Monthly Archives: July 2008

Sneak Preview

I had a chance to see The Dark Knight last night, at a screening on the Warner Brothers lot. It was for employees, mostly executives and their assistants. Usually when I see movies ahead of time, it’s with LA Weekly or Campus Circle; the crowd is mostly wearing flip flops and t-shirts. Last night was a more staid affair, with most people in shirts and ties (or skirts and heels).

I won’t go much into what I thought, other than to say that the audience cheered, actually cheered, at a certain point in the movie. It’s quite a compliment to the filmmakers that this bunch of jaded studio folks could still get excited. (You’ll know the part I’m talking about when you see it.)

Screenings are free and plentiful in LA, which is why I went to a lot of them as a poor film student. Besides the movie itself, there are often guest speakers, too. I saw Kevin Spacey at a screening for American Beauty in my first month at school. I even got to ask him a question! If I recall correctly, it was something along the lines of, “Mr. Spacey, why are you so awesome?” (This was before 21, mind you.)

A couple years ago, I went to a screening of King Kong.  We weren’t expecting any special guests that time; just a big monkey, some dinosaurs, and maybe Naomi Watts in a skimpy white dress. But while we were waiting in line, I heard a voice I definitely recognized.  It took me a minute to place it, and then I realized it was Brad fucking Bird!

I pointed him out to my friend, who responded, “That’s not Brad Bird.”

“Yes, it is.  I recognize him from my Incredibles DVD.”

“I don’t think that’s him.”

“I’m sure it is.”

It went on like this for a while, until I finally went up and asked the guy, “Excuse me, are you Brad Bird?”

“Yes.”

“SEE?”

That’s pretty much the end of that story.  I said I liked his movies, he said thanks, the end.

In any case, my point is, if you start going to these screenings, you too can meet minor celebrities and prove to your friends that you listen to way too many commentary tracks.

On Screen

(First, I’d like to point you to an amusing post on Amanda’s website, about how soon you forget what it’s like to be young and poor.)

In most offices, there are enough binders to create a replica of Stonehenge entirely from supplies purchased at Staples.

My boss keeps copies of everything– every script, every draft of every script, every schedule, every crew list, every cast list, and even every memo. (“No parking in the East lot from 9:00am to 11:30am, July 8th.” Really? Do you need to keep that?)  And everything goes in a binder.

I even have a couple of binders on my shelf. One for resumes (yes, we keep them; no, we never look at them), the other for menus. For some reason, I had oriented the titles on the spines differently, one top to bottom, the other bottom to top).

Last week, my boss noticed: “Hey, did you know you wrote on your binders in opposite ways?”

I had, indeed, noticed. But… so?

One philosophy that was pounded into my head as a camera assistant was, “The only thing that matters is what winds up on film (or tape).” Nobody will care that I filled out the camera report correctly if I didn’t reload the magazine fast enough to get the shot while we still had the light.

This is the tough part about production. Almost nothing we do winds up on the screen. All the paperwork in those binders? Meaningless to the folks at home.

Now, I realize that there is a place for the support staff. Even though an accountant’s work is invisible to the audience, the crew does need to get paid.

But the orientation of the spines of some PA’s binder is so far removed from anything that matters, I just can’t bring myself to care.  Am I wrong?

On an Unrelated Note…

I’ve just been looking at my incoming links (I like to see what people are searching for when they find my site), and two questions sprang to mind.

Who’s been searching for “0000001000000110000001000000110000001000000100000010000001,” and, upon doing so, why did they decide The Anonymous Production Assistant Blog must be the site they’re looking for?

By the way, welcome everybody who followed the link from Nikki Finke’s comments section. I hope the racist talk from today’s earlier post didn’t put you off.

Double the Standards, Double the Fun!

I was overcome with curiosity by my fellow PA’s statement yesterday, “You don’t know who I know. I could make your life a living hell.” (Seriously, though, he’s a nice guy. This is waaay out of context.)

I knew he had been hired because the coordinator was told she had to hire him. So today, I asked her who, specifically, instructed her to do so.

She responded, “I’ll tell you if you tell me what happened yesterday.” (Of course, I hadn’t told her about our discussion, despite the fact that, I’m told, my face was as pink as the third draft of a script immediately afterward.)

So, I told her my colleague felt that I was condescending to him, and issuing orders when we are, in fact, on the same level. “So, who told you to hire him?”

“It was a political hire.”

“I know that. A political hire from who?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

I felt like a cartoon character, suddenly realizing the Warner siblings were in front of me, and no longer behind me.

“Wha- but… I just told you.”

Finally, she admitted the higher up works at the production company overseeing our show, but she declined to name names.

That’ll teach me to trust her.

This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten a bad feeling from her. On my first or second day, she was telling us PAs that we’re going to have to keep the kitchen clean. “Keep it neat, like you would your own- Well, not your kitchen. You’re guys. But keep it clean.”

Haha, very funny, whatever. I don’t mind. In any case, she’s right.

Seconds later, literally, as she was going on about cleaning stuff, I joked, “We’re going to need a girl PA.”

