tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80787793269143783222024-03-18T14:50:47.024-07:00Blood, Sweat, and Tedium: Confessions of a Hollywood JuicerMichael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.comBlogger757125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-77819830955963975712024-03-03T09:01:00.000-08:002024-03-03T10:44:56.936-08:00A Dark Day<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgUN5t9onK4Axoe1R89zDYgO6_j-y0MIcAtcr3TyoRUVTkKgbGy8_MHicdKQYFpkxn26X-wGHmAz7kzJAgNBC0FxneA9zqfxlXoFos3Sofikd0dxSxEHcMHl5_jZ8qYzUm3sX05GcdXz1jMSJfB_A9uKdltCZHEqut8P1XPtN6upaDV5Ie2310yhAouY/s3264/Up%20High%20Stage%2026%20Paramount.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgUN5t9onK4Axoe1R89zDYgO6_j-y0MIcAtcr3TyoRUVTkKgbGy8_MHicdKQYFpkxn26X-wGHmAz7kzJAgNBC0FxneA9zqfxlXoFos3Sofikd0dxSxEHcMHl5_jZ8qYzUm3sX05GcdXz1jMSJfB_A9uKdltCZHEqut8P1XPtN6upaDV5Ie2310yhAouY/w300-h400/Up%20High%20Stage%2026%20Paramount.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i><p></p><p>From the first time I walked onto a soundstage, I liked going up high, where the work was always physical but relatively straightforward. The catwalks are a world apart from the clusterfuck of noise and confusion that so often infects the stage floor, where one or two loudmouths always seemed to be yelling about something. Some days were utterly <a href="http://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2015/07/stage-16.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">terrifying</span></a>, of course, but at least I knew that I was contributing in a meaningful way -- and in the process, earning every last penny of my paycheck ... and then some. Those days were very satisfying on many different levels.</p><p>Working thirty to forty-five feet or <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/mike-hume/28596990883/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">higher</span></a> off the ground comes with inherent risks -- gravity has no mercy and takes no prisoners -- so you have to be careful, but the soundstages I started on at Paramount and Warner Brothers were in solid shape. I felt safe on most of the non-union stages around town as well, although a few of the <i>really</i> old ones were decidedly sketchy. My biggest worry when working up high was accidentally dropping a crescent wrench or screwdriver that might hit some poor bastard down on the stage floor. Still, most of those stages I worked on were built many decades ago, and time takes a toll on everything. Any studio that doesn't keep an eye on and maintain those catwalks is putting at risk the lives of crews who work up high. </p><p>A terrible tragedy happened early last month at the CBS Studio in the valley -- "Radford" as it's known throughout Hollywood, which was my favorite studio and home lot for the last third of my career. A 41-year-old <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/2024/02/07/marvel-wonder-man-crew-member-dies/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">lighting technician</span></a> working a show on Stage 3, one of the oldest soundstages on the lot, was killed when the boards under his feet gave way with no warning. Exactly what happened remains unclear pending the investigation, but what matters is this: one moment Juan "Spike" Osorio was doing his job and the next moment he was falling forty feet to his death. He wasn't out on the perms or doing anything remotely dangerous -- he was just doing the physical but routine task of wrangling cable up high, something every juicer does many times over the course of a career. I spent countless days landing and dropping cable up high at Radford, although never on Stage 3, where <b><i>Gunsmoke</i></b> and many other shows were filmed way before my time in Hollywood. Never once in all those years did I worry about catwalk floorboards giving way like a trap door -- the possibility never entered my mind. I'd spot occasional missing boards or a weak safety rail on the catwalks, and if I couldn't fix the issue right then and here, I'd report it to the studio rigging gaffer. Other than a few heart-pounding adventures out on the perms, I never felt in any danger up high, but it seems my confidence in the structural integrity of those stages was misplaced. </p><p>The ripple effects of this tragedy won't be confined to Juan's widow and their families -- and here I speak from <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2007/10/stunts.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">experience</span></a>: nobody who was there will ever forget the sight and sounds of his violent death. It's bad enough if you don't personally know the man, but if he was part of your crew and/or a friend, it's devastating. One way or another, everybody on that stage is a victim, and Spike's death will haunt them for a very long time.</p><p>Maybe I was just lucky during my years working up high -- I really don't know. All I can say for sure is that Juan Osorio didn't deserve to die on Stage 3: he should have finished his workday and gone home to his wife. There will doubtless be some kind of legal action and eventual settlement, but those things take time, so a <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/juan-spike-osorio-wu"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>GoFundMe</b></i></span></a> has been established for his wife, who needs all the support she can get right now. I chipped in, but it was still short of the goal the last time I checked, so if you can help, please do. If for whatever reason you can't contribute, please consider adding your voice to this <a href="https://www.change.org/p/support-spike-s-law-a-petition-to-create-regulations-for-perms-on-sound-stages"><span style="color: #ffa400;">online petition</span></a><span style="color: #ffa400;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(255, 164, 0);"> </span></span>pressing for legislation to mandate that studios inspect, maintain, and repair sound stages. Let's do what we can to make sure what happened to Spike never happens to anybody else.</p><p>Thanks.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwVwCfSnB-hV5WNDGq1Fv6bp-3EHcgLns56WroPcCboj-CJfVdaQD70iaVvwaLU3OTvUikNS34MP1kLczMPD1ST4MCl2nsaW4YoEqVEOMoof36DO9Y0AIRPzceeZcgMpNhDxO4E4jN5AQ1MkUzPpLwl4KshmchE71__GGZ0gK_f9pJeekSm-cUFgDkpjY/s2560/Spike-scaled.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwVwCfSnB-hV5WNDGq1Fv6bp-3EHcgLns56WroPcCboj-CJfVdaQD70iaVvwaLU3OTvUikNS34MP1kLczMPD1ST4MCl2nsaW4YoEqVEOMoof36DO9Y0AIRPzceeZcgMpNhDxO4E4jN5AQ1MkUzPpLwl4KshmchE71__GGZ0gK_f9pJeekSm-cUFgDkpjY/w265-h400/Spike-scaled.jpeg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">RIP, Spike.</span></div><p><br /></p><p><i>I'd planned to write about other things this month, but shifting to another subject just doesn't feel right, so I'll save it for another day.</i></p><p><i>MT</i></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-45378224948941544092024-02-04T09:01:00.000-08:002024-02-04T09:01:00.136-08:00February<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NMRCuVoblRhoZVSHIQETM61pA_D8POHjbh8NvEo2LwF6uiG76aq_1_sa_LG8cmvvSrPX87gVH3rCFsRlQSn4s53Pc4jVojENffvwVhGTKW0IMdVFPttzNxMLbdBLu8Dtohi7-O-bl9546va0qMo6CPaPlI7p47EXw5C4XOd3CQ07iPcRDJCJWFTAMC8/s3259/Purple%20Fury.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3259" data-original-width="2147" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NMRCuVoblRhoZVSHIQETM61pA_D8POHjbh8NvEo2LwF6uiG76aq_1_sa_LG8cmvvSrPX87gVH3rCFsRlQSn4s53Pc4jVojENffvwVhGTKW0IMdVFPttzNxMLbdBLu8Dtohi7-O-bl9546va0qMo6CPaPlI7p47EXw5C4XOd3CQ07iPcRDJCJWFTAMC8/w264-h400/Purple%20Fury.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><br style="text-align: left;" /><p style="text-align: left;">Thanks to the "Crew Stories" FB page, I recently came across another "inside the belly of the beast" film book. In <a href="https://www.purplefury.net/"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Purple Fury: Rumbling With the Warriors</b></i></span></a>, Rob Ryder weaves a collection of anecdotes describing his adventures toiling in many aspects of the film industry -- from PA to locations, set dec, acting, screenwriting, props, and sundry other on/off set chores -- around the central story of working on Walter Hill's legendary 1979 film <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Warriors_(film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Warriors</b></i></span></a>. The title and cover photo come from Rob being drafted by Hill to replace an injured stuntman as a member of "The Baseball Furies," one of the violent gangs The Warriors must confront as they fight their way across New York City over the course of one long, bruising night. While playing the bat-swinging role of "Purple Fury" for the cameras at night, he managed to keep his day job in the Locations Dept for a few days, which made the messy and exhausting job of working a feature film all the more grueling. </p><p style="text-align: left;">As you can see from the first page, Ryder is a stylish writer who spins a punchy, informative, and highly entertaining tale: </p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>"Making movies is a lot like life -- a swirling chaotic clusterfuck. So if you're looking for a polished story that stays on track, clips along in perfect chronological order and rolls into the last station all tied up in a shiny pink bow, you caught the wrong train." </i></p><p style="text-align: left;">He wasn't kidding. The narrative jumps back and forth in time and place from NYC to Hollywood, but Ryder's casual conversational style feels like he's telling you these stories told over a few ... okay, more than a few ... beers, and that's a good thing. This book is a highly entertaining read for industry veterans and newbies alike: the former will nod and grin as they resonate with Ryder's experiences, while the newbies receive a lively and accurate introduction to what it's like to work on a feature film.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I saw <i><b>The Warriors</b></i> when it was released thirty-five years ago, and although it made a big impression on me, I had no idea that it's since become a cult favorite all over the world, or that surviving members of the cast still gather at conventions to meet-and-greet fans, many of whom weren't even born when the film first hit theaters. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Ryder moved to New York to become a writer before fate sent him on a detour into the film industry, but kept at the keyboard writing screenplays that often sold but didn't get made. Although one could view this as -- in the immortal words of then-president Jimmy Carter -- "an incomplete success," it's a hell of a lot more than most wannabe screenwriters accomplish. As his book reveals, he's still at it all these years later, coming up with ideas for scripts and making them pay one way or another. All that practice turned him into an excellent writer, which makes <i><b>Purple Fury</b></i> a great read.</p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">**************************************</span></div><p style="text-align: left;">There's a fascinating piece on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scott_Frank"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Scott Frank</b></i></span></a> in the January 1 - 8 New Yorker by Patrick Radden Keefe, titled <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/01/01/how-a-script-doctor-found-his-own-voice"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Ventriloquist</b></i></span></a>. Truth be told, I'd never heard of Frank before reading this article, but it turns out he's been one of the most prolific and in-demand screenwriter/script doctors in Hollywood for quite a while now, to the point where he was able to demand $300,000 a week for his re-write services before moving into the triple-threat task of being a writer/producer/director.</p><p style="text-align: left;">His credits include <b><i>Get Shorty</i></b>, <b><i>Marley & Me</i></b>, and <b><i>Logan</i></b>, among <u>many</u> others, and according to Keefe, has done rewrites for sixty features. His most recent effort is directing a television series currently running on AMC called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monsieur_Spade"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Monsieur Spade</b></i></span></a>, which imagines the life of an aging Sam Spade -- the lead character of Dashiell Hammet's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Maltese_Falcon_(1941_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Maltese Falcon</b></i></span></a> -- after he's left San Franciso to live in France.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Although I've long been interested in writing, I've never been drawn to screenplays. Like all writing, screenwriting is an art -- and thus a noble endeavor -- but even the best screenplay is a blueprint for a movie, not the movie itself. No matter how clever the plot or beautiful the story structure, a brilliant screenplay will never see the light of day unless and until someone turns it into a movie. Few people beyond actors, producers, directors, and aspiring screenwriters read screenplays, and I don't imagine many people outside the film and television industry ever say to themselves "Hey, this feels like a good night to sit by the fire and read a screenplay." </p><p style="text-align: left;">The best screenwriters are as good at their craft as any short story specialist, novelist, or poet, but I'm grateful that I've never been drawn to that particular literary flame. I know a few people who are, and although they write smart, well-structured screenplays, the finger-to-the-air nature of the marketplace has left them beating their heads against the wall of futility for many years. It seems that a good screenplay at the wrong time has less a chance of being sold -- much less making it to the silver screen -- than a bad screenplay at the right time. Although I can't imagine dealing with such a level of frustration, I salute those who keep grinding away at it year after year. They're made of sterner stuff than I. </p><p style="text-align: left;">For what it's worth, here are <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/12/screenplay-game.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">some thoughts</span></a> on the subject of screenwriting from back in 2008, and eight years later, a few <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2016/08/the-writing-game.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">more thoughts</span></a>. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Keefe's article is a great read, so I hope that link works -- you never know these days. If not, well, most libraries carry the <i><b>New Yorker</b></i>, and this one is worth a trip to your local branch. For any of you interested in more from Scott Frank, he has a lot to say in several of the <a href="http://www.onstory.tv/search?q=Scott%20Frank"><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i><b>On Story</b></i></span></a> podcasts out of Austin, Texas.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*************************************</span></p><p style="text-align: left;">At some point in the last few years I stopped listening to podcasts of <i><b>The Business</b></i>, the weekly half-hour show on KCRW-FM that begins with a quick roundup of the latest news in the film and television industry, then moves on to an interview with an actor, writer, director, producer, or other luminary of the business. Some weeks were great, others not so much, but eventually I grew weary of the show host, Kim Masters, and her habit of constantly interrupting and talking over her guests to the point where it seemed she thought the show was more about her than them.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I tuned in again recently and was pleasantly surprised to find that -- for these two episodes, anyway -- Kim left the interviewing to hosts more willing to shine the spotlight on the guests. The first features <a href="https://www.kcrw.com/culture/shows/the-business/fargo-season-5-amazon-layoffs?"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Noah Hawley</span></a> discussing his <i><b>Fargo</b></i> series and another series in the works based on the "Alien" movies. A wonderful storyteller, Hawley is also one very smart guy, and has some interesting things to say about a lot of things in that conversation. The second has <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.kcrw.com/culture/shows/the-business/slow-horses-disney-proxy-fight?"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gary Oldman</span></a> </span>talking about his role in <i><b>Slow Horses</b></i>, his acting career, his interest in directing, and the lure of continuing to work part-time so he can do things in life other than work on set. Personally, I could listen to Gary Oldman read a phone book (google it, kids) for twenty minutes, but this interview offers a lot more. If you like either show, give these a listen -- you'll be glad you did.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">**************************************</span></p><p style="text-align: left;">A letter from my union local arrived a couple of weeks ago with an odd request: the officers wanted me to retire ... again. I was confused at first -- didn't I already retire back in 2017, so WTF?</p><p style="text-align: left;">It turns out that a large portion of the dues each retiree pays to remain a member of the local goes to the IA international.* Although that's not necessarily a bad thing, my local in LA is hard-pressed to keep up with the ever-increasing cost of life insurance premiums that cover all members. They could raise the quarterly dues, of course, but after most of the union was unemployed for more than six months last year thanks to the WGA/SAG strike -- and with full production not yet up to speed in Hollywood -- nobody wants to see the dues go up. By signing and returning the form, I'd become "a retired member of IATSE" rather than simply retired from Local 728, so the local would get more of the annual dues I pay, which would help defray those insurance costs. </p><p style="text-align: left;">According to the letter, the only downside to signing that form is that there's no going back. An IA member who retires from the local can "un-retire" and go back to work -- or if sufficiently motivated, run for one of the union officer jobs -- but once he or she officially retires from the international, those avenues are closed. Given that I now live four hundred miles north of LA and am not about to take all those "safety classes" again -- without which I wouldn't be allowed on set anyway -- going back to work was never a realistic possibility, and my interest in becoming an officer of the local is less than zero. That said, I hate to torch a bridge unless it's unavoidable, so I left the letter sitting on my desk for a week or so. Then one morning I looked at it and thought "Who am I kidding? No fucking way am I moving back to LA to get back on the Hollywood merry-go-round." </p><p style="text-align: left;">It's <i>over</i> -- it was over the first time I retired back in 2017. At this point, an hour or two of stacking firewood finishes me off for the day, so there's no way I could go back to slinging 4/0 on a rigging crew or working 12 hour days on set. More to the point, I don't want to -- at all. Forty years was enough ... so I signed the form and dropped it in the mail the next day. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I won't lose any sleep over this.</p><p style="text-align: left;">That's all, kiddos. As months go, February isn't much fun -- at all -- but remember the words of Garrison Keillor:</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>"Without winter, you can't appreciate the spring."</i></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjys99o6t5N4JNf1-25iNp3VauRT87ZphYKOQKTj4c85S_bLVjFj03LfeGRS-8w9m2M2kJPU047FCfuFNP4_BIeiwBAwrgA8tsqyCGZEBM0hpqAyc2-pYFcZXjr2AguHPaBNlETym-YG4yqRj3Zo8JVsrbmPCQtzlHF-F6mZWgZ3BFw0cf9fIeJgNQfbs0/s720/Merry%20Go%20Round%20Horse%20Breaks%20Free.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjys99o6t5N4JNf1-25iNp3VauRT87ZphYKOQKTj4c85S_bLVjFj03LfeGRS-8w9m2M2kJPU047FCfuFNP4_BIeiwBAwrgA8tsqyCGZEBM0hpqAyc2-pYFcZXjr2AguHPaBNlETym-YG4yqRj3Zo8JVsrbmPCQtzlHF-F6mZWgZ3BFw0cf9fIeJgNQfbs0/w400-h400/Merry%20Go%20Round%20Horse%20Breaks%20Free.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Retiree dues are much less than active members -- in my case, around $120 a year as opposed to nearly $1000 active members pay. </span></i><p></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-41627620334394658792023-12-31T09:01:00.000-08:002024-01-02T16:54:42.517-08:00January<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0NFvQz_AEYtUJ8S5kLNFyetI7UE46EHsN8yV9MKWmPZ4eMNRWJr1CFB-1b5UG5YqhvPfxlvc1BJXUc-g5jGb8eWfI-EufU6-i-IATguYfVw-04OeRyu2Fkcl7B35RVc5PxX3mnOhATJPXRgX7PTubr6XhJiZjKKkjQPStZDTyMRYcngfHUqqNbN7vS8/s1074/Flaming%20Plane.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1074" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0NFvQz_AEYtUJ8S5kLNFyetI7UE46EHsN8yV9MKWmPZ4eMNRWJr1CFB-1b5UG5YqhvPfxlvc1BJXUc-g5jGb8eWfI-EufU6-i-IATguYfVw-04OeRyu2Fkcl7B35RVc5PxX3mnOhATJPXRgX7PTubr6XhJiZjKKkjQPStZDTyMRYcngfHUqqNbN7vS8/w373-h400/Flaming%20Plane.jpg" width="373" /></a></div><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <i>Here comes 2024</i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> (Photo by Robert Aasness)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /></i></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Yeah, I know ... this is actually the <u>last</u> Sunday in December, not the <u>first</u> Sunday of January, so why is the monthly BS&T post appearing today? Hey, rules were made to be broken, and besides, it's New Year's Eve. I can't think of a better time to offer one last Hollywood air-kiss to 2023 while bracing myself for what's coming in the New Year. </i></span></span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;">Although I may be one of the few sentient beings in this country who’s never seen a single episode of </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #ffa400; font-family: arial;"><i><b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homicide:_Life_on_the_Street"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Homicide: Life on the Street</span></a> </b></i></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;">— and likewise missed the entirety of </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brooklyn_Nine-Nine" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Brooklyn Nine-Nine</b></i></span></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"> despite the fact that it was shot on a soundstage just a few yards across the alley at CBS Radford from the stage where I toiled on the longest running </span><a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-long-goodbye.html" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">show</span></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"> of my so-called career— I was stunned and deeply saddened to learn of Andre Braugher’s entirely premature death last month.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;">2023 was a rough year for those who appreciate good actors of all stripes. The list of those </span><a href="https://twitter.com/tcm/status/1737172197947392450" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">left us</span></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"> is long and painful, and although there’s no way to determine which of these artists represented the greatest loss (and why the fuck would anybody even <i>attempt</i> such a ghoulish task?), it’s often the most recent losses that sting the most, and such is the case with Andre Braugher. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I first became aware of him in the 2007 sci-fi thriller/horror film</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mist_(film)" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Mist</b></i></span></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">, a taut, spooky, and ultimately bleak film that made quite an impression on me, but I didn’t see him again until </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Men_of_a_Certain_Age" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Men of a Certain Age</b></i></span></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> came to my television a couple of years later.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Braugher gave strong, nuanced, memorable performances in each of these productions, which marked him as an actor to watch. You can get an inkling of how broad was his thespian range and what kind of guy he was from </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/12/19/1197960885/fresh-air-draft-12-19-2023"><span style="color: #ffa400;">an interview</span></a> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">that was broadcast on NPR, but for a measure of the man himself, it's hard to beat this story from a dolly grip who worked with him a long time ago.*</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">"About 25 years ago I did a movie with him (don't remember the name). I'd gotten divorced a year earlier, and with a small daughter, still didn't have a lot of money. I took a date to the wrap party, a young lady that I wanted to impress. We stopped for drinks at a restaurant on the way, and there was Andre at the bar. I said hi and we chatted for a minute. My date said she liked whiskey, so I told the bartender to give me his best two shots. After we downed them, he said "That'll be sixty dollars." </span></i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">This was way more than I could afford -- I was expecting maybe twenty bucks ... in 1998 dollars. Andre must have seen the panic on my face, and without missing a beat he told the bartender 'I've got this one."</span></i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">"Thank you,' I mouthed."</span></i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">"Forget it,' he said, then wished us a good evening. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I've never forgotten this small act of kindness. He was a good man."</span></span></i></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmkyibAtb9dSY_abJ_X4d-iYluybxRaA4H-r7kcVph32GSVZyJXDI3mGF2dbJgFmwUXvocJmqjARB3JGeL-vjkfJVN5FNbur7LdeEJrJF0KgwwVsXVN_N4YCpE8XQHpDiobk0gj0C31Yral3LmkabdPVO-5i2XqDmXmbvyo3mgncl05ix2mubD0r7F8Uk/s1604/Andre%20Braugher.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1460" data-original-width="1604" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmkyibAtb9dSY_abJ_X4d-iYluybxRaA4H-r7kcVph32GSVZyJXDI3mGF2dbJgFmwUXvocJmqjARB3JGeL-vjkfJVN5FNbur7LdeEJrJF0KgwwVsXVN_N4YCpE8XQHpDiobk0gj0C31Yral3LmkabdPVO-5i2XqDmXmbvyo3mgncl05ix2mubD0r7F8Uk/w400-h364/Andre%20Braugher.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></i></div><span style="font-family: arial;"> Andre Braugher: a wonderful actor and an even better man.</span><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(6, 6, 6); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: #060606; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-kerning: none;"></span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: arial;"></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> RIP</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">*************************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Anybody who's been watching <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slow_Horses"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Slow Horses</b></i></span></a> on Apple TV knows what an entertaining show it is, and that the lead is a role Gary Oldman was absolutely born to play. It's been a long time since Oldman's birth, of course, and the weight of all those years is evident in everything about the slovenly leader of a motley crew of disgraced MI 5 agents -- slow horses -- each of whom has been shunted off to perform menial and meaningless bureaucratic busy-work under the relentlessly critical eye of seasoned veteran and fellow disgracee Jackson Lamb.** </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrIPW0_7Jgtyumts9eDJGLnJQR9ujKjhqmYAgLc1R__SuTg-GUKgL4vOssE9uNnLmh0bhVKCHxblSSXZ1UTdPoEld_E82p4b-ymANpKejr9P7w8eMAnb9YluX7cfL9IexBHySC2wq2f7KtuXb6F56f4M-5q-ZRU5Y-3rfLdDYOHiXWsDw9dF6hTSStxI/s892/Gary%20Oldman%20as%20Jackson%20Lamb.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="726" data-original-width="892" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrIPW0_7Jgtyumts9eDJGLnJQR9ujKjhqmYAgLc1R__SuTg-GUKgL4vOssE9uNnLmh0bhVKCHxblSSXZ1UTdPoEld_E82p4b-ymANpKejr9P7w8eMAnb9YluX7cfL9IexBHySC2wq2f7KtuXb6F56f4M-5q-ZRU5Y-3rfLdDYOHiXWsDw9dF6hTSStxI/w400-h325/Gary%20Oldman%20as%20Jackson%20Lamb.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><p>As <a href="https://www.gq.com/story/this-was-the-year-gary-oldman-embraced-his-inner-crank"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this piece</span></a> from GQ notes, the show provides Oldman the opportunity to release and "embrace his inner crank" and let the bile flow while guiding his younger agents through the labyrinth of spy-craft at the price of occasional blood. As usual with Brit shows, the acting of the entire cast is terrific. <i><b>Slow Horses</b></i> is a fun show now in its third season, and if you're not watching it, you're missing out. </p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">***************************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've long thought of Frank Capra's classic <i><b>It's a Wonderful Life</b></i> as a Christmas Noir: a film that takes its protagonist -- a good man so thoroughly disillusioned by the cumulative weight of fate and circumstance that he's driven to commit suicide, but is saved at the last second by a guardian angel who then shows him how miserable the lives of those he loves would have been had he never been born. It's a truly great movie, but I never thought much past that thumbnail description for one reason: </span><span style="font-family: arial;">analytical dissections of cinematic classics was never -- <i>ever</i> -- in my wheelhouse. If it was, maybe I'd have spent a forty-year career doing something less strenuous and bruising than wrangling heavy cable and lamps on set in Hollywood. Still, I enjoy reading the analysis of those who do the mental heavy-lifting my brain can't handle, as in this take on Capra's movie from Mick LaSalle, </span><span style="font-family: arial;">senior film critic for the San Francisco Chronicle. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>"This movie was considered too downbeat for audiences when it debuted in 1946, and today is misremembered as a sentimental Christmas classic. The truth is somewhere in between. It's a Christmas movie, in a sense, but it's one that mostly addresses a central question that people ask themselves throughout their lives. The question starts out as "Will my life amount to anything?" Then it's rephrased over time: "Is my life amounting to anything?" "Has my life amounted to anything?" Finally, it's "Did my life amount to anything?"