Asparagus @ Midnight - Part I

It's not often that someone gets to check off three life-time goals in one night.

On Thursday May 6'th (and stretching into the infancy of Friday May 7'th) I accomplished the following:

(1) Gained legitimate access to a major motion picture being shot in our backyard without resorting to knocking out the key grip, stuffing his unconscious body in a "Port-A Potty" and stealing his hipster outfit to sneak onto the set.

(2) Potentially appear in a film as a background extra.

(3) Eat Lunch from a craft services truck.

After checking three of these biggies off the "Bucket List" I can say with all honesty that if I wasn't convinced before of what I was supposed to have been doing with the past fifteen years of my life, I certainly know now.

First, Gentle Reader, some back story.

If you don't know who Jason Eisener is, it's time you got educated. Here's link to a promotional website for his wildly successful short film "Treevenge" and you'll find a brief bio there: http://www.treevenge.com/.

After reading this I have to conclude that Jason is basically me if I'd been born in a place like Halifax and about ten years later. Growing up in small towns in Cape Breton and Newfoundland in the Seventies and Eighties if I'd told people I wanted to make movies for a living I'd likely have gotten more encouragement and direction if I'd expressed an interest in becoming a Sorcerer.

Anyway, it's quite clear that he and I share a lot of the inspirations that drove Jason to start actually making films. He's cited "The Thing", "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre", "The Road Warrior", "Aliens", "Halloween", and the "Evil Dead" trilogy all as major influences and frankly I'm right there with him.

Likely around the same age I expressed a desire to make a "Star Wars"-inspired movie on a cost-prohibitive, technologically crippled Super 8 camera, Jason gained access to a video camera and was off to the races. When the time came to pick a career path he had a feasible and attractive option: the labor-intensive but conveniently located Screen Arts program at the Nova Scotia Community College.  During and after he completed this he promptly began producing some stellar short films.

Things went into the stratosphere for him in 2007 when his fake trailer for “Hobo With a Shotgun” won the South By South West Trailer Competition. It gained the attention of indie cinema luminaries Robert Rodriquez and Quentin Tarantino and was attached to the release of their film "Grindhouse" in Canadian theaters that same year.

The mock trailer was so successful that Jason wisely opted to spin it off into a very real full-length film. When it was announced that lensing would begin in Dartmouth on April 19'th with cinema icon Rutger Hauer as the titular Hobo, I sent the following sad email to Jason via "Facebook":

"Hey, Jason.

Congrats on starting production on "HWAS".

I know this is likely a long shot, but hey, nothing ventured...

Are there any opportunities available to volunteer time and effort on your current production?
If so, can you let me know what channels I would need to follow in order to assist in any capacity.

Thanks in advance and all the best."

Not surprisingly, I didn't hear back. The dude's making a feature film, for f#@&'s sake and is likely busier than Obama. Also we live in a bizarre age where social networking has really skewed the tradition definition of what I'd consider to be a friend. The only time I'd ever met the dude is when he hosted the screening of "Pontypool" at the Oxford a year or so ago.

Now I didn't expect a personal response but I was hoping my offer might down to someone in the crew. "Hobo With A Shotgun" though a pretty major production, was still modestly budgeted and I'd hoped that the concept of free help is attractive to anyone.

I didn't hear back but I continued to remain vigilant for opportunities.

Anyway, on Wednesday I'd completed a blog entry mid-day, posted it to "Facebook" and then logged off to clean up my place and get dinner in order. Just minutes before company arrived at 7 pm for my weekly board game session I made the mistake of logging into "Facebook" and read the following alert posted at 3 pm, just a few hours after I'd left the site:

"Call for Extras is for tomorrow night asap:
Want to be an EXTRA in HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN?
We need volunteer extras for the big finale tomorrow (thursday) night
in Dartmouth (an all-night shoot). If you're down and want to lose your
mind on-camera please call ***-****, or email ****@*******.ca"

I followed the thread to the inevitable end and read in horror that all the slots had already been filled.

