Set Wall
Originally uploaded by Peggy Archer.
Plastic fake brick walls are fun!
Saturday, May 21, 2005
I love Infomercials
Working on them, that is. I can't stand watching them.
Yesterday was an infomercial for some special knife ("It cuts on a molecular level, Bob. Can you imagine that?" "Why, no, Kelly. What does that mean?" "Well, let me show you!") - I can't remember the name.
Infomercials are easy money - no one's in a hurry (as opposed to a TV show where you're shooting 7+ script pages a day and everyone's freaking out about 'making the day' so they rush), everyone's relaxed and having fun and the day rate is sweet.
There's also no 'agency people' there, since infomercials (at least the ones I've worked on) aren't paid for by ad agencies. It's more of a direct marketing thing, so you have the product reps there, but they're usually really really nice. Don't get me wrong. Ad agency folks are nice as well, but they do add a lot of tension because they tend to micro manage every aspect of the commercial.
They're easy to light as it's usually a kitchen set or a sofa group and once you're lit there's not much to do.
We got there, hung a bunch of lights and aimed them - this took about three and a half hours. Once we were done, it was just little tweaks here and there.
Fun stuff. I'm glad I was in the AC all day, too.. It's hotter than hell out here right now.
Yesterday was an infomercial for some special knife ("It cuts on a molecular level, Bob. Can you imagine that?" "Why, no, Kelly. What does that mean?" "Well, let me show you!") - I can't remember the name.
Infomercials are easy money - no one's in a hurry (as opposed to a TV show where you're shooting 7+ script pages a day and everyone's freaking out about 'making the day' so they rush), everyone's relaxed and having fun and the day rate is sweet.
There's also no 'agency people' there, since infomercials (at least the ones I've worked on) aren't paid for by ad agencies. It's more of a direct marketing thing, so you have the product reps there, but they're usually really really nice. Don't get me wrong. Ad agency folks are nice as well, but they do add a lot of tension because they tend to micro manage every aspect of the commercial.
They're easy to light as it's usually a kitchen set or a sofa group and once you're lit there's not much to do.
We got there, hung a bunch of lights and aimed them - this took about three and a half hours. Once we were done, it was just little tweaks here and there.
Fun stuff. I'm glad I was in the AC all day, too.. It's hotter than hell out here right now.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Let's try this without the hangover.
I did absolutely nothing today. I spent the morning laying on the couch, trying not to blink loudly, and when I felt a bit better, I graduated to pounding back Alka Seltzer (tm) and laying on the couch, watching "Fight Club" with the volume down really low.
I am Jill's pounding cranium.
Actually, I feel a lot better now, although I must have sounded really pathetic on the phone, because Mr. Movie Star tried to come back a couple of days early from Cannes, but was unable to get a flight. He does have his moments - I'm touched that he even tried.
In a long distance attempt to cheer me up, he's left a series of hilarious (and spectacularly filthy) messages ruthlessly mocking The Asshole. Although laughing until Alka Seltzer (tm) comes out of your nose is painful, I am officially cheered up - or maybe that's just the absence of the headache.
I'm not much of a drinker normally. I don't like paying 15 bucks for a glass of something that's really, really bad for me (and can get me a D.U.I.). The thing that normally saves me is when there's a party with an open bar, the cluster fuck to get the free booze is so severe that it prevents me from getting more than one drink every hour or so (or maybe I'm just not that good at shouldering the M.A.W.'s aside. I'm kind of afraid I might accidentally break one in half).
Last night, there were waitresses circulating through the club with trays and trays of drinks - at one point, we had 15 different cocktails lined up on the table and the waitresses just kept them coming. They were so perky and cute and fun, and they looked so hurt when I said "No, thanks. I'm still working on this one" that we just gave up and let them load us up.
When I finally pried myself out of the booth (it had to be around 2 am - the waitresses had stopped bringing around booze and sushi, and were passing around dessert and coffee), as soon as I stood up, I knew I wasn't going to be able to drive, so I had to have the bartender call for a taxi. Luckily, my car's parked at a friend's house, so I can go pick it up now - I have a 9 am call tomorrow on something (I just said 'yes' and didn't ask too many questions).
