Bobby's grumpy

Normally, a key part of my job is avoiding actors. Not just for the sake of job preservation by maintaining distance from the focus of attention, but also because the mechanics of what the art department does dovetails with the actor's job. When we're finished with the set, they bring on the actors.

But the relationship between the us and the director is the exact opposite. It needs to be open, cordial, frank, clear, and nearly constant. We are his hands as he paints his canvas. He'll call our name a hundred times in one day. I learned a decade ago to watch the director's eyes, body language, tone of voice, to search for clues as to what else he's thinking, and therefore, probably going to ask for.

So when George Clooney glides onto a set, and a palpable hum settles over the set, I'm immune to it. I'm watching everything that's not an actor: the flowers, the tables, the chairs, the paintings. If he bumps into me, I'll say excuse me, if he says good morning, I'll repeat it, but there will be no meaningful exchange.

But when Robert Deniro is the director, I get a little tingle when he steps up to the monitor and starts barking out orders to the extras. He yelled at the extras to put down their drinks. You can go to Mc Donald's when you leave here he roared. Nice. Welcome to Bobby D's acting camp.

I kept hearing that voice while not looking at him, and it takes a second to remember that's your boss telling you to do something. I would get lost listening to the timbre and tone and not hear what he was saying. Not very professional, I suppose. But hey, c'mon Bobby, who wouldn't?

Besides, we were busting our ass on this show. To begin with, on our prep day, it rained like a flood out of the old testament. And since this is a period piece, we
have to change everything: the street signs, meters, cars, even the lines on the road.
I kept three raincoats on constant rotation. When one got soaked through, I hung it on a wardrobe rack we rigged up in the back of our truck. Fortunately, I had the best help an art department can get, a pair of rock solid set dressers who can keep a good attitude in the face of insurmountable conditions, as long as lunch is good, which it always is.

As wrap was called, and everybody wanted a piece of Bobby, he walked right toward me, as if to say thanks, good job, see ya. As it turned out, his driver had pulled up on the curb behind me, so moving my way was coincidence. I told him thanks for bringing the show to DC. He grinned in a way I hadn't seen the whole shoot and said, sure, you got it.