I’ve heard that Bill Lawrence enforces a “No Jerks” rule on Scrubs. The theory goes, no matter how good you are at your job, there’s someone else who’s just as good and isn’t a dick.

Some day, I’d like to have that rule on my own set. If I was a producer instead of a PA on this show, and I heard about something like this happening, I would make the camera operator apologize to the PA, in front of the entire crew. He did, after all, embarrass the PA in front of the entire crew. And then I would make it clear to the op that, if he yells at anyone ever again, someone better be in mortal danger, or his ass is fired.

Call me naive if you must, but I’m young. I can still afford to be naive.

The Most Important Person on Set

I’ve complained about the camera department before, but just last week, an operator managed to reach below my already low expectations of civil behavior.

My set counterpart was passing out prelim call sheets to department heads. Since we were rolling at the time, the PA went around to the “soft crew” first– hair, make-up, costume. At cut, he worked his way into the set, hitting the gaffer and key grip before eventually reaching the camera operator.

Suddenly, the camera op started yelling. (I know this, because I could hear him from the production office.) “I’m the most important person on the set! I’m more important than the DP! I’m more important than the director!”

I asked the PA later what the deal was. He said the operator was angry that he didn’t get the prelim before anyone else. Astonishingly, this outburst did not get the operator fired.

Later in the week, though, a camera assistant quit, and he took his 2nd with him, because of this operator. Guys in the camera department are often jerks and bullies, and ACs are used to putting up with shit. It would take a lot to get an AC to quit, especially now.

Because I’m not on set, I don’t know the specifics of what happened, but this operator must be a colossal dick.

Why are guys like that allowed to have a job, when I know so many nice, competent people out of work?

Happy Anniversary!

I started this blog one year ago., and it’s time for a little reflection, I think.

My goal was to write something, every day, even if it was just a silly story on a blog.  I haven’t posted every single day, but as this is my 243rd post out of 261 possible weekdays, I came pretty darn close.

Five people read my first post.  206 read yesterday’s.  (A record 504 people visited the site on April 7th.)  That first month, I got 70 hits; now I never get less than a hundred in a day, even if I don’t post.

My original focus was on describing what it was like to be a PA.  (Sure, I’d sometimes go on a rant about politics or the news, but I basically stuck with the PA thing.)  Exactly six months into the blog, someone decided I was some kind of expert and asked me a question; now I get several questions a week.

A few friends have told me they’d like me to go back to the funny stories, and give advice less often.  So, I wonder what you, the reader, thinks.  Am I not funny enough anymore?  Should I give out more advice?  Am I striking a good balance now?

Some of my most popular posts include:

Good Mornin’ (this one’s number one mainly due to a link from Alex Epstein)

How to Move Up from Reality TV to Real TV

Something I Will Never Understand

I Hate Directors

Memo to Anyone Sending in Their Resume

Is PA Bootcamp Worth It?

Hm.  They seem evenly split between advice-giving and general PA nonsense.  It’s hard to judge what’s really capturing my audience’s imagination.

In fact, I’m not even sure who my audience is.  Other production assistants?  Below the line crew?  Writers?  Bored housewives in the midwest?  Who the hell are you people?

Do Me a Favor

Hollywood is built on favors, but some people don’t seem to realize that.

I’m making a short film. Just about the only way to make a decent short, without going broke, is to borrow equipment and get your friends to work for free.  In exchange, you offer them free food, their name in the credits, a copy of the movie, and the expectation that you will return the favor some day.

In quick succession, two of my friends violated this very simple barter system, much to my chagrin.

Tuesday, we needed a camera for about six hours at the beach.  A DP friend of mine owned the right kind of camera, but refused to let us borrow it; he insisted on charging us $150.  For six hours.

He said it was because he was afraid we’d get sand in it (we shot at the beach).  Now, first of all, I used to be an AC.  I ACed for this guy.  He knows I take care of cameras.  Plus, paying him money upfront doesn’t protect his camera.  Insurance (which our production has) does.

Worse than that, though, is the fact that I ACed for him as a favor.  He simply refused to do me a favor back.

Now, here’s the nutty part.  The producer found the same camera for $120.  So, we went back to my friend, and he still wouldn’t bring his price down.  The producer (who was also friends with this DP) called the next day, to ask if he rented is camera to anyone else.  He hadn’t.

