Monday, May 23, 2011

CRS and the Instant Pleasuredome

Seems in the intervening years, I mis-remembercated the actual Billy Joel song that I remembered so vividly in my previous post, "Sadness or Euphoria."  In my defense, both tracks are from "Songs in the Attic," both songs are pretty awesome, but now that I think about it, it's much more likely that an intimate mix-tape between high-school sweethearts would contain a valentine like, "You're my Home."  Sorta makes me want to borrow my parents' car and head to the William Jeanes Library parking lot...

Here endeth the brief Billy Joel-a-thon.  Siegfried and Roy on guitar to open the song are free...

Friday, May 20, 2011

Sadness or Euphoria

So I'm scouting a location for an upcoming shoot.  It's set in a big post-production facility, and the people there were nice enough to let the cast - Gary, Michele (both of L-Bomb infamy) and our newly cast Adam (infamous in his own right) come in and take a tour, ask questions and generally get a feel for the environment.  Next, the plan was to grab a quick drink/bite and rehearse the scenes for rewrites.

We never really made it out of the bar.

Not that it wasn't productive.  We talked about character backstories over drinks and got to know one another better - always good to do.  And the plain truth is, I trust these guys.  So as it neared 8PM and our window for rehearsal started closing, we were fine just bullshitting about movies, music, a little Schwartzenegger-related politics and horrible iPhone reception (hard to believe, but it's true - they suck).  

Some highlights:  Michele had never seen a picture of James Taylor not bald.  Adam just bought the first TV of his adult life.  Gary admitted that he really liked Billy Joel.  And at the mention of Mr. Joel, I had an instant overpowering memory of one of his songs;  A live cut of "Summer Highland Falls" from the album "Songs in the Attic."  Yes, it's opening lines are among the most over-used yearbook quotes in the history of the educational system and yes, I first heard it on a mix tape my high-school girlfriend made for me, so the pang is built in.  But the pang was undeniably there.  

Now, it's been a long time since I actually heard the song.  I recall a kind of unfounded, "damn this was written about me!" relevance, and the moment when the bass kicks in making my head tingle.  But that was then, and then was a lifetime ago.  Was it all glorified memory of youth and love and time and place?  I wasn't sure.  I did suspect however, that this track would be like the old friend you see every few years but no matter how long the absence, the conversation picks up right where it left off.   

So after saying our goodbyes and while walking home, I did what any self-respecting, smart-phone carrying techno-dufus would do.  I YouTubed it.

Billy's Long Island accent, horrible 1977 hair and the old friend living in that song were right there to greet me.

If this finally makes me an honorary FLID (look it up), so be it.  If you never cared for Billy Joel, this may not change anything.  Just don't tell me the guy couldn't write a song.  Anyone who makes me feel the two above-mentioned extremes simultaneously can't be all bad.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Ackbar Bow

My friend and I used to joke about getting our careers off the ground. Achieving "escape velocity" was the term he used - the idea being if we worked hard enough and made consistently solid work, there'd be a point at which the spacecraft (our aforementioned careers) would not only blast off (fortune and fame) but would break free of the earth's gravitational pull, thus finding a comfortable orbit (no more day jobs!)

To put the analogy to bed, sometimes I feel like a delayed shuttle launch.

Then there are times like last week's shoot, where the opposite is true and everything just clicks.

Backstory - my friend and I are making a short teaser for a TV series pitch. As our little project ballooned into a fifteen-person, multi-location machine, he started a new job and became almost completely unavailable. So with an impending panic attack as my co-pilot, I reached out to a few friends and colleagues and did something I don't do often enough. I asked for help. It was the best thing I ever did.

Suddenly, there were prop and wardrobe lists, make-up artists, contact sheets, call times, passenger vans, locations, rental pickups and this thing started to get very real. In the final week leading up to the shoot, we were moving like binary Neo at the end of the first Matrix - all calm and invincible, but without the horrible acting.

In trusting the skill and talent of others, I could relax (as much as I ever relax) and focus on the story we were trying to tell, concentrate on how best to tell it. We made both days with plenty of time, and had I not lost my car keys (an inevitability I attribute to turning 40 on our first day of shooting), I would have walked away feeling almost guilty for having such an excessive amount of fun.

And yes there were technical problems and personality conflicts and certain ideas that killed on paper just didn't sell when real people replaced written words and the usual amount of feeling like the film was shooting us as much as the other way around, but somehow it was happening. One funny idea cooked up two years ago at a party was becoming a physical thing with characters, structure and personality.

So I took a breath and did a little "Ackbar bow." I guess I felt the situation called for it. Now, since just about every emotion I've ever had can somehow be traced to one of the Star Wars movies (just the old ones, not the CGI turds), I'll explain.  There's a scene in the final battle sequence of Return of the Jedi, not the idiotic teddy bear fight on the ground, but the complex space battle taking place around the death star. The rebels are grossly outnumbered, face insurmountable odds - yet they continue to fight. One lucky pilot (depending on how you look at it) kamikazes right into the bridge of a massive super-star destroyer - disabling its navigation systems and sending it slowly careening into the death star in a cataclysmic explosion. Finally, a victory for the little guys! The rebel leader, everyone's favorite ambulatory lobster, "Admiral Ackbar" watches the scene and just bows his head. Overcome with emotion, relief, possibility, exhaustion, he just has a moment to take it in.

If it makes any sense, I felt a twisted kinship with the Admiral as this project came to life. I took a breath, had my moment of possibility, and for a second felt slightly farther from the earth's gravitational pull.

In living color here, for all you rebel scum...