Two Days of Grueling Euphoria

‘the hell? This is the most interesting part of the process—the MAKING part—and where is the update?

Here it is:

I’ll make no excuses for the delay… Yes, producing is a draining, tiring process, and yes, I also work my forty hours a week, plus I belong to a volleyball league, and a book group. But, honestly, I’ve still had time enough to throw a little update to the people. Something else has been occupying my thoughts and time. I’m not proud. But it could be worse.

So. Last weekend. We started by putting our star in the bathtub. Throughout the weekend, Brandon had Jonathan do a whole slew of strange and extra things not in the script. He came up with one particular series of actions for the first Studio scene. All strung together, it was about a straight 5 minutes of action. These weren’t things in the script, Jonathan was told what to do once, ran through it with Brandon once, then we started rolling. And Jonathan nailed it. We did a series of these very long takes and he made them funny and interesting and sad and cool all at the same time.

One thing about these epic takes: someone has to hold the camera. We don’t have time for tripods so our living, breathing cameraman has to hold a not unheavy camera in an awkward position and not move for a very long time. Even though his nose may itch and his leg may ache and his hand muscles start to rebel. I was getting tired and antsy just being still enough to not make noise while rolling, then I looked at Jeffrey, doubled over, motionlessly holding the camera through the entire take and my fidgetiness felt petty. And standing next to him, Karrie held that boom aloft with the same degree of stoic immobility. To say it was impressive is to say the Meteor Crater is a divot in Arizona.

Also, we were lucky enough to get a real live photographer to take production stills on Saturday. I’ll share some with you as soon as Chris uploads them.

On Sunday, we descended upon the offices of CB&S, set up shop in the conference room and shot Jonathan and Ladawn’s scenes. Ladawn was priceless. She came up with little improvisations and tweaks on her delivery that just killed. We have so many good shots of their two brief interactions that we want to use them all…

Around one, pizza came and Jeffrey and I ate cheese, which later proved unpleasant to our internal processes… Corey arrived and didn’t bat an eye when Brandon told him his first scene would now take place in a bathroom. He added a specific something to one scene that I can’t tell you about because, if it makes the final cut, I want you to experience it with no forewarning.

Then Jeffrey contorted himself into new and unnatural positions to capture more of those long wonderful shots that Jonathan again pulled off flawlessly. In one particular shot, Brandon helmed the camera, while Jeffrey and I checked the monitor for focus. And yes. It was the one shot out of focus. Aside from that, we only had one other flaw. One scene of dialogue was too quiet from one end. We may have to do a little ADR. That's okay, it'll make us feel fancier.

By the end of the weekend, we were tired, we were spent, we were sore. And now, I want nothing more than to do it again. And again. And again until I expire.

I’m putting together the next script in my head. I’m thinking… more bathroom scenes.

Thank you, AMEX

The equipment is here. Yesterday the UPS man delivered many, many boxes. In these boxes were components for a super-fast computer, Adobe's Creative Suite 3 Production Premium software, and a Canon XL2 digital camcorder. This is an upgrade from what we used to make Cupcake Confidential. Unlike that venture, "The Movie" will not be shot on a borrowed camera. iMovie will not be our editing software. And we will not have to store half the footage on the iPod while the eMac processes the edits. How did people of modest means acquire such shiny new things? I asked American Express to give me eight thousand dollars. Thirty seconds later they said, "Okay, here's $8,000." I got the willies. Then I got to spending.

So there it is, strewn across the living room, in boxes and in various states of construction. The monitor is wide and stately. The tower housing all the little computer parts is black and imposing. The box that holds the Adobe software and manuals weighs around 15 pounds. The camera looks like it means business. The tools are here. All that remains is putting them to use. After they're put together of course. Thankfully this is Brandon's job. So far, power cables have not connected properly, the video card wouldn't communicate readily, and Vista refused to install smoothly. (Big surprise. [My instinctive opposition to owning a PC has not fully faded.]) Brandon has gone nuts a total of five times thus far. It's good training for him. Things will be going much wrong-er as this project progresses and he will no doubt be driven far nuts-er.

I'd like to say that I'm excited. All this great new stuff. And I can. I am. I'm excited. There's tangible proof all over my living room floor and on my dining room table, physical objects that stand as testament to this being not just some sure, sure someday pile of maybe. It's real and touchable and expensive. I am excited.

But I'm also going crazy myself. Can we talk about the screenplay? Specifically, can we discuss the ways (so many, many ways) it is devouring my soul and my brain and my will to get out of bed? That's what we're here for, I suppose. It's not that I'm thinking it can't be done. It can. And it's not that I'm throwing my arms up in the air and saying I can't do this. Not yet, anyway. But lordy, I am flailing. I'm thinking about storylines in the shower. People at work talk to me and I stare at their lips and try to pay attention to what they're saying but really I'm thinking about the story. Always the story. The story the story the story. When the company got together to decide what "The Movie" would be about, we came up with a fairly complicated structure--a framework, really-- and a few guidelines, a few interesting elements to incorporate and so on. Details are up to me. I agreed to write this thing and I'm not complaining. But there are a lot of details in the world. There are a lot of stories to be told. I'm not interested in most of them. The one I'm interested in is out there. I can feel it dancing around the room, playing with me, just out of reach. It brushes against my skin then runs away. I'm hunting it down with an ax and a big jar of peanut butter, but it's a nimble little fucker and I think it prefers jelly.

Well, time to do it to it.