Can you imagine that I would ever work with this DP again?

Two weeks earlier, the production was shorthanded.  I called around, and a buddy said he would grip for us, if I paid him a $50 kit fee.

Grips don’t have kits, by and large.  They have gloves and a diddy bag, maybe.  We were renting our gear from Castex.  So, basically, the guy wanted to get paid when no one else on the crew was.

What he didn’t seem to realize was, once I give him money, he’s no longer a friend doing me a favor; he’s an employee doing a job.  He knew we desperately needed people, and he exploited that fact.

Both of these guys used the excuse that they’re out of work, and they needed money.  The thing is, everyone is out of work.  Everyone needs money.  But if you can’t get money, you should at least get a favor in return.

These two have totally burned bridges.  They’ll need help in the future, and they won’t get it, from anyone involved in this production.  How do they not know this?

Intimacy

I was working on a short film this weekend, and we shot an “intimate scene.”  Basically, the actress was nude.  As is common practice, we kicked out everyone who didn’t absolutely have to be in the room.

This was all well and good, but it reminded me of a terrible AD on one of my first gigs.  It was a straight-to-DVD slasher movie, so of course there had to be a sex scene.

Technically, it was post-coital; the actor and the actress were lying in bed, under one of those L-shaped Hollywood blankets.  You know, where her chest is covered but his is not?

(I’m not really sure the producers understood the marketing purpose of titillating scenes in straight-to-DVD.)

But still, the actors were making out and it was kinda awkward, so they kicked everyone out of the room.  Which was totally okay.  It was a big house, and there was plenty of space for the rest of the crew to stand by in the kitchen.  (It was the middle of the night, and freezing cold.)

Then the AD sees me talking with one of the grips.  “You need to go outside.”

“What do you need?”

“Nothing, you just can’t be in here while we’re filming the sex scene.”

“In the other room?”

“Yeah.”

“But I can’t see anything.  And they can’t see me.  What’s the problem?”

“Just go outside.”

So, I open the door, and the director immediately yells, “Shut the fucking door!  It’s freezing outside!”

I slipped out and shut it.  With nothing to do, I just walked around to keep warm.  I came to the big picture window in the living room, where video village was set up.

The monitor was turned towards the window.

Yes, I could actually see more after the AD kicked me out.

The Inverse Relationship of Seriousness and Gravity

I met a former Las Vegas police officer, and he told me the following story:

We got a call for a suicide. Self-inflicted gunshot to the head.

You could see the victim from the front door. He was sitting at the kitchen table, kinda in profile. The entry wound was on his temple. The gun was still dangling from his left hand.

It was all pretty straight forward, so I sent the rookie in to check out the scene. Like I said, you could see the entry wound from the door, but when he walked around the table, he saw the exit wound.

An entry wound is like what you see on TV– a bloody hole just about the size of a bullet. The exit wound is something else entirely. The right half of this guy’s head was gone. Brains splattered everywhere, bones broken every which way, an eye hanging down by where his cheek should be.

The kid wasn’t expecting it at all. He came running out of the house, kneeled over the edge of the porch, and vomited his guts out. The rest of us just died laughing. Someone pointed out the neighbors were on their lawns, watching us, but it didn’t matter.

We couldn’t stop laughing.

Compare that with Rob Long talking about getting a sandwich:

Making a movie or television show is hard work, and sometimes the high point in your day is the turkey sandwich on sourdough toast with mayo on one side and mustard on the other and when it comes untoasted, well, that little moment in between network notes and bad news from the studio is sort of ruined. And it’s hard not too get really really mad about the untoasted sourdough — irrationally mad, yes, overreacting and inappropriately raging, yes — because, well, you know going in that the network is going to be awful and the studio is going to be obstructionist and the production is going to go over budget and the effect isn’t going to look like it’s supposed to and the star is going to be irritating and the audience is going to be fickle but, really, you had a pretty good shot at getting that bread toasted. I mean, there’s a toaster in the restaurant, yes? And slices of bread were proximate to that device? So, basically, what you’re telling me is that even the stuff that’s supposed to go right, that can easily go right, is going to go wrong?

Is it just me, or do the people who should take their job seriously, don’t, and the people who shouldn’t take their job seriously, do?

