Thursday, July 01, 2004Production Journal, Postscript
Tonight was the last night of shooting of any significant kind: a couple of little pickup shots with three actors and a barebones crew. I wasn't even there until the very end, and only then because Morgan needed a prop note I had in my possession (written in my own scrawly cursive; I've hardly ever used it since elementary school). I brought it out to 'em and hid behind a car through the shot... and that was that. End of production.
It was unlike any shoot I've worked on before (apart from a couple of days I spent swinging a boom on Blue Citrus Hearts), wildly unstructured and hard to pin down. It was also, for the most part, free of serious ego conflict or hassle, and the rigor of the work involved paled in comparison to what I used to do in film school. (How I miss those weeks in Studio B at LFS -- literally weeks on the set, leaving only to use the toilet and procure food, sleeping on the studio floor with nary so much as a sleeping bag -- we were hard core, we were.)
But yeah, it was good... I felt a little useless now and then, and while I never mentioned this to Morgan or Amber beforehand, I loathe doing A.D. work. It always bothers me that women, regardless of how technically good they might be, invariably get channeled off into support work and administrative stuff... I can handle a camera pretty well, y'know, and know my XLR from my RCA, my jib from my tilt. But never mind; it looks like I'll get to use all that next time around, and for this film it was enough just to be helpful.
The strangest thing about dissolving a crew, I always find, is the peculiar kind of absence you feel for a while afterwards. About half the crew were essentially strangers to me when we began, and now, y'know, I'll actually miss them. Without going into "we were like a family" cliches -- we were more like a gang of hooligans much of the time -- it'll be strange not to see Mike or Sebastian or Sean every day.
Ginger, however, is still around -- she might as well move to Memphis at this rate, she'd be most welcome. She seems to be having a great time with her crew around her, and she's treating us to all kinds of interesting fun. Dinners, movies, the lot... tonight we saw Spiderman 2 (not half bad), and there's talk later this week of indulging in The Stepford Wives. (I know the remake's not supposed to be that great, but I really like the original, so I'm willing to give it a try. And anything with Christopher Walken in it can't be all bad.)
Tomorrow, however, is the tattoo party. Four or five of the crew are going over to Underground Art to get inked up, at Ginger's urging. I will be going, although I will not be among the inkees; if my first boyfriend, who was a body-mod fiend, couldn't convince me to have a go, I doubt these people can (althought they've tried, god knows.) I'm going mostly to watch and provide moral support in the form of gentle mockery of the others' pain. I did cop to a willingness to get a fresh piercing -- just my left ear, nothinge exotic; I'm pretty conventional when it comes to where I maintain holes -- but it sounds like the people at U.A. are pretty full-up tomorrow, so I doubt that'll happen.
I was asked, though, if I were to get a tattoo, what would I get? This, of course, is a difficult question -- my skin doesn't seem to yearn for illustration like that of some people, and there isn't much I can think of, really, that I feel certain I'd like to look at for the next five or six decades.
But if I did get a tattoo, I think I'd get this:
This is the symbol (vever) for Erzulie, the Haitian Vodoun loa ruling love and femininity and female energy and all that kind of thing. I did a lot of research into Vodoun when I was in college (one of many reasons why no other school will accept my transfer credits), and became an official admirer of the religion, which is actually very subtle and elegant and has almost nothing to do with sticking things into dolls... although it does happen from time to time. Anyway, a vever is a symbol drawn with sand or cornmeal or ground chalk on the floor of the sacred space to "call" the loa in; the idea is that you draw one side with your right hand and one side with your left hand simultaneously. I can barely draw it at all, much less ambidextrously. But over the decade since I first became intrigued, I've been fond of this little ritual diagram. And I think, if I were so inclined (which I'm not), it would make a pretty good tattoo.
Apart from rambling aimlessly, I also want to use this final post as a place to consolidate all those daily posts on the production, so they all link up together nicely:
Day Three, Revisited
Starting July 11 (give or take) I'll be starting the next shoot, which should be a completely different animal. I don't know if I'm going to journal that one the way I did this one -- it was something I found I didn't want to do after the hard days, and I couldn't think of much to write after the easy days -- but if anything interesting happens, I'll probably post about it.
So... there it is, then.