iceland
The muddy ruts have turned to frozen waves of brown. The grips have built a road out of rough-sawn oak planks lag-bolted to 2x10s
that stretch for at least a hundred yards, past the enormous catering tent complex up to where picture vehicles are staged. The plank road looks like something out of world war II, something that leads to a frozen eastern front.
While last week, everything floated on, and sank into endless seas of mud, this week everything is locked into place with a frosty chocolate mortar. If you dropped something last night and found it this morning, you'd have to kick at it with your heel to dislodge it from the ground then scrape it clean of the dirty icy coating.
And there's a lot to drop. In my entire film experience, I've never seen so much stuff. Not just equipment, not just set dressing and props, but everything: There are three separate basecamps each with a city of circus tents and at least a dozen generators and work light towers. There's one area that's only military vehicles- more humvees than I can count, each with 50.cal armaments attached (and wrapped in furniture blankets oversheathed with trash bags in an attempt to defeat the single digits temperatures overnight).
And extras, between 400 and 1000, depending on which day, all of whom are in distressed wardrobe and make-up and carrying belongings
a la the end of the world refugees in Deep Impact. When we shot that one, the opposite was happenning- we were on a brand new highway in August and people were collapsing from heat exhaustion, cars were overheating, general malaise and fatigue were from heat. Today, it's from the cold.
Standing in a field in the pre-dawn glow, no one can find their departments, because all faces are obscured with hats and ear muffs and scarves. We look like an army of mishaped snowmen wearing high-tech cold climate wardrobe. Everyone's trying to look enthusiastic, and as the sun is almost over the ridge, a cacophony begins: The director is helicoptering in to put us all to work.
that stretch for at least a hundred yards, past the enormous catering tent complex up to where picture vehicles are staged. The plank road looks like something out of world war II, something that leads to a frozen eastern front.
While last week, everything floated on, and sank into endless seas of mud, this week everything is locked into place with a frosty chocolate mortar. If you dropped something last night and found it this morning, you'd have to kick at it with your heel to dislodge it from the ground then scrape it clean of the dirty icy coating.
And there's a lot to drop. In my entire film experience, I've never seen so much stuff. Not just equipment, not just set dressing and props, but everything: There are three separate basecamps each with a city of circus tents and at least a dozen generators and work light towers. There's one area that's only military vehicles- more humvees than I can count, each with 50.cal armaments attached (and wrapped in furniture blankets oversheathed with trash bags in an attempt to defeat the single digits temperatures overnight).
And extras, between 400 and 1000, depending on which day, all of whom are in distressed wardrobe and make-up and carrying belongings
a la the end of the world refugees in Deep Impact. When we shot that one, the opposite was happenning- we were on a brand new highway in August and people were collapsing from heat exhaustion, cars were overheating, general malaise and fatigue were from heat. Today, it's from the cold.
Standing in a field in the pre-dawn glow, no one can find their departments, because all faces are obscured with hats and ear muffs and scarves. We look like an army of mishaped snowmen wearing high-tech cold climate wardrobe. Everyone's trying to look enthusiastic, and as the sun is almost over the ridge, a cacophony begins: The director is helicoptering in to put us all to work.
posted by eric at 8:13 AM
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