The Lead Dog

I've heard those word more times than I can count, and although the phrase hold an undeniable resonance when paired with an image like this, it's always seemed a bit glib to me.* After all, the lead dog isn't exactly running wild and free -- he's chained to the same heavy sled just like the rest of the pack.  Granted, his view is an endless expanse of ice and snow rather than ice, snow, and the butts of all the other dogs, but I'm not sure it makes much difference while every member of the team is working so hard.

Who exactly is the "lead dog" on a show?  Both best boys answer to their respective superiors, the key grip and gaffer, who in turn answer to the DP.  Like all the other department heads, the DP then answers to the director, who answers to the executive producer, who answers to the network or studio executives, who answers to a board of directors who are controlled by whichever rich scumbag owns the most shares of the corporation's stock. Does that mean the lead dog is the majority stock holder -- some smug, overfed A-hole who drinks Dom Perigon for breakfast and has a closet full of Brioni suits but nary a callus on his smoothly manicured hands?

I don't know and don't much cares.  It seems to me that everybody has a boss of one sort or another,  but even if there is no overall lead dog who enjoys the very best view, every department on and off set really does need to be led by someone who knows what he-or-she is doing.

There are no superfluous members of a film crew -- everybody has a role in carrying a show across the finish line. Still, it's clear that some people really are born to lead: due to whatever quirk of personality, they actually need to be out front ... and when they're not, things can get squirrely. 

When I first started as a gaffer, the position was handed to me: in essence, I inherited the job. I'd never harbored any big  ambitions on set -- I just wanted to do a good job with rest of our crew -- but when circumstance shoved me in front of my lighting crew, I tried to make it work.  It seemed to for a while, but being granted that nice view and earning it are two very different things, and I couldn't make it stick.  Still, I learned a lot from the experience, regrouped, and eventually came back to be a much better gaffer the second time around.  Even then, if being the lead dog of my little lighting tribe offered a better view, it came with a price.  As gaffer, I had to stand by the dolly all... day... long, watching, listening, and paying full attention to what was going in in front of the camera -- and on something like an eight day "Barbie" commercial, an intense focus on something so utterly absurd and ultimately meaningless really can turn a guy's brain to mush. A fellow gaffer friend of mine termed this phenomenon "content poisoning," and he was right. Maintaining my concentration on jobs like that was some of the hardest work I ever did on set.

At one point the best boy grip of our group began getting into petty conflicts with my crew.  I never witnessed them -- they always happened out of sight and earshot -- but I'd hear about them later.  I probably should have confronted the best boy myself, but the key grip and I had come up through the ranks together over many years, so I talked to him.  He dealt with it and things got better for a while, but the best boy eventually went back to his troublesome ways just as we landed a four day car commercial to be shot in a city a thousand miles from LA.  This time the key grip was booked on another gig, which meant his best boy would bump up to the key grip slot. Now, it seemed, he and I would finally have that confrontation ... but a funny thing happened on location: the trouble-making best boy morphed into an  excellent key grip. He was totally solicitious of me and my department for the entire job, always asking what else he could do to make my job -- our job -- easier.  This astonishing about-face confounded me until I realized the obvious:  he was just one of those people who couldn't be happy unless he was the lead dog on his crew -- and once in that position, his attitude and actions toward my crew did a full turnaround.  I literally could not have asked for a better key grip on that job.**

That said, people are different. The gaffer I worked with on the longest run of my television career -- a show called Melissa & Joey -- was one of the best.  He was smart, had a great sense of humor, never got stressed or rattled on set, and really knew his business. Working with him on that crew was a real pleasure.  We'd often end up day-playing together on other shows between seasons of M&J, and there he was just as good a juicer as he was a gaffer.  His approach to the two very different jobs was exactly the same: pay attention and work hard. That kind of professional flexibility is crucial to surving in the freelance jungle of Hollywood, because there's only room for one lead dog on each individual crew. If you're a gaffer or key grip and none of your DPs are working, you have to take whatever work is available, and you really do need to adapt to the new role in being exactly what your boss and department need.

 It all boils down to personality, I suppose, but the bottom line is this: a lead dog can't do it alone, and is only as good as his or her crew.  A good lead dog is essential, but those who work behind him in the shadows are just as important in their own way, whether they like the view or not.

* Kind of like "Don't sweat the small stuff."

