VELVET GOLDMINE: THE DAYS AND NIGHTS
This is is a record of the most difficult—and exhilarating—shoot I’ve ever worked on. What made it especially arduous was that we lost a million dollars in backing just weeks before production began. This meant: asking department heads to cut their budgets (and their salaries), dropping scenes, and scrambling to find locations to substitute for lavish sets that we couldn’t afford to build. All of this with zero time to work it out. When Todd Haynes, at the end of his tether, says, “I can’t work this way,” he’s referring to our circumstances and not to moviemaking in general.
My descriptions of the trials the line producer, production executive and executive producer put me through should be taken with this grain of salt: I’m sure they could all tell equally gruesome tales about me.
Day 1: Sunday, March 23, 1997
It’s always hard to know what to shoot on the first day: something not too challenging and very achievable, but also something that makes you feel like you’ve really begun.
We choose the exterior of the Bijou offices. It’s a lot of people getting into cars, getting out of cars, rushing up the stairs, down the stairs, etc. Also, Curt (Ewan McGregor) and Mandy (Toni Collette) staring meaningfully up at the Window where Brian (Jonathan Rhys-Myers) is staring down at them.
I cannot believe that we are finally shooting the film after so many trials. I find myself near tears.
At the end of the day, Todd and the DP go off with Ewan and Jonathan to do a super 8 shot of Brian and Curt relaxing affectionately in a garden and then noticing (our) camera stalking them. It is a little tough because they have to muster a comfortable physical ease with each other and we have literally just begun. But they manage. In the last take, Jonathan trips, falls backwards, breaks a plant, and cuts and twists his ankle. I hope this isn’t an omen.
Day 2: Monday, March 24
We are shooting Curt and Arthur (Christian Bale) in the midtown bar. It’s a little difficult—this is a big emotional scene that comes at the end of the film, and it’s hard to shoot it so soon. But Ewan McGregor’s schedule is forcing us to shoot him out in the first four weeks, so we’ll face this situation a lot. Also, it’s the first time we’re seeing how the New York 1984 look is working. The seventies stuff is authentic period, whereas this is a might-have-been Orwellian world, and has to be invented. Todd is concerned about the extras’ clothing. We change stuff around and finally get started: Our first interior. We’re shooting half the bar in an upstairs room and cheating the other half downstairs. I hoped we’d move downstairs today, but we don’t and I’m worried. But Waldo, the AD, says he knew we wouldn’t and not to give it much thought.
Day 3: Tuesday, March 25
A tremendous amount to do today: the last part of yesterday’s scene and a big fat new one. Very complex, with lots of coverage. And the worst kind of location: tiny, hot and crowded. I know we have to finish today and am nervous. I sit outside the set, in a bar called the Railway Social Club. Even though we’re shooting on half his premises, the owner is open for business and there are lots of working-class patrons chatting over their ales. Whenever the AD shouts “Stand by!” the seconds shriek “Quiet!” and the patrons shut up. The AD shouts “Turn over!” to indicate that film and sound are now running (in the U.S. we say “Rolling!”). I’m hearing “Turn over!” a lot, which is good. I decide to stay off set; it is so hot and crowded and I know Todd knows where I am. Finally I hear a wrap called. Just a shade under twelve hours, which is when we’d hit overtime. Todd is jubilant: 27 setups today, and we didn’t have to cut one shot!
Day 4: Wednesday, March 26
THE RECORDING STUDIO
Another big emotional scene: the disintegration of Brian and Curt’s relationship. Eddie Izzard, Toni Collette, extras. Curt has a tantrum and smashes a pane in the recording booth. The art department only has enough sugar glass to do it twice, and there’s a twenty-minute install.
These workdays in London—twelve hours including an hour for lunch—are making me anxious. In the States we work twelve in addition to lunch. That extra hour can make all the difference. We spend a long time doing a complicated reflection shot in the glass. Ewan and Jonathan have to hit their marks superhumanly perfectly to make it work. Exactly the kind of shot I’m worried will be in jeopardy with this insanely short day. Once again, we finish under the wire.
I go home tired and frazzled. Still, we are making our days and my confidence in our AD is growing. It seems like he really knows how to keep us moving. And we have two big scenes in the can and we’re on schedule and it is only one more day to the weekend.
But of course…the phone rings. The AD’s mother has died. I find myself torn between sympathy for this very nice man and frustration at the inconvenience. The line producer and I decide that the second will first tonight, and then we’ll have two days off to figure out what happens next.
Morning arrives and again the phone rings. Waldo’s mother is not dead but has only a five percent chance of survival—“which, when you think about it,” says the line producer gloomily, “is even worse.”
Day 5: Thursday, March 27
A very, very late night. We are shooting a near impossible day with four company moves. The third is the Movie Palace: not enough extras. Todd is very unhappy. We start yanking people from the sizable crowd that had gathered outside and throwing ’70s-style gear on them.
Jonathan Rhys-Myers looking miserable. On each rehearsal his bottom lip droops lower until finally we ask him what’s wrong. “I hate my costume,” he says. “I look like a prat.” More delays while we find the designer, dig up an acceptable alternative, and get him into it. I see some eye-rolling beginning with the crew—but what can we do?
Finally, we get to the last location of the day: our “Kreuzeberg” set, a drab corner of London that we turned into Berlin. The problem is that it’s a bit too much like Berlin: we’re surrounded by people, mostly Indian and Turkish. They are curious and polite except for a bunch of extremely noisy kids on a nearby roof. Everyone is somewhat indulgent until they start throwing eggs—and then eggs are raining down on us from everywhere. We call the police (“Not much we can do, luv”), they show up for a minute, and things quiet down.
