When one is in the workplace one attempts to maintain a reputation of poise, professionalism and eloquence. However, there are mitigating circumstances that render that goal impossible. For example, any visible symptom of illness, i.e. sneezing, laryngitis or coughing are all minor infractions. So long as you so long as you cover your face, wash yours hands, use antibacterial and/or refrain from speaking, people will understand and soon forget. Tripping on flat ground is another, but everyone does that at some point so it too is soon forgotten.
It was my dumb luck, however, to find an embarrassing, uncontrollable, incurable way of loosing one's dignity.
Hiccups.
Today I not only came down with an embarrassing case of the hiccups once, but twice. Upon returning from lunch, I sat in my cubicle and began uncontrollably hiccuping. Some people are lucky enough to be able to stifle such an unflattering body function, but I cannot claim to be one of those people. Short anecdote: One day in high school choir practice, I had the hiccups. There were 200 of us in the choir room and we were preparing for our upcoming concert which was good because the singing camouflaged my inadvertent squeaks. However, right at the moment where everyone was supposed to cut off and remain silent and still, I hiccuped. It was so loud that the entire choir room turned around, looked at me and started laughing. Even the teacher stopped playing piano because she was laughing so hard. So the moral of the story is that I hiccup loudly and, inevitably, at the most inopportune moments.
So I am desperately, yet, subtilely trying to cure my hiccups while I try to meet certain work deadlines for the afternoon. So as not to draw attention to myself, I attempt to hold my breath while sitting at my desk, typing. However, that only results in lack of oxygen. So I graduate to drinking water. Now this seems like a logical first step, but since I did not want to be engaged in conversation at the water cooler and thus outed by my condition I bumped it to option two and then waited patiently until I knew no one was in the kitchenette.
Alas, all that effort and no luck. Then came plugging my ears and nose and swallowing three times, which also requires a level of discretion, cause let's be honest, if you came upon someone in their cubicle doing that, wouldn't you think less of them? Still no luck. And the hiccups are beginning to squeak through. I'm sure someone has noticed. I mean, how can you not notice a squeak reverberating through the office and cutting through the white noise of typing and air ventilators?!
Then all at once and without the aid of my ingenious remedies. They're gone! Halleluia! So I go on with my work.
Less than 30 minutes later they return with a vengeance and I restart my attempts to cure them.
Then out of the corner of my eye I see someone coming over to my cubicle. Damn. He needs to talk about footage from last week so the moment I open my mouth, I hiccup. Loudly. I immediately apologize, but let's be honest the damage is done and is only compounded by the subsequent hiccups that continue through the entire 5 minute conversation. Awesome.
I have finally decided to refill my drinking glass, because my earlier attempts had drained my supplies, and when I return I settle on my final remedy, drinking water from the opposite side of the glass. This is the culmination of my failed attempts to maintain my dignity marked by squeaks at 45 seconds intervals. I try to hold on the final scrap of respectability as I sit at my desk and bend over to accomplish the feat. And now after 2 hours of hiccups combined with several hits to my professional reputation and a headache, I now have spilled water on myself, but no longer have the hiccups.
So although no one has directly said anything to me about it, I can hardly believe that everyone was completely ignorant of the occasional squeak coming from my general direction. Alas.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
"Scripty"
I realize I've been remiss in discussing my 3-week gig as a script supervisor and I'm taking this opportunity to rectify that. Or at least begin that process because it was a long 14 days (in a good way). I promise, loyal readers, that this entry will be far more light-hearted and G-rated as far as language. Actually I can;t promise that because I believe the words "skantily clad" can be found below and I dont know how the MPAA would look upon that.
The main reason I haven't posted anything about it is because I was working 12 hours a day, driving an average of an hour to and from the hotel I was staying at to the sites, and because my internet access was limited to one ethernet cable in the hotel room which I was far too tired to plug in when I finally got back to the hotel. And when I got back last Thursday I was part working on transferring all my notes, part preparing for my new job, and part mourning the end of a great project so I had no time or inclination to write.
Enough with excuses.
For those of you who don't know what the position of a script supervisor, or "scripty" as we're known in the biz, entails allow me to enlighten you. The basic premise is that it was my job to ensure that what was on the pages of the script is accurately captured on film. That means that the right lines, scenes, props, timeline, wardrobe and proper acting nuances are present. I need to know the script better than the scriptwriter. I also have to ensure continuity, if the actress ended a scene with her hair parted to the left, with her purse on her right shoulder and a half full coffee cup in the other hand, then it has to be the same in the next scene. I also have to ensure coverage. If the script calls for a close up of a cellphone showing the time changing from 2:02 to 2:03 you have to make sure that at least one camera has captured that. Meanwhile, during the actual shooting you are in charge of keeping track of all the camera set ups, how many takes in each set-up and any notes about a particular take; I.e. "Skipped a line", "great reaction", "Pace was too fast", "actress needs to glance right", "eyeline was off", "Awesome, great, fantasic ***".