</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>"Jimmy Stewart, a specialist in screen anguish, plays a man who's convinced that his life has amounted to absolutely nothing, and it takes a divine intervention to make him see otherwise. The redemption of his spirit is reassuring, not just to him, but to all of us. The movie tells us that Christmas is a time of renewal, but says it in a way that's unexpectedly visceral and personal. Our relief for him is relief for ourselves. This is a great American movie about the meaning of success."</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>"You know you want to see it again. So see it."</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Thanks, Mick. I think I will.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">***************************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">As the New Year approached, I had the feeling of being strapped into a roller coaster as it slowly clanked up through the darkness towards the first and highest peak, after which will come a stomach-churning vertiginous plunge into the twisty unknown at an ever-accelerating and increasingly lethal pace. Should anything go wrong -- a worn-out bearing, loose bolt, or broken piece of track -- the entire train of cars could hurtle into the void, sending all the passengers to oblivion. A lot can go wrong over the course of this year, and </span><span style="font-family: arial;">here we are, just beginning to feel the heart-stopping panic as gravity takes charge ... and it hits us that we're suddenly no longer in control. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">What will happen, and what kind of world will we face a year from today? I don't know, but I find it hard to be optimistic these days.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">All of this put me in mind of W. B. Yeats famous poem <i><b>The Second Coming</b></i>, which feels disturbingly appropriate for our current cultural, political, and </span><span style="font-family: arial;">geopolitical situation.</span></p><p><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>The Second Coming</i></b></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/william-butler-yeats"><span style="color: #ffa400;">William Butler Yeats</span></a><br /></i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Turning and turning in the widening gyre</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>The falcon cannot hear the falconer:</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Things fall apart; the center cannot hold:</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>The ceremony of innocence is drowned:</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>The best lack all conviction, while the worst</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Are full of passionate intensity.</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Surely some revelation is at hand:</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Surely the Second Coming is at hand.</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Troubles my sight somewhere in the sands of the desert</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>A shape with lion body and the head of a man, </i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>The darkness drops again: but now I know</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>That twenty centuries of stony sleep</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, </i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>And what rough beast, its hour come 'round at last,</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">On that somber note, I wish you all a Happy New Year -- and good luck. We're all gonna need it.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* That would be "D" of <a href="http://www.dollygrippery.net/"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Dollygrippery</b></span></a> fame, of course. Thanks for sharing your great story, D!</span></i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">** If "</span></i></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>disgracee" isn't a real word ... well, it should be.</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;"><br /></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-66817947654619505132023-12-03T09:01:00.000-08:002023-12-03T09:01:00.154-08:00December<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiq-w6Ql4wPTP-PLLXU7hE3WFNhIYHYGupuR_-CwoowyYbCZfPUbVaqGHsTf2g1AE-525jfGLeNYMBt8ZXaRK5xpIbMzPij7wuYynsf-p9jj3DNsjelgZzj_-enhwNQdTNRXaLzoDrbs4Hg5RQHvSVGQtlV75-qVde_C56ASm5hldjme3yjcJxpwgcLkc/s760/Creature%20from%20the%20Black%20Lagoon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="608" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiq-w6Ql4wPTP-PLLXU7hE3WFNhIYHYGupuR_-CwoowyYbCZfPUbVaqGHsTf2g1AE-525jfGLeNYMBt8ZXaRK5xpIbMzPij7wuYynsf-p9jj3DNsjelgZzj_-enhwNQdTNRXaLzoDrbs4Hg5RQHvSVGQtlV75-qVde_C56ASm5hldjme3yjcJxpwgcLkc/w320-h400/Creature%20from%20the%20Black%20Lagoon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><i> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Victory!*</i><p></p><p>Christmas came early with the end of the SAG strike, but the ancient wisdom once again held true: <i>"When elephants fight, the grass is trampled." </i>The film industry's below-the-line workers -- who do the heavy lifting on and off set to move a script from computer screen to silver screen -- were getting trampled even before WGA picket lines went up on May 2. The powers that be knew damned well a strike was coming and had long since ramped down production, which is why so many below-the-liners have been out of work for eight to ten months now, and some even longer. Unemployment benefits run out after twenty-six weekly checks have been delivered -- and $450/week doesn't go very far in LA anyway -- so many of those people have been in desperate shape for a very long time.</p><p>Having burned through their savings, plundered retirement accounts, sold what they could, re-mortgaged homes, taken temp jobs, and borrowed from whoever was able to help, most of those hard-working crew people are now in a deep financial hole. It's great that long-dormant movie and television productions are finally gearing up to shoot, but it won't happen overnight, which means much of Hollywood is facing a lean and hungry Christmas. </p><p>Things will be different in the New Year, when the film and television industry should be going at it hammer and tongs. Debts will be repaid and bank accounts gradually replenished as the months pass, and life will be better for a while, but another dark cloud looms on the horizon: the IA contract with the AMPTP expires next summer on July 31st. Those in the rank and file were not happy with the last contract negotiated in 2021, when the IA came closer than I'd ever seen to calling a general strike. After decades of watching more hard-earned benefits vanish with each new contract, the membership was fed up ... but not quite enough, because they ratified the 2021 contract. Still, the consensus at the time was that the 2024 contract would have to be <i>much</i> better or a strike will almost certainly be called to make sure that -- as <i><b>The Who</b></i> memorably sang back in the days of my youth -- "<span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHhrZgojY1Q"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>We don't get fooled again</b></i></span></a>.</span>" </p><p>But then Covid shut things down for a while, and as production gradually resumed, it was with mandatory safety protocols -- daily testing, mask requirements, social distancing, strict and often fickle Covid Safety monitors, and an onerous A-Zone/B-Zone/C-Zone sector on every set -- which made a tough job all that much harder and pretty much took all the fun out of this business. Much of the workforce hadn't fully recovered when the WGA and SAG went on strike, which slammed the door for 114 days during which no sector of the industry suffered more than the below-the-line community, who supported the strike despite not having a dog in the fight. So when it's our turn for a new and better contract in July, will the battered, bruised, and still-recovering IA membership really be willing to call another industry strike -- and if so, will the WGA and SAG support us?</p><p>I don't know, nor does anyone else. To quote another old saying: "Time will tell."</p><p>It seems a bit early to declare who the real winners and losers were in this strike, but that didn't stop <i><b>The Hollywood Reporter </b></i>from sharing <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/who-won-the-strikes-1235652424/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">a few thoughts</span></a> on the matter. Whether they're correct in that assessment remains to be seen, but I hope they're right about at least one thing: the <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2009/11/lizard-queen-speaks.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Lizard Queen</b></i></span></a> losing influence -- and hopefully her job -- leading the AMPTP. I didn't like her when she first got the job, and nothing since then has softened my view. </p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*************************************</span></p><p>A while back -- quite a while, actually -- a post appeared here called <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2011/08/art-vs-commerce.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Art vs. Commerce</b></i></span></a> discussing the age-old struggle between those in Hollywood who are driven to reap profits and those whose interest is in creating cinematic art. When the two drives miraculously come together, the result can be a classic film ... but that doesn't happen often enough.</p><p>My own cinematic coming of age in the 70s was sparked by a new style of filmmaking that focused on compelling dramas with something to say, many of which did well at the box office. A young generation of writers and directors turned Hollywood upside down and created a new mini-Golden Age, but the good times couldn't last. Once George Lucas and Steven Spielberg demonstrated the massive profit potential of slick, well-crafted, undeniably entertaining movies like <i><b>Star Wars</b></i> and <i><b>Jaws</b></i>, that brief flowering of artistic expression in Hollywood was doomed. </p><p>Nowadays Hollywood's bread-and-butter is a depressingly juvenile string of CGI-laden tentpole superhero franchise spectaculars, because it's all about the money. The industry always has been, really, but there was a time when producers and studio heads were so befuddled by the changing tastes of a younger generation that they had to roll the dice on new writers, directors, and actors. The resulting cinematic renaissance fired my young imagination enough to lure me to Hollywood, but I have to wonder: if I was twenty years old now, would the current crop of superhero comic-book movies drive me to enter the film industry? I doubt it. I'd probably be more interested in the video game industry, which -- much to my surprise -- turns out to be bigger in monetary terms than the film and music industries <a href="https://www.vintageisthenewold.com/game-pedia/is-the-video-game-industry-bigger-than-the-movie-industry"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i>combined</i></span></a>.**</p><p>Look, if you love all the superhero/Marvel stuff, great: I'm not judging anybody else's taste, so more power to you. All I'm saying is that we're not gonna see another <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Detail"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Last Detail</b></i></span></a> -- let alone a classic like <i><b>Chinatown</b></i> -- emerge from Hollywood anytime soon, and I think that's a shame.</p><p>For those of you who might be weary of me shoving various books down your throat, here's a change of pace: <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2023/11/06/the-twilight-of-prestige-television"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Boxed Out</b></i></span></a> is an excellent piece by Michael Schulman that appeared in the Nov. 6 issue of <b style="font-style: italic;">The New Yorker</b>, analyzing why the most recent Golden Age of Television -- the early streaming years -- didn't and couldn't last. Another New Yorker piece by Schulman is a profile of Ridley Scott titled <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2023/11/13/ridley-scott-director-profile"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Napoleon Complex</b></i></span></a>, which appeared in the Nov. 13 issue. I hope those links work for you, although they may lie behind a paywall. In that case, both of these articles are worth seeking out, either from friends who subscribe to <i><b>The New Yorker</b></i> or at your local library.</p><p>On the general theme of art vs. commerce, here's a fascinating interview/conversation with <a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/11/01/1197958207/fresh-air-draft-11-01-2023"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>David Byrne</b></i></span></a> that will be of interest to any fans of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talking_Heads"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Talking Heads</b></i></span></a>. Byrne is not your typical pop/rock/whatever star, and is thus always worth a listen.</p><p>And speaking of music, in what passes for tradition at <b><i>Blood, Sweat, and Tedium</i></b>, here's the annual presentation of the inimitable Robert Earl Keen's classic Christmas song. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/P37xPiRz1sg" width="320" youtube-src-id="P37xPiRz1sg"></iframe></div><br /><p>And since I have no way of knowing if the "embed video" function still works at blogger, here's a direct link just in case: <i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P37xPiRz1sg"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Christmas With the Family</span></a>.</span></b></i></p><p>The world is a mess these days, here and abroad, but I hope you all find a way to have a wonderful Christmas season. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Okay, so it wasn't exactly <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/sailor-nurse-from-iconic-vj-day-photo-reunited/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">VJ Day</span></a>, but amid the tsunami of grim news in 2023, settling the strike qualifies as very good news indeed - and for anybody who doesn't see the connection, here you go:</span></i></div><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0T7xGct-j9cngecDvuuWCwDFOwt4sNnhnXTL0ULK9VwbHtHgASHdJ5ieaS-_J_EPN20okJ0aOOcvCZ8s0xTWPWxUcY2yUTJGWhWJBNLQ5f3n8vqsb6wWNOxmbeLAqn-DxEmKovTnIlGGvrhwYCg2_ZuMRECxo6W64qRp84IHQo4_xjJMdfwbhgDcork/s1232/VJ%20Day%20Kiss.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1232" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0T7xGct-j9cngecDvuuWCwDFOwt4sNnhnXTL0ULK9VwbHtHgASHdJ5ieaS-_J_EPN20okJ0aOOcvCZ8s0xTWPWxUcY2yUTJGWhWJBNLQ5f3n8vqsb6wWNOxmbeLAqn-DxEmKovTnIlGGvrhwYCg2_ZuMRECxo6W64qRp84IHQo4_xjJMdfwbhgDcork/w200-h166/VJ%20Day%20Kiss.jpeg" width="200" /></a></i></div><i><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">** This is a total hypothetical, of course, since the last video game I played was "Pong" back in the early 70s.</span></i>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-21265500408245390792023-11-05T09:01:00.002-08:002023-11-12T11:02:46.069-08:00November<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZGWWdFHIkAN-jGyHy_8mtYNxwoxcgXNLSBMewKDcvCOzl9FLs-kCM04EaYkoQYEBd0748PqJZ-u4dHcQKb1s-ofATGytdJ2_5Qhy24DPt3M4u0ZNxr5WJWf4P5hOqrmFC8q7iO8cKbxNMjdJt2E7OMZRPZo1VrMmcSb4B2BNgHe9Xegg8D0hx7GmETM/s595/A%20Kim%20Jong-Il%20Production%20good.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="385" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZGWWdFHIkAN-jGyHy_8mtYNxwoxcgXNLSBMewKDcvCOzl9FLs-kCM04EaYkoQYEBd0748PqJZ-u4dHcQKb1s-ofATGytdJ2_5Qhy24DPt3M4u0ZNxr5WJWf4P5hOqrmFC8q7iO8cKbxNMjdJt2E7OMZRPZo1VrMmcSb4B2BNgHe9Xegg8D0hx7GmETM/w259-h400/A%20Kim%20Jong-Il%20Production%20good.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div>I've been reading a lot of film books the past few years to learn the inside stories of how so many movies we now consider classics -- <i><b>Casablanca</b></i>, <i><b>Chinatown</b></i>, <i><b>The French Connection</b></i>, <i><b>The Wild Bunch</b></i>, and others -- came to be made. When I first became interested in film back in school, my hopelessly naive assumption was that great movies were somehow blessed right from the start: a terrific script attracted a talented director, skilled cinematographer, a great cast, and voila: a cinematic classic was born ... but that's not how any of it works.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's an old saying I often heard on set: "It's just as hard to make a bad movie as a good one, so let's make a good one," but it's never that easy. More realistic - and certainly more to the point - is another Hollywood truism: "You can't polish a turd." No matter how good the acting, set design, or cinematography, turning a lousy script into a good movie is an expensive exercise in futility. As it turns out, a long, difficult struggle was required to usher each of those classic films from script to screen, because the reality then as now is that getting anything new and different made in Hollywood -- where the tried-and-true is gospel and anything else deemed "too risky" -- is like carrying a sixty-pound sack of concrete through quicksand. Back in the old days before my time, hard-ass, tight-fisted studio moguls like <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_L._Warner"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Jack Warner</span></a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Cohn"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Harry Cohn</span></a> would occasionally take a chance based on gut feelings or an impassioned plea (or threat...) from a talented, bankable star or director, but nowadays Hollywood has little tolerance for anything that doesn't involve comic book superheroes. That the two smash hits of last summer were movies based on a long-dead nuclear physicist and a popular doll sold to generations of pre-teen girls back in the 20th century is unlikely to change the sclerotic corporate hive-mind of modern Hollywood.</div><div><br /></div><div>But for all the desperate battles fought by Roman Polanski, William Friedkin, Sam Peckinpah and other great directors, none had to face the ordeal of South Korean director Shin Sang-Ok and his star actress Choi Sun-Hee -- both the most famous in their respective crafts -- who became the most successful power-couple in the South Korean film industry. The story of their rise and fall is itself a classic film industry tale, but what happened next might make the most outlandish script ever written. Both were kidnapped separately by agents of North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il, a fanatical film buff who sought to harness their cinematic talents to bring his country's crude film industry up to world-class standards. This fantastic tale unfolds in the book <a href="https://www.publishersweekly.com/9781250054265"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>A Kim Jong-Il Production</b></i></span></a>, which sheds light on the infamously brutal "Hermit Kingdom" of North Korea, a country ruled by a familial succession of iron-fisted despots who turned it into the geopolitical equivalent of a black hole from which little is known and only a handful of people manage to escape. </div><div><br /></div><div>You can hear the streamlined basics of the story in <a href="https://www.thisamericanlife.org/556/same-bed-different-dreams/act-one-11"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this podcast</span></a> from an episode of <i><b>This American Life</b></i>, but the book offers much more, including a history lesson on how the current heavily armed north/south standoff in Korea came about. Truth be told, though, the book is a bit of a slog, and I have yet to finish it, but if the prose is less than lyrical and the pacing glacially slow, the story is fascinating and offers a useful perspective on life in our own Hollywood film industry. No matter how miserable you might feel at 3:00 a.m. working on some poorly written, low-budget, lousy craft-service pile of cinematic garbage here in America, at least you're not slaving for a pittance under the lash of a dictator who will see to it that you and your entire family are strung up over a blazing fire if you dare complain. </div><div><br /></div><div>Remember: no matter how bad things are, they can always get worse.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">*****************************************</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjrvb5eGcjPvYQrmKXh9v1euQNqI6TuJ9UuvtFcSET7NzFHbuol7SwtKHhKQk9mhttw7MBm3bhLYHmHodgxhp6u4t7txyJSglTzpzrxNtwA6qcngpr0ossTgFzWyIOOx_SlckeWZ8uLcbJZVcxZUhsFeYyVQRGyrj1lJR7deYmzsuwoX3eU1X1mKAr6Q/s984/Image%2010-29-23%20at%2012.33%20PM.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="984" data-original-width="730" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjrvb5eGcjPvYQrmKXh9v1euQNqI6TuJ9UuvtFcSET7NzFHbuol7SwtKHhKQk9mhttw7MBm3bhLYHmHodgxhp6u4t7txyJSglTzpzrxNtwA6qcngpr0ossTgFzWyIOOx_SlckeWZ8uLcbJZVcxZUhsFeYyVQRGyrj1lJR7deYmzsuwoX3eU1X1mKAr6Q/w296-h400/Image%2010-29-23%20at%2012.33%20PM.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Corman"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Roger Corman</span></a> is one of the few living legends still alive in Hollywood. As one of the original -- and certainly the most prolific -- independent filmmakers to thrive in the shadow of the studio system, Corman's ultra-low-budget productions served as an incubator for young talent unlike any before or since. The list of major directors, actors, and countless below-the-line workers who graduated from the Corman school into mainstream Hollywood is impressive. The notable names on the poster of the 2011 documentary <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corman%27s_World:_Exploits_of_a_Hollywood_Rebel"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Corman's World: Exploits of a Hollywood Rebel</b></i></span></a> are just a few of those who got their start working for Corman as he made films for American International Pictures, then started his own production company and studio with New World Pictures. </div><div><br /></div><div>If I'd had any brains when I landed in LA back in the summer of 1977, I'd have knocked on Corman's door, but I was utterly clueless at the time. Instead, I got my start with the now-defunct <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crown_International_Pictures"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Crown International Pictures</b></i></span></a>, one of the lesser low-budget production and distribution companies that were around back then. A few years later, fate finally brought me to Corman's New World Pictures studio -- the old Hammond Lumber Yard -- in Venice, California to toil on a space epic with the working title "Planet of Horrors." By the time it was released, the title had morphed to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galaxy_of_Terror"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Galaxy of Terror</b></i></span></a>, for better or worse.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQy_Qpb-3EEfG1Y6bfUmcIEzMQwr_VFHFJuPwOCVXdHa3ZqpI6ykYBV3oMWVU3ZnhyphenhyphenmKjR_wdUSRenQzoYVuPZ8crDeTxkrl2O5trtPEO2wjnRiYexdWvoSSsw-_WUBWQdaC6KOWFZqQ3R_QA0vQnEbUJ0xmGsU2ynJ1L9bNjVxZ_OhCBrmVJQP-lqBw/s560/Galaxy%20of%20Terror.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="374" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQy_Qpb-3EEfG1Y6bfUmcIEzMQwr_VFHFJuPwOCVXdHa3ZqpI6ykYBV3oMWVU3ZnhyphenhyphenmKjR_wdUSRenQzoYVuPZ8crDeTxkrl2O5trtPEO2wjnRiYexdWvoSSsw-_WUBWQdaC6KOWFZqQ3R_QA0vQnEbUJ0xmGsU2ynJ1L9bNjVxZ_OhCBrmVJQP-lqBw/w268-h400/Galaxy%20of%20Terror.jpeg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>My tenure there was a brief but interesting two weeks, during which we ran power throughout the stage and spaceship sets to ready them for filming, but the low wages -- I was making $600/week on a flat rate -- did not make me happy, so when a ten-day job paying $250/day came in over the phone, I decided to exit the low-budget feature world and walked away without looking back. The gaffer replaced me with another warm-body/juicer, but forgot to inform the office that I was gone, which is how another $600 check arrived in the mail two weeks later ... which brought my total income on that project to $1800 for two weeks -- still not great, but a bit closer to market rate at the time. All things considered, I suppose Corman and New World Pictures treated me reasonably well, however inadvertently. </div><div><br /></div><div>Only once did the man come on stage to settle some issue, and did so with the Voice of God. Roger Corman was as impressive in person as is his legend in the film industry. He was a unique presence in our business who certainly deserved the <a href="https://www.oscars.org/governors-awards/2009/roger-corman"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Honorary Oscar</span></a> awarded him by the Academy in 2009. <i><b>Corman's World: Exploits of a Hollywood Rebel</b></i> is a highly entertaining documentary available on Amazon Prime for just a couple of bucks: a fittingly low-budget price for the low-budget King.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">*******************************************</span></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Werner_Herzog"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Werner Herzog</b></i></span></a> needs no introduction, but that Wiki-link will fill in the particulars for anyone not familiar with the man -- and once again the word "prolific" comes to mind. As a director, writer, and actor, he's produced a massive quantity of interesting work -- there really is nobody else quite like him -- so whenever he's interviewed, it's worth a listen. Here's a recent <a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/10/25/1208303973/werner-herzog-memoir-every-man-for-himself-and-god-against-all"><span style="color: #ffa400;">conversation</span></a> he did for the radio program <i><b>Fresh Air</b></i> as they discussed his new memoir <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/10/09/books/review/werner-herzog-every-man-for-himself-and-god-against-all.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Every Man for Himself and God Against All</b></i></span></a>. I have no idea what that title means, and whether the book is worth reading is an open question -- the NY Times reviewer seems to find it an odd blend of fact and lurid fantasy, and who knows which is which? Still, Herzog's astonishing life and career are unlike that of any other filmmaker I'm aware of, and the <i><b>Fresh Air</b></i> interview is thoroughly entertaining, so check it out.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's it for November, folks -- I hope every last one of you has a great Thanksgiving.</div>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-29024279661516827342023-10-01T09:01:00.001-07:002023-10-01T09:01:00.146-07:00October<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCAnY6Y7G3LTpjKpG66cLzhEByH51feXj_MPymjNxV03nBUK2ZrD_mwu8gKko3Bl2u4-rShf0yJjSLoK6dvKELc01XMZtFUb4h8jIVK6bRj886vF1z4lAEzHcb4UTOAnSgVrWcuwFhBgSw0IVH82CPTjbjCr_z-7v1Ipf9rjloNM-kQPepuvG2i1Pmuo/s1936/Peckinpah%20Bio.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCAnY6Y7G3LTpjKpG66cLzhEByH51feXj_MPymjNxV03nBUK2ZrD_mwu8gKko3Bl2u4-rShf0yJjSLoK6dvKELc01XMZtFUb4h8jIVK6bRj886vF1z4lAEzHcb4UTOAnSgVrWcuwFhBgSw0IVH82CPTjbjCr_z-7v1Ipf9rjloNM-kQPepuvG2i1Pmuo/w313-h400/Peckinpah%20Bio.jpg" width="313" /></a></div><br /><p>The WGA strike seems to be over -- a good thing, that -- and SAG is due to resume talks with the agents of Satan ... er, the producers ... tomorrow, but for the hard-working crews whose heavy lifting on set is necessary to move every script from keyboard to screen, it won't be over until SAG settles and Hollywood can finally gear up for the fall TV season and reboot the more arduous production process for features. Although writers will soon be back at work and getting paid, many thousands of below-the-line workers in Hollywood and beyond endured real suffering over the past five months, living on unemployment checks that don't come close to paying for housing and living expenses. Most of these people will have lost at least six months of income before the industry gets moving again -- fully half a year -- and will face a very lean holiday season in a couple of months. Some lost their union health coverage and are living on savings, unemployment checks, and borrowed money to keep the lights on and to pay the very expensive monthly tab for last-resort <span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b><a href="https://www.dmhc.ca.gov/healthcareincalifornia/typesofplans/keepyourhealthcoverage(cobra).aspx"><span style="color: #ffa400;">COBRA</span></a> </b></i></span>health coverage, while others simply had to do without.* These people didn't really have a dog in this fight and had nothing to gain by the strike. The best they could hope for was to minimize their losses and hang on by their fingernails while praying that the struggle between the WGA, SAG, and the AMPTP didn't drag on too long. Like innocent victims of every fight -- be it on the battlefield or the picket line -- they wind up as collateral damage, and it'll be a long time before they're made whole again.</p><p>It's not over 'til it's over ... and it's not over.