«« (back) (forward) »»
14.5 minutes where the hell is the medium pimp

medium pimping: 3:45 AM yesterday

›all comments

›post #66
›bio: raquel

›first post
›that week

'le vie c'est tres droll'

Category List

My alarm clock goes off.

At what is most assuredly an ungodly hour, I arose, dressed, threw my entire business wardrobe in my sister's monogramed bag and took off for Ciao for Now to shoot a scene in Pie Chi or The Baking Point.

This is all under the guise of Raw Impressions or RIP Fest #2. Here's how it works:

At the first meeting, 6 teams are announced - each comprised of: a producer, a director, a composer, an editor, a DP, a group of actors (2-5), and a crew.
The teams are given guidelines in creating a new 5-10 minute DV film.
2 days to write a first draft in which is given a reading by the actors. Then:
2 days for rewrites
2 days for pre-production.
2 days to shoot the film.
8 days for post production for the editors and composers.
16 days after the first time everyone met, the films are premiered!

Essentially a receipe for insanity. I arrived at 5AM on the set where everyone had been filming all night. I was a last second replacement for Ruth Reichel, NYT food critic. Her cameo was to eat a bite of a supposedly vegan desert which was then declared to be remarkably "full-bodied" in a, well, cannabalistic sort of way.

When they set up the shot, the producer placed a great looking desert in front of me, a little homeade mini pie and then smothered it in tomato sauce to give it that "smothered in fresh blood look". Tomato sauce and apple pie. Once reeses gets ahold of this idea I see a whole new revolution in peanut butter cups.

So I tentatively pull my fork up full of saucy fruit and the director says to wait and walks outside. Soon the crew is outside, everyone looking west with bleary eyes. We have about 15 minutes before the bakers come to start a-bakin. Everyone continues looking westward. The actor next to me has been there all night. His eyelids droop and he is covered in flour. He looks at me and smiles.

Suddenly it dawns on everyone that they have to get the hell out of there and the camera is in my face waiting for me to eat apple pie and ketsup and not spit up , but rather spit out my lines. And fast. After all, suddenly we have to get out! The first take is fine. The second not so much. "Animal ingredients" gets garbled when I rush and trip up my words. But c'mon, you say "animal ingredients". Say it! The third is it. And we are done. I mean it's a wrap.

I was on time for work that day for the first time, ever. Thanks Ruth Reichel!

«« (back) (forward) »»
14.5 minutes where the hell is the medium pimp

© happyrobot.net 1998-2024
powered by robots :]