My boss stared at me like I just ran over her puppy. “We do not need a girl PA. Don’t ever talk like that in my office again.”

I failed to utilize the “you started it” defense.

And the weird, confusing politics goes on.

Several accountants have started this week, and I don’t yet know all of their names. I was trying to tell my boss that one of them wanted something. She asked which one, and I said, “Oh, shoot. I forget her name. The Asian one.”

Again, her jaw dropped to the floor, like I’d just said, “You know, the slant-eyed gook, sneaky jap, oriental one.”

Come on! It was an immediately accessible, clear, obvious characteristic. She knew who I meant. “The short one with the dark hair” wouldn’t have worked, because we also have a Middle Eastern accountant. Or possibly Hispanic. I’m not sure.

See, this is why I couldn’t be a racist. I can’t tell if I’m hating the wetbacks or the camel jockeys. Hell, I can’t even tell Jews from white people half the time, and what kind of racist doesn’t hate the Jews?

A Polish one.

I Don’t Wanna Be That Guy

They say you hate in other what you hate most about yourself.

I recently came off a show where I had one of the worst bosses of my entire life. Besides having the emotional maturity of a four year old (he once yelled at the script coordinator for bringing him pages, when we had just distributed pages the night before; what the hell is she supposed to do about it?), he was also unrelentingly condescending and sarcastic.

For example, someone came in the office and asked for the wireless password. Since I was using a desktop, I asked my boss what the password was. He responded thusly:

“GYWAAAAAAHHHHhhhhhhhaaaaa. [That's the closest I can approximate his drama-queen sigh of feigned exasperation without using the Klingon alphabet.] You don’t know the password?!”

No, asshole, I’m plugged into the wall. My password is, “I’m plugged into the fucking wall.”

Equally annoying was his little sidekick, a PA who’d worked for him on a few shows. She was constantly telling me things I already knew, or reminding me to do things I’d already done. This was all very annoying, of course, but I dealt with it. I wasn’t going to be working there forever, after all. Besides, she was an idiot, so why should her opinion bother me?

Fast forward to the present. Now, I’m the one with more experience. In fact, it’s the other PA’s first show.

He’s a good guy. A nice guy, too. He doesn’t always know what’s expected of him, but he’s trying hard and asking questions. Pretty much all you could ask for. Things are going great.

Then, today in the copy room, he confronted me. I asked if he had put the bagels and stuff away, and if he had, he should put the cream cheese in the fridge, not on the shelf.

He whirled on me, and said, “Look, you’re not my boss. I don’t need you telling me what to do all the time.” He went on to say that he knows I’m trying to make him look bad, by waiting until our bosses are around when I ask him if he’s done something yet.  (He failed to notice I was asking him in the copy room, when no one else was around.)

He was visibly shaking as he said this, too. It got really weird when he told me that I didn’t know who he knows, and he could make my life a living hell. Plus, he went to military school, so he could knock me on my ass. “Not that I’m threatening, but just know that.”

Which is not to say he overreacted (barring the threat of physical harm). From what he said, this has been bothering him for a little while. Plus, there was an unfortunate confluence of events–

On Monday, our boss gave him a stern talking to, about thinking ahead and picking up the slack, blah blah blah. Totally unwarranted, in my opinion, but whatever. Then, when I was gone yesterday, he told me he had his best day working here, since he didn’t feel he had three different people looking over his shoulder all day.

The truth of the matter is much more banal. When I ask, for example, if he’s checked the mail, it’s not because I want him to look bad for not having done it already. Nor am I checking up on him. I just don’t want to go out to the mail box if the job’s already done. Far from bad mouthing him, after he left on Monday, I defended him to our boss, saying basically, “He’s trying hard.  He’ll learn.”

I told him all of this, of course (except for the part about defending him, which seemed inappropriate to say). I don’t really know if he believed me, but I got out of the room without being punched.

Somehow, I went from being annoyed to being the annoying one. I don’t mean to be obnoxious or condescending, but I always seem to come off that way. I hear this all the time from people. I once had a therapist tell me she thought I was a jerk for the first few weeks of therapy.

So, I’m aware this is a problem. Last week, I even thought about telling him, “Listen, if I’m telling you things you already know, or if I’m talking down to you, or whatever, just let me know. I’m just trying to help.”  I don’t really remember why I didn’t, other than the opportunity didn’t present itself.  Now, of course, it’s too late.

I honestly don’t know what to do about it at this point. So far, I’ve just avoided talking to him, for fear of offending, but I can’t very well do that for the rest of the shoot.

What should I do?

Stealing Ideas

Well, I didn’t get to send anyone to the electric chair.  (Or whatever it is they do nowadays.  Hang ‘em?  Shoot ‘em?  Are we still stoning people?)  It’s been a long, boring day, so I’ll keep this post short.

I was going through some old e-mails, and I uncovered a dream I had totally forgotten about.

I dreamt I was writing for a TV show, and all the writers were sitting around, pitching episode ideas.  As I slowly awoke, I thought about a brilliant story one of the other writers had pitched.

