Runners Late: The Never Completed Movie- What's up?

Zack Shannon (L) and Alan Burrell (R) as
 Steve and Gene in Truffle Runners

   The last night of principal photography for my film Truffle Runners took place on the night of October 14th, 2015. It was a session that lasted into the wee hours of the following morning, almost two years ago. Unless you've been paying close attention, (which, let's be honest, you probably haven't) you probably cannot believe that it has been that long. "Wow. What has taken you so long?" You are probably asking. Well, dear reader, I'll tell you.

   First, there was a matter of securing a workable rough cut. A rough-cut is exactly what it sounds like. An ugly, patchy, premonition of what the film will eventually look like. An unrefined, unpolished look at what we can basically expect a film to look like. Nowhere near the final product, but a suggestion of it.  After the rough cut is done, work continues on editing; Switching out one take for another, making visual alterations on clips to make them look better, cutting out small fluff to make the scenes flow better- that is a process that goes on after the rough cut is done.  A rough cut is a skeleton of a film. And though you may not get the impression from my description, it is a coveted benchmark for a filmmaker to reach. It took many months to achieve, but I finished my rough cut over a year ago and have been slowly picking at it ever since.  "Your rough cut is done, and you are still not finished? WHAT is your major malfunction, Private Crenshaw?"

Three letters. A.D.R.

ADR?!?!?

  Unless you're a high-brow cinema aficionado like myself who prefers their foie gras to be positively drenched in creme fraiche, you're probably busily scratching at an itch through your moth-eaten ten year old Tommy Hilfiger tee-shirt with a bemused look on your face. Perhaps you think I have begun typing satanic chants through my blog? Perhaps, you think, you are destined for an eternity of darkness simply for having read those dreaded letters, "A.D.R."  Rest assured, you are not damned. I will not resort to devil-talk on my page. No sir, no ma'am. Not even in Trump's America. Not now, not ever. Never! That is the Geoff Crenshaw guarantee.

There will be no Devil talk in this blog.

 
    A.D.R, stands for automatic dialogue replacement, which, if you ask me, is a misnomer. Not the "dialogue replacement" portion, but the "automatic" part. The process is anything but automatic.  It entails several hours of making some poor actor or actress repeat their lines into a microphone as they watch their on-screen counterparts saying the same lines with relative ease. It's the process of an actor or actress trying to recapture a moment exactly as they had executed it in the past. In the case of my actors, two or more years before. Here's an experiment for you- draw a circle. It doesn't have to be perfect. Have you done it yet? Good. Now draw another circle, exactly the same way, right on top of the original circle. The presence of two drawn circles cannot be detectable to the eye. Pretty difficult, huh? Well that is almost exactly what A.D.R entails. Why do we do it?
 
     We do it for any myriad of reasons. It could be deficient sound quality in the original take. Or, maybe, it is a shifting tone in the ambient background noise of two different shots that no amount of post work can correct.  If a line wasn't recorded adequately, or if we didn't have a sound-person on hand for a scene, I go through with the A.D.R process. Now, I am not here to besmirch the names of two great sound men, Tim Kahn and Pierce Locurto. (Two men I readily endorse and would use again based on my experiences with them.) They simply were not always available to do sound for my film. So where they weren't around to pump up my film with their mad skills, I have to pump up with ADR and Foley (sound effects)

   For myself, I was surprised to find the actual A.D.R process isn't too terrible. It's just a tad time consuming, if  a little boring. For the actors/actress of Truffle Runners, the paraphrased opinions run a wide gauntlet. From "This is fun," to "This is necessary," to "This is tantamount to forced castration."  I have sympathy for all three opinions. A.D.R doesn't have the same creative energy or glamour that on-location work does.  (Though make no mistake, shooting a film is hard work. If you're doing it right.)

  Imagine you are an actor who spent a great deal of a scene hyperventilating while delivering a great deal of dialogue? Probably slightly tiring on location, when the scene was being filmed. But trying to replicate the exact breathing patterns while also replicating exact speaking patterns and delivery? Over and over?!?!?  The celebrated thespian, and the noted singer of the instant classic Assholes Are Forever, (Find it online, if you can)  Alan Burrell found himself in such a quandary. I looked on as the brave soldier panted his way through the ADR session, much like a thirsty dog. Sweat gathered on his fevered brow, as he panted line, after breathy line. As the session went on, I began to fear for Al-Pal's health. (One of my many nicknames for him.) I called for more breaks than usual, and when he said he wanted to be done that day, I didn't argue. Had we persisted with A.D.R, I had a vision of him placing the back of his hand against his forehead as he swayed in his chair like a mighty palm tree in a hurricane. Then, in my mind's eye, he would have crumpled to the ground, like a beleaguered daisy, just as Scarlet O'Hara did in Gone With The Wind after she witnessed her beloved daughter Bonnie Blue Butler fall off a horse to her death.  Anyway, I do believe Alan was within fifteen minutes of doing the Scarlet O'Hara faint.  Can you imagine that? Poor Alan probably slept in an iron lung for a whole week after that.