The temperature is dropping steadily. It is already 9 P.M. and we haven’t done a shot. We are supposed to wrap at midnight, but it is looking less and less likely. The grips and electrics are starting to look at me balefully.
There is such a delicate balance in getting the shot. If too much discussion transpires around the lens, the crew starts to feel that the director doesn’t know what he wants—almost the worst adjective you can apply to a director is “indecisive”—and that hours could be spent waiting around until while he figures it out. Those moments make my stomach sink—but, on the other hand, there is no point in shooting if the shot looks bad or it’s not what the director wants.
At 1:20 A.M. we finally wrap.
Day 7: Monday, March 31
It is the first of three days that we are spending at Mentmore Academy, an enormous country manor in Leighton Buzzard, Bedfordshire. Mentmore has been taken over by the Transcendental Meditation people, but up until now has been very cooperative with film shoots. Apparently, though, there is a new TM president who thinks that the meditative premises should not be disrupted by shooting, so we are the last movie.
The manor is on a gentle hillside overlooking fields and farmhouses. I feel like I’m in Sense and Sensibility—and after the urban chaos of last night it’s a relief.
Because we shot so late last night our crew call isn’t until 1 P.M. This is so everyone gets ten hours off the clock. We can invade people’s turnaround if we have to, but we’d pay dearly for it. Waldo (he’s back, mother holding on by thread) and I decide to shoot a short day so we can get back onto 8 A.M. calls.
Day 8: Tuesday, April 1
Still at Mentmore. It takes an hour to get here and back; apparently the crew thinks travel time should be included in our shooting day(!). I feel a little despairing. It’s not more money the crew is after—they just don’t want to work the long hours. I am filled with such anxiety at the heavy days ahead of us that I just have to take a deep breath and take it one hour at a time.
We are shooting the orgy today. Todd is concerned that the cast (extras and principals) be relaxed enough so it doesn’t feel horribly stagy. Strangers have to be kissing each other, caressing etc. Also, we are doing it in one long circular track. We pass out real champagne and after a few rounds everyone is definitely relaxing. We shoot some takes where a guy goes through the frame with his dick dangling and a few with pants on. The MPAA seems to have a number of double standards. Naked females get R ratings, but pickle shots tend to get NC-17s. Our Miramax contract obligates us to an R, so we have to make sure we are covered.
The day ends badly. The electricians do not want to work past 9 P.M. (we’d had a 9 A.M. call) and are threatening to pull the plug. At 8:55 we have one more shot to do and are racing to finish it by nine. It is a frustrating way to work. I am angry at the electricians (or “sparks” as they call them here)—I feel like we’re either here to make the movie or we’re not.
Todd is very downcast at the end of the day. My heart breaks—I feel I’m not protecting him enough.
Day 9: Wednesday, April 2
The last day at Mentmore! Last night Todd and I decided to stay at a local pub (they all have names like “The Buzzard’s Loin”) so we didn’t have so much travel time. We got drunk and decided that we would do whatever it takes to get the time we need. In the light of day I’m not so sure how….
First, I talk to Waldo. I tell him that this is just the kind of movie where every shot will take a tremendous amount of care. I do not want to operate in a state-of-siege atmosphere all the time. If the crew can’t hack it, they should quit. Waldo agrees and says he will try not to put so much pressure on Todd.
Next problem: Tomorrow is our first day at Brixton Academy, where we are shooting all our concert stuff. We will be there for a week and change. But I just found out that the song we are supposed to shoot Maxwell Demon and the Venus in Furs playing tomorrow hasn’t been recorded yet—at least, not a version that Todd likes. And he doesn’t want to go with the version we do have because he is afraid the lip-sync will be off when we replace it. So what are we going to shoot? I propose the Tommy Stone scenes. Hair (Peter King) would have to stay up all night knotting his wig, but he’ll do it. Costume insists the outfit simply isn’t ready and won’t be until next week. The line producer fumes: “Can’t we just put him in anything?” I try to explain that it isn’t that kind of movie. Then Waldo suggests we shoot Placebo, a real band that is playing a band called the Flaming Creatures in the movie. They have recorded a cover version of “20th Century Boy” and we are scheduled to shoot them performing it next week. I call their manager, who tells me that they are doing press all day tomorrow. What are we going to do? The line producer says, “Can’t we replace them?” I try to explain that they are a major draw and it would probably piss off the record company. Finally, I take a deep breath and call the manager back. And beg. And plead. I tell her they can do press on our set, and the reporters will get to see them perform. She says it is a major reorganize for them, but if I am really really desperate she’ll do it. I am, I say. Two hours later she calls back and says it’s done. Alleluia. I send her flowers.
Day 10: Thursday, April 3
Our first day at Brixton Academy—a dank, cavernous concert hall that stinks of beer and cigarettes. After a few hours I can’t smell it anymore.
This is not our greatest day. We are shooting bits and pieces: Arthur watching Curt perform, Mandy watching Brian, etc. It’s confusing because the actors have to look at nothing and work themselves up. And for some reason we are moving very, very slowly. And of course this is the day the bond company chooses to visit the set. I try to keep Graham Easton (the bond company rep) away from the action: We usually are moving in a much more purposeful manner and I don’t want him to see us limping along. But he’s no fool and he pushes right past me. Todd, Maryse, Joe (the camera operator), and June (the script supervisor) are involved in an excruciating discussion of eyelines. The crew is rolling its collective eyes. Oh, boy.
Flaming Creatures/Placebo will perform their cover of “20th Century Boy.” It is taking a long time to light and I am starting to feel the familiar pressure—and then we start, and it is our first musical performance, and everyone is completely enthralled. The band is energetic and mesmerizing, our crew is practically dancing.