Desperate, I sent an email anyway, hoping against hope. Sure enough, after my guests had left at around 11 pm that night the following reply in my inbox was heart-crushingly certain: "Sorry, they've all been filled!"

Despondent, I went to bed, stunned that my unknown window of opportunity had passed by so quickly.

Well, next morning while working on this week's comic, I heard my email chime and went to have a look, expecting just a smack-talk filled post-game analysis for my mentally absent showing in last night's "Age of Mythology" match. Instead I sat blinking at this:

"Hi David,
If you'd like to come out tonight to volunteer, I can email you the info. Are you still interested?"

A fuse burnt out in my brain. How was this possible? What kind of moron would volunteer for this and then cancel?

But then I realized that most normal people (present company excluded) would probably find the following two truisms to be rather daunting:

(1) The shoot would be overnight, likely lasting between 6 or 7pm until 6 am I the morning. Remember that blog entry I did before about being awake during unnatural times of our twenty-four hour clock that I thought shouldn't even exist?  That's what I'm talkin' about.  
(2) It was an exterior shoot and the overnight forecast was rain and cold temps.

Trying to appear vaguely even-keeled I typed back a conservative "Very much so. Thanks!" and eagerly awaited my reply. Ten minutes later, this note came back. Bear with me, I've edited this considerably since I consider people who traffic in spoilers to suck harder than the average "Dyson":

"Great!

Below is the information needed, standby for your calltime:

I have you booked to do volunteer background work tomorrow night (Thursday, May 6th) on the film Hobo With a Shotgun. All of the information below is very important, please read it through carefully.

Your Calltime is TO BE DETERMINED. I will be sending out an email around 11am telling you what time to be on set. Please be sure to check your email and reply to confirm.

THIS IS A NIGHT SHOOT, YOU WILL LIKELY BE ON SET FROM AROUND 6 or 7pm UNTIL AROUND 6 am.

Please Report to: ******************(Directions to follow)
There will be a tent on site where you should sign in, please follow yellow signs that say "Extras Holding".

Your Character: A civilian or homeless person in a corrupt town. You are in GROUP B which means that you are a volunteer.

The scene: The dramatic end of the film: ***********************.

WARDROBE:
Please dress in drab clothing. Everybody in this town is somewhat poor and down on their luck- don't try to look nice. Feel free to bring options of clothing that are worn, stained, or ripped. We love the look of old jean and leather. Please be aware that there will be fake blood on set- this is likely to get on your clothing- so wear clothes that you don't care very much about. If you are somebody with punk gear please go all out with that look.

This scene is Exterior: Please bring options of coats, hats, gloves and scarves in drab colours. If it rains, please bring an umbrella and rain gear. Dress for night in NS-we all know how cold it can get.

Colours we like: earth tones: grey, brown, charcoal, dark blue, dark green, tan, washed out & faded colours
Colours to avoid: anything bright, solid black, solid white, red, patterns, logos

Please make sure that all clothing is clean.

PROPS: Please bring garden tools if you have them. (There is a good & fun reason for this.) The props department would love to see: shovels, rakes, hoes, pruning shears, etc. Please be sure to label your tools so that they don't get mixed up with other people's. If you can, please bring one tool for yourself and an extra one just in case somebody else needs one.

HAIR: Men: Please do not shave.
Women: Please don't try to look nice. Arrive with a base coat of foundation if you usually wear it, but don't wear much make-up other than that. We want everybody to look kind of rugged.

PARKING: There will be parking at this location.

THINGS TO BRING: The wardrobe and props outlined above; SNACKS and DRINKS, a small lunch will be provided, but please be prepared with your own food and drinks, you'll be happier if you do; Warm gear: it gets cold in NS in the night; Books, cards, games, anything that will keep you entertained and happy without being disruptive.