It's fantastically complex and it requires a wonderful combination of diligence, memory, organization and creativity. I say creativity because frequently there are questions about realism, character development and other issues that require a solution. One of the major challenges of this film was the sheer complexity of the script. There are flashbacks, dream sequences, and other non-linear story-telling methods. So frequently (due to our lack of time and preproduction) makeup, wardrobe, props and art people had to coordinate with me so that we could ensure that all the correct elements were present and that continuity was maintained. "Should this portrait be on the wall?" "Are the flowers supposed to be here? Should they be wilted?" "What makeup is she wearing? Is it smeared? or newly applied?" "What times does the clock say?" "Does she have her everyday purse or is it her evening purse since it's the morning after?"
There was one day that was particularly challenging in a number of ways. We did a series of scenes, reality and fantasy, that will be intercut in the final product. We did the reality in the morning and did the fantasy that afternoon/evening. Now the main character was scripted as skantily clad, but the actress was uncomfortable with the costume. So the director, the head of wardrobe and I discussed the possibilities with the producers and the actress. We settled on her throwing on a shirt upon exiting the bed. Great. All good.
Not for long...
That afternoon the director decided that the T-shirt wasn't working because part of the film's production value was in showing some skin. However, since we had already done the reality scenes that morning with her wearing the shirt, we couldn't just ditch the shirt because these nightmare shots would be directly intercut with the T-shirt shots. Not good. As the person in charge of continuity I could not allow such a blatant wardrobe change to occur. So in order to save face, because audiences love to point out that kind of thing, I now had to come up with a creative solution to satisfy everyone and still maintain continuity. Solution: for the nightmares the shirt would be slashed right down the center and covered in blood. Actress gets her coverage, director gets some skin, I get my continuity. Everyone's happy.
Now there are times that continuity is ignored in favor of actor performance or because of time, money, or other extenuating circumstances and continuity mistakes occur in the final product. Ultimately, it's the director's decision to ignore the error, as I have become painfully aware. As long as I identify the problem and bring it to the attention of the proper people, I've done my job. Like when it snowed and we were filming exterior scenes that occurred on the same day in the film as other exterior scenes that had no snow. Or when they hired a girl to be homeless when she had braces...
And for those from the crew who have heard me harp on this, I apologize, but it's the last time you'll hear it.
So next time you find a mistake in a film, think of the poor scripty who's dying inside.
PS: **This post was written during my 14 hour day at World Trade Center tower 7, on my Blackberry between food runs, equipment breakdowns and issues driving a massive van down small streets, which would explain why my phone with my GPS app died right when I was driving home. I apologize for any misspellings, etc. More on this in the next post.
PPS: See how I slyly slipped "skantily clad" into the first few lines to get you to read on. Sneaky.
The main reason I haven't posted anything about it is because I was working 12 hours a day, driving an average of an hour to and from the hotel I was staying at to the sites, and because my internet access was limited to one ethernet cable in the hotel room which I was far too tired to plug in when I finally got back to the hotel. And when I got back last Thursday I was part working on transferring all my notes, part preparing for my new job, and part mourning the end of a great project so I had no time or inclination to write.
Enough with excuses.
For those of you who don't know what the position of a script supervisor, or "scripty" as we're known in the biz, entails allow me to enlighten you. The basic premise is that it was my job to ensure that what was on the pages of the script is accurately captured on film. That means that the right lines, scenes, props, timeline, wardrobe and proper acting nuances are present. I need to know the script better than the scriptwriter. I also have to ensure continuity, if the actress ended a scene with her hair parted to the left, with her purse on her right shoulder and a half full coffee cup in the other hand, then it has to be the same in the next scene. I also have to ensure coverage. If the script calls for a close up of a cellphone showing the time changing from 2:02 to 2:03 you have to make sure that at least one camera has captured that. Meanwhile, during the actual shooting you are in charge of keeping track of all the camera set ups, how many takes in each set-up and any notes about a particular take; I.e. "Skipped a line", "great reaction", "Pace was too fast", "actress needs to glance right", "eyeline was off", "Awesome, great, fantasic ***".
