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 So
you moved out from Wisconsin two months ago. Starbucks ain't quite
payin' the rent. A friend mentions the fabulous world of filmmaking,
and though you swore you came out for the weather and the cheese,
the $275 a day your friend brings up every third sentence is working
your mind worse than that bag of chocolate covered espresso beans.
A few sunrises later, you're officially disgusted with slinging corporate
coffee to people blabbing on their cell phones at the register.
You roust
your sleeping friend on your first break. You've decided to make
the leap from the indifferent abuse of cubicle drones to the indifferent
abuse of production. Your friend explains that "Ted" will be calling
to hook you up. By then, he'll have been briefed on your situation,
and will provide you with your very first call time.
When the call
comes, you understand three things: "hello", "goodbye", and "8 a.m."
You're anxious and excited to begin your training in the morning.
You get a
bit lost on the way to the set, but you left early, so you still
manage to show up on time. As you try to get someone to tell you
who Ted is, a crew member shouts, "This mole is dead! Bring me a
naked midget. Kill Priscilla and go find a dog collar for this redhead!"
Huh?
It's juicer
lingo - an electrician asking a co-worker to replace a broken bulb
with two others, remove a reflector board and find a safety cable
for a backup light.
Here you are,
in a big, fake airport terminal, and a drug deal is about to take
place for the cameras. You're dizzy. You can't find Ted, and you're
starting to suspect that he wouldn't help you much anyway. You hear
your mother's voice: "Just be yourself, dear." You look around.
Everyone has so much purpose and direction, being your clueless
self is the last thing you're gonna do.
A guy next
to you in a Motorola headset is saying something about getting a
"pigeon plate off the taco cart" and a "gobo head for the high roller".
How the heck are you supposed to figure out what this means? Nobody's
there to tell you that a pigeon plate is a light hanging pin, that
you're being asked to retrieve it off an equipment carrier, or that
a gobo head is just the knuckle of a utility stand and a high roller's
a tall stand with wheels. You only know basics like, "That's a wrap!"
or "Print it!", but people are shouting about "bullets" and "C-47's",
and you don't know that they're talking about the clothes pins used
to pinch "black wrap", or black foil, to "barn doors", the beam
adjusters on lights.
You fall into
a daydream, a defense mechanism you picked up at Starbucks. In the
dream, you've been outfitted with a museum-style Walkman; you're
walking through the set listening to detailed descriptions of each
tool. A soothing voice, like that of the computer in Alien,
is telling you:
"A Unilux
is not a vacuum. It is a strobe light...An eye saver is a slit tennis
ball used for objects that may extend into foot traffic, such as
light stands. These are located on equipment trucks or grip boxes
and may be adorned with such colorful labels as, 'Hey dummy!' or
'Excuse YOU!'...Snot tape appears to be simple gift wrapping tape.
When used, however, it becomes mucus-like and annoying. Its primary
purpose is to adhere colored lighting gels to their aluminum frames...If
someone asks you to retrieve a cable hammer, you have been deceived.
This piece of equipment does not exist. Striking a cable with a
hammer will damage it and is not advised. Give this prankster the
finger and continue on..."
Even after
the tools have been covered, your imaginary voice does not abandon
you, unlike Ted. Instead, it calmly outlines the roles of other
crew members:
(Soothing
voice resumes)
"...The Best
Boy handles personnel and equipment for the electricians and might
be wearing a Metallica t-shirt...Grips are relied upon for electrical
support, shading, camera mounting and muscle. They practice the
most glorified, sought-after manual labor on Earth and it's best
not to tell them otherwise...The man or woman sitting in a comfortable
chair all day complaining loudly is the Sound Mixer. It's a good
idea to wait until you've gained a little more experience before
attempting small talk with him or her..."
To ensure
that you've covered all the bases, or that you've become "bulletproof",
the Walkman of your dreams also discusses set etiquette:
"...Never
sit in the Director's chair unless it is offered by the Director,
in which case you may briefly gloat before the peasants you work
with...Making faces behind the backs of visiting producers is risky,
as many are young and more paranoid than steroid dealers...Do not
abuse downtime. This may be seen as stepping on someone's toes.
Taking more than your allotted time away from the set can shorten
the break of a co-worker, who might have wisely used that time for
flirting with make-up girls or an unauthorized nap...If you hear
the term 'Woof' repeated on a set, do not assume it to be a joke
and respond with 'Meow'. This is your command to stop or hold..."
Yes, that
Walkman would save you untold hours of time and embarrassment. Too
bad it'll have to stay a daydream. In reality, it could never really
work, and you'd get laughed at even harder. Nope, the language of
film production is and will always be an unprinted certification,
relied upon to reveal the freak-out levels of new crewmates. Still,
even cassettes for veterans would be useful:
"...If the
newcomer is wide-eyed and twitching, it is best to replace him gently,
but immediately. Remove sharp objects from the area, and..."
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