THINGS TO REMEMBER:
- Please DO NOT take photos on set.
-Please DO NOT talk to the cast, they are there to do a job, please don't bug them.
-Please DO NOT ask "when will we be finished?", the crew doesn't know either.
-Please DO turn off your cellphone. If it must be on, turn it to silent.
-Please DO NOT leave any valuables in Extras Holding. There are going to be a lot of people on set, so although the area is secure, I would not take any risks. The Production company is not responsible for lost or stolen property.

What you are committing to:
-Being on set on time, and guaranteeing your presence there until they finish filming (probably a 12 hour night). Please do not confirm if you can't commit to being there for the full 12 hours.
-Maintaining a Professional Attitude throughout the shoot- No drinking, drugs, or disruptive behavior.
-Being on set around graphic content: swearing, violence, prop guns, lots of fake blood

If you are unable to make the shoot, please reply to this email with the subject line "CANCEL" immediately. Otherwise, please keep a close watch on your email tomorrow morning so that you can confirm promptly.

Thank you"


By noon I'd received an 8 pm call time and sent confirmation that I'd be there. In fact, nothing short of a friggin' zombie apocalypse would have kept from going. Apart from worrying if I had the proper wardrobe, if I'd get the car back in time for my wife to get to work the next morning and whether or not I'd actually find the location, I was in!

It had taken thirty-nine years, but I was finally going to realize a dream come true.

CONTINUED IN PART II

Here's this week's "Dave's World" comic, which I started before all this foolishness came up. Strangely, it turned out to be kinda relevant, as you'll see in Part II on Monday.

Today's  "WARNING: Exploit-Sensational Adult content" EPIC/FAILS...

EPIC: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1LlazPgxKrA  Original "Hobo" trailer. 


BONUS EPIC: http://www.hobowithashotgun.com/   Official site for the full-length film.

BONUS, BONUS EPIC: http://twitchfilm.net/news/2009/09/beware-the-furious-foliage-its-jason-eiseners-treevenge.php  Jason's bloody and brilliant "Treevenge" short

FAIL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KCct4RwLNM    And what Exploitation Films look like on the south side of  "FAIL"...    

"Lowered Expectations" : Part V

When the bus hissed to her hydraulic stop across the bridge we all piled out gasping for breath and thanking our respective Makers for delivering us. After all, it was no small feat to travel longer than twenty minutes on the rush-hour Number One in July and live to tell the tale.

Mike put the straps of the kit bag around his shoulders and staggered away from the bus. To a casual onlooker it looked as if the diminutive salesman was narcoleptic and carried a twin bed strapped to his back to make the best of his malady. Since I was a bit bigger than him I offered to carry the canvas monolith for a bit, but Mike was quite adamant about bearing this commercial cross all by himself.

I didn't know whether or not to be offended. Did he think that as soon as I was entrusted with the bag I'd try and make a break for it? This didn't seem likely since the damned thing was so heavy he could have caught up to me while driving a parade float.

"Where's our first appointment?" I asked, trying not to walk too far ahead.

I noticed absently, under the full light of day, that the underarms of Mike's shirt looked as if they'd been dipped in urine. New dark spots were forming and I fought the impulse to Vulcan neck-pinch the poor bastard and carry his burden the rest of the way to Calvary for him.

"Don't...have...appointment," he muttered under the strain.

"What do you mean, we 'don't have an appointment'?" I demanded. "You mean to tell me we're just going to march into some business and try to sell this stuff to...who exactly?"

"The staff, of course," Mike grunted, finally throwing the canvas behemoth on the sidewalk in front of a branch of the Royal Bank, or the "RBC" for all you young hep-cats.

Ever wonder why so many businesses invest in one of those customized "No Soliciting" signs in their entry ways? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you, "Exhibit A":

Speechless, I trailed behind Mike as he wrestled open the front door to the bank and dragged the duffel bag inside. Stunned, I watched myself hold the door open for him as he pulled the dead weight across the floor of the bank, instantly drawing the eyes of customers and tellers alike. I felt my face ignite as I slowly slinked in after him.