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">***************************************</span></p><p>The story of how Sam Peckinpah got into the film industry, then rose through the ranks to become one of the legendary directors of Hollywood is fascinating in every way. He was an astonishingly creative, prolific writer/director whose drive to succeed enabled him to make one of the truly great films of his era -- <i><b>The Wild Bunch</b></i> -- but in the end, those same demons that drove him were the agents of his professional demise. Although I've been a huge fan of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wild_Bunch"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Wild Bunch</b></i></span></a><b><i> </i></b>ever since seeing the film during its initial theatrical release, I didn't know much about him or his career before reading <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/307636.If_They_Move_Kill_Em_"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>If They Move, Kill 'Em</b></i></span></a>, a long (552 pages), detailed, and well-written biography of the life and career of Sam Peckinpah. Like most such stories, it starts off slow in describing his early boyhood life, then shifts into high gear once he begins directing plays on the road to Hollywood. In <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ride_the_High_Country"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Ride the High Country</b></i></span></a> and <i><b>The Wild Bunch</b></i>, Peckinpah crafted two of the best westerns ever made, each a story of men who knew they'd outlived their time, then had to figure out how to live -- or else die -- in the changing West. He further explored this theme, albeit in a very different setting, with <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cross_of_Iron"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Cross of Iron</b></i></span></a>, a WW2 drama about German soldiers enduring the bloody collapse of their effort to defeat the Soviet Union. All of Peckinpah's films are discussed here -- <i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ballad_of_Cable_Hogue"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Ballad of C</span></a><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ballad_of_Cable_Hogue"><span style="color: #ffa400;">able Hogue</span></a></span></b></i>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Junior_Bonner"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Junior Bonner</b></i></span></a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Straw_Dogs_(1971_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Straw Dogs</b></i></span></a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Getaway_(1972_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Getaway</b></i></span></a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bring_Me_the_Head_of_Alfredo_Garcia"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia</b></i></span></a>, and the misbegotten <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Convoy_(1978_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Convoy</b></i></span></a>, among others. Near the end of his flailing career, desperate to get back into the game, he even directed a pair of music videos for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Colouringpast/videos/julian-lennon-too-late-for-goodbyes/1316107232259088/"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Julian Lennon</b></i></span></a>. </p><p>Peckinpah was a complex and confounding man capable of extreme kindness and generosity one moment, then flying into a violent rage the next. Much of his volcanic instability was due to alcohol and cocaine abuse -- a commercial director I worked with back in the day dated Sam's daughter at a time when Peckinpah was downing a fifth of hard liquor every day -- but some of it came from those relentless demons inside. The creative muse often brings a double-edged sword to slash a clearing in the wilderness where the artist can stand alone and shine, but eventually cuts and bleeds him or her to death. </p><p>The title <i><b>If They Move, Kill 'Em</b></i> comes from a line delivered early in <i><b>The Wild Bunch</b></i>, an order issued by the lead character that dooms one of the members of his gang to certain death -- a young man who, it later turns out, was family to one of his oldest friends. That's the kind of soul-crushing moral dilemma that fascinated Sam Peckinpah, and helps make this book such a great read. If you have any feeling at all for his movies, read this book. It's wellworth your time.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">****************************************</span></p><p>That's all I've got for today. As you can see from the photos below, September was a busy and rather bruising month as I once again put my shoulder to the wheel to render order from chaos in preparation for what's predicted to be another wet winter. Who knows if those predictions will come true, but as the saying goes: "Better safe than sorry." The sheer physical effort of sorting, splitting, and stacking two full cords of firewood was daunting: two-plus weeks of daily pain. It felt like I was back on a 4/0 rigging crew turning pain into paychecks, except now I don't get paid. Still, I could stop each day when I'd had enough, which means when my back started screaming. But a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do to keep his shack warm and dry, because -- drumroll, please -- winter is coming.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ib5T584tyHFMMB6ZH6GuwczhhAsbNiRp16TIgCSFI2KJdx7mV_dUZlRiHzpZkyYMr4jFWTDPzBGdtcUuBWXCt43_VCPBs_yuHBZE654s_gpO2kmNoFajpDKC1uocD4wUp1R6Sjz4wAJJvx9JsJ3DvtHrWKo49uEDOFWAjw4HVZM1tSZrjQneVq70TkU/s1761/Wood%2023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1342" data-original-width="1761" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ib5T584tyHFMMB6ZH6GuwczhhAsbNiRp16TIgCSFI2KJdx7mV_dUZlRiHzpZkyYMr4jFWTDPzBGdtcUuBWXCt43_VCPBs_yuHBZE654s_gpO2kmNoFajpDKC1uocD4wUp1R6Sjz4wAJJvx9JsJ3DvtHrWKo49uEDOFWAjw4HVZM1tSZrjQneVq70TkU/s320/Wood%2023.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> Before</i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaZGOrMlHNgmbLiVNjx-PB4oiAf4PM1Jg184p6Uay-DMn1atTJkDJkjIEXNl0SbWaA7tgLPyzUpGzIrTrDyq94IGzh-y3DAUHnngMjCKxkF9wjWh-CFtsWIbffAi2eQpwhJ6x-EKN1_YU-B5aKPXyPTnn4upDx5Uk0j-88EmNJG8qmkGD4VwJKafxAns/s1702/Racked%20and%20Stacked.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1702" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaZGOrMlHNgmbLiVNjx-PB4oiAf4PM1Jg184p6Uay-DMn1atTJkDJkjIEXNl0SbWaA7tgLPyzUpGzIrTrDyq94IGzh-y3DAUHnngMjCKxkF9wjWh-CFtsWIbffAi2eQpwhJ6x-EKN1_YU-B5aKPXyPTnn4upDx5Uk0j-88EmNJG8qmkGD4VwJKafxAns/s320/Racked%20and%20Stacked.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">After</span></i><br /><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* One below-the-liner reported that he was paying $2700/month to cover himself and his family under the COBRA plan. The maximum EDD benefit is $1800/month ... so you can understand the problem he faced.</span></i></p><p><br /></p></div>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-24470872860235665632023-09-03T09:01:00.003-07:002023-09-03T11:59:26.708-07:00Friedkin<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoECiTqpkJArX851B3xAvWGFoBWq6p9Mg-ifLyNR3YAB7-C0GpIckKPxBTqUBVsS8hABOd9QgluzQ-yNYqTfI3MsrrU9jnEVmPOwzjswqvRheYK1T8lt2g0uLtXieJC27gQHEkDPvTGfayGJ4yfZoDhXia4TXlCMuY8zCihTiVH1SI5XMrXRNKiQw7gLk/s2048/Sorcerer%20Poster.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1370" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoECiTqpkJArX851B3xAvWGFoBWq6p9Mg-ifLyNR3YAB7-C0GpIckKPxBTqUBVsS8hABOd9QgluzQ-yNYqTfI3MsrrU9jnEVmPOwzjswqvRheYK1T8lt2g0uLtXieJC27gQHEkDPvTGfayGJ4yfZoDhXia4TXlCMuY8zCihTiVH1SI5XMrXRNKiQw7gLk/w268-h400/Sorcerer%20Poster.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><p>With the recent passing of <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/07/movies/william-friedkin-dead.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>William Friedkin</b></i></span></a>, another giant of Hollywood has exited stage-left. I first wrote about <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-french-connection.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">hi</span></a>m </span>nearly ten years ago, and won't repeat myself here other than to say this: if you followed the advice of film critics to avoid seeing his then-new release <i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Sorcerer</span></b></i> back in 1977, it's high time you rectified that error.</p><p>Like the 1953 classic <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wages_of_Fear"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Wages of Fear</b></i></span></a>, directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BDbIzovuos"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Sorcerer</b></i></span></a> carves a taut, compelling path through the cinematic jungle following four desperate men as they pilot two heavy trucks through rough country to transport a load of highly unstable nitroglycerin to a huge oil field fire burning out of control. A fire like that can only be extinguished with a massive explosion: thus the nitro. Although there are no tire-squealing car vs. train chases through a big city or hair-raising supernatural visitations by the Devil himself, every bump in that crude hacked-from-the-wilderness road is a lethal threat, which makes an extended, impossibly tense <a href="https://filmschoolrejects.com/how-they-shot-the-bridge-scene-in-sorcerer/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">bridge crossing scene</span></a> something that you'll really do have to see to believe. In its own quieter way, <b><i>Sorcerer</i></b> is every bit as edge-of-your-seat thrilling as <b><i>The </i></b><i><b>French Connection</b></i> or <i><b>The Exorcist</b></i>.*</p><p>A lot of people were unhappy with the tone of that New York Times obituary, which dismissed much of Friedkin's work as "interesting but deeply flawed." Among those taking umbrage was Tim Goodman -- erstwhile TV critic for the SF Examiner and Chronicle for a dozen years before becoming chief TV critic at the Hollywood Reporter for another decade -- who responded with a passionate and <a href="https://timgoodman.substack.com/p/the-french-connection"><span style="color: #ffa400;">spirited defense</span></a> of Friedkin on his Substack page which, like all of Tim's writing, is a great read.**</p><p>The NPR show <i><b>Fresh Air</b></i> recently re-aired an <u style="caret-color: rgb(255, 164, 0);"><span style="color: #ffa400;">i<a href="https://freshairarchive.org/segments/william-friedkin-thin-line-between-police-and-criminals"><span style="color: #ffa400;">nterview</span></a></span></u> with Friedkin that was first broadcast in 1988, but has lost none of its relevance. For more Friedkin from the man himself -- his methods of casting, how the Movie Gods are really in control of things, and some great inside stories about <i><b>French Connection</b></i> and <i><b>The Exorcist</b></i> -- here's a fascinating <a href="https://freshairarchive.org/segments/william-friedkin-thin-line-between-police-and-criminals"><span style="color: #ffa400;">conversation</span></a> he had with Alec Baldwin (well before the <i><b>Rust</b></i> scandal) for the WNYC podcast <i><b>Here's the Thing</b></i>. It's worth a listen.</p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* A scene that took three full months to film.</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">** Tim is also the Godfather of this blog, but that's a story for another day.</span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">**************************************</span> </p><p>Fans of the FX show <span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: Times; font-size: 17px;"><i><b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Justified_(TV_series)" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 17px;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Justified</span></a></b></i></span>, which ran on FX for six seasons starting in 2010, will be happy to see the main character of Raylan Givens -- a US Marshal always ready to cool the jets of a criminal who Just-Won't-Listen with an accurately fired bullet -- is back on screen in a somewhat older and grayer incarnation for the FX reboot <span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: Times; font-size: 17px;"><i><b><a href="https://www.indiewire.com/features/craft/justified-city-primeval-cinematography-one-shot-fx-1234882105/" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 17px;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Justified: City Primeval</span></a></b></i></span>. Raylan now has the requisite teenage daughter to challenge, vex, and confound him, thus rendering his crime-fighting life all the more problematic. He's still good with a gun, of course, because some things never change, but rather than work his home turf of Harlan County, Kentucky, this season unfolds in the presumably primeval and cinematically crime-ridden dystopia of Detroit.</p><p>Not being a TV critic, I'll leave any deep analysis of the show to those who get paid to evaluate television -- and who happen to be a lot smarter than me. I liked <i><b>Justified</b></i> well enough to watch it every week, and the same goes for the reboot ... but I'm easy: all I ask of a TV show is that it entertain me enough so that I don't think about anything else for an hour or so. <i><b>Justified: City Primeval</b></i> clears that bar and then some. Still, given that I haven't stepped onto a sound stage for nearly seven years now -- and thus have no more connection to this show than any other civilian kicking back in their Barcalounger while basking in the LED glow of a flatscreen -- you might wonder why I bother to mention it. Just one reason: the cinematography is exceptionally good, particularly the night interior and exterior scenes. Whoever the DP is, he/she and their crew are doing a wonderful job, because this show looks terrific.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">****************************************</span></p><p>Since it's late summer -- and I don't have much to say this month -- I've reached back into the dusty archives for a re-run titled <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2014/08/learning-to-work.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Learning to Work</b></i></span></a>. It's a safe bet that the only reason I managed to hit the ground running when I first rolled into Hollywood was that I already knew how to work. This may sound simple -- and maybe it is for most people -- but I had to learn the hard way, as usual, and my education took place in a small mom-and-pop deli after I'd graduated from school. </p><p>I bring this up because the founder of Erik's Deli (who now commands an empire of twenty-seven deli franchisees) threw a 50th-year reunion/anniversary bash for past employees last weekend, so down I went to share memories and swap stories with a few of the surviving members of that crew. It was a good time, and a useful reminder that none of us accomplishes much of anything on our own. As the saying goes, it takes a village.</p><p>Enjoy this last gasp of summer, kiddos, because .... winter is coming, and with it -- hopefully -- an end to the strike. Fingers crossed.</p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-80813300150724026112023-08-06T09:01:00.001-07:002023-08-06T09:01:00.140-07:00Start Making Sense<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEYznMcPNcChQ4lKha45doREmOhUNCbxketNcd2tSk0mA1-OrMF3kdnDPFkI8D8EdXkKphLWMpSb7Qhx7BDZAGgOPmMnYcE562pQXWG5hdpiWQEaXadcbkdWQLVd-jHwEw4C5nTTHDBc7_PI44Ts4CHbDOAQqA-aBZeEV6SKMb5Y6YqYV8VGZrHBaixw/s1000/Stop-Making-Sense-artwork.jpg.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEYznMcPNcChQ4lKha45doREmOhUNCbxketNcd2tSk0mA1-OrMF3kdnDPFkI8D8EdXkKphLWMpSb7Qhx7BDZAGgOPmMnYcE562pQXWG5hdpiWQEaXadcbkdWQLVd-jHwEw4C5nTTHDBc7_PI44Ts4CHbDOAQqA-aBZeEV6SKMb5Y6YqYV8VGZrHBaixw/w400-h400/Stop-Making-Sense-artwork.jpg.webp" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The other night after dinner, with no baseball on the Toob (my team enjoying a rare off day), I perused the streaming offerings of Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, and Apple TV wondering what to watch ... but nothing sparked my interest. Yes, Netflix had recently delivered the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wolf_of_Wall_Street_(2013_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Wolf of Wall Street</b></i></span></a> disc -- which I want to see -- but this just wasn't the night for a three-hour movie, so I thumbed through my stack of DVDs until landing on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stop_Making_Sense"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Stop Making Sense</b></i></span></a>. As a big fan of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talking_Heads"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Talking Heads</b></i></span></a> back in the day, I loved Jonathan Demme's musical documentary during its initial theatrical release in 1984, but after nearly forty years, had to wonder if his film was really <i>that</i> good, or if the circumstances that day played a role in my fond memories.</p><p>Those circumstances were at least mildly amusing. I'd just finished the second -- and blessedly short -- workday on what was certainly the <span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b><a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2010/02/silliest-job-ever.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">silliest job</span></a> </b></i></span>of my Hollywood years, and since we were done well before noon, the gaffer and I bought a few beers, tucked them into our jacket pockets, then walked two blocks to a theater running an early matinee of <i><b>Stop Making Sense</b></i>. It turned out to be a terrific film, and a wonderful way to spend a couple of hours while technically still being on the clock ... and getting paid.</p><p>Still, that was then -- the pre-digital, pre-internet, pre-cell phone, pre-everything-about-modern-life era -- and this is now, so the question hung in the air: could this film hold up after all these years?</p><p>Did it <i><b>ever</b></i>, and then some. </p><p>I have no idea if younger generations have tuned into the <i><b>Talking Heads</b></i>, or if they're so besotted with Hip Hop, Beyonce, Taylor Swift, and the synthetic auto-tuned pop music of modern times that they dismiss anything older as dusty relics of a primitive era, but they really should -- and there can be no better introduction to the power and creative genius of David Byrne and his band than <b style="font-style: italic;">Stop Making Sense</b>. Their performance in this film is a brilliantly theatrical blend of music and dance that simply will not allow you to just sit and watch: young or old, you're gonna have to get up and move at some point during that hour and a half. </p><p>It's fucking great -- even better than I remembered.</p><p>Truth be told, I was in something of a funk that night. Sometimes the grim reality of getting old joins with a sense of despair that our world really is falling apart, and together these dark forces kick me into a pit that can be hard to escape. The baying hounds of existential angst were hot on my heels before I slipped <i><b>Stop Making Sense</b></i> into the player, but with the opening notes of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psycho_Killer"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Psycho Killer</b></i></span></a>, those Dogs from Hell vanished into the ether. The next ninety minutes were like dancing on Cloud Nine. As silly as it sounds, the film created a feeling of real hope, and I'm still surfing that high a week later. </p><p>Granted, it was sobering to realize that this message of hope came from nearly forty years ago, like the dazzling light of some distant, long-dead supernova, when I -- and <i><b>The Talking Heads</b></i> -- were still young, but hope dies last, as the saying goes, and comes as a welcome tonic to the toxicity of modern times.</p><p>The only tinge of regret I have is that I didn't go to one of the four shows the band played at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood, where the filming was done. As good as this film is, being there would have been an epic -- dare I say, ecstatic -- life experience of the sort that don't come along very often. My apartment was just a few miles from the Pantages at the time, but I was working very long hours on commercials and music videos in those days, when it usually wasn't possible to do anything but go home, inhale a few drinks, then go face-down on the bed after work. Toiling in the film business inevitably conflicts with so much of real life, and such is the price we pay. </p><p>Check this movie out, kiddos -- you really will be glad you did.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNbz5yFXD6l2ZPo452IlHUogmS2FSgGkWrfMdK8yrR0h5ULTmu637LVaqO-CMrdjZlIxCnenG-wL2yB88f0FuXOYFdhfu8UyoDxH_s79mX3NeNsj8PqSkirkMeZXR4JAXRTs3zZUR_ID18MeD-vavnCz3BKvXF7RmMGc38KqDBpamm6bLvWXRQARsfJlY/s1080/WGA%20SAG%20Unity.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1078" data-original-width="1080" height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNbz5yFXD6l2ZPo452IlHUogmS2FSgGkWrfMdK8yrR0h5ULTmu637LVaqO-CMrdjZlIxCnenG-wL2yB88f0FuXOYFdhfu8UyoDxH_s79mX3NeNsj8PqSkirkMeZXR4JAXRTs3zZUR_ID18MeD-vavnCz3BKvXF7RmMGc38KqDBpamm6bLvWXRQARsfJlY/w400-h399/WGA%20SAG%20Unity.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>So the strike drags on. It's very good that the actors -- unlike the DGA -- read the writing on the wall and decided to join the writers on strike. Solidarity counts, and I have to believe this will hasten an agreement of some kind ... but God knows when that'll happen. Disney CEO Bob Iger took time out from counting the $100,000 or so that he rakes in every single work day of the week to chastise the WGA as being <a href="https://variety.com/2023/tv/news/bob-iger-writers-actors-strike-disney-ceo-1235669169/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">unrealistic</span></a> in their demands, but I suppose this "How <i><b>dare</b></i> the help get so uppity!" attitude is to be expected from a guy whose nearly $700 million fortune bought him a giant yacht - among other things - with which to escape the mundane realities that dog those who do the heavy lifting at the keyboard and on set in Hollywood. Then there was <a href="https://www.thedailybeast.com/hollywood-studio-execs-plan-to-starve-out-striking-writers-report"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a> entirely damning and revealing quote from an AMPTP member:</p><p><i> "The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses." </i></p><p>That's what's called "saying the silent part out loud." So much for "bargaining in good faith."</p><p>Still, the entire industry from top to bottom is finally feeling the economic ramifications of the digital revolution, which seems a long way from over. Yes, the CEOs are still raking in absurdly huge amounts of money, but the squeeze is hitting their companies as well, and the uncertainty over how this will all play out tempts them to kick the can down the road as long as possible before making the hard decisions required to settle the strike. In <a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/07/19/1188650553/the-changing-hollywood-landscape"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this interview</span></a> -- again from <i><b>Fresh Air</b></i> -- Bloomberg reporter Lucas Shaw explains how the television industry evolved from the days of broadcast networks to cable to streaming, and how some of the biggest players in Hollywood nowadays are corporations for whom making television and movies is a secondary concern. That's worrisome. A company whose sole business is film and television would be more motivated to reach a deal quickly than a giant corporation with its sticky fingers in many economic pies. We haven't seen the last, nor perhaps the most fundamental, of changes that continue to upend the Hollywood landscape and impact the lives of everyone who works there. </p><p>Maybe this strike won't end until the producers really do succeed in starving out the writers and actors ... or they could save themselves and everybody else -- including thousands of below-the-line workers who've been put out of work through no actions or fault of their own -- a lot of needless pain by realizing that it's time to stop making threats and start making sense.</p><p>Fingers crossed.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*************************************</span></p><p>NPR's <i><b>Fresh Air</b></i> recently broadcast <a href="https://www.wnyc.org/story/timothy-olyphant-on-justified-deadwood-and-marshals-who-interpret-the-law"><span style="color: #ffa400;">an interview</span></a> with Timothy Olyphant, who first came to my attention in the David Milch epic <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deadwood_(TV_series)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Deadwood</b></i></span></a>, then as the star of an excellent episodic drama called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Justified_(TV_series)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Justified</b></i></span></a> that ran from 2010 until 2015, when the show was brought to a logical conclusion. FX is rebooting the character of Raylan Givens from <i><b>Justified</b></i> in a new drama called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Justified:_City_Primeval"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Justified: City Primeval</b></i></span></a> set in Detroit, so Olyphant was doing his duty promoting the show. </p><p>For what it's worth, <i><b>Fresh Air</b></i> made a point of explaining that the interview was recorded before SAG decided to join the WGA strike.</p><p>It's a good interview, with Olyphant telling what it was like -- and how much he learned -- working with David Milch and the veteran cast of <i><b>Deadwood</b></i>, the occasional awkwardness of working on screen with his daughter in the new show, and about the process of acting on screen, among other things. I haven't seen his new show, but thoroughly enjoyed listening to this interview. Maybe you will too.</p><p>Finally, here's <a href="https://variety.com/2017/film/opinion/harry-dean-stanton-tribute-appreciation-lucky-1202561399/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">another good one</span></a> from the keyboard of Joe Leydon, who I mentioned in last month's post. Joe's long tenure as a film critic brought him interviews with some of the best and most interesting people in our business -- this month's selection is from 2017, when he sat down to talk with the late, great Harry Dean Stanton. It's a great read, very much worth your time.</p><p>So, here we are in August already. Summer seemed to stretch out forever when I was a kid, but now it's gone in the proverbial blink of an eye. Assuming that you're not sweltering in unbearable heat or fleeing from the flames of rampaging wildfires, enjoy what's left of this summer while you can.</p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-65794918790222321262023-07-02T09:01:00.001-07:002023-07-02T09:01:00.134-07:00July: the Golden Month<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91jwcfH3R_t_6lUpcPDihFiU_WadupS55mW91W3341KLPIvSvanhWaiX7YPYsajN4IAcU5vVZlGnJqgFoTkkgsHVzRjGXN5ToosQJe5le7ptyV6TeuuqMeA9SpkkWh2r7PUyoJXDXAeCbJNkFfsrVSa3V1fbyg-HaU2CU6ER76Z_7iCpS4Q2FwMmB1xE/s4096/Alan%20Arkin%20dead.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="4096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91jwcfH3R_t_6lUpcPDihFiU_WadupS55mW91W3341KLPIvSvanhWaiX7YPYsajN4IAcU5vVZlGnJqgFoTkkgsHVzRjGXN5ToosQJe5le7ptyV6TeuuqMeA9SpkkWh2r7PUyoJXDXAeCbJNkFfsrVSa3V1fbyg-HaU2CU6ER76Z_7iCpS4Q2FwMmB1xE/w400-h400/Alan%20Arkin%20dead.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>I don't suppose it makes much sense to be surprised when an 89-year-old man passes away -- nine decades is a long time to walk this earth -- but the death of Alan Arkin still came as a shock. I don't know why, but he just seemed to be eternal in a way -- not like some comic book superhero, but as a good man and wonderful actor who found so many ways to remain relevant while doing terrific work over a sixty-plus year professional career. </p><p>I first noticed him in <i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Russians_Are_Coming,_the_Russians_Are_Coming"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming!</span></a> </span></b></i>back in the mid-60s, then again as "Yossarian" in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catch-22_(film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Catch 22</b></i></span></a> a few years later. He went on to appear in <a href="https://variety.com/2023/film/features/alan-arkin-tribute-appreciation-little-miss-sunshine-1235659783/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">dozens of movies</span></a> I only half-remember at this point, and I last saw him in the Netflix comedy <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Kominsky_Method"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Kominsky Method</b></i></span></a>, in which he portrays an elderly agent and old pal of an equally long-in-the-tooth acting teacher played by Michael Douglas. Arken played all sorts of roles, but his wheelhouse was portraying a flawed but essentially decent man trying, while often failing, to do the right thing amid very difficult situations: a guy whose heart was always in the right place. That he'd been around forever and was still working gave me the sense that he'd always be turning up on screen in yet another memorable role ... but life doesn't work like that -- instead, it giveth then taketh away -- and now it's taken Alan Arkin.</p><p>I only worked with him once, on a low-budget feature called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Full_Moon_High"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Full Moon High</b></i></span></a>, written and directed by the inimitable <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larry_Cohen"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Larry Cohen</span></a> back in the very early 80s. As my first full feature working with a crew of ex-pat University of Texas grads led by DP <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daniel_Pearl_(cinematographer)"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Daniel Pearl</span></a> (who'd cut his cinematic teeth shooting <i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Texas_Chain_Saw_Massacre"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Texas Chainsaw Massacre</span></a> </span></b></i>before coming to Hollywood), this movie was a big deal to me at the time. After doing two features as a production assistant and two more as a grip -- all woefully micro-budget gigs that paid peanuts -- I'd finally landed a spot on a solid crew at a decent rate of pay. I was the low man on the totem pole, of course, but had found my first tribe in Hollywood. It was a memorable shoot in so many ways -- a true learning experience. The movie itself is something of a mess, but those lingering few of you who've been reading this blog from the early days might be surprised how many of the stories here came from <i><b>Full Moon High</b></i>. </p><p>Alan Arkin had just a small role (his son Adam was the lead), but for a young man just getting started in Hollywood, being on set with a star I'd watched and admired for so long was a real thrill. Plus, he was a nice guy, which goes a long way with film crews. Truth be told, we were all lucky to have him for so long, but I hate to see the good ones go -- and Alan Arkin was one of the really good ones.</p><p>RIP.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NfrhWc8F4_tYeCiePO1iqRG4CFaI4PtEr4bPHWsqw-AjXNxJQ3sH4DoGtPihhTJfNjjjQWwcWZfmU-CyKy4ldiuNpJvFZlLe9njpQYVAT6OBq2VfsOqmfYlwG68o6coqZ8wNjSa5rjROR6dqFzhdLBqjiAp55BgMANWu5c4GYxoPcv5MbXoodOe_mKk/s1015/Freddie%20Forest%20in%20Apocalypse%20Now.