** He then went on to have a long, very successful career as a key grip.

*******************************************

Note: That was supposed to be the end of the March post ... but then Gene Hackman died, along with his wife and dog under circumstances that have yet to be explained. He was my favorite actor of modern times, so I had to say something...

                                           Popeye Doyle

I can't overstate the impact Gene Hackman had on me as Popeye Doyle in The French Connection.  Having committed to study film after a few years of going through the motions in school, I was enamored with the classics of old Hollywood: the films of Ford, Hawks, Anthony Mann, Budd Boettecher, and so many others, but other that "The Wild Bunch," hadn't seen much in the modern films of the early 70s that truly gripped me.  

Then came The French Connection, which blew my young mind -- and nothing was quite the same.  That's when I knew I was headed for Hollywood come hell or high water.

There are good obits from various papers that tell his story -- like this and this -- better than I can, and they're worth reading.  As one put it: "Hackman’s career has so much gold in it that it is almost impossible to mine."

Indeed.  Thanks for the memories, Gene.  RIP

February

Yes, you've seen this photo before in a post that went up more than ten years ago. Think of it as "digital recycling."

So, imagine you’re a young actor who’s worked hard to learn your craft while trying to catch a break, then had to beg and plead relentlessly to audition for a role you just knew was meant to be yours …. and imagine this is AFTER the director has already told you numerous times that thanks to the reality of film financing, he really needs a star for that part, and that “casting is over — we have the actor we want.” Finally, just to shut you up, he agrees, then holds the camera with one hand and the script in the other, reading the part opposite yours in the crudest of auditions, which you absolutely nail. 

You get the part and make the movie, which puts you on the map of Hollywood at last. Then you get married, a new baby comes along, and you buy a house, because you’ve just signed to do a big movie that will fill your bank account and shift your career into warp drive … then you wake up one morning to find half your face paralyzed thanks to a brain tumor.

If this sounds like the bad plot from some weepy Hallmark movie — the kind nobody in their right mind would ever believe, let alone green-light — then tell that to Mark Ruffalo, who had all this and more happen to him on his way to becoming Bruce Banner the Incredible Hulk for the Marvel superhero franchise.

Look, I’m a sucker for “how I made it” stories in Hollywood — and this is a good one — because everybody who makes it does so in their own unique way. Unlike becoming a doctor, lawyer, or accountant, there’s no standard path for a wannabe actor, director, or writer to follow that leads straight to success in Hollywood. Too many pitfalls and intangibles are involved on that journey, which is what makes it an adventure rather than a plodding step-by-step climb up a nice straight ladder — and the key that finally opens the golden door often comes from an unlikely blend of inspiration, perspiration, desperation, and the ultimate intangible, luck. 

Like many young actors, Ruffalo took his first drama class in high school after noticing the highly favorable ratio of women to men in the drama program. The urge-to-merge Darwinian imperative that “makes the world go ‘round” has kick-started many a successful thespian career, and you can hear all about Ruffalo’s journey in this interview on NPR’s Fresh Air. 

I wouldn’t lie to you, kiddos — this one is well worth your time.

*****************************************

I first met Matt Price a decade or so ago at CBS Radford as I was wrapping up my career and he was starting his. Matt was smart, ambitious, and knew a lot more about certain aspects of the industry than I did — enough to teach me a few things. He directed several short films, one of which I saw, which was excellent. Since retiring, I’ve followed his career from afar, and was happy to discover that he’s had a Subtack for a while now, called Too Much Film School. Anybody interested in film and the industry would do well to check it out— and as a sampler, here’s his 2024 Year in Review. It’s a nice introduction to Matt and his Substack, so take a look. I think you’ll like it.

Another excellent Substack — Great Gigs — comes from the keyboard and camera of Peter McLennan, a retired director/DP who veterans of this space know from several guest posts published there in years past. Peter trotted the globe working on features, commercials, documentaries, and the occasional industrial film during his long career, and had the kind of real-world cinematic adventures not found on a Hollywood sound stage. Although I’ve walked the perms of Stage 16 at Warner Brothers sixty-five feet above the stage floor, I never had to climb a rickety hundred-foot metal tower carrying a camera in the wilds of 3rd World Zaire, then — secured by nothing more than a piece of sash cord — shot footage of workers putting the finishing touches on that tower … but Peter has.