Poor Scarlett O'Hara after witnessing the death of her
beloved daughter Bonnie Blue Butler.
How I imagine Alan would have been if we kept
up on his heavy-panting session of ADR.

  While most A.D.R sessions are not quite that exhausting to the actor, the are very time consuming and can get to be a drag. Watching yourself and listening to your self over and over and over, when you are an actor- I imagine, can become an activity conducive to feelings of self-consciousness, no matter how great the performances are. (They are great.) The average ADR session can last anywhere from between three to five hours. Each session typically fills up a scene. Maybe two if we're lucky. And scenes that need ADR, need it from all of the on-screen participants, which ends up taking an amount of time I don't care to do the math for right now.  But the actual process of recording A.D.R is a looooong one. Particularly when, in cases like ours, the film will have at least 70% of the dialouge A.D.R'd.   Fun stuff!

    Frankly, my least favorite aspect of A.D.R is also my least favorite aspect of the photography process of film-making; scheduling. Though when you climb upon the dragon of film-making, you know that scheduling will be a beast that you will have to slay. But it is truly the most exhausting part of the job. As a filmmaker, I like to be as hands-on as possible, dipping my fingers is as many aspects of the process as I can- writing, camera work, directing, editing, and as much as I dread it, when the wheels hit the road, in an emergency, I can handle post audio-work alright. I come to set knowing exactly what I want (except for blocking, which is figured out at the location) and I do my best to convey what that is to the actors and various crew members who may be on hand.  But despite my desire to have control over my projects, there is one responsibility I would gladly relinquish; the responsibility of scheduler.

   I would want my designated scheduler to be someone equally determined to finish the film, but less intimidated by the Goliathian obstacle that is the scheduling of actors. I would show up on set when the scheduler worked out the shoot date. Then I'd go home and edit the scene and just wait for the next shoot. Oh, that would be heavenly. But that blessing hasn't befallen me yet. I've spoken to other filmmakers who have confessed to me that this process has sent them into various anxiety-induced modes, not limited to insomnia, shaking, or a body-crunching fetal-position. (Waking up out of a dead sleep to run to the bathroom to vomit was my modus operandi during a particularly hectic period during the shooting of Truffle Runners. Three times in one week.) I'm not trying to beg for sympathy, or imply a desire for it. But I want to convey how scheduling can make film-making, particularly low/no-budget film-making,  seem like the act of carving Mount Rushmore with a toothpick. When you are shooting a scene, you can need anywhere between one person (which makes scheduling mercifully easy, if crew members are also on board.) to three or four or five. Which makes scheduling a bloody nightmare. Four or five actors means four or five people with their own personal lives with their own social engagements and obligations. Navigating those to find some days or nights of filming that is suitable for everyone, is a bloody nightmare.

  Scheduling for ADR isn't quite as bad as it is for the photography portion of it. But it's still frustrating. Let's face it. Life still gets in the way. And the changing landscape of life creates new geography that demands different navigation that what we had grown accustomed to in the past..  Zack Shannon, one of the sensational leads in the film landed a job and moved east to Pendleton.  Pendleton, Oregon, while still in the same state, is nearly three hundred miles away from the Truffle Runners' home base. This severely complicates his availability to finish his A.D.R. But don't worry. We are determined to find a way to complete the work.   Other participants are all within a reasonable traveling distance, but, alas. They still have their lives to deal with. Lives replete with the obstacles, obligations and limitations of any regular life. Being in the movies, even ones made by Dual Engines Production Company *shameless plug* don't spare you from the grind of everyday life.  I am lucky, damned lucky if I get each of them once a month. Sometimes it can be two or three months. In Zack's case it is usually more.

West Ramsey works on his A.D.R for Truffle Runners. 

  I hope that explains adequately, the reasons that Truffle Runners wasn't released a long time ago. Hey, the silver lining is that three of our actors, West Ramsey,  Jordan Yaroslavsky and Calvin Morie McCarthy have finished their A.D.R. (Though I may bring a couple of them back at some point for some minor re-dos) I have fervently hoped that I could score a release before we exit the year of 2017. I'm not certain we will be able to achieve that goal.  With each passing day, week, and month, the specter of a 2018 release looms larger and larger. But I am still clawing for a 2017 release, and I will do so until Ryan Seacrest does his typically tepid permanent Dick Clark pinch-hitting gig and rings in the new year. If that happens, I won't like it, but I will deal with it and give you the film on the other side of the ball-drop.