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="1015" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NfrhWc8F4_tYeCiePO1iqRG4CFaI4PtEr4bPHWsqw-AjXNxJQ3sH4DoGtPihhTJfNjjjQWwcWZfmU-CyKy4ldiuNpJvFZlLe9njpQYVAT6OBq2VfsOqmfYlwG68o6coqZ8wNjSa5rjROR6dqFzhdLBqjiAp55BgMANWu5c4GYxoPcv5MbXoodOe_mKk/w400-h199/Freddie%20Forest%20in%20Apocalypse%20Now.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Hollywood took another loss this week with the passing of <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/frederic-forrest-dead-apocalypse-now-the-rose-1235523124/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Freddie Forrest</span></a>, who appeared to be on the very cusp of stardom back when I was just getting started, with solid roles in <i><b>Apocalypse Now</b></i>, <i><b>The Conversation</b></i>, <i><b>Hammet</b></i>, and <i style="font-weight: bold;">One From the Heart</i>, among other notable films of that era ... but for some reason never managed to break through. He was a solid actor who kept working and had a decent career, mostly in television over the latter half of his career, but never elbowed his way into the full heat of the spotlight. He died this past week something of a forgotten man, which had to be rough for someone with that resumé. Then again, who knows? I hope he didn't have many regrets as the end neared, but maybe none of that matters when you're lingering on death's door.</p><p>I guess he finally <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbFvAaO9j8M"><span style="color: #ffa400;">got off the boat</span></a> </span>after all. So long, Freddie. May you rest in peace -- and thanks.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*****************************************</span></p><p>Turning away from death, loss, and all that depressing stuff ... one of this blog's strongest supporters from way the early days -- key grip, dolly grip, and steadicam operator Sanjay Sami -- was recently highlighted in a <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/06/21/movies/wes-anderson-asteroid-city-camera-moves.html?"><span style="color: #ffa400;">New York Times piece</span></a> that described the crucial role he plays in crafting the films of Wes Anderson. </p><p>As the opening paragraph tells it: </p><p><i>"Sanjay Sami, a native of Mumbai, India, got his start on Bollywood movies and has been working with Anderson since 2006, mostly as a dolly grip. It's a rough job, pushing and pulling a camera mounted on a dolly -- a setup weighing up to 900 pounds -- along hundreds of feet of track built for a scene, and Sami has engineered, invented, and refined it into an art form. On a typical move, a dolly might move the camera left to right or back and forth. In the Wesiverse it goes in all those directions -- and sometimes up and down, too -- in a single tracking shot, allowing, Anderson said, for unbroken expression."</i></p><p><i>"It means the actors can stay in real time, and you can create something that really exists, in front of the camera."</i></p><p><i>"Equal parts ingenious designer, D.I.Y. repair guru, rail engineer, cineaste and athlete, Sami is, according to many cast and crew members, Anderson's secret weapon." </i></p><p>There's a lot more good stuff in that piece, so I hope the link will smuggle you in past the NYT paywall ... but if not, e-mail me at the address up there on the right-- just under the gloves photo -- and I'll send it to you. The thing is, reading about the Sanjay/Anderson camera moves is a pale substitute for seeing them in action -- which you can do <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://nofilmschool.com/sanjay-sami-long-take-french-dispatch"><span style="color: #ffa400;">right here</span></a> </span>-- and if you want more on the magic of Sanjay Sami, here's an <a href="http://www.dollygrippery.net/2020/04/friend-sanjay-sami-has-become-one-of.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">excellent print interview</span></a> from the keyboard of Darryl Humber, a veteran dolly grip who writes with a fluid-but-punchy grace that matches his skill at pushing dolly on set.</p><p>One last note: the <i><b>Variety</b></i> piece on Alan Arkin I linked to is by long-time film critic Joe Leydon, who also runs <a href="http://www.movingpictureblog.com/"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Moving Picture Blog</b></i></span></a>. Joe is a great writer and it's an excellent blog, so check it out. </p><p>That's it for July, kiddos. Yes, the strike goes on as I sit here at this keyboard -- with SAG kicking their Big Decision can down the road for a couple of weeks -- but I hope you find a way to ignore all that and get out to <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2011/07/summertime.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">enjoy</span></a> this most golden month of the summer. </p><p>Life is short, so get it while you can.</p><p></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-21428131030808248662023-06-04T09:01:00.046-07:002023-06-04T09:46:45.210-07:00June<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkniSdMvFkr5CidmjCT8yrYAaVIgMxUhBg6f1xSmi8JD9G1qRjiMaVkYK1Yqc_H9o8PNC6hBhKHET-yZkr0BAJyy37dIeVDUTJo0YTXqeuwCFk3LH0vqYdA1KYVRH-_0SoZGilpZlJbTtp3NkJIHjNX4GjT78FYS9jfLnKO7R8Kfj60w2TZH9leR_/s2777/Caddyshack.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2777" data-original-width="1743" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkniSdMvFkr5CidmjCT8yrYAaVIgMxUhBg6f1xSmi8JD9G1qRjiMaVkYK1Yqc_H9o8PNC6hBhKHET-yZkr0BAJyy37dIeVDUTJo0YTXqeuwCFk3LH0vqYdA1KYVRH-_0SoZGilpZlJbTtp3NkJIHjNX4GjT78FYS9jfLnKO7R8Kfj60w2TZH9leR_/w251-h400/Caddyshack.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><p>The quest to read all the books hauled from LA to my retirement shack in the woods continues, and this month's pick was <i><b>Caddyshack: the Making of a Hollywood Cinderella Story</b></i>. As you might imagine, it's quite a story, even if the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caddyshack"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Caddyshack</b></i></span></a> movie isn't seriously addressed until a hundred pages in. Prior to that the book describes how the <i><b>Harvard Lampoon</b></i> led to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Lampoon_(magazine)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The National Lampoon</b></i></span></a>, a humor magazine that was huge among my generation during our larval years in college, thanks to the scalding take-no-prisoners satire of its writers -- and covers like this: </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fX7WE1usyFz98vpQfG2LWPH26d9Z8ZlhtCPGQzKkrsjBfMFSNfgrr1ooV8tOdrEAGl7iG5Agyep3BHkKEvuSqZvVGJtunUREokMzY1nticSJQqbfIbK9mRS2F_11At7QfiTcsuYTh6xTzZcjsllmAkBnS3ZkIRKHZ7ExvPc5_cN9Gx2vl5xl6m50/s1600/National%20Lampoon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fX7WE1usyFz98vpQfG2LWPH26d9Z8ZlhtCPGQzKkrsjBfMFSNfgrr1ooV8tOdrEAGl7iG5Agyep3BHkKEvuSqZvVGJtunUREokMzY1nticSJQqbfIbK9mRS2F_11At7QfiTcsuYTh6xTzZcjsllmAkBnS3ZkIRKHZ7ExvPc5_cN9Gx2vl5xl6m50/s320/National%20Lampoon.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>With lively prose deftly tailored to the subject matter, the book describes how the success of movies like <span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animal_House"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Animal House</span></a> </b></i></span>and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meatballs_(film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Meatballs</b></i></span></a> -- which made stars of John Belushi and Bill Murray -- set the stage for Orion Pictures to entrust a six million dollar budget to first time director Harold Ramis. Orion was a new company at the time, led by Mike Medavoy and his fellow refugees from the United Artists meltdown following the financial <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2022/07/just-for-hell-of-it-episode-65.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">catastrophe</span></a> of Heaven's Gate. Medavoy was eager to cater to and capitalize on the then-young Baby Boom generation, which was smitten by the biting humor of <i><b>Saturday Night Live</b></i> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_City_Television"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Second City Television</b></i></span></a>, and flocked to any movie that skewered the ripe cultural, social, and political targets of those days.</p><p>Still, this was a big roll of the dice. Six million dollars then would be more than twenty-two million today, which is a lot of money to hand a first-time director, especially with a cast headlined by a volitile and unpredictable Bill Murray, who'd famously come to blows with <b><i>Caddyshack</i></b> co-star Chevy Chase backstage at <i><b>SNL</b></i> long before either signed to do this movie. Adding Rodney Dangerfield -- who'd never done a movie and had no idea what the process entailed -- to the mix was another wild card, especially with an incomplete and ever-changing script. Toss in the rampant use of cocaine back in those days (hey, it was filmed in Florida...) and a country club that gave permission to film on their golf course only after being promised that the massive explosion in the movie's climax would be done somewhere else (another Hollywood lie), and it seems a miracle that this project ever made it to theatrical release. </p><p>It's a wild story very well told about an idea that became a script which then morphed into a completely different movie once the cast and crew were filming on location in Florida. What began as a story about class warfare between hardscrabble caddies and rich golfers in a posh country club turned into -- among other things -- the tale of Bill Murray as the course groundskeeper battling a determined and apparently invincible gopher. As every Hollywood veteran knows, making any movie can be a roller coaster ride of unexpected twists and crises amidst relentless hard work, but <b style="font-style: italic;">Caddyshack </b><span>was ... something else.</span><br /></p><p>Having read the book, I had to watch the movie again, which I hadn't seen since its initial release way back in the last century. It's silly but fun, with some great stuff -- mostly from Rodney Dangerfield and Ted Knight -- but for me the real hit was <i><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0354351/"><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Caddyshack: the 19th Hole</span></b></a></i>, a "special features" behind-the-scenes documentary on the Blu Ray disc about all that went on during the location filming. It's a short, audio-visual version of the book, including interviews with director Howard Ramis and several of the actors, and is well worth watching if you can find it.<br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazq_FuMGwVP9NEnrXTaMmNePq9k8K6jmJNCZ2-eKyFnV_siBE5ouRWDbFDAkai3E86DYWfB_9C5criWHFlkSysYZPmCniJdq5A7wsXVSSXeRY5R4CFRozQwl0ggamOhalleP0-7UJioELPW_HRE3gc3AyPSy8WtG_azCdiPmY3p4z7lzfqP2tX2pX/s2048/WGA%20Wars.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazq_FuMGwVP9NEnrXTaMmNePq9k8K6jmJNCZ2-eKyFnV_siBE5ouRWDbFDAkai3E86DYWfB_9C5criWHFlkSysYZPmCniJdq5A7wsXVSSXeRY5R4CFRozQwl0ggamOhalleP0-7UJioELPW_HRE3gc3AyPSy8WtG_azCdiPmY3p4z7lzfqP2tX2pX/w285-h400/WGA%20Wars.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><br /><p>So the strike grinds on with no end in sight. Last I heard the WGA and producers weren't talking to each other, which does not bode well. SAG/AFTRA authorized a strike and there's hope - however faint - that the DGA might do so as well, if they don't (as one striking writer put it) "throw us under the bus."* </p><p>Should all three guilds go out, this could get settled fairly soon, but as wonderful as "solidarity" sounds when the booze is flowing and the crowd is chanting, the appeal tends to fade as the end of the month comes and another big check for the rent or mortgage is due. We'll see. </p><p>Meanwhile, <i><b>The Hollywood Reporter </b></i>has been running columns from anonymous writers on the picket lines, offering an in-the-trenches view of the strike -- like <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/general-news/strike-diary-week-1-old-money-no-money-1235484823/?"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a>, and <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/general-news/strike-diary-week-1-the-pr-war-writers-strike-1235485833/?"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a>, and <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/general-news/writers-strike-diary-mid-career-drama-writer-1235491408/? "><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a>. </p><p>Oh, and <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/anonymous-strike-diary-week-3-well-known-creator-1235495502/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a>. <br /></p><p>And <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/writers-strike-eastside-warrior-stretching-final-paychecks-1235503330/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a>.</p><p>I don't know if those links will get you past the HR paywall, but it's worth a try. I don't subscribe, mind you, but for some reason they let me read selected articles.</p><p>Another factor in this strike are the teamsters, who are supporting the WGA. <i><b>Vanity Fair</b></i> ran <a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2023/05/meet-the-writers-strikes-secret-weapon-hollywood-teamsters-boss-lindsay-dougherty?"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this interview</span></a> with the head of Local 399 Lindsay Dougherty, a very impressive bad-ass who isn't taking any shit from the AMPTP, and has some interesting things to say. Another voice weighing in on the reasons for and importance of this strike is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Simon"><span style="color: #ffa400;">David Simon</span></a>, former Baltimore Sun reporter turned showrunner of <i><b>The Wire</b></i>, <i><b>Treme</b></i>, <i><b>Generation Kill</b></i>, <i><b>The Plot Against America</b></i>, and many other shows. In this <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/05/19/1177194215/tv-writer-david-simon-weighs-in-on-the-writers-guild-of-america-strike"><span style="color: #ffa400;">NPR</span></a><a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/05/19/1177194215/tv-writer-david-simon-weighs-in-on-the-writers-guild-of-america-strike"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> interview</span></a></span>, Simon lays out what's a stake in stark terms. It's worth a listen. For another insider view, here's a <a href="https://twitter.com/howardrodman/status/1659585215143059456"><span style="color: #ffa400;">short twitter thread</span></a> from the son of Howard Rodman. His dad, Howard Rodman Sr., wrote for <i><b>Route 66</b></i> and <i><b>The Naked City</b></i> among other shows back in the day when there was no writers room -- just two "story editors" and a few freelancers. Writing a weekly one-hour episodic drama for a broadcast network was - and is - a serious grind even today with a full writer's room, but back then it was brutal. Rodman Jr. lays out a case that such a merciless schedule led to his dad's early death. Maybe so and maybe not - there's no way to know - but as every below-the-line workbot in Hollywood knows, the physical and emotional toll exacted by working at a relentless pace is not trivial.</p><p>But if you're in the industry -- in which case you're probably out of work right now -- and none of those links appeal or interest you enough to click, <a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/05/22/1177499010/the-hollywood-writers-strike-the-future-of-tv"><span style="color: #ffa400;">here's one</span></a> you really should check out: a 45 minute conversation with NY Times media reporter John Koblin in which he lays out what the strike is about, what the stakes are, the relative postions of the writers, producers, and streamers, the looming threat of AI, how the boom years of Peak TV led to the current semi-bust and retrenchment by the streamers, and what that means for everybody who depends on the film and television industry to make a living. It's the best, most concise explanation of what the WGA, and thus the rest of Hollywood, is up against. </p><p>There's probably a path for the writers to get some of what they want in terms of more money. I won't pretend to know what an agreement might include -- the issues of shorter seasons, Development Rooms and Mini Rooms are thorny, to say the least -- but when it comes to AI, that genie is already out of the bottle, and will only get stronger, smarter, and more capable with each passing day. When's the last time a revolutionary new technology -- especially one that holds the promise of saving gobs of money that will then flow into the already bulging wallets of network executives -- has <i><b>ever</b></i> been stuffed back into that apocryphal bottle? And if, as Koblin says, the writers seek to deny networks the ability to use AI to generate scripts while reserving their own right to use it when facing the blank screen and blinking cursor of writer's block, well, that's just not gonna fly. </p><p>If the DGA and SAG will man-up, woman-up, cowboy-up -- pick your suck-it-up cliché -- and join the strike, this could turn around fast, but that seems unlikely to happen until their contracts expire at the end of this month. </p><p>On a lighter note, here's a <a href="https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/tnyradiohour/segments/behind-tom-hanks"><span style="color: #ffa400;">terrific interview</span></a> with Tom Hanks that ran on the <i><b>New Yorker Radio Hour</b></i> a couple of weeks back. Yes, Hanks is on tour promoting his <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/07/books/tom-hanks-the-making-of-another-major-motion-picture-masterpiece.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">new</span></a><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/07/books/tom-hanks-the-making-of-another-major-motion-picture-masterpiece.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> book</span></a></span>, but there's a lot more than that in this interview, including several great inside stories of working on some of his most popular movies. Definitely worth a listen -- and if you have a hankering for yet more Hanks (ahem...), here's a <a href="https://www.msnbc.com/the-beat-with-ari/watch/tom-hanks-on-progress-and-characters-who-do-what-s-right-i-msnbc-summit-series-174661189872"><span style="color: #ffa400;">half-hour</span></a> he recently did for MSNBC talking about his life in the business, among other things. There's not as much overlap in those two interviews as you might expect, so check 'em out.</p><p>This being June, with graduation ceremonies happening all over the country -- including film schools -- it seems an appropriate time for another <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2013/05/chasing-dream.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Blast from the Past</b></i></span></a>, a post from ten years ago that's every bit as relevant today as it was then. Read it and weep, film school grads ... then go out and get your careers going. Hollywood really is a boom-and-bust industry, and although we're currently in Bust Mode, this too shall pass.</p><p>Good luck, kiddos. There's always light at the end of the tunnel, even if it sometimes turns out to be a train, so keep the faith. If you work hard enough and long enough, you might one day be able to help create a bit of movie magic like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fxa3j8bK-c4"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a>.</p><p><br /></p><p><i>* Which, it seems, might be exactly what the DGA </i><span style="color: #ffa400; font-style: italic;"><a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/general-news/striking-writers-react-to-dga-tentative-deal-1235506889/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">did</span></a>.</span></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-15353074169547398912023-05-07T09:01:00.092-07:002023-05-07T09:01:00.139-07:00What Might Have Been<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFTvzwwxXnvCxyHgjtWMWStuBJlJZd3_XDyDIWxA5wzq_AAAyWqwlo-piq0_oB0G6ToLa3AHYlvell5QS-NENa7TdznlglVZFiw5-sSOQhf8zCBKMmeNM-y0bz9jshcd1ZKvtzN9LIBMir-2ponYJERmzjhhFU6V5EZTvnteWs6nuZruzTOE_BIm0/s1320/Jerry%20Springer.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="1320" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFTvzwwxXnvCxyHgjtWMWStuBJlJZd3_XDyDIWxA5wzq_AAAyWqwlo-piq0_oB0G6ToLa3AHYlvell5QS-NENa7TdznlglVZFiw5-sSOQhf8zCBKMmeNM-y0bz9jshcd1ZKvtzN9LIBMir-2ponYJERmzjhhFU6V5EZTvnteWs6nuZruzTOE_BIm0/w400-h305/Jerry%20Springer.webp" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> "For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'</i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">From <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maud_Muller"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Maud Muller</span></a>, by John Geenleaf Whittier</span></i></p><p></p><p>I've never been a fan of daytime television, probably because my family didn't get a TV until I was seven or eight years old, when we were gifted a hand-me-down black and white set that was only used at night -- and my parents decided what we'd watch. When I wanted to see the weekly broadcast of <i><b>Chillers from Science Fiction</b></i>, I'd sneak downstairs very late -- on a <i>school night</i> -- while the rest of the house was sound asleep, then turn the volume <u>way</u> down to avoid detection while sitting very close to the screen mesmerized by movies like <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Beast_from_20,000_Fathoms"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms</b></i></span></a>. Until the Kennedy assassination and its grim aftermath -- day after day of news coverage, Oswald being captured and shot on camera, the funeral and procession through Washington DC -- our television was never on during daylight hours. This was hardly something to celebrate, though ... it was the first time I ever saw my dad cry.</p><p>During my college years, marooned at home for the summer with a badly broken leg thanks to a <i>very</i> poor decision while riding a motorcycle, I finally succumbed to the lure of daytime TV. Every day I'd hobble up the stairs on crutches (my parents had downsized to a smaller house) to have lunch while my mom watched her favorite soap operas. Of course I thought they were ridiculous -- they were and are -- but after sneering at them for a couple of weeks I began to follow the various melodramatic storylines. Months later, when I came home from school for the Christmas break, mom would fill me in on what had happened. It was rare bit of mother/son bonding, and although I still thought soaps were ridiculous, I'd come to understand that they really do fill a need for many people. </p><p>Besides, who am I to judge? People like what they like, and that's their business, not mine.</p><p>Cut to thirty-some years later, when I'm reporting for work at the studio as the "extra man" on a sitcom called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodney_(TV_series)"><i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Rodney</span></b></i></a>, starring country music singer Rodney Carrington. I worked quite a bit on that show, which was always a hoot -- Rodney was a good guy, and that lighting crew knew how to have fun on the job. The director was still rehearsing the cast, so I tiptoed into the set lighting office to find my two fellow juicers howling with laughter at the antics of some guy named "Jerry Springer" on the gold room TV. Curious as to what this was all about, I sat down to watch in slack-jawed astonishment as one guest after another sat before the cameras confessing to every imaginable sexual indiscretion: husbands having sex with their mothers-in-law, wives having sex with their next-door neighbors, and a series of unwed mothers who had no idea which of the <i>many</i> men Jerry brought on stage might be the father of their baby. I'd grown up out in the sticks milking goats and feeding our cows, so the Sodom and Gomorrah of the apparently sex-crazed cities and suburbs represented a side of America foreign to me. </p><p>Although it was entertaining in a bizarre, carnival-attraction way, I felt somehow unclean for sharing in the spectacle, and it took me a while to understand what was most bothersome: that these people were so open in sharing their peccadilloes on a national television broadcast, or that I was laughing just as hard as everybody else. It was both, really. Although many among us have strayed into the danger zone of extra-marital liaisons at one time or another,<i> </i>I don't know anybody who'd proudly confess their sins on TV to a live, hooting audience. </p><p>Soon the rehearsals were over, so we strapped on our tool belts and got to work, but I now knew about Jerry Springer, and I was not impressed. He was just another amoral manipulative huckster egging on the rubes to humiliate themselves in public, proving that some people really will do anything for money.</p><p>So imagine my surprise a few years later when a radio show called <b><i>This American Life</i></b> ran a thirty-minute segment describing how <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/04/27/arts/television/jerry-springer-dead.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Jerry Springer</b></i></span></a> came to be a television carnival barker -- but more to the point, what he <i>could</i> have been, and very nearly was. Truth be told, the story blew my mind. Everybody's heard the Cliff Notes version by now: a young city councilman in Ohio who was dumb enough to pay for the services of a prostitute with a check, ending his political career -- then suddenly he's hosting <i><b>The Jerry Springer Show</b></i>. It turns out there's a lot more to this story, which is in equal measure fascinating and sad. I won't say anything more here -- no spoilers from me -- other than to urge you to find a spare half hour, then sit down and listen. It really is an <span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b><a href="https://www.thisamericanlife.org/258/leaving-the-fold/act-one"><span style="color: #ffa400;">astonishing story</span></a>.</b></i></span></p><p><span>And hey, you've got time to burn now that the strike is on</span>, so give it a listen.</p><p><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkOqNyXZGKc9x3fsqs1EADlV70D_LybCYQcTFcH2e79vy7E9LT3LulCijRViU9Ib31CwSll-3YafXKr_iLzE18c29wWkDbqXcpNdpOj7exApenCJeaUctbtWLR1O2_nVqyXZXybsM2x4gsUFdXIPjmBFikLfEiwMclrOWiDgcrmY_Inh_ZEKSYQZIA/s1485/WGA%20on%20strike%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1485" data-original-width="1485" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkOqNyXZGKc9x3fsqs1EADlV70D_LybCYQcTFcH2e79vy7E9LT3LulCijRViU9Ib31CwSll-3YafXKr_iLzE18c29wWkDbqXcpNdpOj7exApenCJeaUctbtWLR1O2_nVqyXZXybsM2x4gsUFdXIPjmBFikLfEiwMclrOWiDgcrmY_Inh_ZEKSYQZIA/w400-h400/WGA%20on%20strike%202023.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Speaking of the strike: pickets are now walking the studio gates, and the battle is joined. We've been down this <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2007/11/collateral-damage.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">road before</span></a>, and it's not a path anybody wants to travel, especially below-the-line workers who feel a deep and foreboding resonance with the ancient proverb: "When elephants fight, the grass is trampled." Then as now, the crews who do the heavy lifting on set -- grip and electric, camera, sound, set dec, props, hair and makeup, ADs, PAs, stand-ins, locations, and post-production -- are the grass. Directors and the cast of shows suddenly dead in the water are paid well enough that they'll be fine for a while, but the ranks of working actors and hundreds of extras who face a constant struggle to make a living in Hollywood will suffer along with the rest. There's not enough lipstick in Max Factor's massive inventory to beautify this pig of a strike, because it's ugly all the way through. That said, I supported the WGA back in 2007 when I was among the collateral damage of their strike, and I support them now.</p><p>Mary McNamara wrote a <a href="https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/tv/story/2023-05-03/writers-strike-boom-bust-golden-age-gold-rush-column"><span style="color: #ffa400;">good piece</span></a> for the LA Times last week describing the reasons for and importance of this strike, including what struck me as the money quote: </p><p><i>"Streaming exists only because television became a wonder of the modern world. And that happened because it drew some of the most talented, visionary writers and offered them a chance to tell the best stories they could."</i></p><p>True, that. Ever since <i><b>The Sopranos</b></i>, <i><b>The Wire</b></i>, and <i><b>Breaking Bad</b></i> turned the television industry on its ear, working in prestige television (read: cable) became a fever-dream destination for writers who'd yearned to tell the kind of stories broadcast network shows could only dream of, and thus began a second Golden Age of TV. Then came the streamers, eager to harness their slick "new media" technology to the horse-drawn buggy of cable, and they were off to the races. Now that streamers are ubiquitous, the quality of their shows has begun to dim along with their stock prices, because it's not easy to make brilliant television <u>and</u> fat profits via streaming. It turns out that the old dumbed-down advertising-based economic model of broadcast television generated more money for everyone, including the writers. You'll have to look elsewhere for the down-and-dirty details of how residuals were slashed by the streamers (that kind of money-talk makes my eyes roll back in my head) but there's plenty of discussion on the web for anyone interested. The bottom line is this: residuals have long provided an income for writers to keep going during fallow periods between jobs, and with streaming becoming ever more dominant in television, you don't have to be a WGA member to read the writing on the wall. If they don't make a stand now, their future is grim.</p><p>Or course, the future for many in the WGA is likely grim anyway. The glut of programming over the past decade -- labeled "Peak TV" by much smarter people than me -- provided jobs for a <u>lot</u> of new writers. That was great, but the problem with a boom-and-bust industry is that the booms never last, and with streamers trimming their expenditures, many of those new writers will find work very hard to find as the rivers of production shrink. Although another boom is likely at some point in the future, this is where the ugly specter of AI raises its digital head. The technology is advancing so rapidly that it's not unreasonable to wonder if in five years or so AI will be routinely blueprinting plots and story arcs for much of television, or even writing complete, cogent, filmable scripts. Prestige shows will probably need skilled human writers for a long time -- the really good stuff needs a human touch -- but with so many shows essentially formulaic, advanced AI may be able to much of the writing. If that happens, the need for a well-staffed writers' room on many shows could vanish into the digital ether. </p><p>This is what the WGA is up against, and it's a serious threat. If they're stubborn enough, they can probably beat the producers on the residual issue, but holding back the rising tides of any rapidly advancing technology has always been a steep mountain to climb.