Shooting Report
April 18-19, 1992
It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. This weekend marked the first time in California that I was paid to speak on camera. (So, Binghamton commercials and extra work don't count. And when I get paid to speak on film instead of on video, it'll be a new milestone.) So that was good. In fact, great. I made a hundred bucks for a weekend, and the second day was only about 3 hours.
The bad? "Boy, they sure have written a lot about nutrition. I'm glad I read these books. They've really helped me write my report." It was the worst of the worst. Corny. Awkward. Wordy. Simplistic. Jokes even a third grader would think were dumb. What more can I say?
The king of this court was one Fred Hanson, a loud, crazy kind of guy who seems all smiles and kindness, but is always a hair from the edge, a step from exploding into a tirade. He never actually "tiraded" over the weekend, to be honest, but he had moments of curtness and annoyance that made you thoroughly grateful you weren't, and never would be, married to the guy.
He insisted on complete control. He directed, operated the camera, and wore the headphones. He was most disappointed (I imagine) that he couldn't actually act in them, too, and as both characters. He dealt with this by forcing us to say the lines exactly as he would. For me, this began as me saying a line in a "natural, friendly tone," only to get a line-reading from Fred that was the definition of "bad educational video." At first, I tried to incorporate both his reading and my attempt at naturalism, but he would keep repeating what he wanted and insist I repeat what he said until it finally sounded exactly like him. As the day wore on, I skipped all the middle steps, saying the line once so that he could then give me the line-reading, and then aping him syllable for syllable. It went much quicker.
My co-host was an actual high-school student, a 15-year old sophomore. She had a pleasant voice, and did a god job with lines that were far worse than even mine. "Boy, I wouldn't last long with a bunch of dead cells!" Woah.
But we survived. And we got paid. So I guess I can't complain. And
some day, as the nation prepares to watch my interview with Barbara
Walters, they'll see a young, goofy John Ducey ask them, "Did
you know that bread is over one-third water?"