The quote of the night: as I was leaving, some guy pointed drunkenly at me and saying "I saw you on TV!". What makes that the quote of the night is that I have no earthly idea where he would have seen me on TV.
While I was standing on Hollywood Boulevard waiting for the taxi, I saw my Craig's List 'fuck and run' from a few months ago. He walked by, and did that thing where he turned his head away in the hopes that I'd not recognize him.
I just laughed.
I am Jill's pounding cranium.
Actually, I feel a lot better now, although I must have sounded really pathetic on the phone, because Mr. Movie Star tried to come back a couple of days early from Cannes, but was unable to get a flight. He does have his moments - I'm touched that he even tried.
In a long distance attempt to cheer me up, he's left a series of hilarious (and spectacularly filthy) messages ruthlessly mocking The Asshole. Although laughing until Alka Seltzer (tm) comes out of your nose is painful, I am officially cheered up - or maybe that's just the absence of the headache.
I'm not much of a drinker normally. I don't like paying 15 bucks for a glass of something that's really, really bad for me (and can get me a D.U.I.). The thing that normally saves me is when there's a party with an open bar, the cluster fuck to get the free booze is so severe that it prevents me from getting more than one drink every hour or so (or maybe I'm just not that good at shouldering the M.A.W.'s aside. I'm kind of afraid I might accidentally break one in half).
Last night, there were waitresses circulating through the club with trays and trays of drinks - at one point, we had 15 different cocktails lined up on the table and the waitresses just kept them coming. They were so perky and cute and fun, and they looked so hurt when I said "No, thanks. I'm still working on this one" that we just gave up and let them load us up.
When I finally pried myself out of the booth (it had to be around 2 am - the waitresses had stopped bringing around booze and sushi, and were passing around dessert and coffee), as soon as I stood up, I knew I wasn't going to be able to drive, so I had to have the bartender call for a taxi. Luckily, my car's parked at a friend's house, so I can go pick it up now - I have a 9 am call tomorrow on something (I just said 'yes' and didn't ask too many questions).
The quote of the night: as I was leaving, some guy pointed drunkenly at me and saying "I saw you on TV!". What makes that the quote of the night is that I have no earthly idea where he would have seen me on TV.
While I was standing on Hollywood Boulevard waiting for the taxi, I saw my Craig's List 'fuck and run' from a few months ago. He walked by, and did that thing where he turned his head away in the hopes that I'd not recognize him.
I just laughed.
ooo.. my head.
Went (with The Blonde) to see "Audioslave" on Hollywood Boulevard last night, and then to the afterparty at a place called Geisha House.
They had free food and an open bar - and were passing around drinks called a "Geisha Kiss" which were very tasty but have left me with a really terrible headache this morning.
I'll post more this afternoon when my head stops hurting.
Remind me never, ever to drink any pink liquid with a twee name EVER AGAIN.
They had free food and an open bar - and were passing around drinks called a "Geisha Kiss" which were very tasty but have left me with a really terrible headache this morning.
I'll post more this afternoon when my head stops hurting.
Remind me never, ever to drink any pink liquid with a twee name EVER AGAIN.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
There's good news and bad news.
The good news is that our little short film is actually getting some interest - there are a couple of folks who seem to think it would make a good TV show - folks who actually make these kinds of decisions, not just our friends.
TV may be seen as an artistic 'notch below' film, but the money's just as green, baby.
The bad news is that the attention our little short film has garnered has also brought back someone from my past. The Asshole was a film exec that I briefly dated a few years ago - mainly because I thought I should, not because he was cute, funny, nice or charming; and that fucker really ran me through the wringer. I don't even want to go into details of the relationship, but it was two years before I could even consider dating again - The Asshole singlehandedly undid 10 years of therapy.
So he called me (from France, I assume - is anyone in town this week?) today just to "say hi" and see how I was doing (after repeatedly telling me when we were 'dating' that I should be grateful that he was even talking to me, as I just wasn't good enough to warrant attention from "real men" like him) - and, after a few moments of really painful small talk, to ask me if we'd signed a deal yet.