</p><p>How long the strike will last is anybody's guess, but the one thing we know is that if it doesn't settle soon -- and thus far there's no sign of movement -- a <u>lot</u> of people in Hollywood and beyond will be badly hurt. There's no way to put a smile on this situation, because it well and truly sucks.</p><p>For any non-WGA crew people in the LA area who want to show their support on a picket line, here's <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.wgacontract2023.org/strike/picket-schedules-and-locations"><span style="color: #ffa400;">some information</span></a>.</span></p><p>Good luck, Hollywood. I'm pulling for you.</p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-89526091516061179092023-04-30T11:47:00.003-07:002023-04-30T14:52:20.786-07:00B.O.H.I.C.A.*<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBd537JRMOxXasiwyMjWehgTR3Ny4mfvJsXozrn3NVwgSEOpvRuxyZ6JSjbAhxoPqGKY9pA6ttZpyp1L_5dmI93vBxLWORxUdhcSevBJUYIx7ahKS_GZC1dgTS1XVcVqitbj1ZJimrKCuXw_3NqyRtQnj-8g28AQDfY8tmFKpSQT6UDBw8hfFzs-9/s2160/WGA%20strikers%20Mark%20Boster%20LA%20Times.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1395" data-original-width="2160" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBd537JRMOxXasiwyMjWehgTR3Ny4mfvJsXozrn3NVwgSEOpvRuxyZ6JSjbAhxoPqGKY9pA6ttZpyp1L_5dmI93vBxLWORxUdhcSevBJUYIx7ahKS_GZC1dgTS1XVcVqitbj1ZJimrKCuXw_3NqyRtQnj-8g28AQDfY8tmFKpSQT6UDBw8hfFzs-9/w400-h259/WGA%20strikers%20Mark%20Boster%20LA%20Times.webp" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> Photo by Mark Boster, LA Times</i></span><p></p><p>Today is the day of decision: by tomorrow we should know if another WGA strike has been averted. Looking from afar, I have no inside knowledge as to what will happen, but all that I've read and heard points to the likelihood that a strike will be called, and it could be a long one. I was still working in Hollywood during the last WGA strike, which ran for three months between November 2007 until mid-February of 2008, and it hurt everybody in the business. The issues this time around are an outgrowth of what that strike was about, but this time the issues are even more serious. The threat to writers truly is existential this time around, and the streaming entities will be cutting off their proverbial noses to spite their equally proverbial faces over the long run if they don't come to a reasonable compromise ... but that doesn't mean they'll do the right thing until, as the saying goes, they've tried everything else. </p><p>If then.</p><p><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/04/30/opinion/hollywood-writers-guild-strike.html?smtyp=cur&smid=tw-nytopinion"><span style="color: #ffa400;">This column</span></a> in the New York Times, by a successful working screenwriter in Hollywood, explains the issues at stake -- and here's the money quote:</p><p><span style="font-family: Times;"><i>“Allowing screenwriters to sustain a stable career is absolutely the smartest investment that the industry can make.”</i></span></p><p>He's right. Despite the contractions in the business since the halcyon days of the digital streaming boom, the industry depends on having lots of smart, creative, <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/notes-on-hollywood/why-are-tv-writers-so-miserable"><span style="color: #ffa400;">motivated writers</span></a> to come up with shows the viewing public will love. Sure, they'll watch the inevitable toxic algae bloom of "reality" programming a lengthy strike will generate for a while -- but not forever -- and once the subscription cancellations begin to snowball, those streamer executives who drew a hard line in pre-strike negotiations will come to regret it.</p><p>We all had to absorb the gut-punch of the strike back in 2007/08, and it wasn't fun. There are always ways to get through such lean times, but as I described at the time, it's <a href="http://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/01/little-magic-on-boulevard.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">not easy</span></a>. I'm out of the game now on the sunny beach of retirement, but still have a lot of friends in the biz who really don't need an extended stretch of unemployment -- not after suffering through the Covid shutdown -- so I really hope the producers and streamers will come to their senses and make a fair deal with the writers.</p><p>As Wilford Brimley used to <a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-d&q=wilford+brimley+oatmeal#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:e3398f27,vid:aVIewv1K3CA"><span style="color: #ffa400;">intone</span></a>, "It's the right thing to do."</p><p>It's also the smart thing to do, so, fingers crossed...</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: #000087; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>* Bend over, here it comes again.</i></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-77600942302268112892023-04-20T12:14:00.005-07:002023-04-20T13:55:48.728-07:00April<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-Ube2ed_7QgZPPYJUILNaZPWWlagC4JMO6FRPUbaLRLwcdLPc2Kikyp9c6_WY773t_yJySYDThC9PQB-zued0cOGS0ENjo7aGPalHpMDGmTjq8VXbvArdGzHtKpp-umhCIjRq6jL18Wx-U83JFdr8ZkXNP0N_GHEUKXLt5Ev4TSxM74wlH4HFli8/s600/%22Bather,%22%20by%20Igor%20Belkovsky.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="319" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-Ube2ed_7QgZPPYJUILNaZPWWlagC4JMO6FRPUbaLRLwcdLPc2Kikyp9c6_WY773t_yJySYDThC9PQB-zued0cOGS0ENjo7aGPalHpMDGmTjq8VXbvArdGzHtKpp-umhCIjRq6jL18Wx-U83JFdr8ZkXNP0N_GHEUKXLt5Ev4TSxM74wlH4HFli8/w213-h400/%22Bather,%22%20by%20Igor%20Belkovsky.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>"Bather," by Igor Belkovsky</i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i><br /><div><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div><div>As spring tiptoes in, it was brought to my attention that there was no fresh post here on the first Sunday in April. Yes, I was aware of that. When the energy -- and ideas -- just aren't there, what's an ex-juicer to do?<br /><p>Punt, that's what, and truth be told, I really didn't think anybody would notice. The audience for this blog was never all that wide to begin with -- even in the halcyon days of yore when a particular post resonated, it might garner 2500 views at most -- and now that I'm long gone from working on set, the numbers have dwindled to a mere handful. I get it. Real time stories of drama on set are a lot more interesting and relevant to readers than book and DVD reviews, so no harm, no foul.</p><p>Still, one among those readers reached out to ask if I was okay. She'd noticed the absence of a post, and once you reach the age where a growing number of friends have been lost to the Grim Reaper, you understand that silence can mean Something Bad has happened.<span style="font-size: x-small;">*</span></p><p>Not yet, gentle reader, not yet. The Reaper is coming this way, of that there can be no doubt, but he's still down the block a bit.</p><p>I hope.</p><p>Maybe I'll have a fresh post for May and maybe not -- it's too soon to say. I still have some cleaning up to do from the Noachian Deluge of winter, during which four and a half feet of rain fell along with a virtual forest of branches, and believe it or not, I've been working a lot more on the blog book. I know ... you've heard that before and will doubtless hear it again, but that book turned out to be a much bigger project than I'd anticipated. So it goes.</p><p>Meanwhile, here's an oldie from another April when I was still in the thick of the Hollywood wars. The industry was recovering from the WGA strike at the time, and wouldn't you know it -- another WGA strike now looms. Back then the writers were worried about their income from the new streaming services -- an issue that still bedevils them -- but now there's another monster crawling out from under the bed: AI writing technology, which has the potential to put a lot of writers out of business. </p><p>Good luck, WGA -- I hope you win this one.</p><p>And so without further ado:<i><b> <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/04/april-is-cruelest-month.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">April is the Cruelest Month</span></a></b></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Thanks, Deb!</span></i></p></div>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-26746347119934959562023-03-05T09:01:00.002-08:002023-03-05T11:09:56.324-08:00March<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvB6Zom0E3PeNicwQLYsxIl883y7CbSo6WNxunCxjR02kVNU7BE5S_Dt1yDpwRcV90ugEePI3vvDuWYSvm5cDA23hWVZZqVJBvSXtj3leFDsJZb-dBpH8EGqvDsJkBoclxXUORgQ62hd-Nd_ug4Gav4D7634w0HKEsVQcPvmLniUcCSdl09UF3MpHc/s1295/Poster%2018th%20and%20Grand.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvB6Zom0E3PeNicwQLYsxIl883y7CbSo6WNxunCxjR02kVNU7BE5S_Dt1yDpwRcV90ugEePI3vvDuWYSvm5cDA23hWVZZqVJBvSXtj3leFDsJZb-dBpH8EGqvDsJkBoclxXUORgQ62hd-Nd_ug4Gav4D7634w0HKEsVQcPvmLniUcCSdl09UF3MpHc/w309-h400/Poster%2018th%20and%20Grand.jpg" width="309" /></a></div><br />I was a big fan of boxing once upon a time, having been brought up watching <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6cyy_rziuk"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Gillette Friday Night Fights</span></a>, which were part of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gillette_Cavalcade_of_Sports"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gillette Cavalcade of Sports</span></a>. Every Friday night my dad would tune in our black and white TV to watch bouts between fighters like Bobo Olsen, Dick Tiger, Gene Fullmer, and Carmen Basillio, among many others. My fascination with the sport intensified when the brash, comically rowdy, and undeniably compelling Cassius Clay <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muhammad_Ali_vs._Sonny_Liston"><span style="color: #ffa400;">shocked the world</span></a> by beating Sonny Liston for the heavyweight crown in 1964. Growing up in a lilly-white rural area, I didn't know what to think of this loud young black man, and was astonished that he'd managed to beat big, bad Sonny Liston, whose baleful glare, prison record, and fearsome punching power had convinced most newspaper sports writers that there was no way he could lose to the "Louisville Lip."<p></p><p>But lose he did, after which the new champion of the world changed his name to Muhammed Ali, and the rest is history. I became a huge fan of Ali, followed his career closely all the way until he retired, which made <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2016/06/celebrities.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this day</span></a> in Hollywood very special for me. What I didn't fully grasp back then was that the Mecca of west coast boxing was the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, a legendary venue that hosted everything from wresting to boxing to the hard core punk rock bands of the 1980s. I never saw the inside of the Olympic until taking a call to help light a commercial being filmed there ... and that's when I began to understand what I'd missed. Much like a bull ring, the Olympic was a gladiatorial arena drenched in blood of boxing history.</p><p>That story is very well told in the terrific documentary <a href="https://www.18thandgrand.com/"><i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">18th and Grand: The Olympic Auditorium Story</span></b></i></a>, recently released by GenPop Entertainment, and what a story it is.* This isn't just about boxing, but it's about how things were in Los Angeles back in the day, and what a big role the Olympic had in the 20th century history of this city. This is a great film, well worth seeing. It's not yet available on any of the streaming services, unfortunately -- they drive a very hard bargain for indy filmmakers -- but Blu Ray copies are just twenty bucks, and well worth the price. If you have any interest at all in boxing, wrestling, or the early punk rock scene in LA, you're in for a rollicking good, eye-opening ride.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*************************************</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkFG0e-txRVBxI0dpOqzmgsiDkr94YeA-q9reptQGWo6vZh0HSBoO2a3XE6DPYs-IBdNWCpIECpl4Ik_xPqhpw-I_sSnt1jNYTOzQSxXiyZz_paNE9CbtZnyQ-5CjpUpuu-iqOMWx8wwEtf0cpxTBfJwOdkrd-d4UervRDwxcwYlsfVheJuhsfmgw/s2880/Fire%20of%20Love.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1944" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkFG0e-txRVBxI0dpOqzmgsiDkr94YeA-q9reptQGWo6vZh0HSBoO2a3XE6DPYs-IBdNWCpIECpl4Ik_xPqhpw-I_sSnt1jNYTOzQSxXiyZz_paNE9CbtZnyQ-5CjpUpuu-iqOMWx8wwEtf0cpxTBfJwOdkrd-d4UervRDwxcwYlsfVheJuhsfmgw/w270-h400/Fire%20of%20Love.webp" width="270" /></a></div><p>Another terrific documentary is <a href="https://films.nationalgeographic.com/fire-of-love"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Fire of Love</b></i></span></a>, the story of Katia and Maurice Krafft, two young people who bonded over their mutual fascination with volcanoes and made it their life's work -- a passion so intense that it eventually consumed them. I'd seen a PBS documentary on these two back in the mid-80s, and it pretty much blew my mind at the time, but what I didn't know then -- what nobody knew -- was that just five years later they'd die together doing what they loved: studying and filming an erupting volcano. <i><b>Fire of Love </b></i>is now streaming on Hulu, so check it out. </p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">************************************</span></p><p>After twenty-one years of delivering bland, soothing platitudes to a dedicated audience of needy people desperate for such bromides, <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/tv/tv-news/dr-phil-talk-show-ending-mcgraw-1235315153/"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Dr. Phil Show</b></i></span></a> is finally ending its run -- so now that I'm safely retired and the good <span style="color: #ffa400;">"<a href="https://www.distractify.com/p/is-dr-phil-a-real-doctor"><span style="color: #ffa400;">doctor</span></a>"</span> is exiting stage left with millions of dollars stuffed in his pockets, I can confess that "the Great Man" mentioned in the final anecdote of <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/07/do-not-look-monkey-in-eyes.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this ancient post</span></a> was Dr. Phil. </p><p>Although doubtless beloved by the CBS executives and bean-counters for all the money he brought in, the view of Dr. Phil from below decks at Paramount lot was considerably more jaundiced. His famously volcanic temper and habit of parking very expensive automobiles where they were often in the way of everybody else at the studio did not endear him to those who wear tool belts at work rather than three-piece suits. His show will live on forever in syndication, of course, and keep money flowing into his bank accounts until the end of time ... but will Dr. Phil ever be truly happy?</p><p>I don't know and I don't care. Fuck that guy, and good riddance. </p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">************************************</span></p><p><span>I have to offer a shout out to Darryl Humber, long the primary force behind <a href="http://www.dollygrippery.net"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Dollygrippery</b></i></span></a>, an industry blog dedicated to explaining the fine art of operating dollies and cranes. Darryl started his blog (although he hates that word...) well before my own humble efforts, and encouraged me to keep at it when I wasn't sure I had anything more to say. In late February he received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the <a href="https://soc.org"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Society of Operating Cameramen</b></i></span></a> for his thirty-plus years of exemplary dolly and crane work on feature films and television. Although we've never met, I consider him a friend thanks to our occasional e-mail correspondence and commiseration over the sixteen years BS&T has been on line. </span></p><p><span>If I was in charge of handing out industry nicknames, Darryls would be "Humble," because he never toots his own horn, beats his chest, or swaggers in print, and I have to assume he's the same on set ... but if I was -- and did -- he'd probably hunt me down and run a four hundred pound Fisher dolly over my foot. Since I already have one bent and broken toe from a dolly mishap early in my career, I'll just keep my mouth shut other than to say state the obvious: Darryl's a pro's pro at his craft, and well deserving of this honor.</span></p><p><span>Congratulations, D!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNksXbzFxy_hOoLTkDN5HO5YPYthvSQA7gPcKFYWETCEkRuttVXbczR0UEbecyQO69G9GDGqSc7JWuuhb9w9TUjM2Nx7am-JBcW9Z5SzBDOYXBBPTahcna094d7pfq523GEtxLrHGM2omll1So0lAj_A-vjP8TNQSdz_CdMAWmnx-bEzT5qNfkAUN/s850/Darryl%20Humber%20Lifetime%20Achievement%20Award.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="850" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNksXbzFxy_hOoLTkDN5HO5YPYthvSQA7gPcKFYWETCEkRuttVXbczR0UEbecyQO69G9GDGqSc7JWuuhb9w9TUjM2Nx7am-JBcW9Z5SzBDOYXBBPTahcna094d7pfq523GEtxLrHGM2omll1So0lAj_A-vjP8TNQSdz_CdMAWmnx-bEzT5qNfkAUN/w400-h210/Darryl%20Humber%20Lifetime%20Achievement%20Award.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">**************************************</span></p><p>Finally, for what I can only describe as a cinematic exercise in magical realism, here's a view from below decks in a short film called <a href="https://www.veoh.com/watch/v1145889PSgbgM8P?fbclid=IwAR2QLWWqEsGtAyVf4yH_HU3SaoqKE1tF9-a3uFMa-hkE-59ULy4Q8XNnlFU"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>It's a Grips World</b></i></span></a>, starring the late, great Mike Korkko, along with more than a few of his fellow grips and other below-the-liners. They made this film over the course of months, shooting scenes after work, at lunch, and whenever they could on a variety of sets built for the commercials they were working on at the time. I was doing a lot of commercials back then, and worked a number of jobs with Mike and his crew. Korkko was famous for a lot of things back then, but didn't achieve true below-the-line immortality until this film was finally finished. The visual quality isn't great -- they shot it on early to mid-80s gear, and the images have suffered over the years with duplication -- but it'll give you a glimpse of, and a feel for, the world of commercials back then. It was a fun and lucrative time for us all before the <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/06/oh-canada.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Canadian asteroid</span></a> hit in the late 90s, thus ending life as we knew it in the LA commercial word.</p><p>Ah well, the only constant is change, with the real question being when will it come and how bad will it be.</p><p>That's it 'til April, kiddos. Remember -- beware the <a href="https://www.kcra.com/article/its-the-ides-of-march-but-what-does-that-mean/39440525"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Ides of March</b></i></span></a>.</p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Which is a pretty great name for a production company.</span></i></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 255); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"></span></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-23367478098142396962023-02-05T09:01:00.001-08:002023-02-05T09:01:00.197-08:00When in Disgrace<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYTc9SmzR2gYdfrgDmFNGAT_fBJX4BkYatSd2VsGGhQI0T-kjA1ptrcaNrXUeqDHNqGItWbhUB-Wdoae54v_zSXQAyBu2UzvB2WS3V93Ek5dAYJHrxQWNf8gBg0Y7dwECt-D3Q6p89rXESxJBMP7Sx_zAYlBSX1tfxB6eTk9qkN4eQmr7AVqfFKRo/s500/When%20in%20Disgrace%20from%20Web.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="349" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYTc9SmzR2gYdfrgDmFNGAT_fBJX4BkYatSd2VsGGhQI0T-kjA1ptrcaNrXUeqDHNqGItWbhUB-Wdoae54v_zSXQAyBu2UzvB2WS3V93Ek5dAYJHrxQWNf8gBg0Y7dwECt-D3Q6p89rXESxJBMP7Sx_zAYlBSX1tfxB6eTk9qkN4eQmr7AVqfFKRo/w279-h400/When%20in%20Disgrace%20from%20Web.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>One of the benefits of retirement is finally being able to read the many books I'd bought during my working years, but never had time for. "One of these days," I'd tell myself, and those days are now. I recently pulled my copy of <i><b>When in Disgrace</b></i> down from the shelf where it's been gathering dust for the past thirty years, then sat down by the fire to read. </p><p>I was not disappointed. </p><p>To say that <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Budd_Boetticher"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Budd Boetticher</span></a> led a wild life is a massive understatement. Like several directors of his era, he was raised in a wealthy household -- back then, who else but a rich kid would have the financial freedom and confidence to take a stab at being a director in Hollywood?* After he parents died, the very young Boetticher had the good sense to be adopted by wealthy parents who saw to it that he attended excellent schools where he met other kids from wealthy families, making connections that would eventually pay off in Hollywood. Still, the key to unlocking the film industry door turned out to be his knowledge of bull fighting. Being an athletic young man with a taste for adventure, Boetticher traveled to Mexico with a friend after they were done with college, and there he became entranced with the bloody art of the matador. Deciding to become a bullfighter, he studied the craft under the tutelage of some great Mexican toreros until his mother found out what was going on and cut off his financial support. Desperate to save him from what she considered a lethal, disgusting hobby, she arranged a job for him as a technical advisor on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_and_Sand_(1941_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Blood and Sand</b></i></span></a>, a bullfighting movie directed by Rouben Mamoulian. The job went well, and young man discovered that he liked the movie business. As so often happens in Hollywood, one thing led to another as he worked his way up the Hollywood food chain to become a widely respected director with a knack for making lean, taut movies. Boetticher is known for a series of particularly good westerns known as the <a href="https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/7487-the-shock-of-the-old-seven-men-from-now-and-the-ranown-cycle"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Ranown Cycle</span></a>, starring Randolph Scott. </p><p>Despite his success in Hollywood, he never got over his fascination with bullfighting, and was possessed by a desire to make a documentary about the brutal craft unlike anything that had ever been filmed, so back to Mexico he went to begin the wildest phase of his life. To quote Wikipedia:</p><p><i>"Boetticher spent most of the 1960s south of the border pursuing his obsession, the documentary of his friend, the bullfighter Carlos Arruza, turning down profitable Hollywood offers and suffering humiliation and despair to stay with the project, including sickness, bankruptcy, and confinement in both jail and asylum. Arruza was finally completed in 1968 and released in Mexico in 1971, and the U.S. in 1972."</i></p><p>As the saying goes, that ain't the half of it. </p><p>As I've learned from reading about the making of <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2021/02/what-was-it-like.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Chinatown</b></i></span></a>, <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-french-connection.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The French Connection</b></i></span></a>, <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2017/12/just-for-hell-of-it-episode-46.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Casablanca, High Noon</b></i></span></a> and <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2022/09/september.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Bull Durham</b></i></span></a> -- each book a fascinating, enlightening read -- getting a truly good film made is much more difficult than putting a run-of-the-mill thriller, romcom, biopic, or heist movie up on the silver screen. Still, as hard as it was to put those classics into production, each was pleasant walk in the park compared to what Budd Boetticher went through over the many years it took to finance, shoot, and edit <a href="https://www.tvguide.com/movies/arruza/2000000122/"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Arruza</b></i></span></a>. That he eventually succeeded is a testament to his passion for the subject, a refusal to compromise, and his stubborn willingness to endure whatever it took to finish the film. </p><p>I've been to one bullfight that featured two matadors facing three bulls each, and although that was quite enough, I must admit that it was one of the most transcendent "worst of times/best of times" experiences of my life -- the kind you never forget. My family had embarked on a month long trip to Mexico in the mid-60s, driving our VW bus south from the San Francisco Bay Area to the border at Nogales, Arizona, then on down through Guaymas, Mazatlan, and finally to Guadalajara, where my dad -- who was fascinated by the culture of Mexico -- bought tickets to a bullfight. Having grown up in the country where we'd occasionally slaughter one of our cows to have it butchered and packed into the freezer, I was familiar with the intimate link between life, death, and what appeared on our Saturday night dinner table, but my only exposure to bullfighting came from cartoons and a children's book called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_Ferdinand"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Ferdinand the Bull</b></i></span></a>, none of which prepared me for the up-close-and-personal bloodbath I witnessed in that arena.<span style="font-size: x-small;">**</span> </p><p>I recently tracked down a copy of <i style="font-weight: bold;">Arruza</i>, and although parts of it are embarrassingly stagey -- especially footage shot on the ranch with Carlos Arruza and his family, none of whom were actors -- the bullfighting scenes shot in various arenas are very real, and absolutely riveting. They're also bloody, of course, so be ready for that if you ever have a chance to see the film, because such is the nature of the beast. Although I can't and won't defend bullfighting -- it's a brutally atavistic, horrifying spectacle -- there's no denying the compelling sight of a man alone in a ring, armed with nothing more than a piece of cloth to defend himself against the violent fury of a bull that packs a thousand-pound punch behind a pair of murderously sharp horns. Fighting bulls like this is an undeniably courageous, <a href="https://thelastarena.com/2015/02/25/533-professional-bullfighters-killed-in-the-ring-since-1700/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">occasionally lethal</span></a> endeavor, and though I'll never see another bullfight, I'm glad I did ... once.</p><p>Still, what's up with the title of Boetticher's opus, <i><b>When in Disgrace</b></i>? It comes from Shakespeare's <a href="https://interestingliterature.com/2017/03/a-short-analysis-of-shakespeares-sonnet-29-when-in-disgrace-with-fortune-and-mens-eyes/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Sonnet 29</span></a>, and here's the man himself <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rnp_tjvm5No"><span style="color: #ffa400;">reciting the verse</span></a> from which he lifted the title of his autobiography. </p><p>Many directors from the Golden Age led interesting lives, but I'm not sure any can top that of Budd Boetticher. If you have a chance, check this one out -- it's a great read.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*********************************</span></p><p>Now for something completely different -- a wonderfully entertaining <a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/01/24/1150955169/white-lotus-f-murray-abraham-oscar-academy-awards-amadeus"><span style="color: #ffa400;">interview</span></a> with F. Murray Abraham from the Fresh Air podcast site ... and if you want to know what the "F" stands for, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/F._Murray_Abraham"><span style="color: #ffa400;">read on</span></a>. Imagine having been cast to play a gangster in Brian DePalma's <b><i>Scarface</i></b> and as a second-fiddle composer rival musician to the young Mozart in Milos Forman's <b style="font-style: italic;">Amadeus</b> -- good news, right? Trouble is, the two movies were scheduled to shoot at the same time, so Abraham flew back and forth between the US and Europe to fulfill his obligation to both productions, but rather than be confused by performing such radically different roles in close proximity, Abraham found it refreshing. This is a great interview, so don't pass it up.</p><p>That's all until March, kiddos. Remember, this is the shortest month of the year -- winter will not last forever, and spring is just around the corner. </p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 255); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"></span></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Not that I've made a study of this, mind you. Some directors of the Golden Age certainly came from humble beginnings -- Frank Capra comes to mind -- but being born into wealth and not having to worry about a paycheck would remove a lot of the stress from the arduous process of trying to become a director in Hollywood.</span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> ** A bullfight isn't a free-for-all between man and bull, but follows a strict formula passed down through the centuries. For a fascinating explanation of the entire process, click </i><a href="https://thelastarena.com/about-the-bullfight/" style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">here</span></a><i>.</i></span></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><p><br /></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-13889751103225495472023-01-01T09:01:00.115-08:002023-01-01T09:01:00.201-08:00January<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIAs_AsfK9TGInDO4mQDgaI2VPS8i9Kcu5Dkt-5FH7oRognqG4lKpo9ODQtvfFsAsgjDPDyzqZBxGXbyMsE763Oc1TuZqXQMNe9V1_CHiGkGh6VlSozaac56TBPmfWSms3D4gDIkH4B4cUHg05d7tjM0iI6nyo28QoawTbw5bk7yPVzn3hHxSCXUl/s2619/Me%20and%20Bill%20Luna,%20bored%20out%20of%20our%20minds.