Enlightenment, of the Avian Sort.
Welcome to South Carolina, where my hotel room key has an advertisement for chicken and waffles on the back! After a bit of hibernation, my freelance work has taken me to the South to shoot a series of commercials for a prominent fried chicken chain. After my first five hours in this state, it became very clear that poultry would be the running theme of my week.
The adventure has so far taken me through five states: I left Boston, MA at six in the morning on a bus that drove through Connecticut and into New York City, where I stopped for a chicken sandwich before boarding a plane to North Carolina, hopped in the rental car and drove to South Carolina, stopping for some delicious barbecue on the way. I should add that the rental car is hilarious; it's essentially a tank- the kind of car where you don't notice when you hit a woodland critter and marinate the engine and radiator with it. But anyway, I'm sure I could go on endlessly about SUVs, or waking up in a totally different part of the country less than twelve hours after waking up, but instead, as mentioned before, I'm going to discuss chicken.
If you paid attention to the details of that last paragraph, you would have noticed that I ate a delicious chicken sandwich in New York, and had an even more delicious barbecue chicken in North Carolina. Now take a minute to imagine the life of a chicken in this country, up until the point at which it gets killed and eaten. They probably don't have a whole lot to look forward to on a day-to-day basis, but in the case of the two chickens I ate today, one was posthumously given the ability to be so much more delicious and satisfying.
Now, when the spirits of these two chickens meet as their Earth bodies get dissolved in stomach acid, the New York deli sandwich chicken is probably a little disappointed that it'd been rendered boneless, processed, and transformed into cutlets that were pre-cooked and simply re-heated on a grill before being slapped onto some bread with a little lettuce. Up until she met the southern barbecue chicken, maybe it had come to terms with this, and assumed that this was simply the fate that chickens are faced with. The barbecue chicken, however, was taken delicate care of, even after being decapitated and sent off to a restaurant. This one had the kind of taste where you know it's just been on that grill all day long, with some master grill artist making sure that the meal is nothing short of perfect.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, nothing can really ever discover its true place in the universe. Chickens are just chickens, food is just food, and this thought you're reading is just a thought. If ever a chicken becomes concerned with its own fate, by all means, it should feel free to do so.
It should be noted, however, that if one wants to go ahead and get wrapped up in some sort of existential crisis, it might as well be running around like a chicken with its head dissociated from itself.
A Rare Stone
Wow! What an unbelievable week. It all started on Monday, when I, for some reason, agreed to do a double equipment return. I sprung out of bed at five in the morning, got to the truck, and with the help of my friend Marcus, picked up gear from a location and dropped it off at both Rule and High Output. We then went to return the truck in Medford and I got on my way to JP for the next return to the Boston University film department. I expected something similar to the gear center from Emerson, but actually, everything went just as planned, which felt weird. Coming from Emerson and their equipment center, I find it really awkward and somewhat uncomfortable when equipment rental houses are friendly and efficient, but as strange as it all was, I was really happy when I realized that I didn't have to prepare myself for a standoff.
So all this was done by around 3:00 pm, and it was time to go to work! I slept through three bus trips and groggily stumbled my tired self into the office and flopped down on a chair, and then a bomb drops. "Hey, we're going to get some cameras tonight. When you get home, pack up. We're going to New York tomorrow."
The subject of the shoot? Diamonds. Lots of them. It's been a whole day and my eyes are still trying to readjust to not being in an enormous room full of brilliant gemstones. I got to shoot the whole process of casting, molding, setting, and selling jewelry.
Now I know my track record for posting promised videos on my blog is pretty shoddy so far, but they are on the way, and this one is included in that. For now, settle for an interesting story.
As it turns out, dropped and missing diamonds are more than common. I got to the set early one day as they were opening and sweeping the floor, and after each pile was swept, the people behind the counter would crouch down and take a careful look. Sure enough, among the dust bunnies and crumbs were six or seven diamonds, and even a silver chain. I don't know what's stranger: the fact that this is so common, or that I was the only one in the room who thought it was weird. Either way, there were lots and lots of diamonds, and a handful of them were probably strewn about the floor somewhere.
A Holiday
It certainly has been a good week or so since my last post, but a whole lot has been happening!
That's right, loyal reader(s)! There might actually be some fun and entertaining video work showing up on this very blog sometime in the next few days!
What have you got to look forward to?
So glad you asked! I've actually been collaborating with my brother, comedy writer Max Lance, on a new web series. It humorously depicts very abridged and more-or-less-accurate topics in history, arts, classics, and literature. In the next couple of days, you can look forward to "Art History in Three Minutes", and who knows, maybe some more awesome or hilarious works of cinematic genius.
