
The Two Week Lie - More from The Nightmare Before Christmas
The next day, after filling out the scads of payroll paperwork associated with working for a living in the state of California, I shared the roof of the studio complex at 7th and Harrison with an earnest young man named Rob Anderson. He bore a not slight resemblance to Easy Ed McCauley, a former Boston Celtic and St. Louis Hawk.
Hired by The Nightmare Before Christmas as a production assistant, Rob worked for the former stage manager (The one recently fired by Phil) by helping to run the studio. Had Phil confessed his real motivation for trapping me inside 7th and Harrison, I might have looked at the edge of the roof with thoughts of suicide. The drop to the intersection would not have killed me, but the usual number of stoned drivers allowed to proliferate on the streets of San Francisco might have.
I opted not to kill myself. Phil, however, would have been the recipient of a well-placed shove if he got close to an area of supposed leaks I’d lured him to inspect.
But within minutes of the first actual day I worked on the film, I knew something else had caused my good friend to pull a bait-and-switch. Before completely overreacting, I decided to see if Rob Anderson might be up to the task of taking over stage management.
Me: “Ready to check for the source of the leaks?”
Rob: “Yup. I marked the areas on the roof where the water appears to be coming in, though given the ability of water to migrate, the source could be anywhere. But it’s a good place to start.”
Me: “Uh, okay. Would you get the hose and we’ll check them one at a time?”
Rob: “I put it in your hands a few minutes ago.”
Me: “Yes you did. Let’s go.”
Rob seemed eminently capable of managing the facility.
After a few days, I turned the job over to him. He had already beaten me to the scheduling of the production assistants working for us. He introduced me to all the Skellington Productions department heads; sets, props, puppets, animators, cameramen.
And gave me a rundown of any problems.
Rob: “Stage 4 needs to be expanded for the next set going in there.”
Me: “Okay, what does that entail?”
Rob: “Moving the black curtain two feet back from the south side of the edge of the current set.”
Me: “Is that something we do?”
Rob: “Not really. I just need to tell the PAs to go ahead and do it, and to move the curtain on the north side of stage 3 back to accommodate it so we can still push the motion control rigs down the alleyway.”
Me: “Well then, Rob, I think you should do that, by golly.”
Rob: “Thanks, George.”
The first week flew by. As did the second. If anyone learned anything about stage management while I was the “stage manager,” it happened to be me. Rob taught me more about the operation of a facility than I knew existed. Don’t remember where he came from prior to The Nightmare Before Christmas, but Rob Anderson was a keeper.
The next to the last day arrived and as I practiced my fond farewells to a whole bunch of people I barely knew, except for Rob, Phil paged me to join him in his office. Perhaps to thank me for Rob’s outstanding work?
Not a chance.
TOMORROW: Even More Nightmares!
Comments