The end of Week Two.
Day 11: Sunday, April 6
A really good day—tons of period extras. Ewan and Jonathan perform “Baby’s on Fire” with Jonathan going down on Ewan’s guitar (à la David Bowie and Mick Ronson) and the crowd goes wild. Ewan is concerned that he won’t have the guitar fingering down exactly. We made him a videotape of Bernard Butler playing the solo and he sits playing it over and over in his dressing room.
We have about 300 extras. Todd and I were nervous that Brixton Academy would just swallow them up because it’s so huge, but Waldo knows how to place them so that it looks as if we have twice as many.
Waldo does not use a bullhorn. He shouts at the top of his lungs and is so loud that the extras do what he says. After lunch he is hoarse and he looks pale. I ask him if he’s okay, and he says he’s got a really bad toothache. These English people and their teeth! The on-set nurse gives him aspirin, but it is clearly not enough and his face is starting to contort. My assistant, Romany, is calling every dentist in London, but it’s Sunday in a non-convenience-oriented country. Finally we find a place that is about to close—my assistant keeps them on the line and I throw Waldo into a taxi.
Our next few days are big extra days—we can’t afford to lose our first AD.
Day 12: Monday, April 7
More performances today. Ewan does “Gimme Danger.” He sings live and is the only performer to do so—everyone else sings to playback. Ewan throws himself into his performance. Todd decides not to rehearse him too much because he’s afraid he’ll be burnt out before we commit him to celluloid.
I am getting concerned about our electrical crew. Our gaffer is really old-school. He is in his sixties and wears a tie. I can tell he disapproves of the laid-back way in which Todd works. And I disapprove of the liquor on his breath after lunch everyday. He is a ringleader of the pull-the-plug mentality that I’m trying to get rid of.
Day 13: Tuesday, April 8
Today is our first crane shot. We are shooting Jack Fairy singing “2 HB.” When David Bowie refused to license “All the Young Dudes,” we substituted “2 HB,” which isn’t as anthemic but still gives us a sense of a journey somewhere and a journey back.
The shot is very complicated; glitter has to fall and giant slide projections (of all the glam-stars in the movie) have to appear on the stage. The camera has to glide on a crane from a close-up to a very wide shot, and a very inexperienced actor has to lip sync.
We approached a number of “real” rock stars to play Jack Fairy, but they all turned us down. I think they were afraid that if it didn’t strike exactly the right note, the rock star playing a rock star thing could expose them to ridicule. We went with a guy named Micko who looked great but had virtually no experience. This is his big moment; Todd and I have our fingers crossed.
He does a rehearsal: The lip sync is a little off but it’s not bad. Meanwhile, it’s taking longer then we thought to “find the shot.” We’re almost ready to shoot, and then Todd and Maryse decide to combine three shots into one. This is always tricky: It has the illusion of saving time, but usually it just takes three times as long. For the first time, we don’t get a shot off before lunch. I am super nervous—I keep feeling like I’m holding the movie in my hands, and it’s like mercury and keeps slithering out of my fingers just when I think I’ve got it.
Finally we roll the camera at 3:30 P.M. (We started at 9 A.M.!) Micko comes through. We have Ewan on standby to come in for a very brief scene of Curt in his office in 1984 New York, but since that office could be shot almost anywhere, we decide to push it to another day. So for the first time we don’t make our call-sheet.
Day 14: Wednesday, April 9
While we’re setting up inside, we shoot a crowd of extras outside, waiting to get into a Brian Slade concert. An actor playing a BBC reporter gives a minute-long speech about the Brian Slade phenomenon; it will play on a television in Brian’s dressing room in a scene we’ll shoot tomorrow. The poor actor playing the reporter simply can’t get through his speech without flubbing it. We do take after take. The actor looks like he is going to cry. The tension escalates. Finally, finally he gets through it. Cut and print and he’s out of his misery.
Today Jonathan/Brian gets shot! We spend a long time trying to figure out the best way to pull this off. Todd wants to see Jonathan Rhys-Myers jerk into the air with the force of the impact. We originally thought we would use a wire with a harness, but when the costume designer saw the harness she went ballistic. It didn’t work with her skin-tight jumpsuit concept. So we figured we would use a trampoline, although it would mean the floor of the stage couldn’t be in the shot. The stuntman will put an electronic device on Jonathan’s chest that he’ll detonate, and then Jonathan will leap up and backwards and land on some crash pads. The only thing that concerns me is the fact that Jonathan is wearing gigantic silver platform shoes.
Jonathan practices the jump in bare feet and then flat shoes, then finally the mega-heels. We only have two costumes, which means we can only do it twice. So…we go for it. Jonathan is terribly nervous—more about screwing up the shot then about hurting himself—but it goes fine.
Day 15: Thursday, April 10
Our last day at Brixton Academy. I am glad, even though it has been a relief to be in one place for so long. But being in the dark space means whole days go by where I don’t see the sun. Even though my nose has gotten pretty numb to the beer-cigarette-dirty feet smell, I feel like it clings to me.
We have to shoot the Rainbow Theatre reception, Max’s Kansas City, the office scene we missed, and Brian Slade’s dressing room. By the time we stagger to Max’s it is pretty clear the latter two scenes might not happen today. Still, we optimistically prelight them.
Donna Matthews of Elastica is performing “Personality Crisis” (originally by the New York Dolls) at Max’s. We break for lunch. After lunch she is nowhere to be found. I call her manager and work her into a frenzy, which doesn’t help us locate Donna. I run around Brixton Academy, looking in all the bathrooms. Finally, we open her dressing room: There’s a note!
“At the pub, call me on my mobile #”
We call, she comes, we shoot.