It's fantastically complex and it requires a wonderful combination of diligence, memory, organization and creativity. I say creativity because frequently there are questions about realism, character development and other issues that require a solution. One of the major challenges of this film was the sheer complexity of the script. There are flashbacks, dream sequences, and other non-linear story-telling methods. So frequently (due to our lack of time and preproduction) makeup, wardrobe, props and art people had to coordinate with me so that we could ensure that all the correct elements were present and that continuity was maintained. "Should this portrait be on the wall?" "Are the flowers supposed to be here? Should they be wilted?" "What makeup is she wearing? Is it smeared? or newly applied?" "What times does the clock say?" "Does she have her everyday purse or is it her evening purse since it's the morning after?"
There was one day that was particularly challenging in a number of ways. We did a series of scenes, reality and fantasy, that will be intercut in the final product. We did the reality in the morning and did the fantasy that afternoon/evening. Now the main character was scripted as skantily clad, but the actress was uncomfortable with the costume. So the director, the head of wardrobe and I discussed the possibilities with the producers and the actress. We settled on her throwing on a shirt upon exiting the bed. Great. All good.
Not for long...
That afternoon the director decided that the T-shirt wasn't working because part of the film's production value was in showing some skin. However, since we had already done the reality scenes that morning with her wearing the shirt, we couldn't just ditch the shirt because these nightmare shots would be directly intercut with the T-shirt shots. Not good. As the person in charge of continuity I could not allow such a blatant wardrobe change to occur. So in order to save face, because audiences love to point out that kind of thing, I now had to come up with a creative solution to satisfy everyone and still maintain continuity. Solution: for the nightmares the shirt would be slashed right down the center and covered in blood. Actress gets her coverage, director gets some skin, I get my continuity. Everyone's happy.
Now there are times that continuity is ignored in favor of actor performance or because of time, money, or other extenuating circumstances and continuity mistakes occur in the final product. Ultimately, it's the director's decision to ignore the error, as I have become painfully aware. As long as I identify the problem and bring it to the attention of the proper people, I've done my job. Like when it snowed and we were filming exterior scenes that occurred on the same day in the film as other exterior scenes that had no snow. Or when they hired a girl to be homeless when she had braces...
And for those from the crew who have heard me harp on this, I apologize, but it's the last time you'll hear it.
So next time you find a mistake in a film, think of the poor scripty who's dying inside.
PS: **This post was written during my 14 hour day at World Trade Center tower 7, on my Blackberry between food runs, equipment breakdowns and issues driving a massive van down small streets, which would explain why my phone with my GPS app died right when I was driving home. I apologize for any misspellings, etc. More on this in the next post.
PPS: See how I slyly slipped "skantily clad" into the first few lines to get you to read on. Sneaky.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
This had to be a test
And I'm not sure that I passed.
Today was my third day working as a Transcriber/Production Assistant on an upcoming Discover Channel series on the rebuilding of Ground Zero and the World Trade Center. I figured it would be pretty basic. Me, a computer, some footage and a lot of typing, which for the first 2.5 days was true. Then one of the Producers asked me to do them a favor. Pickup a rental car, pickup up some equipment, meet back at the office to grab some additional stuff, park said rental car.
Cool. No problem. I get out of the office, I get some fresh air. All good.
Not. all. good.
I get to 37th street to the rental place come to find out, since sending me the email with all of the details, the Producer upgraded or van size from Mini to Cargo. Breathe, you've driven 15 passenger vans before. Not in New York City but still.
I get the van, newly cleaned (I can tell by the drops of water still clinging to the side panels - and it hasnt rained. I don't think) and my first indication that something is going to go awry is that the attendant is carefully popping the sideview mirror back into place. How nice of him.
So I get inside, put my bag on the seat next to me, put the key in the ignition and like I learned in driver's Ed, go to check my mirrors... SURPRISE!! Cargo vans have no back window and therefore, no rearview mirror. How the **** am I supposed to deal with this?! I can't see anything behind me!!
Now more than ever I am happy that the sideview mirrors and their mini companions (directly below them and tilted at a different angle to lessen the blindspots) are in place. But the next thing is that I now need to drive this. In traffic, at the beginning of rush hour, in New York City. Oh shit.
Since there was no way I was backing this behemoth vehicle into traffic I was pleased to find that the parking lot had an exit onto 36th street ahead of me. YESSS!!! And the address of the lighting place is on 36th! It must be right around the corner!!!
Well, you're half right. It is on 36th and it is around the corner, but 36th Street is a One Way Street and only leads away from my intended location, so now I have to drive from 9th and 36th to 8th Ave, get back on 37th, pass where I just was, and continue on to 11th so I can double back to 36th and 10th. Turns out that the lane lines are a little, ummm, faded on 11th because when I thought I was in the leftmost lane so that I can turn onto 36th I was nearly run over by an over zealous NYC bus that apparently found a lane further over than my own. I was within inches of a speeding bus. At this point I would italicize my inner thoughts but I would like to keep this blog at a PG level so I will refrain. Just think of what you would scream if you thought you were about to get squashed.
