Day 3 -- October 9, 1997
Call time 5:00pm. Time to pound this baby out, right? Well, wrong. They're up on the set shooting something else first, trying to take advantage of the waning daylight. So I go about my duties, getting mostly in costume, getting into make-up, and taking in the fine barbecue cuisine being offered by the caterers. And when I say taking in I really mean taking into my trailer. I wasn't really hungry so I wrapped up a turkey burger for later. Gotta grab it when it's offered, no?
Once that was accomplished, I got into full marine garb and went up to the set myself, two cameras in hand, intent on capturing the magic that is the YOUNG LIEUTENANT. One of the extras, Andrew, whom I had become friendly with yesterday, was hanging about so I had him take a few pictures of me, a couple with the 3-D camera and a couple with the traditional 2-D effect. The sun was just setting so I hope the combination of flash and natural light lets them turn out OK.
Eventually we set to work on the scene. Back to the beginning. Time to get it right. And to be honest, we didn't get it right as quickly as one might have thought. We probably still spent an hour or two getting an acceptable master for the scene. Lots of takes, but finally something that Mimi, the director could live with.
We then moved into the world of coverage. Little did I know at the time, but this was going to be a world of trouble for me. We first covered the families as the bus arrives and we army guys come running over. Problem. With the camera off to my right and the family off to my left, I have my back to the camera. "Open yourself up a bit towards the camera," I'm instructed by Mimi. I can handle that, I figure. I try to keep it in mind, but I do get told another time or two to stay open. Nothing mean or nasty, just gentle reminders.
Next problem. When I come over and ask for the IDs, I am casting a shadow on the father. Mimi asks if I can see the shadow and make sure it doesn't fall there. I assure her I can watch for it and be careful. Two takes later, I come rushing over and within two lines the scene is cut. "Can you see the shadow?" comes booming from the director's chair. And, lo and behold, plain as day, the silhouette of a soldier is blazoned across the father's chest. "Open yourself up," comes the correction from the director's chair. Not good to keep hearing that one. Of course, opening myself up just alters the shape of the shadow. "Now move left... move further left... There." And there happens to be leaning over the back of the soldier next to me about 6 feet from the father. He adds, "Could you just stand behind the bus?" We run the scene a couple more times and I spend the beginning of the scene leaning and ducking and moving to do everything I can to avoid casting a shadow. I don't think I was on camera at all, so it shouldn't look goofy to the audience, although it couldn't have felt any more so.
But that's not the end of my woes. I get a late start in one of the takes and when I get to the families, I come in late on one of my lines. Just not a stellar take. Afterwards, however, Mimi comes up to me as says that I didn't use my flashlight. I tell her I'm sorry, I just spaced at the beginning of the scene. She tells me we need to focus. Probably good advice. But then the DP comes over and also tells me I didn't use my flashlight, but he tells me precisely when I didn't use it. Turns out it was in a part of the scene where I hadn't been using it at all, in any take. I don't go back to the director to try to vindicate myself or anything, and by itself I don't think it would have been a big deal, but I just felt she was building this impression of me that I couldn't handle this and that I was more trouble than I was worth. Not a good feeling.
The end of her proverbial rope came a bit later when she was talking to all of us, but specifically to the parents and she told us not to speak after a certain line. I did not, at the time, hear that note. I was not paying attention because I thought she was talking to the parents about something. You can fill in the rest of this story yourself. Include in your version me shouting out my next line at that moment in the scene and the mother putting her finger over her lips to give me a big Shhhhh, which at the time, I had no idea why she was doing that. Then include the director coming over and saying, "I guess you didn't hear what I was saying," which I thought was her way of saying she understands that it was just a mix-up. I say no, I didn't hear her say that. She replies, "Well, I really need you to pay attention to what's going on here. Help us out, please," in a tone that would suggest more frustration and anger than understanding. Yikes.
Now, don't get me wrong. I know there are a lot of things going on with the shoot and with the movie in general and with the lateness of the hour, and she was getting a little stressed out (but in a surprisingly calm fashion) and so yes, of course I'm going to get told to pay attention when she knows she said it and I didn't hear it. That's all understandable. But, again, it was the accumulation of all these things that gave me the feeling that I was the dumb guy, the one who couldn't handle being in a movie. I would like to just chalk it all up to inexperience and I hope that's it. Not only does that give me hope, but it gives me something to look forward to-- a time when I'm just more comfortable opening up, and watching my shadow, and hitting my mark, and doing all the things that take so much mental effort for me right now. It would be nice if those things came second nature instead of third or fourth nature. And while I'll never stop making mistakes, I just want them to be few and far enough in between so that I don't feel like I'm totally out of place. Make any sense?
That said, let me focus on the good news. Day 3 was a lot nicer because I was actually getting to know people a little better. Just to start the day seeing familiar faces and saying hi instead of having to meet 20 new people gets the day off to a finer start. And down-time on the set was filled with more conversations instead of me just trying to stay out of everybody's way. The regulars were nice and the extras were friendly, too. It was a good day, even with the cloud of incompetence hanging over my head.
And it was made even better when 12 midnight rolled around and we still needed to shoot more shots with the kids. As you know, as the clock struck twelve, they were whisked away. And again, so was I. We would be back for a fourth and most likely final night of the great bus scene.