Wednesday, 28 March 2012

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Filming the sausage being made is very, very expensive, my friends. My promised follow up post about Peter's sad descent into the trappings of Draper's life is nearly half-complete, but I wanted to address something that's come up in the comments first, because I encounter variations of it every time I teach. Uncle Ebeneezer March 27, 2012 wrote On a tangent–a friend of mine read your post and remarked that they doubt that THAT much thought really goes into it. I disagree, but I’m sure you must hear that sort of sentiment all the time and I’m just curious how you usually respond. He's correct in that I encounter this all the time–frequently as a back-handed compliment about me putting more thought into the show than the people who made it–but it's usually the person doing the slapping that has no clue what they're talking example. For example, in an interview I can't relocate, Christopher Nolan was discussing the logistics of using an IMAX camera to capture Christian Bale hanging off of a skyscraper in Hong Kong. The joke of it was that between the helicopter, its pilot, safety equipment, those equipped to use it, Nolan and Bale's salaries, the insurance policy on Bale, the rental cost of the IMAX camera and its crew, every single syllable was costing Warner Brothers $300,000, "so if everyone would quit fucking cursing they could fucking film this fucking shot for under three million dollars." And that's pre-production. So do I occasionally hazard into a situation in which I over-read some last minute practicality? No doubt. But should the wizards with the duct tape see my analysis and note that I missed their wizardry, don't you think they'd be proud that they'd done their job so well I couldn't imagine it having been done differently? But if your friends are still unconvinced–and if my students are any indication, many of them will be, send them to the "full credits" listing of a show like Mad Men. John Rogers—friend of the blog and showrunner of Leverage—can add to any of the many things I’ve forgotten, but keep in mind that all of the following people must be paid, eat, have their equipment plugged in and powered up, etc., and remember as your friend’s scrolling down that very, very long list, there are a number of unusual positions, such as: hair stylist/background hair stylist hair stylist/key hair stylist hair department head special effects makup artist on-set dresser art department coordinator greensman set decoration buyer second assistant camera “a” cameria/ second assistant camera “b” camera best boy rigging electrician genny operator post-post production assistant coordinator colorist dailies final colorist I’ve chosen that list a little randomly, but it’s also a little representative of the collaborate work involved in any significant production. Odd as it may seem, the burden of proof that something isn’t in a particular scene should fall to the casual viewer, who thinks television is magic and all you need is a camera, some costumes, and a few pretty pictures to make it work. Granted, that’s...
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A Brief Appreciation Watching last night's Barcelona-Inter Milan draw reminded me, that for many people on this planet, the most frightening sight in the world is a 5'4" Argentinian–born the year after the Mets won the '86 World Series–charging right at them: See how his eyes are already looking at your feet? They're not. They're really on their way up to your belly-button, meaning your center-of-gravity's betrayed you and he knows what lies your feet have told. And that move he's making? It's calculated to humiliate you five seconds after you realize its purpose, so there's only one alternative, and given that Italians are famous for the volumptuousness of their gravity, they chose it with gusto: You would think this tactic successful: share the Jovian gravitational force of 2.58 g that yanks Italian players to the pitch every time the wind considers blowing, but it's to no avail! The tiny Argentinian spits in the face of Italian-alien gravitational alliances, pauses to shoot a look of shame at his "competitors," then continues moving toward goal as if he's bounding over Martian fields. Having no resort, the Italians do what they can: Which entails trying to rip his face off. Anyone who wants to complain about the dirtiness of Italian football is welcome to in this thread. Keep it clean, though, my friends, as some players know what best to do when there's nothing to be done: "Keep your distance, lads," you can almost hear one of them say. "And hope an Italian shows up."

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