I Get Passes

I’m a dumbass. This fact is reasserted to me at irregular intervals. Today, for instance.

There are free movie screenings all the time in Los Angeles. You can sign up for them with LA Weekly, Campus Circle, Screening Exchange, and many, many other places. The one hook is, they won’t let you in if you work in the industry.

I learned this waaaaaay back in film school. Within the first month, my RA took me and a few others to a preview of American Beauty. Kevin Spacey showed up afterwards. I even got to ask him a question in the Q&A later. (My question was something like, “Why are you so awesome?”)

It was pretty cool for a kid fresh off the turnip truck. The point is, I was only able to do this because my RA told us, “Now, don’t tell them you’re a film student; they won’t let you in. Tell them you’re studying history or something.”

Flash forward to today. I’m out of work, and a free movie sounded good. A studio guy was moving down the line, passing out nondisclosure agreements and asking people where they worked. I had my story all planned out (medical student) when he pointed at me and said, “You work in the Industry.”

I just looked at him, confused. He poked his finger at me: “Come on. Seriously?”

I realized he was pointing at my shirt. Or, more specifically, the Panavision logo on my shirt.

Curse you, Panavision, and your irresistable free shirts!

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On an unrelated note, I just got a fancy new phone, and I’m writing this blog in the car. Isn’t technology wonderful? Five years ago, this would practically be magic.

On an even less related note, a friend of mine has started a new blog about touring the country in a band. You should check it out: http://newbard.blogspot.com

More About Honorifics

Yesterday’s post generated a surprising number of comments, considering I didn’t once mock the PA Bootcamp.

Readers proposed several theories regarding the Sir/Mr. dichotomy, but here’s one I didn’t think about until late last night– it’s all Walt Disney’s fault.

Back in film school, our stage manager (and my old boss), Herb, was a retired electric.  (This was the same guy who told me that film school professors are either too old to hack it in the industry any more, or, if they’re young, never will.)

Herb liked to tell the story of how he met Walt Disney.  He was working on The Wonderful World of Disney as a lamp operator.  (The office you saw in the show was actually a replica of Disney’s real office, upstairs.  It was so exact that the set decorators purchased books of the very same edition as the ones in the real office.)

Anyway, Herb was told to roll a big lamp from one side of the stage to the other.  And back then, “big” was big, like five feet in diameter.  So, he’s pushing this huge light, still hot from lighting the previous scene, but his path is blocked by Walt Disney himself, talking with one of the producers.

Now, there’s no other way around with this giant light, so Herb says, ever so politely, “Excuse me, Mr. Disney.”

Walt Disney whirls around, rises up to his full height (he was a tall guy), and screams at the top of his lungs, “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?“

The crew froze.  The head of the studio just screamed at someone.  Herb shrunk back as far as he could, thinking, Great.  First day on the job, and I’m fired.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Disney, it’s just that, this light needs to go over there, and there’s no other way to get there, and I didn’t want to burn you, so-”

“What’s your name, son?”

“Herbert Hughes, sir.”

“What do your friends call you?”

“Herbie.”

“Let me tell you something, Herbie.  There are only two misters on this lot– Mr. Toad and Mr. Lincoln.  You call me Walt, and I’ll call you Herbie.”

So Herb kept his job.  In fact, he went on to be the head of the lighting department at Disney Studios.

And that’s why I think this whole nobody-calls-me-”mister” thing is Walt Disney’s fault.

Titles

There’s a curious inconsistency I’ve noticed in the way film industry address each other.

No one is ever called “Mr. Spielberg,” or “Ms. Ephron.”  It’s “Steve” and “Nora.”  Even if you’ve just met the person, you’re instantly on a first-name basis.  This is particularly hard to get used to for a polite boy from the midwest who was always taught to address his elders and superiors as “Mister.”

However, on set, everyone calls each other “sir,” especially among the G&E, production, and camera crews.  And I don’t mean just the peons calling the department heads “sir.”  The 2nd AC hands the first a filter, the first will say, “Thank you, sir.”

I’ve actually had a director call me “sir,” when I brought him his coffee.  His coffee!

The Mr/Mrs thing I kinda get.  It makes you feel old, and no collection of people is more vain than Hollywood.  But what’s with this “sir” being thrown about?  It’s confusing.