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TRY NOT TO ANNOY THE KANGAROO Beth George, OverProduktionFührer

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Jedi Knight and Hayvenhurst Studios


     Back to Jedi Knight, and the head of the wardrobe department. We’ll call her Coco.


Coco: “I think the actress playing Sariss will be able to perform admirably in tulle.”

Me: “I’m sure, but I’ve got a market of teenage boys whose hormone levels are in the red zone 24 hours a day. If I put her in tulle, sales will drop by millions. I guarantee it.”

Coco: “I don’t think we should get hung up on stereotypes.”

Me: “No one is stereotyping Sariss. The actress is a workout freak. She’s cultivated that body for jobs like this. So, let’s get to work spray-painting some black spandex on her shapely behind and move onto one of the guys.”


     The marketing department of LucasArts lined up behind me, as did the director (Not Hal Barwood, who had taken another assignment for George Lucas), and Steve Dauterman. The director would have preferred that Sariss perform the entire game naked, but spandex provided the next best glimpse.

     I just wanted to move onto the rest of the more than fifteen principal performers who required specialty wardrobe.

     The other attractive female in the cast played the Leia part, so that limited the controversy to what shade of white battle ensemble we needed to squeeze her into. The male parts, a collection of good and bad guys occupied the rest of the meeting.

     Coco kept gravitating towards her Marin County roots, which consisted of channeling ideas germinated from Woodstock.


Me: “No. Tie-dye is a bad fit, except for Mos Eisley.”

Coco: “Mos’ what?”

Me: “Colors in a darker palette for the bad guys. Lighter palette for the good guys. Don’t know how much clearer I can be. I can’t put Sariss’ consort in hippie-wear. This game is about a war between these two factions. The concept is military. I need form-fitting outfits that are just loose enough to allow for quick movements. That fight choreographer is on this job for all the shoot days for good reason.”


     I got my way, but discussions like this, now a regular occurrence on any job with a Vanities Department (Film speak for Hair, Make-Up, and Wardrobe) exhausted me. More than most, I appreciated a well-developed POV on creative matters. Missing the concept, or letting your ego sidetrack a project is crippling.

                                                   ****

     Jedi Knight needed so many stellar resources that I opted to shoot in Los Angeles. On many levels, a great call on my part, though a stomach acid producing one.

     First, studio space. While an abundance of it occupied much of southern California, stage owners and managers look at out of town productions as a way of boosting their profit margins by millions of percentage points.

     My local production manager, Beth, toured dozens of stages before taking me out to look at three prime candidates, and after a negotiation that consisted of lowering expectations of the rapacious owners, we settled on Hayvenhurst Studios, a home to early TV and film westerns. It still had the sheriff’s office building, replete with hitching post and horse trough.

     Beth and I moseyed inside the office. First order of business? Getting the deal in writing to avoid any surprises on the back end. Guaranteed, if a stage contract doesn’t include everything down to paper products, the invoice will have a charge for toilet paper higher than the entire Lighting and Grip cost.


Beth: “$1200 for load-in. $1500 for Pre-Light and Shoot. $1200 for strike.”

Sheriff: “Rate card is $1750 for—”

Beth: “Don’t care what rate card is. $1200 for load-in. $1500 for Pre-Light and Shoot. $1200 for strike.”

Deputy: “Next item.”

Beth: “Grip and Electric package as listed in the stage’s package is $500/Day flat. Items not listed are a la carte, but must be approved prior to use by me or George.”

Sheriff: “Rate card is $800—”

Beth: “Don’t care what rate card is. Grip and Electric package as listed in the stage’s package is $500/Day flat. Items not listed are a la carte, but must be approved prior to use by me or George.”


     This went on for another hour. By the time we had moseyed from the Sheriff’s office, Beth had a signed contract that fit within the confines of our budget. Eternal vigilance would be required for the duration of the job, since any crack of fiscal daylight a vendor in the film industry can find would be exploited to the point of financial ruin for producers.

     We moved into the studio on a Monday. The photo accompanying this article is what greeted us on all the walls of the cyc and the floor.


MONDAY: MORE JEDI KNIGHT FUN!

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