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2094" data-original-width="2619" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIAs_AsfK9TGInDO4mQDgaI2VPS8i9Kcu5Dkt-5FH7oRognqG4lKpo9ODQtvfFsAsgjDPDyzqZBxGXbyMsE763Oc1TuZqXQMNe9V1_CHiGkGh6VlSozaac56TBPmfWSms3D4gDIkH4B4cUHg05d7tjM0iI6nyo28QoawTbw5bk7yPVzn3hHxSCXUl/w400-h320/Me%20and%20Bill%20Luna,%20bored%20out%20of%20our%20minds.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> A washed out Polaroid from the Wayback Machine</i></span></p><p><br /></p><p>So here it is, another New Year ... but not much feels "new" about it. We're still in the dark grip of a winter plagued by Covid, the endless bloody misery in Ukraine, refugees flooding the border, and political idiocy/dysfunction infecting all levels of our society. </p><p>So, yeah -- in many ways things are worse than they were last year at this time. </p><p>The year ended on a dismal personal note with news that an old friend and co-worker in Hollywood had passed away. Bill Luna was a throwback of sorts, a boy who grew into a man on a ranch where riding horses and wrangling cattle was part of daily life. Maybe one reason we got along so well was that I'd grown up in the sticks milking our half dozen goats and feeding our cows every evening, and although I never learned how to ride a horse, I was familiar with the earthy rhythms of country life. We worked together over the course of twenty years -- he in the grip department, me in electric -- from the early days when both of us were the last-hired newbies with much to learn up until he became a Key Grip and I a Gaffer. That run ended in the very late 90s when every last one of my commercial accounts headed north over the border to <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/06/oh-canada.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Canada</span></a> chasing favorable exchange rates and fat government bribes -- er, "subsidies" -- and with my happy life as a commercial gaffer suddenly over and done, I had to shift gears and take what I could get. That meant working in television, the elephant graveyard of below-the-line film technicians. From then on I didn't see much of Bill except at the annual gatherings of old industry war horses at the Sagebrush Cantina north of LA, where we'd nibble on jalapeño-laced nachos, guzzle beer, and trade stories of our on-set adventures. There was nothing but smiles and laughter at these affairs until the later years when people began to die. The last time I saw him was at the 2015 reunion -- something got in the way of my attending the 2016 gathering -- then it was time to move back to the woods four hundred miles north of LA. I'd planned to make the drive down to the Sagebrush one of these years, but Covid threw sand in the gears, and that was that. </p><p>People live on in your memory as you last saw them, which is one reason I was totally unprepared for the news of his death. Another reason is that Bill was nine years younger than me, and much too young to die. He was an excellent grip, quiet and competent -- a good problem-solver with a wicked sense of humor. Just walking on set and seeing his sly smile always made me feel better, because I knew that no matter how long we worked or how stupid things got, it was still going to be a good day. Once, while we were working on a commercial with a sound mixer who had famously sensitive ears, Bill pulled out one of those silent dog whistles between takes, then turned his back to the set and surreptitiously blew. When the meter on the sound mixers Nagra pegged into the red zone, he ripped off his headphones, frantically looking around for the source of the noise ... and then it hit him. </p><p>"Fuckin' Luna!" he yelled, as we all cracked up.</p><p>That was Bill, always finding a way to lighten an otherwise long and tedious day. As you can see in the photo up top -- me on the left, Bill on the right -- cranking out the commercial sausage was often a real grind, which is why working with people who can make you laugh makes all the difference. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiol0XhhXZpHsEfjqRPeAlIBJ89WAii662cY_SqYXWrI2iaVk7ZaKF2gjzG2iMmCAFwse8HiGj9TNRm50fNxoJw4CXa6ktsyhh7Z7QCUrdEx8E5KK6WA63BPFY85wtwdfnOZ3ZO7IXP2DoWaAeTj8MjjrurcGOet1OtlqO0JJionKThk49LuyelU8dY/s1262/Bill%20Luna%20sitting.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="931" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiol0XhhXZpHsEfjqRPeAlIBJ89WAii662cY_SqYXWrI2iaVk7ZaKF2gjzG2iMmCAFwse8HiGj9TNRm50fNxoJw4CXa6ktsyhh7Z7QCUrdEx8E5KK6WA63BPFY85wtwdfnOZ3ZO7IXP2DoWaAeTj8MjjrurcGOet1OtlqO0JJionKThk49LuyelU8dY/w295-h400/Bill%20Luna%20sitting.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">RIP, Bill - you'll be missed.</span></i></div><p>This got me to thinking about all the people I've known and worked with over the years who've shuffled off to the Great Beyond ... but I stopped counting once that number passed a dozen. Most were guys I'd shared laughs, beers, and occasionally other mood enhancers with over the years after wrap or in our off-time, and every one of them made my days on set better. I learned something from each of those guys along the way. A generation -- my generation -- is gradually fading to black, one at a time, and I hate that ... but such is the downside of being among the dwindling few still at the party.</p><p>And so it goes.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*********************************</span></p><p>The second iteration of <i><b>Avatar</b></i> has hit theaters after many years, many millions of dollars, and countless hours of work by Cameron and company. Since I've yet to see the first one, much less his follow-up effort, I'm in no position to comment on either, but <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://dnyuz.com/2022/11/30/avatar-and-the-mystery-of-the-vanishing-blockbuster/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this article</span></a> </span>has a lot so say, and it's interesting stuff. </p><p>Another current release I have yet to experience -- and thus have no opinion on -- is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Babylon_(2022_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Babylon</b></i></span></a>. I've read and heard good things about it, and hope to see the movie one of these days. The rather sensational subject matter gives rise to the the question: Were the early days of Hollywood truly so decadent? </p><p>Damned if I know -- sure, I'm old, but not <i>that</i> old. Still, there's no doubt things could get wild at times when Hollywood was young, booze flowed like water, cocaine was legal, and women were beginning to liberate themselves from the hidebound social mores of previous generations. Variety recently decided to address the issue, and if you're interested in what they have to say, <a href="https://variety.com/2022/film/news/babylon-1920s-hollywood-decadent-brad-pitt-1235466783/?fbclid=IwAR2oVCzRuc2QW8DMT4UP8SJ2O5P2RSIN-Q-VsfXKuWFD1Td1fFaODNHUZKM"><span style="color: #ffa400;">check it out</span></a>.</p><p>For those of you -- and I know you're out there -- who harbor dreams of selling a screenplay or two, <a href="https://talesfromthescript.jadetiger.com"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Tales from the Script</b></i></span></a> is very much worth your time. Among the heavyweights who participated are Shane Black, William Goldman, John August, and many more. In addition to giving you a peek behind the scenes at how the process does and doesn't work, this documentary tells a lot of great stories. Whether you aspire to be a screenwriter or not, this documentary is as entertaining as it is informative. It's definitely worth a look.</p><p>Last, here's a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POgWODZyUGQ"><span style="color: #ffa400;">wonderful clip</span></a> from Spielberg's latest effort, with David Lynch playing the role of John Ford. I've never been a fan of Lynch as a director. To me, his television and feature films always seemed relentlessly determined to confound the viewer in ways that neither entertained nor informed, but as an actor, I think he's terrific. In the right role, nobody does it better. Still, your mileage, as the saying goes, may vary.</p><p>And on that note, I wish you all a very Happy New Year. I'd say "Hell, it can't get any worse," but I've said that before ... and now I know better. </p><p>Onward, into the mist.</p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-37479179535291566032022-12-04T09:01:00.015-08:002022-12-04T09:01:00.185-08:00December<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSYGFKAAurTWAkGuUh53Fnhsp1tKEAsgK5WRIe7CbRlsb4sxKB9ooWHMNHKQm8TFcLmuLgUN2ueqNSY9Jv9i8xs9cJ64bKYSTLKPiOWZuyY6QOfxvZwAVLLpkxPWYhugSvEoG-AIFwm9FiAl3bsSNn6Q_Et1N6UVYFnTkSbFQbMVEBT_JFZ3qwLPw/s598/Cecil_B._DeMille's_Greatest_!_The_Greatest_Show_on_Earth,_1952.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSYGFKAAurTWAkGuUh53Fnhsp1tKEAsgK5WRIe7CbRlsb4sxKB9ooWHMNHKQm8TFcLmuLgUN2ueqNSY9Jv9i8xs9cJ64bKYSTLKPiOWZuyY6QOfxvZwAVLLpkxPWYhugSvEoG-AIFwm9FiAl3bsSNn6Q_Et1N6UVYFnTkSbFQbMVEBT_JFZ3qwLPw/w294-h400/Cecil_B._DeMille's_Greatest_!_The_Greatest_Show_on_Earth,_1952.jpg" width="294" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>While discussing his most recent film in an <a href="https://www.npr.org/2022/11/09/1134314093/steven-spielberg-fabelmans"><span style="color: #ffa400;">interview</span></a> on NPR, Steven Spielberg admitted that the first movie he saw in a theater terrified him to the point that he shrank down into the seat trying to block the screen from view, begging his parents to take him home. They didn't, of course, and after a while he started watching again -- and it seems that's when die was cast that would drive him on a journey to the top of the heap in Hollywood.</p><p>What movie, you might wonder, could have frightened, entranced, and inspired the young Spielberg? </p><p>Cecil B. DeMille's <span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Greatest_Show_on_Earth_(film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Greatest Show on Earth</span></a> </b></i></span>-- and no, I didn't see that coming either, which makes me wonder what films little Steven might have made as an adult had his cinematic baptism come via another circus film, Todd Browning's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freaks_(1932_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Freaks</b></i></span></a>. Viewing a scene like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39Bnk6VU53Y"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a> might be enough to doom any six year old to life in therapy. That said, the movie-going experience in one's early years is different for everyone, and Spielberg's youthful trauma at the hands of CB DeMille paid off for him, Hollywood, and the rest of us in the form of so many great movies. </p><p>From that interview: <i> </i></p><p><i>Steven Spielberg still remembers the first time he went to the movies. His parents took him to see The Greatest Show on Earth Cecil B. DeMille's 1952 drama set in the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, but there was a misunderstanding.</i></p><p><i>"I had never been to a motion picture," Spielberg recalls. "And ... I actually thought they were saying to me, 'We're taking you to a circus.' "</i></p><p><i>Settling into his seat in the theater, Spielberg felt betrayed. Where was the big tent? Where were the circus animals he had been expecting? But then the red curtain opened and the film began and it didn't take him long to fall under become enchanted.</i></p><p><i>"I didn't understand the story, didn't understand what they were saying, but the imagery was amazing," he says. </i></p><p>The first movie I recall seeing in my local theater was a matinee of one of the many Lassie epics, followed -- if memory serves me well -- by "Bambi," "Old Yeller," and "The Yearling." I don't recall much about the Lassie flick, but the others taught me one of life's great lessons: anything you fall in love with is doomed to be killed by a heartlessly cruel world -- and worse, <i>you</i> just might have to be the one who pulls the trigger for the greater good of your family.</p><p>Gee, thanks Hollywood. So it seems Spielberg and I have at least one thing in common -- a heavy dose of early-childhood cinematic trauma -- but while he surfed that wave of existential anxiety with enough skill to become one of the most successful directors in the history of cinema, I became ... a juicer. </p><p>Ah well, we each walk our own path, and so it goes.*</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">***********************************</span></p><p>Many years ago -- very late 70s or very early 80s -- I got a call to work a freebie shoot down in Long Beach. With nothing else going on at the time, I said yes, but the caller (I can't recall who it was) wanted me to be the gaffer, and in no way was I ready for that. </p><p>"I'll best boy anything," I told him, "but I'm not a gaffer."</p><p>I wasn't much of a best boy either, truth be told, but given that I wouldn't be paid a dime, I was ready to fake my way through it. I recommended a slightly more experienced friend for the gaffer slot, and so we arrived on location bright and early the following Saturday morning, an abandoned building overlooking the harbor in San Pedro. There, with our crew of two neophyte juicers, we lugged three 10Ks, two 5Ks, several 2Ks, and <i><b>way</b></i> too much 4/0 cable up seven flights of stairs to the set because -- of course -- the elevator was out of order. This, along with a DP fond of declaring "I paint with light," was a harbinger of how the next two days would go. It was memorable shoot for many reasons, not many of them good, during which we all busted our collective asses ... but I learned a lot.</p><p>I flashed back to this while reading about the life, career, and death of <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/clu-gulager-dead-virginian-last-picture-show-1235194277/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Clu Gulager</span></a>, an actor whose name might not mean much to the current generation in Hollywood, but who loomed large in my cinematic world. Clu was in lot of TV back in the day, then played a small but memorable role in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Picture_Show"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Last Picture Show</b></i></span></a>, a film that was a very big deal to my generation. The connection here is that our two day shoot in San Pedro was part of a film called <i><b>John and Norma Novak</b></i>, a short film Clu financed, directed, and starred in, along with much of his family.*</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQRjk8izfpkDrsvPfZrpKT4u9tX9niKrAykDnL-JtlbLRk5hAgxiHyiXhG-1dSF6k0dki7C-9VmjAgtbMOel91MlC0ViddChPbCTja0NcsQ4fXCLhgP3imBYsiFXHwPnKlrNegz6pNe7SqdmU7g5zHS7sQRmk2iby0hXNLXYEYeaatzvKs3zwretp/s400/Clu%20Gulager%20in%20Last%20Picture%20Show.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="400" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQRjk8izfpkDrsvPfZrpKT4u9tX9niKrAykDnL-JtlbLRk5hAgxiHyiXhG-1dSF6k0dki7C-9VmjAgtbMOel91MlC0ViddChPbCTja0NcsQ4fXCLhgP3imBYsiFXHwPnKlrNegz6pNe7SqdmU7g5zHS7sQRmk2iby0hXNLXYEYeaatzvKs3zwretp/w400-h219/Clu%20Gulager%20in%20Last%20Picture%20Show.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Clu Gulager as "Abeline" in <b>The Last Picture Show</b></i><br /><p>Nearly ten years later, more or less a real best boy now, I flew down to North Carolina to do a feature called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Summer_Heat_(1987_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Summer Heat</b></i></span></a> starring Lori Singer and the young Anthony Edwards, fresh off his star-making role as the doomed "Goose" in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Top_Gun"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Top Gun</b></i></span></a> -- and lo and behold, there in the cast was Clu Gulager for a few days of filming. He even remembered me, or pretended to, with a nod, a smile, and "You're a good man" as he shook my hand. It was a small moment, but small moments tend to loom large as the years pile on. </p><p>I never saw Clu again in person, only up on the silver screen, and was pleasantly surprised to see his role in <b style="font-style: italic;">Once Upon a Time in Hollywood</b>, an aging thespian once again answering the call and delivering the goods. Father Time has picked off too many cinematic icons of my youth the past few years, and Clu was the latest. So thanks for the memories, Clu Gulager, and may you rest in peace.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">**************************************</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/P37xPiRz1sg" width="320" youtube-src-id="P37xPiRz1sg"></iframe></div><br /><p>Last, in what passes for tradition here at <i><b>Blood, Sweat, and Tedium</b></i>, the great Robert Earl Keene's rendition of his yuletide classic, "Christmas with the Family."</p><p>But wait, there's more! As a special Christmas treat, here's a short but revealing clip featuring the one, the only, the unforgettable <a href="https://twitter.com/MichaelWarbur17/status/1597640055761534976"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Leslie Nielson</span></a>. When he passed (ahem...) we lost a good one.</p><p>To each and every one of you, I wish a wonderful holiday season.</p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Clu directed <a href="https://www.undergroundfilmjournal.com/american-cinematheque-hollywood-outlaws-clu-gulager-and-damon-packard/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">a number</span></a> of indy projects, one of one of which -- a 30 minute short described as</span></i> "<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">a violent rock opera that stars Clu’s younger son Tom" -- was <b>John and Norma Novak</b>.</span></i></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 255); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"></span></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-89604360289147274162022-11-06T09:01:00.036-08:002022-11-07T20:35:23.288-08:00Dennis Woodruff, Actor<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9puA9MF_FCOQ-xFfG0MPP3XSr_4UuqJHJXi_5MZtBHGZVa1uVdHYVfMPPOKqDZJA-WDpA_-zMforkWcMRWooiJd20botrLTbBBzpAx2DjJoFX-vpTNCf3GVv5saqwkSvxlKf1Om7HhyZBfNfDCZHTOI-wLD1uTq49t1SsE4ZxBDHl1AMs_4S0zUb7/s1818/Dennis-Woodruff-with-Actor-Mobile-photo-Harrod-Blank-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1228" data-original-width="1818" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9puA9MF_FCOQ-xFfG0MPP3XSr_4UuqJHJXi_5MZtBHGZVa1uVdHYVfMPPOKqDZJA-WDpA_-zMforkWcMRWooiJd20botrLTbBBzpAx2DjJoFX-vpTNCf3GVv5saqwkSvxlKf1Om7HhyZBfNfDCZHTOI-wLD1uTq49t1SsE4ZxBDHl1AMs_4S0zUb7/w400-h270/Dennis-Woodruff-with-Actor-Mobile-photo-Harrod-Blank-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">All photos, except as noted, by Harrod Bank, with the permission of</span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: x-small;"> <span><a href="http://artcarworld.org"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Art Car World</span></a></span></span></i></div><div><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></i></div><div><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i><div><p></p></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Back in the early 80's, my crew landed a three week gig in early January lighting a series of toy commercials. The job paid full commercial rate for fifteen days, and since the toys and sets were tiny, we wouldn't have to light up the world -- which means there would be no heavy lifting, making this a fat, lucrative start to the new year.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">That was the good news -- the bad news was that we then had to spend three long weeks in a dark sound stage at Raleigh Studios doing what amounted to table-top lighting, a meticulous, time consuming task that some people love ... but I am not among them. Truth be told, I hated table top work, which was fun for about half an hour, then rapidly morphed into a soul-crushingly tedious chore. Still, a job is a job is a job, and nobody says you have to like the gig to appreciate the paycheck. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">The head agency man -- responsible for delivering what the client wanted -- was named "Ralphie," a diminutive, rotund, bearded garden-gnome with a voice that seemed to float atop a wobbly bubble of phlegm, and day after day, Ralphie had a <i>lot</i> say about each and every shot. As we entered the second week of this special little Hell, I was starting to go a little bit insane, which made our daily hour-long lunch break an oasis to be yearned for all morning long, then dearly missed each afternoon once we were back at work.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Among our favorite lunch spots were </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Lucy's El Adobe, </span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(255, 164, 0);"><b><i><u>Nickodells</u></i></b></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">, and Orzas, a small Eastern European restaurant next door to Paramount -- a friendly little cafe with good food at reasonable prices. On our way there one day,</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> we noticed posters stapled to every telephone pole along that stretch of Melrose, each featuring a black and white Xerox image of a 30-something man in a black leather jacket striking a dramatic pose aboard a large motorcycle, a </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> In big bold print below the photo was the phrase "Dennis Woodruff, Actor."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Self-promotion is nothing new in Hollywood, but the earnest, low-rent approach of these posters was intriguing. It's one thing for <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/12/angelyne.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Angelyne</b></i></span></a> to attract eyeballs with posters and billboards of her scantily-clad and undeniably impressive pneumatic charms, but something else for a guy to sell himself as "Dennis Woodruff, Actor."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">As we took a table in Orzas cramped dining room one day, the gaffer turned, and in his typically dry tone of voice said: "Look: it's Dennis Woodruff, actor."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Sure enough, there was the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dennis_Woodruff"><span style="color: #ffa400;">man himself</span></a> at a table on the far side of the room reading a paperback while sipping a small cup of very strong Turkish coffee -- a specialty of Orzas. He appeared to have come straight from the wardrobe department of a spaghetti western: black boots, black pants, black shirt, black leather vest, and a black straight-brimmed hat. The image in those posters had come to life, and he sure as hell looked like an actor.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">A woman at the table next to us leaned over and rolled her eyes. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">"I work at Paramount," she said, shaking her head. "He calls us Every. Single. Day..."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">A few minutes later, Dennis Woodruff, actor, finished his coffee, paid the check, then stood up and walked out.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">I didn't seem him again for a few years, and forgot all about Dennis Woodruff until he began driving the streets of Hollywood and the surrounding cities in a series of outlandishly modified cars, each advertising his thespian skills to a film industry that continued to ignore him. But if Hollywood looked the other way, the rest of us couldn't help noticing those <a href="https://thelosangelesbeat.com/2016/05/offbeat-l-a-cast-me-in-your-next-film-actor-dennis-woodruff-a-hollywood-legend-and-his-tricked-out-cars/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">astonishing cars</span></a>, and his underground fame began to build. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_04f4m5kx6IHfBb0_FHEUMVA1KuB-y9Uj8Ed9dAzYnJjf66vlEvn4c-1Fa98XU7vgKi-vBpQOAjln23QCPMvZLxJbKwX29ZzkkTO01NGZvP3CDg3-SIznoz9j9h5bBD3d3tbm4bi5wbdKwzVNi5k8CcakdsL8m3IkmIsFl8He__fYOQ4GAJDBTK9/s700/dennis-woodruff_green%20car.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="700" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_04f4m5kx6IHfBb0_FHEUMVA1KuB-y9Uj8Ed9dAzYnJjf66vlEvn4c-1Fa98XU7vgKi-vBpQOAjln23QCPMvZLxJbKwX29ZzkkTO01NGZvP3CDg3-SIznoz9j9h5bBD3d3tbm4bi5wbdKwzVNi5k8CcakdsL8m3IkmIsFl8He__fYOQ4GAJDBTK9/w400-h284/dennis-woodruff_green%20car.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSzJqNj7UoNArohre_lhrmeneLmHg_UI1AKff_1m9XucUrAQu8dCHKMpXyS3tPpKrl-wAsLcttI4xoi2svjxsj0zYZj9lk47hoZN0lsjrZPcVYFNUTYwWYETc7QGKHNVJz2MwZ1uujiky-tQ2DS89-OfOFRxd9t70NpShuMP3NGL9mqMzLN8LKl5w/s1800/Dennis%20Woodruff%20UFO%20Car.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1189" data-original-width="1800" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSzJqNj7UoNArohre_lhrmeneLmHg_UI1AKff_1m9XucUrAQu8dCHKMpXyS3tPpKrl-wAsLcttI4xoi2svjxsj0zYZj9lk47hoZN0lsjrZPcVYFNUTYwWYETc7QGKHNVJz2MwZ1uujiky-tQ2DS89-OfOFRxd9t70NpShuMP3NGL9mqMzLN8LKl5w/w400-h264/Dennis%20Woodruff%20UFO%20Car.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqCGy8K3dINt6LXVAsilv-TM40geeWxRgAnW_qza671zfcZ9Gog5dbn7Wsl_4Nkj1Gttq1WDYgnM680kHfaWIOKliW90Oi4VZmuvcgBAWBbbwpdri9q4VSeIelXD1k4j1cARC9SJ99OZivAc_KKVFgoaBCzTQXBosF0PHHqjf17OwKeEub8WyW54CV/s2460/DW%20Make%20My%20Movie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2460" data-original-width="1808" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqCGy8K3dINt6LXVAsilv-TM40geeWxRgAnW_qza671zfcZ9Gog5dbn7Wsl_4Nkj1Gttq1WDYgnM680kHfaWIOKliW90Oi4VZmuvcgBAWBbbwpdri9q4VSeIelXD1k4j1cARC9SJ99OZivAc_KKVFgoaBCzTQXBosF0PHHqjf17OwKeEub8WyW54CV/w294-h400/DW%20Make%20My%20Movie.jpg" width="294" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMtLO7BZP_UxuicOJUWKCKrIT2hKgOij1HqGzTQ5-WFnBCmjnZMyER7DSWKj7YKy5ZnYn-ke9omGObjUC63sHYkwJXwQBhvr1gBeLCwyN08Qo9DW2tuitvZRiNgpTFCM6MzzIZvBH20f2P57E4K3vC2apzME_BA6epjXbAnXoorTdEW28aMDyn_hx/s1600/DW%20Van.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1205" data-original-width="1600" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMtLO7BZP_UxuicOJUWKCKrIT2hKgOij1HqGzTQ5-WFnBCmjnZMyER7DSWKj7YKy5ZnYn-ke9omGObjUC63sHYkwJXwQBhvr1gBeLCwyN08Qo9DW2tuitvZRiNgpTFCM6MzzIZvBH20f2P57E4K3vC2apzME_BA6epjXbAnXoorTdEW28aMDyn_hx/w400-h301/DW%20Van.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Nobody gets ahead in Hollywood waiting to be discovered, though, so this tireless self-promoter began making and selling his own movies, and you have to give him credit: the man has made a <a href="https://www.denniswoodruffshow.com"><span style="color: #ffa400;">lot of movies</span></a>.* I'd occasionally see him popping into laundromats or walking the streets of Hollywood selling VHS tapes of his work for $10 each to anybody who'd listen to his spiel. He did pretty well at it, too, raking in upwards of 250,000 British pounds by 2011 according to the <a href="https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2036467/Penniless-actor-Dennis-Woodruff-makes-250k-year-homemade-film-sales.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Daily Mail</span></a>, which would be over $400K in US dollars at the time. That figure sounds a bit suspicious, but apparently he made enough selling his movies to buy a bungalow in Hollywood, and those don't come cheap, so I suppose only Dennis and the IRS knows for sure. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Then one slow Sunday after another long week working on my show, I was washing a load of dirty clothes when who should walk into the Laundromat but -- drumroll, please ... Dennis Woodruff, actor -- only this time he arrived with a camera rather than in a fully pimped-out car. He had me in this viewfinder before I knew it, asking a series of probing questions, and like any good director, prompted me as to how to respond. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Any of you who've been reading the stories here for a while will recall, I am neither an actor nor remotely comfortable on camera -- there's a <a href="http://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/03/stranger-in-strange-land.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">good reason</span></a> I chose a career behind the lights rather than out in front feeling their heat -- so I wasn't particularly thrilled to be put on the spot like this on my day of rest, but sometimes you just have to go with the flow and have a sense of humor about things. And truth be told, Dennis Woodruff was a calm, gentle director who knew what he wanted, but was willing to roll with whatever happened without insisting on having his way. </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">I was merely one of many people Dennis corralled into appearing in <i><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26RRwy_fF5E"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Horror Stories from the Laundromat</span></a></b></i></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">, so if you're curious and have thirty minutes to spare, you can take a look and figure which one is me. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dQqacAjhvt553zASC6yLY7uiNBTTbzBbtKLthdP7O74ev2yuCPelZTk0JQPPtFSt8HgiZvLqFHb2z7hO0EqEKZj7Gx2AWpkM0755X9QoJBltaqE2NoMQVvXvE-LxnKNK9bA6JjZ8EUMKs5lPJX5N5XfPtE5dxJ2UVOZKxtPBdDFRHXqH3OAIMNz0/s925/Dennis%20Woodruff%20Show%20Car.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="925" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dQqacAjhvt553zASC6yLY7uiNBTTbzBbtKLthdP7O74ev2yuCPelZTk0JQPPtFSt8HgiZvLqFHb2z7hO0EqEKZj7Gx2AWpkM0755X9QoJBltaqE2NoMQVvXvE-LxnKNK9bA6JjZ8EUMKs5lPJX5N5XfPtE5dxJ2UVOZKxtPBdDFRHXqH3OAIMNz0/w400-h266/Dennis%20Woodruff%20Show%20Car.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">It seems the ambition to star in bigger films made and financed by someone else continues to <a href="https://www.lamag.com/culturefiles/la-famous-dennis-woodruff/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">burn within</span></a>, so I have to applaud Dennis Woodruff, who's kept chasing his dream no matter what Hollywood thinks of him. He's been at it for a long time, but hasn't gotten discouraged yet -- and so with true respect, I doff my cap and wish him all the best. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">And hey, even if Dennis hasn't yet made it big, at least one of his cars did!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfPBvO46fXFDkXtOSpugx2kHVTxhpXiKdpP_q8ZWQqgXOs_CRneZMykGalVeMYrA1fvalKCeLbq_IaLBVMlqk6L1GCwYueqLipNlraN8dAb4b_RdSyRNH_YGt2Qsd7ELG4qQAahDkrNxsKIBEmJAh_cde4NYozJGlGW7yp_YVtvu_ix7P3NxiWlW0W/s885/Dennis%20Woodruff%20Volcano.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="885" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfPBvO46fXFDkXtOSpugx2kHVTxhpXiKdpP_q8ZWQqgXOs_CRneZMykGalVeMYrA1fvalKCeLbq_IaLBVMlqk6L1GCwYueqLipNlraN8dAb4b_RdSyRNH_YGt2Qsd7ELG4qQAahDkrNxsKIBEmJAh_cde4NYozJGlGW7yp_YVtvu_ix7P3NxiWlW0W/w400-h225/Dennis%20Woodruff%20Volcano.