Frankly if someone were to try this little stunt today they'd be instantly shot dead, no questions asked. Can you imagine this: it's your lunch break, you've taken twenty minutes out of your busy day to do some quick banking, you're standing in a lineup only two or three people away from assistance and then you see this? Two twitchy, sweaty-looking chuckleheads in shirts and ties bomb into the bank, dragging an army bag the size of a sofa which looks like it could conceal a weapons cache that would make a Michigan Militiaman swoon with lust. How quickly would you shit a proverbial brick?

Needless to say, Mike managed to get only a few meters inside before a manager stalked over to him, gesturing as if banishing a dog with dirty paws from the den.

"You!" she yelled. "No way! What did I tell you the other day? Get out of here!"

He tried to ignore her and peeled off towards the counter. The customers in line began to shuffle in place and exchange nervous looks as if rumors we beginning to circulate that they weren't about enjoy a nice, hot, refreshing shower after all.

"Did you hear what I said?" she demanded, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"C'mon, lady," Mike yelled back. "Gimme a break, I got some cool stuff here."

Clearly Mike was confused as to why someone couldn't see the inherent value of what he was trying to do.

"At least lemme show you a few things," he continued unabated, zipping the bag open from stem to stern.

Several tellers and other staff members stopped what they were doing and inched closer as if Mike was about to perform a venison preparation demo.

"Ooooo, that 'Donald Duck' bib is kinda cute," I overheard one employee say to another.

After my incredulous ears heard this I thought for a moment that he might actually sell something. But after a few of the bank staff rummaged through and cooed over Mike's clandestine wares for a bit they were ordered back to work and the manager promptly escorted us off the premises with threat of arrest if we didn't make it snappy.

We went to five other places in systemic order along the strip mall. By the time lunch rolled around Mike had collected a whopping eight bucks.

"Wheew," he panted, the sweat marks on his shirt now down to the belt-line. "I'm f#@&!*@ starving. Can I buy you lunch?"

"Uh, sure," I said to him, still in shock as to what I'd been accessory to.

Off we went to McDonald's, where all good marketers go to refuel. Since Mike was still hauling the "hockey bag of love" around, I easily got ahead of him in the lineup and bought my own lunch. After all, I didn't want to cut into his and Lucinda's wedding fund.

Between ravenous bites of special-sauceinated bovine goodness Mike managed to belch out some questions.

"So, dude, whattaya think?"

I popped a mitt-full of fries to try and stall, subconsciously looking for one of those plastic application form holders bolted to the wall inside every McDonald's.

"I dunno, man. I don't think it's my kinda gig. What with the whole bus thing, schlepping that heavy bag around, barging into businesses unannounced and getting thrown out over and over again. I don't think I can do this. In fact, I'm amazed that you can do it."

Mike's brain chewed on this as he abused a napkin.

"Yeah," he admitted, sounding wistful. "I know it's not for everybody."

Sensing him start to get down, I jumped up and slapped him on the shoulder.

"C'mon, dude," I enthused. "I'll carry 'The Beast' for a bit. Where too next?"

"Dooly's pool hall," he replied.

"Cool," I shot back. "Do you think they'll buy anything?"

"No," Mike replied as he stood up, looking around so as not to trip over the Mothra-cocoon sized bag.

"I just wanna play some pool," he said and gave me a knowing smile.

So, for the next three hours Mike exercised the one and only perk of his miserable job and goofed off. We played pool and just shot the shit. During this time I got to know him a bit and understand his motivations somewhat. A high-school dropout who'd seen his own share of troubles. A genuine affection for a woman he really wanted to marry. A desire to just get by in the world and be safe, secure and free to pursue happiness.

At the end of our time together I shook his hand and we both bid each other good luck and good fortune in the future. I sincerely hope he found a semblance of contentment in a world that often forces you to do borderline embarrassing things to survive.