So I find the lighting rental place, no biggie, and I park a few feet up since there is another van directly outside. The guy inside asks where my truck is (first indication it's gonna be a huge amount of stuff) and tells his co-worker to move the company van (the one right outside) so that I can back mine up (2nd indication). Wait, you want me to backup a cargo van without a rearview mirror on a one way street going the wrong way? And oh by the way, I would have to pull into traffic and PARALLEL PARK this gargantuan piece of scrap metal that I'm pretty sure someone kidnapped somebody in!!!
Anyway, did it. Got the stuff and was on my way to Lower Manhattan. Down by the WTC and Wall Street there is still heightened security. Today it was a Police Checkpoint for Commercial Vehicles. This cop vehemently waves me over, perhaps thinking a terrorist clearly would drive this kind of vehicle and if he waved hard enough it would surely discourage them from running him over and blowing past the checkpoint. Then he looked at me and seeing who was driving, he just started laughing. I was dwarfed by this mammoth vehicle, clearly unhappy. My thoughts went back to the explicit portion of my mind and his laughter merely intensified my disdain for the situation. Then I literally had to roll down the window, which was no easy task, and he continued laughing.
He went through the motions of asking where I was headed, asked if I had my driver's license, to which I responded, "Actually no, I make a habit of driving without it, especially through check points". Thank God he was in a good mood. He then and asked what I had in the back. I decided not to push my luck in the sarcasm department so I answered truthfully, instead of with the quippy, possibly irresponsible and immature comment about explosives that I had been pondering since being waved down. When he said with a smile, "You can go now, miss. Have a good evening." I rolled the window back up, smiled.
When I got to the freight entrance of the office everything went pretty smoothly, barring the reversing out of the driveway after loading the rest of the equipment so I could go and park it in a parking structure, more on that later. One of the women who was helping to load the van very graciously offered to help guide the van out into the street keeping an eye on on-coming traffic. However, something tells me she failed to realized the lack of rear window because she stood directly behind the van, waving (I could only tell because every so often one of her hands was caught in one of my mirrors. No casualties but it was close.
Now, we're in the home stretch. All I have to do is park it and be done with it. Boy was I ever wrong. I barely make it under the maximum height requirement bar, I nearly snapped off the antennae and I'm pretty sure I may have tapped two cars in my first failed attempts to park the beast. I even asked if this was a good lot to park in to make sure the van would fit and they assured me it would! It barely made it through the aisles let alone made a smooth 90 degree turn to navigate the lot and actually park it. In the end I found a spot at the end of a row and managed not to damage anything (severely).
When I got back to the office the Producer that sent me on the errand thanked me and then told me that since I had done such a great job and knew where the van was parked that I was now going to be on tomorrow's shoot at Tower 7. Oh and by the way, call time is at 5:45 IN THE MORNING!!!!!!! New Jersey Transit doesn't even function that early, how am I supposed to?!?!
So now, even though it is merely 9pm, I am headed to bed to attempt to catch 7hours of sleep before rising at 4am to drive into Manhattan, so that I may reprise my role as the Crazed Van Driver in "This Can't Actually Be Happening Right Now".
Observation of the day:
Irony is:
1) A church on Wall Street
2) The Gospel for the day on which all Christians in Christendom don an ashen cross on their head for all to see is "take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father." Matthew 6
Today was my third day working as a Transcriber/Production Assistant on an upcoming Discover Channel series on the rebuilding of Ground Zero and the World Trade Center. I figured it would be pretty basic. Me, a computer, some footage and a lot of typing, which for the first 2.5 days was true. Then one of the Producers asked me to do them a favor. Pickup a rental car, pickup up some equipment, meet back at the office to grab some additional stuff, park said rental car.
Cool. No problem. I get out of the office, I get some fresh air. All good.
Not. all. good.
I get to 37th street to the rental place come to find out, since sending me the email with all of the details, the Producer upgraded or van size from Mini to Cargo. Breathe, you've driven 15 passenger vans before. Not in New York City but still.
I get the van, newly cleaned (I can tell by the drops of water still clinging to the side panels - and it hasnt rained. I don't think) and my first indication that something is going to go awry is that the attendant is carefully popping the sideview mirror back into place. How nice of him.
