The reel story
So here's what happened: I went to an open call for a Pepsi commercial near Bristol, TN while I was living a post-college arrested adolescence/self-imposed exile. I had always wanted to work in the film business, but had no idea how to get started.
After a half-dozen call-backs, I was cast as "guy on motorcycle". Director Michael Ritchie(!) told me I was the only guy in Tennessee without a moustache, and probably would have given me a speaking part if I had a SAG card. The shoot was three days, and my part was on day 1.
[here's the :30 version, which has no motorcycle guy]
Walking onto the set in the pre-dawn haze, I felt it instantly, the energy of a shooting set. I knew that I was in the right place. Everywhere, a busy army of guys and girls with headsets on were scurrying around. I want to do that, I told the 1st AD, who had kindly befriended me. No you don't he said. That's the worst job there is.
But I wouldn't listen. I got hired as a PA for the additional days that I wasn't shooting. My duties included yelling "Quiet!", looking for people (sample assignment: the radio would crackle, "yeah, there's a girl in yellow named Becky, we need her at camera" so you'd go to every girl in yellow and say are you Becky? and they would all say why, yes I am...
But then the job was over, and the trucks pulled out, and I was left wondering, where is the next commercial going to shoot, the answer of course is: not here.
Years later, I was living in Crystal City, and I saw a '64 Plymouth Fury painted like a DC cop car parked at a warehouse across the street from my apartment. I figured it was a prop for America's most Wanted, knowing that the show was based in Bethesda.
I circled the block on my bike, scoping out the situation. I read the parking passes
in the windshields, sorta stalking them. When a lone figure wallked walked across the lot, I rode up to her and broke into the bit; excuse me, I said, are you with forrest gump? The person, a blond lady with a slight smile said, yes, I'm the art director.
I introduced myself, told her I had experience as a PA and pointed up to the building across the street. I live right there, I said, so you have to hire me. Surely there's a job too dirty or boring for everyone else, and it's almost impossible for me to be late. She thought that was funny and referred me to Willis who does the hiring.
This is where the trail goes cold: to begin with, Willis was never there. It became clear that this otherwise anonymous warehouse in crystal city was the wardrobe, set dressing, props and construction departments, and in my subsequent trips into it in search of Willis, I met most of the staff: production designer rick carter, propmaster ian kelly, leadman polarbear shaw and his band of happy set dressers, including but not limited to the affable billy alford.
When I finally met Willis, he said he couldn't hire me unless he'd worked with me, or if someone he knew had worked with me. Then he asked for my resume. I didn't have one.....with me I said. Willis dismissed me into the ether to fetch my papers, but not before waving a stack of resumes at me and saying these are the people ahead of you who want a job.
Broken but not beaten, I went to Kinko's to construct a history of association with entertainment that could be construed as previous employment. For example, I had been in bands, and carried my own gear. That made me a roadie, or, better yet a
stagehand/ technician. And so on.
Then I printed it onto the brightest florescent orange papaer I could find, the kind that hurts your eyes. I took it back to Willis' lair, but of course he was gone. I put my one page novel of mostly non-fiction on his desk, then grabbed a post-it and wrote- Willis, hire this guy! and signed it -E.
Then I did what seemed like the most logical thing- went for a long bike ride. Upon my return there was a message from Willis that said something like you lucky bastard- the art director says she can use a guy to help her, and asked for you by name.
So there. Glamour and glitz. My team cleaned out the reflecting pool so Tom Hanks and Robin Penn Wright could jump in and meet in the middle. I got my brother Chris hired for a couple weeks, but he was too smart to stick with the film business.
Not me.
After a half-dozen call-backs, I was cast as "guy on motorcycle". Director Michael Ritchie(!) told me I was the only guy in Tennessee without a moustache, and probably would have given me a speaking part if I had a SAG card. The shoot was three days, and my part was on day 1.
[here's the :30 version, which has no motorcycle guy]
Walking onto the set in the pre-dawn haze, I felt it instantly, the energy of a shooting set. I knew that I was in the right place. Everywhere, a busy army of guys and girls with headsets on were scurrying around. I want to do that, I told the 1st AD, who had kindly befriended me. No you don't he said. That's the worst job there is.
But I wouldn't listen. I got hired as a PA for the additional days that I wasn't shooting. My duties included yelling "Quiet!", looking for people (sample assignment: the radio would crackle, "yeah, there's a girl in yellow named Becky, we need her at camera" so you'd go to every girl in yellow and say are you Becky? and they would all say why, yes I am...
But then the job was over, and the trucks pulled out, and I was left wondering, where is the next commercial going to shoot, the answer of course is: not here.
Years later, I was living in Crystal City, and I saw a '64 Plymouth Fury painted like a DC cop car parked at a warehouse across the street from my apartment. I figured it was a prop for America's most Wanted, knowing that the show was based in Bethesda.
I circled the block on my bike, scoping out the situation. I read the parking passes
in the windshields, sorta stalking them. When a lone figure wallked walked across the lot, I rode up to her and broke into the bit; excuse me, I said, are you with forrest gump? The person, a blond lady with a slight smile said, yes, I'm the art director.
I introduced myself, told her I had experience as a PA and pointed up to the building across the street. I live right there, I said, so you have to hire me. Surely there's a job too dirty or boring for everyone else, and it's almost impossible for me to be late. She thought that was funny and referred me to Willis who does the hiring.
This is where the trail goes cold: to begin with, Willis was never there. It became clear that this otherwise anonymous warehouse in crystal city was the wardrobe, set dressing, props and construction departments, and in my subsequent trips into it in search of Willis, I met most of the staff: production designer rick carter, propmaster ian kelly, leadman polarbear shaw and his band of happy set dressers, including but not limited to the affable billy alford.
When I finally met Willis, he said he couldn't hire me unless he'd worked with me, or if someone he knew had worked with me. Then he asked for my resume. I didn't have one.....with me I said. Willis dismissed me into the ether to fetch my papers, but not before waving a stack of resumes at me and saying these are the people ahead of you who want a job.
Broken but not beaten, I went to Kinko's to construct a history of association with entertainment that could be construed as previous employment. For example, I had been in bands, and carried my own gear. That made me a roadie, or, better yet a
stagehand/ technician. And so on.
Then I printed it onto the brightest florescent orange papaer I could find, the kind that hurts your eyes. I took it back to Willis' lair, but of course he was gone. I put my one page novel of mostly non-fiction on his desk, then grabbed a post-it and wrote- Willis, hire this guy! and signed it -E.
Then I did what seemed like the most logical thing- went for a long bike ride. Upon my return there was a message from Willis that said something like you lucky bastard- the art director says she can use a guy to help her, and asked for you by name.
So there. Glamour and glitz. My team cleaned out the reflecting pool so Tom Hanks and Robin Penn Wright could jump in and meet in the middle. I got my brother Chris hired for a couple weeks, but he was too smart to stick with the film business.
Not me.
posted by eric at 11:27 AM
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