HOW NOT TO PRODUCE A COMMERCIAL
Production got positively dull after my last video game with Lucas, Force Commander. The company pulled it just after casting. Too bad because if you wanted to cast aliens (No. Not those.) and save money on prosthetics, San Francisco should be your first stop. Some very talented people came through the casting sessions in the Bay Area, but the effects of living in one of the stranger parts of the world had taken its toll.
Casting in New York City provided every type from strong character actors to various flavors of leading men and women. Casting in Los Angeles showcased the concept of The Beautiful People. Casting in San Francisco would generate a remake of Tod Browning’s Freaks.
The tapes from Force Commander’s casting sessions looked like a rehearsal day for George Lucas’ latest meeting of the Imperial Senate. Somewhere in San Francisco’s past the circus came to town and all the performers escaped one night and polluted the gene pool. If PT Barnum had been around in the late 20th century, he’d never have gone into the business. The competition in Northern California would have been too stiff.
But alas, Force Commander died on the boardroom floor.
****
My four year run of bloated corporate gigs ran into the recession of 2000 and 2001. Since I cultivated TV, film, and commercial clients, a return to those sources of income presented itself and I took advantage of the ability to cross business sectors.
First up? Back to the world of ad agencies, and one of the iconic ads of the new century.
American Express ran a series of ads in the early 2000s which utilized the concept ‘The Chase.’ One of them showcased an Olympic sprinter running through the streets of Rome to catch the thief who swiped her AMEX card.
Another featured a Mister Softee ice cream truck pursuing a Vespa-riding criminal through the streets of San Francisco. That thief cadged the AMEX card of Michael Andretti, who stopped by to purchase an ice cream cone. Andretti commandeered the truck and took off in pursuit.
And that’s where I came in.
The production company, Anonymous Content, a major player in the commercial industry, called to check my availability to manage, not line produce, a job for American Express.
I moved on years ago from production manager, one of the most beleaguered individuals you will see on any film set. If you spot someone who looks old for their age and isn’t some Hollywood retread with too much cosmetic surgery, that’s the P.M.
No small amount of convincing later, Anonymous Content had their P.M.
Me.
The job had too many tempting elements to turn down.
International buy. Michael Andretti as the on-camera principal driving the ice cream truck. But most importantly, the storyboard, which proposed duplicating the famous chase scene from Bullitt, a 1968 film starring Steve McQueen.
The car chase is shown in film schools to this day.
I took the job. Money was not the motivation. Line producers are paid much more than P.M.s and get compensated for more days. P.M.s also have a tendency to work sixteen hour days and are treated by every other person in every other department like garbage.
Other than that, it’s a great gig.
The job went south in a hurry. It started with the second phone call from Anonymous Content explaining their UK partner, Gorgeous Enterprises, would executive produce. Their line producer would travel from their London office along with the director. And a camera operator, since there are none of those in Bay Area. We’re not talking the Director of Photography. This is someone further down the pecking order and not a shot composer. Literally, about a step up from a button pusher.
A third phone call informed me a staff coordinator would be joining us, as would the production designer, another Brit.
By the time the fifth phone call came in, ten people from England piled onto a Bay Area junket smack in the middle of The World Cup.
They did spare me from bringing Roger Deakins from London in to shoot the commercial. I only had to drag some guy from L.A. and hire his 1st A.C. (Assistant Cameraman), who wanted his 2nd A.C. That was an interesting conversation.
1st A.C.: “Let me give you my 2nd A.C.’s contact information.”
Me: “I’m not dating, but thanks for thinking of me.”
1st A.C.: “No, you’ll need it to talk to him about his travel arrangements.”
Me: “I can recommend a travel agent. Italy is nice.”
1st A.C.: “Are you messing with me?”
Me: “I believe you’re messing with me. I’m supposed to travel a second assistant cameraman; put them up at a hotel; give them per diem; and listen to their complaints about how bad the craft services is?”
1st A.C.: “This is not unreasonable. When you go out of town, don’t you bring your coordinator with you?”
Me: “No.”
That threw him. He hung up and the next thing I knew, Caliguletta, the line producer from London and Gorgeous Enterprises, called me.
Caliguletta: “I understand you and the A.C. are having a disagreement.”
Me: “It’s not a disagreement. There is no reason to bring a second assistant cameraman up from Los Angeles. A first, yes. Second, no.”
Caliguletta overrode me, and the contingent from Los Angeles, with the addition of the 2nd A.C., and the Key Grip and his Best Boy, had grown to equal the junket junkies from the United Kingdom.
The bloat continued.
The shooting boards timed out at 87 seconds for a 30 second spot. For those of you with a firm grip on math that gave the director an almost three to one amount of creative to go into editorial and jack up those charges. All that says to me, because this particular director is not alone in this type of indulgence, is that the decision making gene in creative types is non-existent.
TOMORROW: The job is ignored to watch The World Cup . . . at 4am
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