As the title states, his stories are great and very well told, so check ‘em out!

*****************************************

We all know that 2024 sucked, but the Hollywood Reporter recently detailed just how much it sucked … and yeah, it sucked. The feel-better mantra all year was “Stay alive ‘til ‘25,” but the massive fires of January pulled the rug out from under that, and could make things even worse for production in LA over the short run. The only thing that seems certain at the moment is that the recovery of the Palisades, Malibu, and Altadena will take a long time, and the same might hold for the film/television industry. Not a great way to start a new year … but is it all doom and gloom, or — as this piece from THR suggests — is this just another in a long series of boom-and-bust-and-boom-again eras in the historical roller coaster of LA? Film and television production may never return to the glory days when everybody was working, but I think things will gradually improve. How fast? 

Who knows.

Then, of course, the looming threat of AI. There was a lot of chatter recently about an AI short called The Heist, which is impressive in some ways -- but in others, not so much. The visual quality of the images is pretty good, but the motion of the cars and people is way off. Still, it marked progress that could someday represent a threat to current modes of filmmaking … but what I hadn’t considered was the speed at which AI is progressing — and with that in mind, check out this just-for-fun Porsche spot reportedly made just for fun by some guy with a laptop. According to the notes, “Everything is AI except the talking head with the strange accent in the behind-the-scenes part.” 

Although this came to me from a credible source, I’m not entirely sure I believe it, so I passed this clip on to other old friends in Hollywood to get their input. Haven’t heard back yet, so again, who knows?But if it is real, that’s scary as hell for anybody whose job entails working on set or those — like me — who’ve retired from the on-set fray but still like getting a pension check every month, anemic though it may be.* And if this is what one guy with a laptop can do today, what are we likely to see in a year, let alone five years from now? Should we reach the point where a script outline can be fed into a computer that will then deliver a movie customers will pay to see ... well, the Hollywood -- and the global film industry -- as we’ve known it will be gone with the digital wind, along with countless jobs. 

The future just ain’t what it used to be.

* In my case, anorexically anemic ... but every bit helps in the Horse Latitudes of fixed-income life.

*****************************************

Bob Eucker died last month, adding to the growing list of reasons I already hate the annus horribilis of 2025. “Okay,” you might reply, “but what does the death of a 90 year old ex-ballplayer turned baseball broadcaster have to do with the film and television industry?” 

Bob spent six years on the cast of Mr. Belvedere for ABC, had a juicy role in all three of the “Major League” movies, made a hundred appearances as one of Johnny Carson’s favorite guests on “The Tonight Show,” and starred in a number of Miller Lite beer commercials. That’s a resume any Hollywood actor would be proud of … but more to the point, I had the pleasure of working one of those Miller spots at Dodger Stadium in Chavez Ravine during the early ‘90s. Bob was a friendly, gregarious guy who kept the entire crew in stitches all day long. That wasn’t a “work day” for any of us — it was all fun, all the time. Hell, I’d have done it for free.

If you never heard Bob Eucker behind the microphone calling a game, you’ve missed something special … but here’s your chance: a fifteen minute audio clip that’s achieved legendary status. The man was just a born entertainer.  And with that, I leave you with his most famous commercial. 

RIP, Bob -- and thanks for all the laughs. 

The New Year

                                 Need a few good laughs?
 

Welp ... here we are: 2025.  Forgive me if I don't stand up and cheer the arrival of a new year. 

Remember this? Although I didn't have a crystal ball a year ago, I wasn't remotely optimistic about 2024, and things turned out worse than I'd feared ... a lot worse.  As we take our first tentative steps onto the thin ice of 2025, the situation in Hollywood remains bleak for many who depend on the film industry for their livelihood. A few shows are in production, but too many people are still waiting for their phones to ring, while some have given up and moved on. Our governor wants to provide a major boost to the California tax incentive program, but given the budget deficit, it's unclear that the legislature will cooperate in a year that promises -- for many reasons -- to be extremely challenging.    

So what to do while the world burns at home and abroad ... chew the worry rag, doom-scroll on social media, take long depressing walks through the frozen winter where some texting-while-driving fool in a giant SUV is likely to run a stop sign and blast you into the Great Beyond? 