The thirteenth hour is rapidly approaching and it’s obvious that we won’t get those two last scenes. Which means we brought Emily Woof in and didn’t use her. She’s a little upset but professional. So now we are about a half day behind schedule.
Day 16: Sunday, April 13
SEX ON THE ROOF
It is a mercifully clear night, but with a slight chill that intensifies as the hours pass.
Tonight we are shooting Ewan and Christian making love on the Rainbow rooftop. We start with the end—a big, splashy crane shot with snow and glitter. The crane is on a neighboring roof, but it all goes remarkably smoothly. Then we start doing the more intimate shots and time starts to drag. I have a bad cold and I don’t feel like racing up the seven flights to the rooftop, so I sit and snuffle on the dining bus. The set falls into that weird terrible time warp where it keeps feeling as if you’re about to start shooting any second and then two hours have slipped by and no film has been exposed. It is getting colder, everyone is tired and dopey…. I keep thinking that if we’re in trouble, the AD will summon me. When he finally does, he says those awful words: “We won’t finish tonight.”
However sick I was, I should have dashed up those seven flights the moment we started to drift into that two-hour abyss. It’s always difficult to know whether it is making things better or worse by applying pressure. I don’t want to breathe down Todd’s neck because I know he is just as aware of the time constraints as I am. But tonight I think I gave him too much space and let him down.
At 5 A.M., Waldo points at the sky: It’s still night but dawn has a way of just cracking over you—BANG!—and then there’s no more night shooting. He also tells me that the actors seem tired and cold and too exhausted to go on. He thinks we should call it a wrap. Todd seems taken aback, but has no choice in the matter since the sun is coming up. We both go home exhausted, defeated. I tell him we’ll figure something out in the morning—our morning.
I fall asleep for about two hours and am awakened at 9 A.M. by an actor’s agent: His grandmother had died. Could we release him to go to the funeral? I say no and go back to sleep.
Day 17: Monday, April 14
Today we are shooting Ewan’s big outdoor concert scene: three hundred “hippie” extras, who boo Curt Wild, who responds by mooning them and then setting the stage on fire and then leaping through the flames and into the crowd below. Whew. Ewan is in a much better mood than he was last night.
My cell-phone rings. It is Wendy from CiBy sales—she says Harvey Weinstein (Miramax) is landing in London in one hour and coming right to our set. They are all going to drive out as well. Okay. I decide not to make too big a deal out of it. An hour later CiBy calls again: It seems that Harvey never got on the airplane, so he probably won’t make it to the set tonight….
Waldo instructs the extras to jeer and hiss and go crazy when Curt hits the stage. First, we use two cameras to shoot the scene up until the flames should start. Once again, Ewan is throwing himself into it body and soul; two cameras help insure we’ll get him on film before he burns himself out. In the second take, Ewan not only moons the audience but turns around, kicks off his pants, and treats the crowd to his member as well. (I’d heard that in The Pillow Book, Ewan was so well-endowed that his member deserved separate billing. I’m not disappointed—nor is the crowd, which goes wild.)
After lunch we start the flame shots. The FX guys put flame bars across the stage. They ignite them. Maryse thinks they look too straight and fake. They mix them up, adjust the flame heights—finally it starts to look like a genuine fire. The FX man can flip off the flames for the split second that Ewan jumps through them and then flip them back on. Ewan has no qualms about walking through the fire.
The stunt men dress in hippie garb and place themselves strategically in the crowd so they can catch Ewan when he jumps.
It all works perfectly. In fact, we finish three and a half hours early. I’m starting to realize that the big, seemingly complicated stuff isn’t what takes a ton of time—it’s the two-actors-in-room that takes us forever.
Day 18: Tuesday, April 15
We shoot Jonny singing in his hippie phase today. While we’re doing that, the art department sets up another part of the area to look like an American trailer park. We bring in a silver Airstream and a Winnebago. The scene consists of a pack of wolves dropping a baby on the trailer’s doorstep.
The wolf ladies arrive early so the “wolves” (they are really half dog, half wolf) can get acclimated to the location. They traipse down to the trailer park and come running back—there’s no fence! The wolves have to be in an enclosed space! The art department says no one told them, the ADs say they did, blah blah blah. Finally, we find enough chicken wire and start enclosing.
When we finish Jonny’s concert, we let all the extras go and most of the crew, since the wolf scene can be shot with a reduced unit. In the scramble, we screw up seriously: Somehow, the extra who was supposed to play Curt’s father was told to go home. He is now irrevocably on a bus headed off with all the other background people. Oh, boy. The second AD is near tears. “No problem,” says Waldo, the AD, “I’ll play the dad!” And, in a tight white T-shirt, Waldo looks exactly like somebody’s white-trash father. Crisis averted. I tell Waldo I can’t fire him now since the dad shows up again later in the shoot.
We use a plastic doll for the baby. The wolves start fucking each other the second they are let off their leashes. They pay no attention to the baby, let alone the trailer. I can tell it is going to be a long night. Finally, we get the wolves to approximate picking up the doll and dropping it near the trailer—and we call it a day.
Day 19: Wednesday, April 16
The kind of day I hate—three smallish scenes in different locations and then an elaborate night scene: Jonny and Toni dancing under a tree, lit by a fake moon, with a real raven silhouetted against it, in a snowfall. The three smallish scenes of course take much longer than anticipated—it’s all the moving around and setting up. By the time we get to the night scene it is close to ten o’clock. I am getting concerned that we will have to push tomorrow’s call—and our whole day is daylight-dependent.
Jonny and Toni are singing and dancing to “Ladytron.” It is one of those magical moments. The “snow” (biodegradable non-tree-toxic substance) looks great, the raven is amazing—even the incredibly loud noise of the snowblower doesn’t make it any less moving.