A friend of ours took one of our DVDs to Cannes - with a promise to 'show it to a bunch of people'. That had to be where he saw it or heard about it. Damn. I'd been so careful not to give it to anyone that I thought would be friendly with him.
Even talking to The Asshole on the phone upset me - brought back a TON of bad memories, and a TON of bad feelings. I'm still shaking now.
I wish Mr. Movie Star were in town. I really need a hug.
TV may be seen as an artistic 'notch below' film, but the money's just as green, baby.
The bad news is that the attention our little short film has garnered has also brought back someone from my past. The Asshole was a film exec that I briefly dated a few years ago - mainly because I thought I should, not because he was cute, funny, nice or charming; and that fucker really ran me through the wringer. I don't even want to go into details of the relationship, but it was two years before I could even consider dating again - The Asshole singlehandedly undid 10 years of therapy.
So he called me (from France, I assume - is anyone in town this week?) today just to "say hi" and see how I was doing (after repeatedly telling me when we were 'dating' that I should be grateful that he was even talking to me, as I just wasn't good enough to warrant attention from "real men" like him) - and, after a few moments of really painful small talk, to ask me if we'd signed a deal yet.
A friend of ours took one of our DVDs to Cannes - with a promise to 'show it to a bunch of people'. That had to be where he saw it or heard about it. Damn. I'd been so careful not to give it to anyone that I thought would be friendly with him.
Even talking to The Asshole on the phone upset me - brought back a TON of bad memories, and a TON of bad feelings. I'm still shaking now.
I wish Mr. Movie Star were in town. I really need a hug.
Monday, May 16, 2005
"That's six kinds of fucked up."
When you go up in a condor you're essentially loading a construction lift platform to it's maximum weight capacity (1,000 lbs if the arm is straight up in the air, 500 lbs if you're 'armed out' to the side much at all) and then going 80 feet up in the air - not what they were designed to do (Rumor has it that the lift manufacturers, when they saw how we use these lifts, were completely horrified - and a LOT of new safety procedures have been implemented in the last year or so). The advantage is that once your light is 'set', there's not much to do, and it's now illegal to 'walk the arm' (climb out of the basket and shimmy down the arm to get on the ground - although we all used to do it), so you get to sleep while all the other poor suckers have to run around all night. So normally, if you know that you're coming in for a 'condor call', you don't bother to sleep that day because you know that you'll be able to catch a good nap during the night.
Last night, on "Material Girls", we had three lifts in the air at the same time, and we had to do a lighting cue (One light dimmed out as the other two came up) , which meant that we had to pay attention all night and none of us got any sleep. That's just wrong - or as one of the guys said after we came down "That's six kinds of fucked up."
In addition, the fog rolled in right after we went up, and we all ended up getting drenched.
Call time: 2pm
Wrap time: 4 am
I'm completely wiped out today. I slept for a few hours when I got home this morning, but I feel like utter crap. My goal is to stay awake until 8pm, and then I'll pass out.
God, I hope I didn't get a cold.
Last night, on "Material Girls", we had three lifts in the air at the same time, and we had to do a lighting cue (One light dimmed out as the other two came up) , which meant that we had to pay attention all night and none of us got any sleep. That's just wrong - or as one of the guys said after we came down "That's six kinds of fucked up."
In addition, the fog rolled in right after we went up, and we all ended up getting drenched.
Call time: 2pm
Wrap time: 4 am
I'm completely wiped out today. I slept for a few hours when I got home this morning, but I feel like utter crap. My goal is to stay awake until 8pm, and then I'll pass out.
God, I hope I didn't get a cold.
Major Traffic Blockage
Condor
Originally uploaded by Peggy Archer.
Moving the condor (this is the 80 footer that I was in Sunday night) from base camp, where it was rigged, to the spot where it was parked while we were shooting.
The lamp on the basket is a 24 light Moleeno. The combined weight of the lamp, the two "stand alone" dimmers to work it, the cable and me added up to about 1 lb short of the lifts maximum weight capacity.
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