So I get inside, put my bag on the seat next to me, put the key in the ignition and like I learned in driver's Ed, go to check my mirrors... SURPRISE!! Cargo vans have no back window and therefore, no rearview mirror. How the **** am I supposed to deal with this?! I can't see anything behind me!!
Now more than ever I am happy that the sideview mirrors and their mini companions (directly below them and tilted at a different angle to lessen the blindspots) are in place. But the next thing is that I now need to drive this. In traffic, at the beginning of rush hour, in New York City. Oh shit.
Since there was no way I was backing this behemoth vehicle into traffic I was pleased to find that the parking lot had an exit onto 36th street ahead of me. YESSS!!! And the address of the lighting place is on 36th! It must be right around the corner!!!
Well, you're half right. It is on 36th and it is around the corner, but 36th Street is a One Way Street and only leads away from my intended location, so now I have to drive from 9th and 36th to 8th Ave, get back on 37th, pass where I just was, and continue on to 11th so I can double back to 36th and 10th. Turns out that the lane lines are a little, ummm, faded on 11th because when I thought I was in the leftmost lane so that I can turn onto 36th I was nearly run over by an over zealous NYC bus that apparently found a lane further over than my own. I was within inches of a speeding bus. At this point I would italicize my inner thoughts but I would like to keep this blog at a PG level so I will refrain. Just think of what you would scream if you thought you were about to get squashed.
So I find the lighting rental place, no biggie, and I park a few feet up since there is another van directly outside. The guy inside asks where my truck is (first indication it's gonna be a huge amount of stuff) and tells his co-worker to move the company van (the one right outside) so that I can back mine up (2nd indication). Wait, you want me to backup a cargo van without a rearview mirror on a one way street going the wrong way? And oh by the way, I would have to pull into traffic and PARALLEL PARK this gargantuan piece of scrap metal that I'm pretty sure someone kidnapped somebody in!!!
Anyway, did it. Got the stuff and was on my way to Lower Manhattan. Down by the WTC and Wall Street there is still heightened security. Today it was a Police Checkpoint for Commercial Vehicles. This cop vehemently waves me over, perhaps thinking a terrorist clearly would drive this kind of vehicle and if he waved hard enough it would surely discourage them from running him over and blowing past the checkpoint. Then he looked at me and seeing who was driving, he just started laughing. I was dwarfed by this mammoth vehicle, clearly unhappy. My thoughts went back to the explicit portion of my mind and his laughter merely intensified my disdain for the situation. Then I literally had to roll down the window, which was no easy task, and he continued laughing.
He went through the motions of asking where I was headed, asked if I had my driver's license, to which I responded, "Actually no, I make a habit of driving without it, especially through check points". Thank God he was in a good mood. He then and asked what I had in the back. I decided not to push my luck in the sarcasm department so I answered truthfully, instead of with the quippy, possibly irresponsible and immature comment about explosives that I had been pondering since being waved down. When he said with a smile, "You can go now, miss. Have a good evening." I rolled the window back up, smiled.
When I got to the freight entrance of the office everything went pretty smoothly, barring the reversing out of the driveway after loading the rest of the equipment so I could go and park it in a parking structure, more on that later. One of the women who was helping to load the van very graciously offered to help guide the van out into the street keeping an eye on on-coming traffic. However, something tells me she failed to realized the lack of rear window because she stood directly behind the van, waving (I could only tell because every so often one of her hands was caught in one of my mirrors. No casualties but it was close.
Now, we're in the home stretch. All I have to do is park it and be done with it. Boy was I ever wrong. I barely make it under the maximum height requirement bar, I nearly snapped off the antennae and I'm pretty sure I may have tapped two cars in my first failed attempts to park the beast. I even asked if this was a good lot to park in to make sure the van would fit and they assured me it would! It barely made it through the aisles let alone made a smooth 90 degree turn to navigate the lot and actually park it. In the end I found a spot at the end of a row and managed not to damage anything (severely).
When I got back to the office the Producer that sent me on the errand thanked me and then told me that since I had done such a great job and knew where the van was parked that I was now going to be on tomorrow's shoot at Tower 7. Oh and by the way, call time is at 5:45 IN THE MORNING!!!!!!! New Jersey Transit doesn't even function that early, how am I supposed to?!?!
So now, even though it is merely 9pm, I am headed to bed to attempt to catch 7hours of sleep before rising at 4am to drive into Manhattan, so that I may reprise my role as the Crazed Van Driver in "This Can't Actually Be Happening Right Now".
Observation of the day:
Irony is:
1) A church on Wall Street
2) The Gospel for the day on which all Christians in Christendom don an ashen cross on their head for all to see is "take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father." Matthew 6
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