But we go late and we have to push tomorrow’s call.
Day 20: Thursday, April 17
A baaaad day. Crew call is not until 12:30, then we shoot the bus scene until 4 P.M.—this is a good example of a misconceived day. The bus scene is not as important location-wise and should have gone on the end of a day instead of the beginning. SHOOT THE MEAT FIRST. We should know this by now. By the time we get to the English Garden we only have about three and a half hours of daylight left. Todd starts to panic. So do I. I try to calm us both down by saying, “Let’s just shoot what we can, if we have to come back we will”—although I don’t know when we can!
I am trying to focus us on getting through the day. We shoot out the dialogue…now what? There is not enough time to do the whole garden scene, and it seems stupid to just do part of it. Finally we decide to just shoot Jack Fairy as a statue. Micko comes to set, but his makeup is wrong—there has been a miscommunication about the statue makeup. We wrap early.
Todd is distressed. He says, “I don’t know how we’re going to do this in nine weeks, I really don’t.”
I try to calm him down. I don’t want him to start to think it’s not possible or it won’t be.
Day 21: Sunday, April 20
First day at Bray Studios, about an hour out of London on the banks of the Thames—very pretty.
Shooting in a studio is a little tough because it lends a false sense of security that there is plenty of time: There is no “concrete envelope”—no location owner screaming that you have to leave by a certain hour.
It takes a very long time to light. I’m not sure why. Part of the problem is that everyone just had two days off and most of them spent all forty-eight hours plastered. So they are nursing killer hangovers.
We get through only about two-thirds of what we wanted to shoot.
Day 22: Monday, April 21
Finally, we pick up the pace and bang through today’s schedule and what we missed yesterday. It feels great to be back on track
The actors have a bit of a collective tantrum. The nature of the stuff we’re shooting—the St. Francis Hotel—is a little frustrating for them. They’re all in fabulous outfits and mostly they are being placed for camera: They deliver a line, get placed, deliver a line, and get placed again. In short, they are props. Some of them decide they’ve all been waiting around all day, this is crazy, they shouldn’t be treated like this, YAK YAK YAK. It’s one thing when this nonsense comes from a star but when it starts to infect the bit players…“Look,” I say to them, “this is what actors do. They sit around. That’s why you get paid more than anyone else.”
They shut up.
Day 23: Tuesday, April 22
Another bits and pieces day: lots of small sets. First, we do Curt and Brian on the carnival rockets. This is a lot of fun. They are lip syncing to Lou Reed’s “Satellite of Love” (one of my favorite songs) and it’s very buoyant and freeform. I know we haven’t exactly cleared the song yet and I am worrying a little.
In the afternoon we do our first bluescreen shot. Ewan is dressed as a satyr and jumps down a chimney stack (very Mary Poppins). He is having a tough time because there is no chimney, no background—it all gets laid in later. But he needs to look like he knows what he’s doing.
We put on today’s call-sheet that we’re going to shoot a sixth day on May 16 in order to get the English Garden. People are grumbling.
Day 24: Tuesday, April 23
THE GRAND BALLROOM
One of those odd conundrums. The set has been sitting here for days. Todd and Maryse looked at it the night before to prelight; Maryse said she needed two more hours in the morning. Since Jonathan Rhys-Myers required at least three hours in makeup (full green body paint), we planned accordingly. But now, per Todd’s instructions, Maryse is re-gelling all the lights. Two hours come and go. Maryse swears that she needs just one more. BANG: The hour is gone. Jonathan is ready. “One more, one more,” says Maryse. BANG: That hour is gone. Jonathan begins to flake. Waldo starts to seethe. We break for lunch without having shot anything. Makeup is sulking because Jonathan looked great two hours ago but is now starting to come apart. Maryse works through lunch. FINALLY, two hours after lunch, we shoot.
Day 25: Wednesday, April 24
We had a ton to shoot today so we put “extended day” on the call-sheet to warn people. So of course we end up not shooting late at all….
The last scene of the day is Jonathan dressed as a mod in his bedroom. A schoolboy lies naked on the bed. We called Alaister (the schoolboy) to the set too early, and by the time we get to his scene he has worked himself up into a panic over the nudity. Jonathan takes him aside and is incredibly good with him, puts him completely at ease—by the time we shoot, he’s relaxed. It gives me a new respect for Jonny. Not all actors are that generous.
Day 26: Friday, April 25
It is our first sixth day—the first six-day week as opposed to the usual five-day—and everyone moves like molasses. It is also Ewan’s last day. We finally shoot the NYC office scene that we’ve been carrying around for weeks. Then we do the two shots from the rooftop that we didn’t get on that horrible night. The art department built a brick roof corner. It’s so easy that I think maybe we should have done the whole damn thing in a studio.
We wrap early. As a joke, the AD walkies the second AD ten minutes before wrap and says, “We’re going late, we’ll need a second meal.” The second AD is not amused.
End of Week Five.
Day 27: Sunday, April 27
Our last day in the studio!
We are more than halfway through now, but I am really not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Todd and I had convinced ourselves that the first four weeks would be the toughest since we had to shoot all of Ewan’s scenes. Now, looking at the weeks to come, I don’t know what the hell we were thinking.
To top it all off, my relationship with a production executive is rapidly crumbling. He calls me this morning and says, “Everything is a complete disAHSter, the bond company is definitely going to step in.” I try to calm him down—I remind him that we’re pretty much on schedule, our over-spend into the contingency isn’t that bad, and the film looks great and isn’t that the most important thing?????!!!