I hopped on a bus and made my way back to the commune. Upon arrival I regaled my scarlet cohabitants with my tale and they sat in rapt amazement.

"Well, I hoped you learned your lesson," my bitter friend lectured me after I was done. "All of these jobs in the paper are crap."

Although I agreed with him at the time, like Mike, necessity was going to force my hand one last time.

But that's a story for another time. Join me tomorrow for the final installment of "Lowered Expectations".

In the meantime, here's this week's DAVE'S WORLD comic:









EPIC: http://questionablecontent.net/view.php?comic=1

FAIL: http://www.mcdonalds.ca/en/careers/index.aspx

"When I was no longer a child..."

Little wonder some of us are so f#@&*$ up.

Do you remember back in Grade Six when you wrote a story/painted a picture/made an epic film? Okay, maybe only Lucas and Spielberg can relate to this last thing, but you get what I mean.

Do you remember doing something, anything, creative as a kid and then were made to get up in front of your class to present your magnum opus and everyone thought your story/painting/epic film was all that and a bag o' "Doritos"?

Then the teacher suggested that your story/painting/epic film be entered into some sort of contest and soon you and your fellow entrants were witness to your "brainchild of a child" appearing on display at a mall or on page eighty-four of the local paper? Do you remember getting some sort of prize like a ribbon or a flimsy piece of newsprint with a big-ass silver dollar stuck to it?

Well, I remember even if you don't, though you'd certainly be forgiven. Admittedly we are going back a bit. In fact the only thing I have to convince myself that this ever happened to me is a tarnished, out-of-circulation coin stuck to a crude drawing of a giant sperm whale fighting an octopi.

The picture was entitled "Fight To The Death" if I recall.

So, what am I on about here? Just this: although I barely remember this from childhood I certainly don't recall getting very much encouragement for doing creative stuff past Senior Elementary. Wanna know why?

It's because when High School rolled around all of your teachers, guidance councilors and (perish forbid) parents told you to put away the childish bullshit and start concentrating on your hard sciences and advanced math. I can't say that I blame them; they were only thinking of a practical future for you. But what if you wanted to roll the creative dice? What if you didn't give a crap about going into Business Administration or becoming a Dental Hygienist?

Here's what what a lot of you may remember: University reps coming to your school, being herded into the theatre/auditorium and then being subjected to endless hours of...

"Come to our school to start pre-Law."

"Apply to our institution to learn about exciting careers in Organic Chemistry."

"Send your transcripts and life savings to us and we'll give you all the skills required to run an 'Arby's' restaurant."

But not once did I recall hearing:

"You wanna make movies for a living? Talk to us."

"Do you have a novel locked up in that bright, l'il noggin? Right this way, sir or madam!"

"Have a hankerin' for acrylics and comic books? Step inside!"

So what happens if shy, mentorless kids don't have attractive career options presented to them in realistic but encouraging fashion? Paralysis. Drift. Resignation. Abandonment.

And what becomes of the child-like creative impulse I believe resides in each and every one of us? For most people it just disappears like someone airbrushed out of a politburo staff photo. People erase these fulfilling, universal pursuits we all collectively engaged in as children right out of their minds. They don't even bring it up. It's strangely Orwellian.

Why clutter up the drive to towards Fitness Trainer, Network Systems Analyst or Database Administrator with pie in the sky options? It's not worth it. We're just setting our kids up to fail.

But some of us would liked to have had the option to fail.

On a peppier note, I actually drew something yesterday. Besides being completely horrified by how my already feeble artistic skills had atrophied, I present the dubious results for your consideration:







In a related point, here's today's EPIC/FAIL...

EPIC: Dead Until Dark (Sookie Stackhouse, Book 1)

FAIL: http://apps.facebook.com/flixster/review?r=783763172_770801331&lsrc=nfmrv_actn&ref=nf