Currently, I'm supposed to be drawing the images for "Hamlet in Three Minutes", but I took a break to check my email three or four times, watch the first ten minutes of 8 Mile, eat, stare at the ceiling, and write this.
Alright, back to work I go!
A Civilian
One of the most charming aspects of being on location is when a bystander approaches the crew and asks, "are you guys making a movie?" or "what movie are you all shooting over here?". For some reason, no matter how large of a crew, this always seems to happen. I could be on something more professional or just out with my friends, with a crew of four or five people, armed with no more then a handycam and maybe a tripod if we're feeling fancy, but either way, somebody will stop and ask if we're making the next blockbuster. The coolest part is that you can tell them anything and they'll still be impressed. If a civilian, and by that I mean somebody who isn't involved at all with production, pops the question and expects the answer to be something they might actually get to see someday, they'll still express bewilderment once you tell them that you're only out shooting B-roll for your YouTube webseries that has a single-digit view count.
What I'm trying to say is, being a part of the crew or just having shared the experience of being involved in production is a lot like being in on some big secret. I might just be tired from day two of this Gettysburg shoot, but for some reason it reminds me of elementary school, when the big joke was to convince other kids to join the Pen Fifteen club by writing it on their own forehead with a sharpie (go ahead, give it a shot).
I guess that's a bit of a stretch. What I'm really getting at is that it's refreshing to be reminded of all the people who see media production as some inexplicable magic, or maybe even the work of voodoo, in some extreme cases. Of course, many of these people will probably get to experience such luxuries as job security and regular sleep schedules, but they'll never really know what it's like to wait outside in the freezing cold at five in the morning for the perfect glint of sunrise in order to get a shot that won't be on screen for more than ten seconds. They'll never find themselves screaming at clouds to move once they blocked the sun at the exact moment when the camera team finally got ready.
Some people climb mountains or travel the world just to get a stunning look at the setting sun, but the way I see it, you'll never truly appreciate a sunset until there are three crucial shots that need to be captured in the twenty minutes of perfect golden light at the very end of a long day. What will make it even more appreciated is when these shots don't all get finished and you have to work on Saturday, which means you have to reschedule that date.
Well it looks like call time is 6:00. Maybe she's around on Sunday.
A License
So I'm down here in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania as the first assistant camera on a new History Channel pilot, and today I broke more traffic laws in a two hour stretch than I have in my entire life, at least since high school. Of course, given that all of these misdemeanors were committed for the good of the production, all of them are forgiven, and without repercussion! The only time we were ever stopped by the police was when two of the local officers noticed that we were cruising through the middle of town with the minivan's side doors wide open so the DP could shoot some driving shots. After a brief chat, we explained the nature of the production and the officers reminded us to buckle up as we drove off to break more laws.
Having the side doors open while driving and having unfastened passengers are minor details in the grand scheme of things. Next thing I know, the host of the show is on a motorcycle and we're about ten feet behind him in the minivan. I'm driving this car which, by the way, belongs to the director and MUST NOT get a scratch on it, and the DP is standing directly behind me, shooting from outside the sunroof.
I'm at the wheel of this car taking orders from the director and all sorts of things are going through my mind: Am I worried about endangering the DP and the astronomically unaffordable rental camera with the new Canon HJ14ex4.3B Wide Angle lens, which hasn't even existed for more than a month or two? Am I worried about rear-ending the shiny blue Harley we rented for the host? Am I trying to show off my commitment to the project and my driving abilities because the director and DP are in the car with me? Am I worried about my own safety?
All of the above, perhaps?
However, one of the things I'm not worried about at this point is law enforcement. I'm having too much fun, and besides, we're a production crew! I got the feeling that having all the camera gear and just carrying such entitlement gave us a license to own the roads. I felt like we could suddenly do whatever we wanted to, as long as we got the shots in the can.
Of course, just when I think I'm coasting, the DP sits back down in the backseat and rolls open the side door. Suddenly the director tells me to wait for the oncoming car lane to clear up so I can get alongside the motorcycle. A little terror, maybe some nervous laughter, but I'll admit I was grinning; I love playing England.
So we're taking up the entire span of narrow two-way roads, driving considerably faster than the speed limit. We even hit the roundabout in the center of town and did five or six laps in the busy intersection like this, but nobody said anything. As far as all the Gettysburg tourists are concerned, it's just one more out-of-the-ordinary occurrence to stop and stare and take a picture of. Then, once we've had our fun and we've all taken lots of good pictures, we'll all go on to the next sights to see, get our cameras ready, and probably forget all about just having broken at least a dozen or more traffic laws.