I don't know about you, but I'm looking for reasons to laugh through the darkness, and found exactly that in Ed Driscoll's new book Cracking Up.  I got to know Ed during my years on Melissa & Joey, where he worked on the writing staff while I toiled on the lighting crew.  A veteran of the comedy wars who's done everything -- stand-up, sitcoms, and countless television specials -- Ed Driscoll is a good guy with a book full of  stories to tell, and Cracking Up shares them with the rest of us who've long wondered what goes on behind the scenes of the laugh machine. It's a good, fun read, so do yourself a favor and buy a few laughs ... you'll be glad you did.

***********************************************

Back when I was working my last show in Hollywood on Stage 18 at Paramount, our digitech man -- "Bob from Jersey" -- pointed me to the writing of his good friend Andy Romanoff.  Bob was right -- I loved his stories. Somehow surviving a very interesting early life, Andy landed in the world of movies, and after settling into Hollywood, was responsible for importing the Louma Crane -- the grandaddy of every hot-head crane that's come on the scene ever since, including the Technocrane -- from France in the very early '80s, then operated the Louma on Steven Spielberg's WW 2 comedy 1941. He ended up working at Panavision, rising to an executive postion -- but despite the nice office, he never lost touch with his roots as a young motorcycle mechanic, DP, and member of Ken Kesey's wandering tribe back in the halcyon days of the '60s.  Andy is a terrific writer, laying out his life journey with compelling prose in Stories I've Been Meaning to Tell You: the good, the bad, and the ugly.  As they say down in Texas, Andy "don't paint his own fence," meaning that unlike many who tell their own stories in public, he doesn't try to make himself out to be the hero: instead he just tells the unvarnished truth -- and the truth well told is always a fascinating, entertaining story.

**************************************************

As for 2025 ... the Hollywood Reporter weighed in with some prognostications on the effect a new administration -- led by our recycled president-elect, a human hammer who sees the rest of the world as a nail in his conviction that tariffs are the solution to every economic problem -- will have on the film and television industry. Maybe THR is right, maybe not -- we won't know 'til we know ... and then we'll know.

The LA Times has a few thoughts on what the new year might hold, which amount to cautious optimism for the short term tempered by a realization that the go-go days of the early streaming boom when everybody and his brother was working are unlikely to return anytime soon, if ever, thanks to the retrenchment and ongoing consolidation of the streamers, the ongoing evolution of AI, and the relentless flow of productions overseas. 

In his recently rebranded Agent on the Loose over at Substack -- now Radio Free Hollywood  -- Steve Jacobs offers a few predictions for the business of Hollywood in 2025.  Although his take on the new year is not all gloom and doom, neither is it sweetness and light. Those polar opposites will walk hand in hand through the next twelve months, but which will prevail remains to be seen as the year unfolds. One thing we can count on is the greater presence and influence of AI, which is still in its infancy -- but like young Damien in The Omen, its capabilities grow by the day, for better or worse. This is already happening, and as AI evolves to become better and better, the digital sky really does seem to be the limit.

And speaking of reaching for the sky, check out this camera drone.  

************************************************

In other news, the moving van is loaded and the engine warmed up, ready to haul Blood, Sweat, and Tedium over to Substack, where all the cool kids are playing these days. Blogger has become an increasingly glitchy platform, seemingly determined to make writing and posting a total pain in the ass. The stupid, time-wasting hoops I had to jump through to edit and publish this simple post were ridiculous -- seriously, I spent more time doing bubble-gum-and-bailing-wire fixes to varous formatting issues than writing the damned post. 

I won't abandon this space ... yet ... but all subsequent BS&T posts will go up over there as well, along with other offerings.  If you'd like future posts to drop into your in-box (a feature that stopped working a long time ago here at Blogger), subscribe at Substack -- and don't let the word "subscribe" scare you off, because it won't cost a penny. Besides, there's a ton of good stuff over there, where lots of smart, thoughtful writers are doing good work, including the OG Queen of film industry bloggers herself, Peggy Archer, under her traditional Totally Unauthorized brand. Peg took a hiatus from her Wordpress blog for a couple of years, but is now back -- and that's a very good thing.

So here we go, head-first into the cold dark depths of winter,where once again I march into a new year bereft of optimism ... but I still have a few shreds of hope. After all, hope dies last, so remember the words of Bruce Cockburn in his song Lovers in a Dangerous Time:

"Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight, you gotta kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight"

There's a big, nasty cloud of darkness coming, so get ready to do some kickin'.