Day 29: Tuesday, April 29
We are shooting all the school stuff in an empty school in South-hall. We start in the schoolyard with a crane shot of little Jack Fairy getting beaten up by a crowd of schoolboys. The little actor is understandably concerned. I watch the stunt coordinator work with the kids and the scene magically comes to life: They all look really fierce, their kicks and punches look real, but after “Cut!” little Jack Fairy stands up, grinning and unharmed.
The line producer calls and we have another argument. I had spoken to our executive producer (Scott Meek) the night before and said, “I know the schedule is tight and I’d be delighted to figure out ways to lighten it. I just don’t think we’re at panic level yet.”
That other production executive—my bête noir—doesn’t see it that way, and has come up with a list of scenes to cut.
I say, “I don’t want to cut any scenes—”
“Well, you have to!”
I lose my cool and accuse him of sabotaging the movie rather then working for it. I yell something eloquent like, “You should be supporting me and it sucks that you don’t!”
He hangs up on me.
Big crisis at the last scene of the Oscar Wilde schoolboys: Todd thinks their hair is all too short. Lengthy discussion of how long little boys’ hair was in the 1850s. The casting person says no one told him they had to have long hair. Todd wonders if he has to think of everything.
I think, Yes, Todd, you do.
Day 30: Wednesday, April 30
Two crane shots today, one for the beginning of the movie, one for the end. The first is two dockers kissing and the second is the Oscar Wilde shot.
Todd does not like either of the extras who came in to be dockers—he doesn’t think they’re cute enough. The two most handsome men on our crew are Peter, the stills photographer, and Joe, the wardrobe supervisor. We ask them if they will kiss each other and surprisingly quickly they agree. The crane then breaks down and we spend two hours waiting for a new “pod”—whatever that is.
Off to Elder Street, to shoot the exterior Wilde house. This street happens to be the only one in London that can double as Dublin. The residents have imposed a lot of restrictions on us; the location manager tells me that another movie shot here last week and made a lot of noise, damaged the street, blah blah blah. So we have to leave by 11 P.M. and it’s not dark enough to start to shoot until 9 P.M.
The art department has dressed the street, removing all modern elements, putting in gas lights, etc. It looks amazing. Our shot is a complicated crane swooping from the rooftops down to the baby on the doorstep. We finally get it and move in to closer coverage on the servants discovering the baby. Then Todd says he wants to cut to a side shot, looking down the street in the direction the art department hasn’t dressed.
Christopher Hobbs is aghast. “But you CAHN’t!”
Todd says “That’s where the action is.”
“Yes, but…but…Todd, it’s all wrong! There’s modern lamps! Buildings!”
Christopher looks like he’s going to cry. He says, “I have to go home.” And he does.
Day 31: Thursday, May 1
Election Day today.
We’re back at the midtown bar location, this time shooting the Flaming Creatures at the Last Resort club. It seems like the last time we were here—week one—was a hundred years ago.
Scott and I met on the set last night and went over ways to lighten the schedule, mostly by moving things to second unit when possible. I keep redoing and redoing the days in my head and then running over to Waldo and Todd: “How about if we do the dressing room, the theater, and Jack Fairy’s parents’ bedroom all on the same day…” And then he’ll point out a fatal flaw and I’ll go back to square one.
The production executive (who is barely speaking to me) says, “You do know you will have to cut something don’t you? So why not decide now?”
I DON’T WANT TO CUT ANYTHING.
The bond company pays a visit. I spend two hours with Graham Easton, the rep. He is a little nervous. “I know you only have three weeks left,” he says, “but don’t get complacent.” HA. I go through the schedule and try to convince him that we can finish on time. That’s what everyone is panicking about: If we go past May 24, it will cost big, big bucks.
Done at midnight.
End of Week 6.
Day 32: Sunday, May 4
Tony Blair won the election, which everyone seems pretty happy about. We’re shooting in Croydon, a miserable suburb about forty-five minutes from London which doubles very well for 1984 New York. Dull day, not much to say.
Day 33: Monday, May 5
I am just walking out the door when the phone rings—it is Maryse. She can barely talk and she croaks out that she thinks she is too sick to come to work. Oh, boy. Since it is all exteriors today, her operator can probably handle it, but what about tomorrow? And what if everyone gets what she has? I call the office and tell them to get a doctor there now.
We are shooting on Portobello Road right near my house. Today we have a lot of club-kid extras and they all showed up smashed (at 8 A.M.!). They are a little hard to control.
I call Maryse at the end of the day. She still sounds like shit. I book another cameraman for tomorrow. Todd says, “What happens if I get sick?”
“YOU WON’T,” I say.
Day 34: Tuesday, May 6
New cameraman. We are shooting the newsroom stuff, and it goes very, very slowly. We don’t make our day (sigh). I spend most of the time reconfiguring and reconfiguring the schedule, trying to put a ten-pound sausage in a five-pound bag. How can we finish in two and a half weeks? I can feel the sharks circling….
Day 35: Wednesday, May 7
Maryse is back (a little worse for wear) and today we actually catch up a bit, which feels great. A glitch in the last scene: We’re shooting Arthur running down his office’s hallway to the elevator. The hallway is very long and Maryse lights it with fluorescents from the ceiling. It is a big lighting job and the “sparks” have been working on it for two days. But when it is time to shoot the scene, Todd says, “But Maryse, we have to see the ceiling. Those lights can’t be there.”
Down come all the lights.
Day 36: Thursday, May 8
Today we’re shooting Jonathan and Toni making love. The set is closed, which means only essential crew is allowed. I don’t really deem myself essential, so I keep my distance. Jonathan and Toni were both super-nervous, but by the time we break for lunch they seem relaxed and relieved.