In my sleep addled state, I was disappointed, because it was someone else’s idea, and I couldn’t use it. A moment later, I realized, “No, wait, I can use that…

“Who will know I stole it?”

Civic Duty

My posting schedule will be a erratic for a little while, as I will be spending my days sitting in judgment of my fellow man.  In a totally socially-endorsed way, too!

If you’re in the courthouse tomorrow, I’ll be the angriest of the twelve angry men.

I’m just not sure which argument I should make in the jury room– A) Why would the police go through the trouble of arresting the guy if he’s innocent? Or B) I’ve seen enough procedural shows to know that all criminals leave indisputable forensic evidence at the scene of the crime; if it’s anything less than 100%, he must be not guilty.

I usually post from work, partially because I have nothing to do, but mostly because at home, I bootleg the interweb from my neighbor’s tube, and the connection’s a little bit spotty.  If there’s nothing new here tomorrow, why not try a friendly game of Risk, instead?

Video Killed the Fi-i-ilm Star

I know lots of people who can’t stand HD. I worked for an AC who would say, “I don’t care what the resolution is, it’s still video.”  Really, do you know anybody outside the business who can even tell the difference between HD and film, much less cares?

More pertinently, I had professors proclaim there is a discipline to working with film. You can’t just roll and roll and roll. Film costs too much.  Tapes (and now, memory cards) are cheap.  I’ve worked for some directors who never call, “Cut!” They’ll just say, “Do it again,” without giving anyone a break. It’s exhausting, for the actors, for the camera operators, for everyone.  I’ve heard of boom operators fainting under those conditions.

There’s bound to be irresponsible people misusing technology, but I figured this “film discipline” thing was just blather from Luddites fearing new-fangled gadgets.

Then, a few weeks ago, I caught myself doing it.

In school, I was given 1200 feet of film to shoot a short movie. The final product barely fit on a 400 foot reel. That’s a 3:1 shooting ratio. Not bad.

A few weeks ago, a shot three spec commercials on HD. At the end of the shoot, I asked my editor how much footage we had. He told me it was 80 minutes.

For a total screen time of 90 seconds.

For those of you too lazy to do the math, the shooting ratio was 53:1. That’s, um, pretty bad. Maybe my professor was right.

These are the kinds of lessons I want to remember when I become a real director. So many people forget what it was like when they were just starting out. This website is about not letting myself forget.

Or, if you’ve already forgotten, maybe it will remind you.

Really Writing

I walked into the writers’ office yesterday and saw a ping pong ball and two paddles sitting on the assistant’s desk.

I paused, staring at the ping pong ball.

This was one of those moments you see in indie movies, where the character is contemplating his life, but you don’t know exactly what he’s thinking because, you know, “show, don’t tell.” But, since this isn’t a movie, I can tell you. I was thinking:

This is where I should be– counting how many times I can bounce the ball while idly bullshitting with the other writers about whatever this week’s story is. Then, suddenly, the story breaks, and we leap to our computers and start furiously pounding out the script.

Now, I know this isn’t how it always works. Writing can be frustrating and dull and lonely. But it can also be engaging and exciting and social, in the right circumstances.

I told my wife about ping pong ball, and she rolled her eyes. “That’s not really writing.”

You see, my wife is under the misapprehension that “writing” consists of the time spent at the keyboard. In fact, she uses “writing” and “typing” interchangeably. “Do you do any good typing today, sweetie?”

She does this mostly because she knows it annoys me.

The truth is, there’s much more to writing than the actual typing. An electrician’s job is to light the set, but the entirety of his job is not encompassed in the moment he switches on the lamp. He has to lay cable, position the light, set the dimmer board.

When I’m playing Portal for the eighteenth time, or calling up friends, or just staring at the ceiling, I can see why that’d look like goofing off. What I’m really doing is laying cable.

Although, sometimes, I am just goofing off.

Where It’s At

Yesterday, Nathan wrote, “You want to write… write!” This is the best, most important advice any aspiring writer can get. But if you’re sitting at a desk in Nome, Alaska, typing away on an Underwood by candlelight, filing your scripts in a drawer, you’re not going to have a writing career.

There’s an old saying that goes, “You’re the average of the people closest to you.” This is why I stopped working on shitty cable shows and direct-to-video movies. I took both a pay cut and a lower position so I could be on a real network show with real writers.

No, the show runner isn’t going to ask the office PA to write an episode. However, WGA rules dictate that he has to ask someone who’s not on staff at least twice a season.  (The number is something like that, anyway; I can’t find the exact rule, because when I google “WGA Rules,” I get a bunch of old crap about the strike.)

Often, this means hiring the writers’ PA, script coordinator, or even the executive producer’s assistant.  Basically, if they’re going to hire someone, they want to hire someone who’s sitting in the writers’ room with them every day.

So, how do you get to be a writers’ PA? Well, one way is to be an office PA, and hang out with the producer/writers down the hall.  When the script coordinator becomes a real writer, the writers’ assistant moves up to coordinator, the writers’ PA moves up to assistant, and all of a sudden, there’s an opening at the bottom.

That’s my plan, anyway.