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> One of Woodruff's cars featured in the 1997 movie </i></span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volcano_(1997_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Volcano</b></i></span></a><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> <i><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">(Source unknown)</span></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Have yourselves a great Thanksgiving.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><i>* Twenty-nine, as of 2020.</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><i>PS: If you'd like to see more outrageously creative, fantastic automotive art -- many that go far beyond what Dennis Woodruff has done -- click on over to <a href="http://artcarworld.org"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Art Car World</b></span></a>. There are some terrific photos there, along with books and DVDs that explore the work of creative people who use cars as a canvas upon which to create art. Check it out!</i></span></div>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-75729289717090896292022-10-02T09:01:00.002-07:002022-10-02T12:39:12.750-07:00Fall<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JFO3ndx9DX1lRLCz9zqHpbauls9ma8PKrDqCFJpiUZTszmnOD5r0q2ssORMcge6LkmmHDWkI4fiH8AlPD0-sSMbW5n1eZWPxSZmupLPnAubwcjMpGA3juQPSjZ6cZastqyd5xGrLzTfo3mzLHW2pW3ZhTi3aQG8KvycdJgDUKpDJbe2Q85pnx_BU/s649/Shaw%20and%20Shark%20on%20Jaws.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="649" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JFO3ndx9DX1lRLCz9zqHpbauls9ma8PKrDqCFJpiUZTszmnOD5r0q2ssORMcge6LkmmHDWkI4fiH8AlPD0-sSMbW5n1eZWPxSZmupLPnAubwcjMpGA3juQPSjZ6cZastqyd5xGrLzTfo3mzLHW2pW3ZhTi3aQG8KvycdJgDUKpDJbe2Q85pnx_BU/w400-h270/Shaw%20and%20Shark%20on%20Jaws.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water...</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Summer is officially over, and with it the beach season for many coastal areas around the country, but the arrival of Fall marks the beginning of shark season here. Large colonies of massive elephant seals have gathered along the rocky islands and sandy beaches of Northern California to birth and raise their young, and right behind them came the big Great Whites following their main source of food, which makes entering the ocean a somewhat dodgy endeavor this time of year.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">This, of course, brings me to <i><b>Jaws</b></i>, and a new <a href="https://www.slashfilm.com/991918/how-the-3d-re-release-of-jaws-puts-the-audience-in-the-water/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">3-D version</span></a> version of the epic film that put Steven Spielberg on the map of Hollywood, and it sounds pretty great. Apparently this is a newer 3-D process vasty superior to previous attempts at adding a third dimension to the movie-going experience ... but sadly for me, I'm nowhere near a theater that can properly run a film like this. Some of you may live closer to such a theater, so as the saying goes, check your local listings. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Meanwhile, here's a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGoekw7e-3U"><span style="color: #ffa400;">nice little clip</span></a> from the original 2D <i><b>Jaws</b></i>, wherein in Chief Brody and Matt Hooper try to convince the reluctant mayor of Amityville to close the beaches for the upcoming holiday weekend. It's a classic reenactment of the eternal safety vs. commerce argument that still resonates fifty years after <i><b>Jaws</b></i> first hit the silver screen. For more about the film, here's a fascinating documentary on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYtYIF_g-T4"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Making of Jaws</b></i></span></a>, which -- like <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2022/07/just-for-hell-of-it-episode-65.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Final Cut</b></i></span></a> and <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2022/09/september.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Church of Baseball</b></i></span></a> -- demonstrates just how difficult it is to reach the point where cameras and actors are finally on set and ready to roll. Those of us who've worked below-the-line know all too well the challenge of making a movie once the actors have been cast, the financing secured, and the crew assembled, but the drama that often precedes all that is no less compelling. After watching this documentary, I'm once again amazed that any movie -- good or bad -- ever makes it to the screen in Hollywood. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">A short film that tells a very real story of experiences with Great Whites is here at <a href="https://vimeo.com/ondemand/nearmiss"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Near Miss</b></i></span></a>, but the title is a bit misleading -- although it features some riveting underwater footage of those big sharks, there is no actual "near miss" in this eleven minute film. After it was shot and being edited, Ron Elliot -- the diver profiled in the film -- did suffer an <i>extremely</i> near miss when a seventeen foot Great White attacked just after he entered the water with his camera. The shark ate the camera and did serious damage to one of his hands, which has required six surgeries thus far to restore a degree of functionality. Ron is a friend, and showed me photos from a GoPro attached to his hookah air hose that automatically several stills during the attack, and they're absolutely horrifying. That shark was a monster, and Ron is very lucky to be alive. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">************************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">A post recently appeared on the FB group </span><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>Crew Stories</i></b><span style="font-family: arial;">:</span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: arial;">"Serious question -- why do you do it? What keeps you in the industry? I see a never ending chain of complaints on this page, and that's fine. Everyone complains about their job. This is not meant to be disrespectful or even accusational. I would genuinely like to hear why you do it."</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">This entirely reasonable question triggered a massive response. The litany of complaints posted on <i><b>Crew Stories</b></i> are as familiar as they are valid: the long hours on set wreak havoc on <a href="http://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2008/02/industry-romance.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">relationships</span></a> and any semblance of a personal or social life, the sporadic income stream of working free-lance makes planning -- or taking -- any vacation an exercise in terminal frustration, and the bloated "Don't you know who I think I am?" egos of certain directors, producers, actors, and/or department-heads can make a hard job all the more difficult. Bitching about all this seems to come easier than gushing about the good times on set, and helps vent the collective spleen of we who toil (past-tense, in my case) below-the-line, but I can certainly understand how a non-industry reader of <i><b>Crew Stories</b></i> might wonder why the hell anybody puts up with such a ruthlessly topsy-turvy life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Those who come to the industry (rather than being born into the biz) are drawn to Hollywood for many reasons. Some fell in love with movies and decided they wanted to be involved in the process, others are refugees from soul-crushing jobs they simply couldn't stand anymore, while more than a few joined the industry because film and television is one of the few remaining career options in America that pays reasonably well (while you're working, anyway) without requiring an expensive college degree. Whatever the reasons, the first few years are undeniably exciting as you learn the ropes and claw your way up the ladder to something resembling financial solvency, but the thrill can fade after while as you learn that the industry isn't quite what you thought it would be. Some degree of disillusionment is not unusual -- I went through a couple of rough periods when I wasn't sure if I was done with Hollywood or if Hollywood was done with me, and I gave serious thought to getting out and doing something else in life ... but what was the alternative? I'd spent many years writing a book that received a polite sniff from couple of agents and a publisher, all of whom wished me luck as they waved goodbye, so writing for money didn't appear to be a realistic career alternative. Going back into the food biz held no appeal whatsoever, and even less chance at a stable life or sustainable income ... but more than anything, I wasn't interested in any other line of work. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Pondering all this, I recalled a day back when I was fresh out of college and wearing a red and white striped shirt behind the counter of the local Straw Hat Pizza Parlor.* There I stood late one very slow morning when I noticed a hitchhiker out on the freeway onramp having no luck at all as car after car passed him by. He was clean-cut -- maybe a bit <i>too</i> clean-cut in a hippie town like Santa Cruz back in the early 70s -- with very short hair and brand new K Mart civilian clothes that marked him as fresh out of the military. After wasting an hour out there he gave up and carried his suitcase into the Straw Hat, where I made him a small pizza and poured him a beer. As he ate, he talked about landing in San Francisco the night before after spending a year in Vietnam, where he'd served a full tour of duty in the infantry. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"I was on a pay phone when some asshole grabbed one of my suitcases and took off," he said, shaking his head in disgust. "I started after him, but tripped on something, and by the time I got up he was gone."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I tried to commiserate, although nothing I'd experienced in life compared with he'd been through: a full year of combat patrols in the jungles of Southeast Asia, then getting ripped off shortly after arriving back in the U.S. That rude welcome-home - and subsequent lack of success hitch-hiking - had him wondering out loud if he should forget about civilian life and re-up for another tour in the army. I did my best to talk him out that, refilling his beer glass several times as he talked, and after a while he told me a story.**</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>"One day I had to lead a patrol of green kids fresh out of basic - they didn't know shit - and my job was to keep 'em alive until they learned to fight and survive in the jungle. A few hours out we were deep in VC country, and they started gettin' antsy. One of 'em finally worked up the nerve to ask if maybe we should head back to the base the way we'd come."</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>"We can't go back," I told him. "They're behind us now."</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">He drained the last of his beer and thanked me, then picked up his suitcase. I wished him luck as he headed back out to the freeway onramp. The lunch rush was staring to build, and I got busy taking orders and making pizzas. The next time I looked the window, he was gone, finally having caught a ride. It's been nearly fifty years since then, but I remember it like yesterday, and have always wondered what happened to that guy: did he go back to the army -- and if so, did he survive -- or did he manage to find his way in civilian life? I hope it was the latter, but will</span> never know.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The story he'd told me had no dramatic ending -- there was no ambush, bloody fire-fight, or calling in an air-strike -- but the lesson I took was that sometimes the only way to fight through the doubt and fear that creep in during times of uncertainty is to press forward, especially when you're so far in that going back is likely to cost more than forging ahead. After a certain point you keep going simply because this, whatever it may be, is <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2011/05/hollywood-is-it-worth-it.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">what you do</span></a>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I stumbled into that first deep pool of quicksand three years into my Hollywood adventure, and the second nearly thirty years later, but each time something came along to drag me back onto dry ground. For whatever reason (and thanks to a little help from my friends) better jobs started coming my way, and life improved. Still, that was me -- your mileage may vary -- so if you find yourself perpetually unhappy working in the film and television industry, then maybe you </span><i style="font-family: arial;">should</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> look for something else. As I've said before, this life isn't for everybody, and if it's not for you, there's no shame in leaving ... but if you're just going through a bad stretch, hey, we've all been there. It's part of the deal in Hollywood. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other until things get better. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Because they probably will.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Enjoy the Fall while you can kiddos, because Winter is coming.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><i style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">* </span></i><i style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ahem -- such is the value of a college degree in "Aesthetic Studies."</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">**The beers were on the house. The owner was a fat Jabba-the Hut slug whose rich mother had bought him the Straw Hat franchise, so I figured he could afford to buy this guy a few beers.</span></i></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-77857212785893334122022-09-04T10:53:00.008-07:002022-10-02T14:56:42.100-07:00September<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ6T1_cQMfg8omFWF1596BSwwYY5bGO6AFuSmorb5o3OdP51M51ZuTed77lw9VDLC6sVdK3x6dsorFnQmh5VgU3svGKZUk8iuTL8ALnqgo9rCjgXb7fwJiIwrJmlDeGahWS1ZTagd8JJzrVM2WcAYw3BDbakopR5OqDPLAZ_v5BhFp4VY73sdnSOBz/s1280/The%20Church%20of%20Baseball.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="902" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ6T1_cQMfg8omFWF1596BSwwYY5bGO6AFuSmorb5o3OdP51M51ZuTed77lw9VDLC6sVdK3x6dsorFnQmh5VgU3svGKZUk8iuTL8ALnqgo9rCjgXb7fwJiIwrJmlDeGahWS1ZTagd8JJzrVM2WcAYw3BDbakopR5OqDPLAZ_v5BhFp4VY73sdnSOBz/w283-h400/The%20Church%20of%20Baseball.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>"Okay," you might thinking "I guess the Hollywood Juicer has finally lost it -- now he's trying to shove a book about <i>baseball</i> down our throats!"</p><p>"Hold your horses," as my sainted mother used to say. Yes, I've doubtless lost a step or three over the past few years, I do like baseball, and I am shoving a book at you -- but it's a book about <i>the making of a baseball movie</i>, not the game itself. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ron_Shelton"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Ron Shelton</b></i></span></a> played in baseball's minor leagues for several years before becoming a screenwriter (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Under_Fire_(1983_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Under Fire</b></i></span></a>), and eventually directing movies like <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Men_Can%27t_Jump"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>White Men Can't Jump</b></i></span></a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tin_Cup"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Tin Cup</b></i></span></a>, so you'd expect to have a few relevant baseball stories woven into the narrative, but the meat of the book is the tale of how he took a germ of an idea, then with a Herculean effort managed to turn it into what is widely considered one of the best movies ever made about the game: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bull_Durham"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Bull Durham</b></i></span></a>. As Shelton reveals, nothing in making this movie came easy, and his inside account of the long and winding odyssey from selling the idea, writing the script, landing the cast, pre-production, directing, post-production, then running the gantlet of test screenings before the movie was finally locked for release is as entertaining as it is informative. In <i><b>The Church of Baseball </b></i>you'll learn something about turning an idea into a script, dealing with a skeptical studio, surviving constant sand-in-the-gears sabotage by an unnamed and decidedly hostile studio executive, how the process of casting works (and sometimes doesn't), how to deal with and direct actors, how to improvise and go with the flow when your on-set spider sense begins to tingle, and how to keep fighting the uphill battle to save your movie from clueless studio drones who apparently have nothing better to do than throw obstacles in your way.</p><p><b style="font-style: italic;">Bull Durham </b>may be set in the world of minor league baseball, but the story is really about people who've arrived at turning points in their lives before which everything was different, and after which nothing will ever be the same. It's a love story on many levels, and by the time you've turned the last page of Shelton's book, you'll find yourself wondering how <i>any</i> movie ever gets made in or by Hollywood, let alone a film as good as <a href="https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/business/story/2022-07-26/every-hollywood-studio-passed-on-bull-durham-twice-how-it-got-made-anyway"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this one</span></a>.</p><p>As it happens, I share a tiny slice of history with Ron Shelton. </p><p><i>Queue the swirling orchestral music and a rapid montage as calendar pages fly back on the wall, then the camera zooms in to freeze on a date in the late summer of 1978. </i> </p><p>The camera assistant from the very first low budget feature I ever worked on called with an offer I simply couldn't refuse. He'd be shooting a short 16 mm film over a weekend for a wannabe director, so how would I like to help as a grip-trician and possibly second camera operator? It was a freebie, of course, but back then my own Hollywood fantasies had yet to encounter the full gravitational force of reality, and since the script was about a minor league baseball pitcher -- and some of the filming would take place on the field during a minor league game in Bakersfield, California -- it sounded like fun. A few days later, our small crew gathered at a rambling old house up in the hills north of Sunset, where we sat in Ron Shelton's living room as he explained the story and how he proposed to film it over the following weekend. He showed us slides he'd taken while scouting the ball park in Bakersfield, and assured us that although there was a lot to film, he'd get us through it without pushing too hard.</p><p>Ron was as good as his word. We shot everything on the schedule with our two actors, the young <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0611889/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Chris </span></a><span style="color: #ffa400;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(255, 164, 0);">Mulkey </span></span>-- who'd made a bit of a splash in an indy feature called <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074817/?ref_=nm_flmg_act_267"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Loose Ends</b></i></span></a> a couple of years before -- and another actor whose name has long since slipped my mind. </p><p>Hey, it was forty-four years ago, and as writing this post reminded me in ways I didn't expect, my memory is a bit spotty. More on that later.</p><p>Once the final scene was in the can (and yes, I <i>did</i> get to operate the second camera while we shot the scene at the ballpark), Ron treated us all to dinner at what was then the finest dining establishment in Bakersfield, a restaurant with the unlikely name of Lemucchi's Tam O'Shanter, where the food, wine, and laughter flowed before we made the long drive back to LA. It was a fitting end to a great weekend during which I had a blast ... and that, as far as I can recall, was the last time I saw Ron Shelton. Over the next ten years, I went on to climb the below-the-line ladder as a grip, juicer, best boy, and gaffer, while Ron forged a solid career as a successful writer/director in Hollywood. </p><p>Nearly a decade later, while I was prepping to fly east for an eight week feature in Vermont, my gaffer said something that gave me the impression he'd been offered to gaff a baseball movie that was about to film in North Carolina, directed by Ron Shelton and starring Kevin Costner, but since he'd already committed us to the show in Vermont, had to turn it down. </p><p>"Damn," I thought. I knew Kevin from my days at Raleigh Studios in Hollywood, where I'd worked on many a commercial when he was a stage manager there, and although I hadn't seen Ron since that weekend in the Bakersfield -- which I assumed eventually led to <i><b>Bull Durham</b></i> -- this could have been a reunion or sorts, the three of us having achieved at least part of our Hollywood dreams ... but it was not to be. So it goes in Hollywood. Having told this "what might have been" story about <i><b>Bull Durham</b></i> more than once over the ensuing years, I planned to include it here, but it occurred to me to do a little fact-checking first.</p><p>So I called my old gaffer -- who'd bumped up to DP a year or two after the Vermont movie -- and caught him on his cell as he was traveling to a distant location to resume shooting an episodic drama for one of the big broadcast networks. We hadn't touched base for a while, and it was good to catch up, but when I asked the question about <i><b>Bull Durham</b></i>, he confessed no memory of being offered the job. I checked the IMDB, and found that the DP was Bob Byrne, who - sadly - had passed away in 2017. With nobody left to ask, I'd struck out, so maybe I'd just go with the flow as represented by the <a href="http://www.oldhollywoodfilms.com/2017/04/classic-movie-quotes-print-legend-from.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">newspaper writer's reply</span></a> to Jimmy Stewart's character (Ransom Stoddard) in John Ford's elegiac western <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Man_Who_Shot_Liberty_Valance"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence</b></i></span></a>: </p><p><i>"This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."</i></p><p>I went back to reading <i><b>The Church of Baseball</b></i>, which revealed that Bobby Byrne was actually the <i>second</i> DP -- another DP named Chuck Minsky had been hired to shoot <i><b>Bull Durham</b></i>, which he did quite well -- but thanks to Machiavellian maneuvering back in Hollywood by that unnamed studio executive, Chuck was "let go" with only three weeks left to shoot, for no good reason -- and Bob Byrne brought in to finish up.*</p><p>So back to Google I went to find Chuck Minsky's website, where I sent him an e-mail asking the Big Question: had my gaffer back then really been offered the gaffer job on <i><b>Bull Durham</b></i>? Chuck graciously sent a prompt reply telling me how devastating it had been to be fired, what a great, stand-up guy Ron Shelton really was, and that since the film's low budget didn't allow him to bring his own gaffer, he'd hired a local who'd done a fine job.** </p><p>So the answer was "no," which means that something I've long considered one of my Big Career Regrets -- that but for fate and cruel timing I'd have worked on <i><b>Bull Durham</b></i> -- was never real in the first place. There's doubtless a larger lesson in all this (and maybe someday I'll figure out what that might be...), but although I lost a good story, I've still got the movie, which I re-watch every few years, and <i><b>The Church of Baseball</b></i>, Ron Shelton's wonderfully entertaining and informative book.</p><p>If you're interested -- which you should be -- here's a <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.kcrw.com/culture/shows/the-treatment/maya-rudolph-the-making-of-bull-durham-and-ethan-hawke-on-the-treat"><span style="color: #ffa400;">podcast</span></a> </span>from LA's NPR outlet KCRW called <i><b>The Treatment</b></i>, which starts out in a twenty minute discussion with actress Maya Rudolph, then segues to a longer talk with Ron Shelton about his career in Hollywood and the book. Once that's done, click on over to <a href="https://www.kcrw.com/culture/shows/the-treatment/emily-bode-rico-gagliano-and-a-wild-tre/director-ron-shelton-memoir-bull-durham-sam-peckinpah-wild-bunch"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a> five minute piece wherein Ron reveals the influence Sam Peckinpah and his epic western <i><b>The Wild Bunch</b></i> had on Shelton's career. </p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(16, 60, 192); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: #000087; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.3px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p>Both are really good, so check 'em out.</p><p><br /></p><p><i>* This was beyond outrageous. The more I read about that unnamed studio exec, the bigger an asshole he turns out to be.</i></p><p><i>** Having been <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2010/03/failure.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">fired</span></a> a couple of times myself -- both times for arguably good reasons -- I'm not sure there are words sufficient to describe how Chuck must have felt. When you've done a good job under difficult conditions, you're not supposed to be rewarded by being dumped like yesterday's garbage with only three weeks to go ... but that's Hollywood for you. </i></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 255); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"></span></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-43852407236699677362022-07-31T09:01:00.423-07:002022-07-31T11:25:58.044-07:00August<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHx6F2Ao_6xsQjlPBnXLNMv96gRrk7u-X6Eg6ejpRQzI7rMJz4dA4xFIav6GTblqoplOSvyHQt7C5A2fYi0vR6vLDrgtBy4FRefHTqbC-sSJ3nwYfSz3wU72xLkJmFtAbcr_26JeJ7h-Xp1JKcBwAcDr187AmvHAETMsSaflSfuJaJxF-CAQX9sDrg/s533/StayCoolHollywood2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="464" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHx6F2Ao_6xsQjlPBnXLNMv96gRrk7u-X6Eg6ejpRQzI7rMJz4dA4xFIav6GTblqoplOSvyHQt7C5A2fYi0vR6vLDrgtBy4FRefHTqbC-sSJ3nwYfSz3wU72xLkJmFtAbcr_26JeJ7h-Xp1JKcBwAcDr187AmvHAETMsSaflSfuJaJxF-CAQX9sDrg/w349-h400/StayCoolHollywood2.jpg" width="349" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">"August, die she must, the autumn winds blow chilly and cold..."</span></i></p><p><span> <span> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k"><span style="color: #ffa400;">April, Come She Will</span></a>, Simon and </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Garfunkel</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">On the cusp of August, firmly in the sweaty grasp of summer, we're a long way from the chilly autumn winds of which Paul Simon sang -- and here in California, the wildfire season is now swinging into high gear -- but change is coming, for better or worse.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We lost another good one last month. Since I never worked with <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Caan"><span style="color: #ffa400;">James Caan</span></a>, I have no idea what he was like as a person, but his screen persona was undeniably compelling: an intense character driven by internal forces he couldn't always control, who -- like a man walking the streets of a big city carrying a loaded gun -- carried the seeds of his own destruction. Despite (or maybe because of...) so much early success, Caan seemed to have a love/hate relationship with the film industry, and dropped out of circulation for a few years in the 80s until financial necessity dragged him back. As the quote on his Wiki page reveals: </span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: arial;">"I was flat-ass broke ... I didn't want to work. But then when the dogs got hungry and I saw their ribs, I decided that maybe now it's a good idea."</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Caan was not alone in having a complicated relationship with Hollywood, but he persevered to forge a memorable career. He first lit up my radar as Sonny Corleone in <i><b>The Godfather</b></i>, and later in the gritty, stylish <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thief_%28film%29"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Thief</b></i></span></a>, but the movie I'll always associate him with is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gambler_%281974_film%29"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>The Gambler</b></i></span></a>, in which he plays a man who has everything -- a good woman, a good job, intelligence, and respect -- all of which is undermined by his addiction to the adrenaline rush of gambling. There's a riveting scene where he lies in a tub listening to a basketball game on which he's placed a big bet, which comes down to the final second and a crucial shot, during which the tension and stress his character suffers radiates from the screen like a blazing fire.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">James Caan could really bring it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Here's a nice <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/movies/james-caan-appreciation.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">remembrance</span></a></span> from Manohala Dargis of the NY Times.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">**************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Yet another loss came early this week when <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Warner_(actor)"><span style="color: #ffa400;">David Warner</span></a> passed away. I first noticed him in a small British film called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morgan_%E2%80%93_A_Suitable_Case_for_Treatment"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Morgan: A Suitable Case for Treatment</b></i></span></a>, which came to a theater near me in the mid-60s. Although I really can't recall why I -- still a teenager at the time -- felt compelled to see <i><b>Morgan</b></i>, I distinctly remember how hard it was to convince any of my friends to go. