espresso stroke

The idea was simple. The main character went to a cart on the street and got an espresso. I found the very best espresso cart in the city, and developed a relationship with the cart owner, who had newspaper articles posted that indicated what a great guy he was, how he had ovecome adversity in a war torn counrty to succeed in the competetive push-cart coffee product arena.

He was a flake. He didn't show. On the morning of the shoot, his call time was 7 a.m. Around nine, the Production Designer called me. Any sign of your guy? he asked in a knowing and disapproving tone. I responded in the negative. What's plan B? he wanted to know, his british accent snapping at my heels. Plan B is the Plan A works, God dammit.

I assurred him that a well constructed contingency plan was unfolding as we spoke. I hung up and called Shiffy. I was having a meltdown.

This had been a sure thing. A lot could go wrong on this show, like when the main character boards a train at Union Station, it's a rainy day, and when he gets off at Dupont Circle, it's sunny and dry. Then he calls his boss in virginia, and it's snowing. And Al Pacino's fingernails look like yellow gnarled toenails in a close up of his hand (what the fuck's up with that?), so by comparison the espresso cart should have been no big deal, but it was my Titanic, and it was going down fast.

Fortunately, the rest of the art department had basically fuck-all to do, so we swarmed on this crisis: Shiffy arrived to talk me down, and suggested we go solicit hot dog vendors on Constitution Avenue. Gordon tried to locate his elusive box of adhesive letters. Carol Flaisher, bless her heart, dispatched one of her "kids" to the restaurant where I waited tables years ago to borrow an espresso machine (that came with cups and accoutrements-thanks alex)

The crowning jewel was a piece of neon in the window of Kramer Afterwords (whom I may have promised mention in the credits, sorry guys) that had a coffee cup emblematically depicted alongside the word espresso. I basically said whatever it took to borrow the neon, which we wound up breaking (again, sorry) and paying to have repaired.

I told the 1st AD that the espresso cart operator had to be played by the real barista from Kramer who had tattoos and piercings that would scare your mother. He raged at me (in the style of new york filmmaking) Oh, now you're casting?

In the end, the scene is almost invisible. The key plot point that hinged on the espresso was droppped, I think, if not overshadowed by a clumsy relationship with the love interest or a ham fisted twist at the end.

The important thing is, we got the neon fixed.