Once again we have to push the Sombrero lavatory to another day…. I have a feeling we will be dragging that scene around for the rest of the shoot.
Day 37: Friday, May 9
Chaotic morning: I get a call on my way to the set that there has been a fire at the garage where we park the camera truck. The gear is okay, but it will probably be two or three hours before it can leave (!). I call the production office and tell them to see if Panavision can pull another package together. Then I remember that our backup (B) camera isn’t on the truck—it’s on its way to a magazine press in Worcester to do a second unit shoot of the Curt/Brian headline being printed. I call and reroute it to us. So now we potentially have three cameras making their way to set. We’ll use whichever gets there first.
Our second AD is out sick. One of the PAs tells me he doesn’t feel so good himself: Can he go home? I tell him we’re really short handed and ask if he could please wait until reinforcements arrive. He sort of winges away and then comes dashing back: “Waldo said I could leave!” Great. When I was a PA you weren’t allowed to get sick.
Todd is now panicking that he will get this virus. He is worried that a pain he feels in his neck is a symptom. Yeah, of this movie. Maryse does not help by nodding sagely and saying, “Yes, that was how my flu started!” As a strong believer in the power of suggestion, I flash her a dirty look, but she is totally impervious.
Finally a camera arrives and I redirect the other two. We are shooting a relatively simple scene, but as usual, it is taking us a very, very long time. It is also the sixth day of a tough week and everyone is burnt out.
Around 6 P.M. I get the “Waldo needs to see Christine right away” call to the set. Waldo is upset. “We have three more shots before we even get to the electroshock scene!” (The scene of young Curt being “treated” for wildness.) “We’ll be here until midnight!”
Maryse is so afraid of giving us lighting estimates that are too short (after the green makeup debacle) that she tends to go overboard on how long she needs. I calm everyone down. We go over all the shots we need and it turns out there are a few in the electroshock scene that we can move to second unit. I calculate a half an hour per shot—very optimistic. “See?” I say to Waldo, “We’ll be done tenish, not too bad.” He is very dubious, but we are done in fact by 9 P.M. HA.
The end of week seven; only two more to go. Day off tomorrow, thank God.
Day 38: Sunday, May 11
We have a split day today, meaning we start around noon and go to 1 A.M. or thereabouts. I was looking forward to sleeping in, but Todd and I need to go watch Lindsay Kemp rehearse (she’s on tomorrow) so off we go at 9 A.M.
As I watch Lindsay strut around singing “A Little of What You Fancy Does You Good” my phone rings—Waldo, too sick to come in…this fucking flu!! So here we are with a big extras night outdoor scene and Mark, the third AD, filling in.
I try to stay away from the set so Mark doesn’t feel like I’m looking over his shoulder. Also, I don’t want the crew to think I don’t have faith in him, and they will if they see me hanging around. And then they will stop listening to him.
Waldo calls and croaks, “Maybe I can come in later…” and clearly waits for me to say, “Oh no, that won’t be necessary.” But I don’t.
He doesn’t come in. We make it through the day.
Day 39: Monday, May 12
Waldo still out sick. Today we are shooting Lindsay Kemp’s big scene—and the little boy (young Brian) watching him. Callum is a trouper, but he is still only seven. We start with his scene in the hallway and then move to Lindsay’s scene on the stage, giving the kid a chance to rest. He doesn’t do a whole lot of resting and proceeds to consume vast quantities of candy. Just as we’re about to bring him back on set, he starts to throw up. I call for the nurse and then sit down with him and his mom to get a sense of how ill he really is and how far his mother will let us push him. I go back to the set and tell Todd to consolidate as much as possible; this kid doesn’t have a lot left….
We finish Lindsay et al., but our additional scene—the “imaginary theatre”—gets scuttled. The production executive looks at me balefully. “SOOOO what do you propose to cut?”
Oh, God I am so tired. I summon up all the civility left in my bones and say, “Look, we’ve already scheduled an additional day, we can probably fit this in there. Let’s not start carving yet…”
“But you realize we CAHN’T schedule any more days…”
I go home and spend the night moving scenes around.
I DON’T WANT TO CUT ANYTHING.
Day 40: Tuesday, May 13
Sombrero Club. Lots of extras, Waldo back, a little worse for wear. We have a daunting amount of material to cover in two days. We decide that we’ll shoot out the scene where Cecil sees Brian for the first time and then do Brian meeting Mandy with the fake snowfall. It’s a long day, but it is exhilarating to get so much big stuff done. Waldo and I look at tomorrow’s shot list and wince—it’s going to be long long long.
Our stills photographer went to the Cannes Festival over the weekend for the opening of his pal Johnny Depp’s movie. He was supposed to be back yesterday, but he’s not back yet. On the set, I get a call from Depp’s manager: Johnny would consider it a personal favor if I let the photographer stay until the end of the week in Cannes. I say he can stay as long as he likes and I fire him.
Day 41: Wednesday, May 14
We are shooting New Year’s Eve 1969. Big shot of Jack Fairy. I am a little melancholy because my brother’s girlfriend just went into labor. It’s his first child and I feel like I should be there, not here…. Michael calls me on the cellular phone and I can tell that he is a little angry that I’m not there for him. He says he will call when the baby is born.
I go back to set—there is a commotion. I run over to a very irate Todd. It seems that we’ve just shot three shots of Jack Fairy and no one noticed that he didn’t have his birthmark on. It just fell through the cracks: The makeup people should have put it on; the script supervisor should have made sure; a more experienced actor would have reminded the makeup people…I calm everyone down and say, “Look, we’ll reshoot the close-up at the end of the night, no one will notice in the wides.” I tune out everyone’s explanation about why it isn’t their fault and make my way over to the devastated makeup man, Peter, who is taking full responsibility. He is near tears. He says, “This is a disaster.” I say, “No way. A disaster is irrevocable. A disaster is not being able to shoot. This is nothing.” It takes us about ten minutes to redo the close-up.