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"This better not be a fucking pirate movie," one of them muttered, as he grudgingly accompanied me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><b>Morgan</b></i> couldn't have been further from a pirate movie, and was unlike any film I'd ever seen. Although a career in the film industry was the furthest thing from my imagination, this movie opened my eyes to new voices telling stories on screen, which I think prepared me to take a chance on a film class a few years -- a class that would set me on a path to Hollywood.* </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Warner went on to inhabit a wide spectrum of memorable roles in movies as disparate as <i><b>Straw Dogs</b></i>, <i><b>The Omen</b></i>, <i><b>Time Bandits</b></i>, <i><b>The Titanic</b></i>, <i style="font-weight: bold;">Mary Poppins Returns </i>-- even a few <i><b>Star Trek</b></i> movies -- and was never less than convincing on screen. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">He seldom felt the heat of the Hollywood spotlight, but brought an added dimension of depth to so every movie in which he appeared. Warner was the kind of actor you don't think about much until he's gone, at which point you realize just how much we've lost. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">A quote on Twitter said it best: </span></p><p><i style="font-family: arial;">"David Warner made good movies better, and bad movies tolerable."</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">While working on a sitcom nearly twenty years ago, I was delighted to see that David Warner was one of our guest stars on an early episode. I took the opportunity to shake his hand and relate my story of seeing </span><i style="font-family: arial;"><b>Morgan</b></i><span style="font-family: arial;"> so long ago -- which he found amusing -- then told him how much I appreciated his wonderful work over the years. Meeting someone who'd had such an impact on me at an early age was a big deal, and although Warner seemed a bit embarrassed by the attention, he took it with typical good grace, and did his usual fine job in our show. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">That was a good week.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">A nice example of his acting chops is in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvYoTPlTwpE"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this scene</span></a> from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_After_Time_(1979_film)"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Time After Time</b></i></span></a> -- a scene that might resonate even more nowadays, given all that's going on here and abroad. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Here's a <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/david-warner-dead-time-bandits-tron-1235185664/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">good obit</span></a> </span>from the Hollywood Reporter.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">RIP, David, and thanks for the memories </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">***************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">From the No Shit, Sherlock School of the Obvious comes <a href="https://www.openaccessgovernment.org/long-working-hours-shorten-life-expectancy/71756/?"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a>: not only does working long hours suck, but it's bad for your health and longevity. This comes as no surprise to any industry veteran. As the gaffer who mentored me (and taught me what it meant to be a pro in this business) once said, "I'm mining my body." He was right, and died at age forty-five of a heart attack while on his way to scout locations for yet another miserable music video. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The solution for this is equally obvious -- work shorter hours -- but neither the industry nor a surprising number of below-the-line work-bots are in favor of that. The latter are hooked on the overtime money earned from working all those fourteen to sixteen hour days, and considering the insane cost of housing in LA and beyond these days, along with steadily rising prices of everything else, this is understandable. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But the question remains: at what human cost? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The industry insists on jamming through no matter what, always trying to get each film and TV show done in the least number of days for economic reasons ... but I wonder about that. Granted, most film equipment is rented -- cameras, lights, cable, generators, grip equipment, sound stages, etc. -- so the fewer days it takes to complete a shoot, the less money is paid on rentals, but the long days these ram-and-jam schedules inevitably rack up big overtime bills for the crew, so where does one begin to outweigh the other in budgetary terms?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I don't know -- but I sure as hell know the human cost of working those long days, week after week, year after year. The other day I started counted the crew people I used to work with who have, in Shakespeare's terms, "shuffled off this mortal coil" at a relatively young age -- meaning their fifties and early sixties -- but stopped once I'd used up the fingers of both hands. I'm not talking about people who died in car crashes or other accidents, but who suffered from cancer, heart attacks, and other terminal maladies that took them long before their time. These were all good, smart, funny, capable people, the kind who made the tedium, frustration, and long hours of this business tolerable, and were a delight to work with ... and now they're gone. I've no doubt that the physical, mental, and emotional stress of working such long days played a role in that. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But hey, in Hollywood it's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cS06eprlj2I"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>Money that Matters</b></i></span></a>, not people.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Same as it ever was.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">***************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For any of you who tilt at the windmill of the keyboard for fun or (hopeful) profit, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ocaXVw8X87E"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a> is worth three minutes of your time. Having talent is great, and a good idea always helps, but it's only the start: what really matters is doing the hard work of turning that idea into a story. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There's no easy way.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">***************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I realize that Facebook is justifiably reviled by many out there, but it's not all bad -- and like many forms of social media, has its uses. If you're in the biz and on Facebook, you really should click on over to a group called "Crew Stories," where you might learn something, but almost certainly will be amused. Here's an item from a recent series of posts on working with animals: </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: arial;">"I worked on a commercial for B&B Circus once. In addition to the camera crew being shit on TWICE by an elephant, we witnessed a sixteen foot Burmese Python bite the snake handler in the chest. After that the director yelled "Right! Bring out the tigers!" I involuntarily and quite audibly said 'Fuck that,' and went outside."</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If you're on FB, check it out - you might be glad you did.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i style="font-size: small;">****************************************. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've posted it before -- long ago -- but hey, this is the summer of re-runs, and besides, it's my favorite commercial ever, if not the most lyrical thirty seconds of film I've ever seen, graced by an etherial song by an artist I'd never heard of until seeing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-kqUkZnDcM&lc=UgwZ9lI5OSKyFEEVD_x4AaABAg.8fxIt5DQ44_9dGdNo8xLNn"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this</span></a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And while were wallowing in the spirit of re-runs, here's another blast from the past, because payback really is a </span><a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2009/02/paybacks-bitch.html" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">bitch</span></a><span style="font-family: arial;">.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We're in for a long hot summer, kiddos, so stay cool out there.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>* The only career fantasies I had as a teenager centered around becoming a Formula 1 race car driver, which was never going to happen ... and just as well.</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(16, 18, 20); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: #000087; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-1" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 11.199999809265137px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"></sup></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(16, 18, 20); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: #000087; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"></span></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-4371494212406491142022-07-03T09:01:00.002-07:002022-07-11T10:08:57.053-07:00Just for the Hell of It: Episode 65<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZBF-tBBB7w7--NQSSKx4mEGglrePUTJo7OAak9ww-mFlYA4CDQwOACH1NKK-qrfQ6_B32XQEY-SDKGquuUqzBGZY9r1nQcutPdPAUu2xbiuyAqZ1Sx9MOzjLnwO7YlSrHmW4sv4M4Jh_JgCjaHPZ-Z5AUZkvT8Gjn1YqueMck25wVadqMQPg_Ooz/s2385/Final%20Cut.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2385" data-original-width="1631" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZBF-tBBB7w7--NQSSKx4mEGglrePUTJo7OAak9ww-mFlYA4CDQwOACH1NKK-qrfQ6_B32XQEY-SDKGquuUqzBGZY9r1nQcutPdPAUu2xbiuyAqZ1Sx9MOzjLnwO7YlSrHmW4sv4M4Jh_JgCjaHPZ-Z5AUZkvT8Gjn1YqueMck25wVadqMQPg_Ooz/w274-h400/Final%20Cut.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lousy photo of a good book</span></i><br /><p><br /></p><p>Among the many things I'd hoped to do in retirement was read all the books I'd acquired and stashed on a shelf during my forty years in Hollywood. At this point it seems unlikely I'll get through them all before I slide into the quicksand of dementia or shuffle off Shakespeare's proverbial mortal coil, but I'm doing my best. </p><p>The latest to come off the shelf into my lap is <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/542635.Final_Cut"><i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Final Cut</span></b></i></a>, Steven Bach's 1985 start-to-finish insider account of how <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heaven%27s_Gate_(film)"><i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Heaven's Gate</span></b></i></a> made the difficult transition from script to screen, and as Hollywood's most infamous flop (at the time, the biggest in cinematic history), led to the downfall of the legendary <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_Artists"><span style="color: #ffa400;">United Artists</span></a> production company.* </p><p>This copy of <b><i>Final Cut </i></b>had been collecting dust for decades, and now I'm wondering what the hell took me so long, because it's a terrific book. In the hands of a lesser writer, this story could have been a dry, dusty recitation of the march from hope to disaster, but <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steven_Bach"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Steven Bach</span></a> -- senior Vice President and head of worldwide production for UA at the time -- turns out to be a <i>very</i> good writer. His gift for prose and ability to reveal the human element in this epic disaster story make his book a thoroughly entertaining and fascinating read. In the words of Peter Bogdonovich's back-of-the-jacket blurb, <i><b>Final Cut</b></i> is:</p><p><i>"A riveting, witty and essentially heartbreaking chronicle of a catastrophe ... a story in which virtually everyone is wrong, but the major indictment is saved for directorial insecurity and corporate incompetence. At the heart of all this is Hollywood's forever fatal flaw: the equation of money with quality."</i></p><p>I can't add much to that, other than if you're ready for a great, fun read that reveals much about the reality of the film industry while dissecting the wreckage of a legendary Hollywood flop, pick up a copy of <b><i>Final Cut</i></b>. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ML8lVihZaTmn9kE6xr6vHvRaUbZ_d_beJPPLlZT3RXww1Uq89ccLyR31R-o6r8xWQ5z9Xx5uhQq5KuYVdRPB3aNoJoHFE1e9Ed-zak-y_BmcwnVziA-QDHkjMe4guJ0urG7Lbojyo0fklkC_lDHKjlqD8iq2tY4DQh3Z-y15wHP07VlOJZJVNnf6/s2027/Inside%20the%20Star%20Wars%20Empire.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2027" data-original-width="1348" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ML8lVihZaTmn9kE6xr6vHvRaUbZ_d_beJPPLlZT3RXww1Uq89ccLyR31R-o6r8xWQ5z9Xx5uhQq5KuYVdRPB3aNoJoHFE1e9Ed-zak-y_BmcwnVziA-QDHkjMe4guJ0urG7Lbojyo0fklkC_lDHKjlqD8iq2tY4DQh3Z-y15wHP07VlOJZJVNnf6/w266-h400/Inside%20the%20Star%20Wars%20Empire.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br /><p>Another excellent, albeit much more recent read (published in 2018) comes from Bill Kimberlin, who enjoyed some hard-earned <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kUzlyF7EYOM"><span style="color: #ffa400;">success</span></a> as an independent filmmaker before and during his twenty year career in the editorial department of Industrial Light and Magic, the special effects wizards whose skills helped make George Lucas a billionaire while turning out classics like <i><b>Jurassic Park</b></i>, <i><b>Schindler's List</b></i>, and <i style="font-weight: bold;">Star Wars</i><span>, among so many others.</span> It turns out that working for George Lucas wasn't a get-in-line-and-do-as-George-says dictatorship, but a creative and demanding environment in which people were expected to use their skills, intelligence, and initiative to collaborate in creating astonishingly realistic cinematic images the likes of which the world had never seen. That this approach worked spectacularly well is a gross understatement. I have vivid memories of seeing <b style="font-style: italic;">Jurassic Park</b> at a theater in West LA, when during an early sequence with a massive Tyrannosaurus Rex, I realized that my legs were involuntarily pressing <i>hard </i>against the base of the seat in front of me, because those astonishing images on screen had convinced my own fight-or-flight reptilian brain that it was confronting the real thing: a living, breathing, hungry, utterly terrifying dinosaur ... and my amygdala was trying to get away from it.</p><p>You can see a few behind-the-scenes details of how the ILM crew achieved these cinematic miracles <a href="https://insidethestarwarsempire.com"><span style="color: #ffa400;">here</span></a>, where you should <i>definitely</i> watch the ten minute clip "Taming the Creatures," which is in equal measures entertaining and eye-opening.</p><p>Woven into the narrative is Bill's own journey into and through the film industry. Although the story is uniquely his, it resonated on several levels with me, as I suspect it will with many of you. Like most of us, he wasn't born into the biz, but had to claw his way in by hook or by crook at a time when there was no internet, industry blogs, or Hollywood podcasts to show the way. Back then, Hollywood outsiders had to go to an expensive film school to receive useful guidance on navigating the labyrinth of the film industry -- and if you couldn't afford that, you had to figure it out on your own. Having gone to San Francisco State rather than USC, UCLA, or NYU, Bill took the latter approach, and after a truly audacious attempt to get his foot in the door of Hollywood didn't pan out, found another way, embarking on an odyssey that eventually led him to head the editorial department at ILM.</p><p>As he put it the foreword: <i>"This book is not a history of ILM or Lucasfilm, nor it it a biography of George Lucas. It represents my own personal view and experiences from a life in the movie business and is told in a narrative of vignettes that, like a script, sometime flash either forward or back."</i></p><p>Whether you're a casual observer of the film scene, an industry veteran, or a fanatical <i><b>Star Wars</b></i> devotee, you'll find Bill's experiences helping to craft some of the most famous movies of our time as engrossing as I did. Do yourself a favor and read it.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*********************************************</span></p><p>Among the many losses we've suffered this year was Ray Liotta, at the relatively tender age of 67. I used to think that was old, but having passed that mark several years ago, it's hardly a surprise that I no longer feel that way. I first saw Ray in <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0091983/"><i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Something Wild</span></b></i></a>, where he played an intensely scary ex-boyfriend alongside Melanie Griffith and Jeff Daniels, then a few years later as Henry Hill, a young man who joins the mafia, lives the good life, and pays the price in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goodfellas"><i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Goodfellas</span></b></i></a>. He appeared in so many movies over the course of his career, including lots of indy features, always bringing his trademark laser-focused intensity to every role.</p><p>Here's a good <a href="https://www.npr.org/2022/05/31/1102165449/remembering-ray-liotta"><span style="color: #ffa400;">interview</span></a> with Ray from a few years ago, which gives a sense of what he was all about as an actor. Although it's a cliché to say he died too young, clichés exist for a reason -- and Ray Liotta defintely left us much too soon. </p><p>Thanks for the memories, Ray. RIP.</p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*********************************************</span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;">Here's a nugget from twenty years ago that I somehow missed, probably because I was saddled with the digital horse and buggy of dial-up internet at the time. I may be the only person on the planet who hadn't seen until now, but in case a few of you missed it too, here's <a href="http://www.405themovie.com"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><b>405 - The Movie</b></i></span></a>. It's just three minutes long, so won't eat up the rest of your day, and once you've watched it, you'll want to read <a href="https://www.austinchronicle.com/screens/2001-03-02/wild-ride/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">this article</span></a> from the Austin Chronicle, which tells how this brilliant short film jump-started the careers of the two guys who made it. That they were able to pull off such a convincing visual stunt using the relatively crude technology of 2001 is jaw-dropping -- these two deserved all the good things that resulted from their efforts. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">*********************************************</span></p><p>If you thought I wasn't going to subject you to yet another re-run, well, think again, my little droogies -- 2022 is the summer of re-runs. This one might even make the book -- I've been working on re-writing it this week, so we'll see -- but either way, it's a reminder that sometimes the reality of working on set demands that we <span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2010/11/breaking-rules.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">break the rules</span></a>. </span>There's nothing wrong with breaking those rules so long as you know how and when to do it -- and as in so many aspects in life, that you don't get caught. </p><p>That's all for now, kiddos. Have a safe and sane 4th, and a great month. Yes, I know: the world is falling apart everywhere we look these days, but obsessing on that -- and doom scrolling -- gets you nowhere fast. July is the peak of summer, so turn off the TV, shut down the computer, put the cell phone on "charge," then get out and have some fun while you can ... because it really is later than you think.</p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* I don't know how accurate it is, but here's a list of the </span></i><a href="https://entertainment.howstuffworks.com/the-10-biggest-box-office-flops-of-all-time.htm"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">biggest movie flops of all time</span></i></span></a>.</p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-32048106990770934542022-06-05T09:01:00.001-07:002022-06-05T09:01:00.211-07:00June <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQet0iLPh19E0Xb1hNBx1wue3gNQG_pD_Z2C2Xcloth91pfPFz3hKBaCU9sYliRCEN3sreLGMUvNCB7Uu40gKfezzGoV0KUC-8QgGomP1k89PBeyj8c_bHl4LfsRZGzSSvwPUvBWeuYmtxvVyKCbeNZWIOs0YPZ13UdNhDcC-lxYsBzgzKD-f3VE2M/s1580/Director%20Photo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1580" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQet0iLPh19E0Xb1hNBx1wue3gNQG_pD_Z2C2Xcloth91pfPFz3hKBaCU9sYliRCEN3sreLGMUvNCB7Uu40gKfezzGoV0KUC-8QgGomP1k89PBeyj8c_bHl4LfsRZGzSSvwPUvBWeuYmtxvVyKCbeNZWIOs0YPZ13UdNhDcC-lxYsBzgzKD-f3VE2M/w400-h228/Director%20Photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Here it is June already, the beginning of summer, which means we're already halfway to 2023. It's a cliché to bleat that time passes with increasing speed as I slide into the quicksand of "extremely late middle age," but clichés exist for a reason. I've come to see aging as something akin to falling from an airplane without a parachute: suddenly weightless, not much seems to be happening at first. The ground is so far away that there's no real sense of falling -- you're just surfing on a powerful wave of wind while enjoying a wonderful view. But after a while you notice the objects down below are growing larger with each passing moment, rushing ever faster towards you -- and in those last few seconds before impact, they're coming at you with shocking speed -- which is when you finally grasp what's really happening, and then ... nothing. You've exited the mortal realm and moved into the next world, whatever and wherever that may be.</p><p>I'm in that second phase of the drop now, with the final phase in sight -- those objects below are definitely bigger than they were last month, but not as big as they'll be next month, so I can't complain. It is, as the saying goes, what it is.</p><p>Yes, this month brings another re-run, this one from 2009 when my little cable show was cursed with a young director whose extensive thespian pedigree <i>should</i> have been good training for the job. Alas, no. I didn't identify him at the time -- hey, I still had to work in that town -- but there's nothing holding me back now, especially since he was recently <a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/tv/tv-news/fred-savage-fired-wonder-years-misconduct-1235142475/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">fired</span></a> from his job producing a reboot of the very same show that made him semi-famous in the first place, and provided him with a career. </p><p>It's not clear yet what he did to get fired -- sure, he was a lousy director, but I didn't see any untoward behavior on his part during that week of rehearsals and filming back in 2009. Still, I'm not really surprised. Those who go about their work with a sense of entitlement often must learn first-hand the meaning of "Pride goeth before a fall." Maybe a year or two in The Hollywood doghouse will instill a little humility ... and maybe not. At any rate, that's his problem, not mine.</p><p>So, step on into the Wayback Machine with me, and <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2009/08/directors-part-two.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">here we go</span>.</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">*</span></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Not that I've jumped out of any airplanes with or without a parachute, mind you, but I've seen enough skydiving footage in movies and on TV to have a notion what it's like.</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">* <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wayback_Machine_(Peabody%27s_Improbable_History)"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">The Wayback Machine</span></a></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(16, 18, 20); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: #000087; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"></span></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-49298085066676221032022-05-01T09:01:00.006-07:002022-05-01T09:01:00.205-07:00Mayday! Mayday!! Mayday!!!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjrkEiHdJM2Q-DQF5lAKBP359wSc1CSgt0WFs6WTY7JGkGD6hFB4u4m1dlPOeIeMjvMPV_ddbCj9DqphrrTYziw4EwNAV6d8FWF-eJk_GQg5MaQ4NO188Z_hqeDzLDEz9nl1Q1saguwmrpjdETeInxs0D5LKuEYYsPf8Yznor-LocIKXW5F51f52T/s943/Burning-plane-after-plane-crash-with-death-of-Yngve-Palsson-142361004231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="832" data-original-width="943" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjrkEiHdJM2Q-DQF5lAKBP359wSc1CSgt0WFs6WTY7JGkGD6hFB4u4m1dlPOeIeMjvMPV_ddbCj9DqphrrTYziw4EwNAV6d8FWF-eJk_GQg5MaQ4NO188Z_hqeDzLDEz9nl1Q1saguwmrpjdETeInxs0D5LKuEYYsPf8Yznor-LocIKXW5F51f52T/w400-h353/Burning-plane-after-plane-crash-with-death-of-Yngve-Palsson-142361004231.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Photographer <a href="Svenska Dagbladet via IMS Vintage Photos, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=61212089"><span style="color: #ffa400;">unknown</span></a></span></i><p></p><p><br /></p><p>So here it is, the first of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/May_Day"><span style="color: #ffa400;">May</span></a>, a lovely month that marks the peak of Spring -- and International Worker's Day, of course -- as Summer lights a cigarette, then checks her cell phone while waiting in the wings to make her entrance ... which makes me wonder how the term "mayday" came to be the universal cry of distress? So, off to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mayday"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Wiki-Land</span></a> -- our modern Library of Alexandria -- to find out.</p><p>As you've doubtless surmised by now, this signals yet another re-run. There's enough going on these days that I still haven't managed to finish a new post ... and are you seeing a pattern here? Truth be told, this is probably how it's going to be until I get the book done: shining a light on oldies-but-goodies that won't make it to dead-tree print form, but might be worth your time -- and being more than a decade in the past, may have escaped your attention or slipped into the Swamp of the Forgotten.</p><p>And wouldn't <i><b>that </b></i>be a good name for a band: "Swamp of the Forgotten"?</p><p>So once again I walk the dusty aisles all the way back to May of 2011, a post spurred by a reader named Emilio who asked, in so many words "Is going to Hollywood worth it?"</p><p>As usual, the <a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2011/05/hollywood-is-it-worth-it.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">answer</span></a> to such a question is neither simple nor brief -- much like life itself ... if you're lucky. </p><p>Have yourselves a very good May.</p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(16, 18, 20); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: #000087; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"></span></p>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078779326914378322.post-72132691577225991942022-04-03T09:01:00.001-07:002022-04-03T09:01:00.202-07:00Lies<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohYf4o5VV49puoZVjN-natxi7hwL8J3MrnTdQTgIawEvtnEOu6HVxGzRPXAXAIuzR-COn_bUjZVdp7RMh2RLCAFrbMFpyZVGlaMS6VpXqs3Yrh6RdY1quJASTt1-J5FbCLmK8duWWwBtHLboR2EVeZovA0LrwwnUto3CcvkxIdfsF4YCyIBnBv-Dt/s3841/Prop%20rat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="3841" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohYf4o5VV49puoZVjN-natxi7hwL8J3MrnTdQTgIawEvtnEOu6HVxGzRPXAXAIuzR-COn_bUjZVdp7RMh2RLCAFrbMFpyZVGlaMS6VpXqs3Yrh6RdY1quJASTt1-J5FbCLmK8duWWwBtHLboR2EVeZovA0LrwwnUto3CcvkxIdfsF4YCyIBnBv-Dt/w400-h213/Prop%20rat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> <i> Not a real rat ... but you knew that.*</i><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The film and television industry is all about telling lies -- most (but sadly, not all) of which appear on camera. Crafting screenplays and putting them up on screen is what Hollywood is all about: the creative process of telling well-constructed dramatic and/or comedic lies. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">That's what good fiction is: a beautiful lie. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Bad fiction (<i>Hi there, Michael Bay!</i>), not so much.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">So, yeah ... I've got nothing for April. Hey, I've been busy beating my head against the brick wall of The Book, and something had to give. There's a new post in the works, but it's at least a month away, which means now's the time <i>(ahem: again)</i> to pull a re-run from the archives, scrape off the digital dust, and pretend that you haven't read it ... and given that it went up in 2011, most of you have probably haven't. Even if anybody did, I doubt they'd remember anyway. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Ladies and gentlemen -- <i>drumroll please</i> -- without further ado, an "encore presentation" of <i><b><span style="color: #ffa400;"><a href="https://hollywoodjuicer.blogspot.com/2011/10/little-white-lie.html"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Little White Lie</span></a>.</span></b></i></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">* It was among the hundreds of fake rats (</i><u style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;">lies</u><i style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">, I tell you, </i><u style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;">lies!</u><i style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">) that appeared so long ago in the benighted </i><i style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">film</span></i><i style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"> </i><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>The Sword and Sorcerer. </i></span></b></p></span></div></div>Michael Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02569781786039595929noreply@blogger.com0