We go very, very late. The extras are cranky and tired of dancing to “Ballroom Blitz.” Finally at about 2:30 we wrap and I’m in bed around 4 A.M. The phone rings at seven—my brother had a boy.
Day 42: Thursday, May 15
Arthur’s house today. We are shooting in a house that hasn’t changed in thirty or so years and is inhabited by an ancient couple. The location manager says we have to be out by midnight. I don’t see how this is physically possible. At 11 P.M. I tell him that we won’t be done before one at the absolute earliest. He sighs and goes in to the TV room with the house owners—I hear him drone on and on about his early years in Liverpool to keep them distracted. We wrap at 2:33.
Day 43: Friday, May 16
The last day of the second-to-last week. Why don’t I feel more relieved? I guess it’s because next week is a seven-day one and it’s huge—all the Bijou office stuff.
We are negotiating with the crew about that seventh day. They have us over a barrel and they know it. We come up with some inane plan that forces us to finish by 10 P.M. Who knows if we will? If we can?
Short day today because the location says we have to leave by 10 P.M. and we didn’t start until two…. The production executive is nowhere to be found and he is the one who negotiated this stupid deal. After trying to reach him all day I finally send a crew member (a nice enough girl, but with a perennial air of “it’s not my responsibility, is it?”—a drag in a production person) to see what we can do. No dice. Once again we drop Jack Fairy’s parents’ bedroom.
One more week to go….
Day 44: Sunday, May 18
Today we’re shooting the glitter kids running through the streets of London—an organizational nightmare, particularly on a tourist-ridden Sunday. On our way to the set, Todd asks me to call ahead so he can talk to Micko (Jack Fairy) about the scene. As I do this, I scan the call-sheet—Micko’s not on it. Todd is furious, the ADs are flustered—I cut them off in midapology and say, “Just get him here!”
It’s a good lesson. Todd should have checked the call-sheet and I should have checked it, too. We’re all just getting so tired.
They reach Micko, he gets there, no real time is lost.
Days 45 & 46: Monday & Tuesday, May 19 & 20
We are in the same place for two days, which is a relief after all this hopping around. Big acting scenes for Mandy and Christian, but for camera and lighting it is all pretty simple (or simple for this movie, anyway). There are only a few more days, but I know the Bijou offices are going to be impossible. We are sending all the electrics there to prelight—the whole thing is being lit with 6Ks on towers that shine through the windows. And the office is wall-to-wall windows. We go over and over the placement of the towers, since moving them is a major, major pain in the ass.
Day 47: Wednesday, May 21
Of course we get to location and…the towers are in the wrong place. I can’t even get it up to be pissed off. Maryse is white-faced and near tears. The gaffer makes a big show in front of me of how they were put exactly where she said, but if they have to be moved, of course he’ll deal with it…. Later, I see him quietly reaming out his best boy: “Teddy man, what the fuck were you thinking? I told you where to put the goddamn towers—how could you screw up so bad?”
Maryse, to her credit, spends her time trying to solve the problem rather then explaining to me why it is not her fault. She has grown a lot on this movie.
Day 48: Thursday, May 22
Oh, we are down to the wire, yes, we are….
Toni really wanted to get through the whole scene today so she wouldn’t have to try to work herself up to the same pitch tomorrow. But Maryse is now saying that she is using daylight, so when it fades she can’t shoot. This is news to me and Waldo—we would have planned these days differently if we’d known they were daylight-dependent. So we stop early, halfway through the scene, with promises to start shooting straightaway in the morning.
Day 49: Friday, May 23
Today is going to be miserable…. We have to shoot the rest of yesterday’s scene, plus Brian watching himself on the TV, plus Tommy Stone’s dressing room (which we have been carting around since Week 2), plus exterior news office, plus the Sombrero lavatory.
I sit with Todd and Waldo: We have two hours for this scene, an hour and a half for this one…Todd nods glumly and say, “I hate working this way.” God, so do I. But what can we do? Waldo keeps saying, “Don’t worry, we’ll make it!”
We are grinding through the last part of yesterday’s scene at about 11 A.M. when the phone rings. It’s the executive producer, slightly hysterical. “This call-sheet is impossible!” Oh, God. Tell me something I don’t know. “What are you going to cut??!!” I tell him we have a plan and not to worry. He says, “We can’t shoot past tomorrow—there’s no more money!!!” I know, I say, we won’t. He says, “Well you will just have to cut the English garden tomorrow.” I try to explain that cutting tomorrow’s scene won’t lighten today’s load, but he doesn’t get it.
“I’m coming down there!” he thunders. “I’ll be there in an hour!”
Somehow, we actually stick to this crazy schedule and hurtle through the day. Scott doesn’t actually show up (after all that sturm and drang) until late afternoon.
By the time we get to the lavatory, Todd is on the brink of collapse. We have a difficult time mostly because of the actor and finally stagger through, wrapping at midnight, a killer fifteen-hour day. Todd is miserable on the ride home. He says that making movies this way is awful and he doesn’t want to do it. I don’t know what to say.
The Last Day: May 24
This is it. The last day, a beautiful sunny Saturday.
We shoot in an English garden, then two sets: Jack Fairy’s parents’ bedroom and Arthur as a teenager in a movie theater. Stuff that doesn’t demand tremendous concentration in terms of acting—more technical, which is a good thing, because I don’t know what anyone has left.
We wrap at ten o’clock, tears and champagne—it is over over over!!!