   It may be immodest of me to say this, but I think Alan Burrell does some of his finest acting in this film (If you don't know who he is, worry not. You will once you see this film, and you will love him.) If you are familiar with him, I think his performance here may change how you look at him. He is not a good actor. He's a great actor, and I am damn proud to have worked with him.  Zack Shannon is great. Not an aspiring actor at all. He's a personal friend of mine who did this as a favor to me. But he stood toe to toe with the "actual" actors in the group and held his ground perfectly, and if I may say so, delivered his own excellent performance. Myra Wicks is incredible. She can conjure any emotion, mild or extreme, within a minute. It seems modest to call what she does "acting" rather than what it seems like; sorcery. And, again, I am immodest. But I think West Ramsey does some of his best work in this film too. And with his track record of over fifty films, made over the last ten years, that is a mighty feat. But every time West appears in the film as the gangster, Harvey Millikin, he will absolutely capture your attention.   And let me not close this paragraph without acknowledging a powerful influence on the film: my producer, and good friend, Sir Benjamin David Eastman. The majority of his small influences on the film will not be detectable to the average viewer. His suggestions that reshaped parts of the film will likely fall upon the deaf ears of history, and even my memory, but they will be appreciated by me all the same.  His more obvious contribution to the film is the music. I describe the mood I want, and he gives it to me. Just like I asked for it. Not sure how he does it, but he does it. And the music serves the film well.

 So it may still be a little while before I declare the film to be finished. Once I have all of the A.D.R I need, and all of the Foley recorded and in place where it belongs in the film, I will spend  a little while watching the entire movie obsessively. Over and over again. I'll be looking for tiny flaws I can fix. Anything. I will polish it more obsessively than Mommie Dearest mopping the floor. But eventually, there will come a time when I have to force myself to stop. There will come a time when I have to tell myself that I've done all I can and send the baby out into the world. Once I export the film into a screenable file to be shown at a premiere, later to be plastered onto a DVD, it is locked into history. It's no longer a project. It is  a film. For better or worse, Truffle Runners will be submitted to the judgement of the world, no longer safe  from prying eyes, and criticism. No more changes can be made after that. It is there, a small part of the cinematic public record. The moment when  you decide to make that transition from project to film is a momentous one, just as much as a the first screenplay reading, or the first and last day of shooting, and it is more terrifying than all three of those events combined. I eagerly look forward to it.

  Casually, I refer to it as my film. And I confess, I do feel possessive of it. But really, everyone who worked on it and stuck with it all this time have a slice of ownership of it too. It's our film. All of us have a stake in it, and an enthusiasm to get it finished.  And we will. I can't speak for the others, but for me it will be a welcome occasion. Once the premiere is over, and other possible screenings have been contemplated, and every other aspect of the film is settled, I will get to do what I have wanted to do so badly for a long time; move on and do something else. There are other films for me to make. I have multiple screenplays waiting for me to touch, and I am enthusiastically ready to pursue them. While the Truffle Runners journey has been monumental, it has been a long one. Two previous attempts to make it came before this one, and the time is nigh to turn the page. To bravely step forward into a different, new film. To lovingly tuck the project I so often refer to as "T.R" into where it belongs; safely in the bosom of film history.

(L to R)  Myra Wicks, Alan Burrell, and Me.) 

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes: Lessons From The Crematory by Caitlin Doughty

Caitlin Doughty with a skull
of unconfirmed authenticity

      To describe Caitlin Doughty adequately would be a challenge. However, I think I should give it my best try.  Imagine, if you will, Wednesday Addams grew up and became a kindergarten teacher. One obsessed with death. And dying. One who oozes a macabre aura from every pore, but also speaks in such a way as to not make the little children in her care scream with terror, even though she's quite capable should she decide to turn off the charm.   That, pretty much describes Caitlin Doughty. Except she isn't a kindergartner teacher. She's a YouTube celebrity. And she's a mortician. You may think that's a bizarre combination. And you'd be right. Like a freshly embalmed corpse, she's pumped to the gills with an Addamsian creepy vibe. (I don't think she would find that comparison insulting.) But she's fascinating, and her videos become addictive once you start watching them, because despite the creep-factor, she is also quite likable. 

       I have no idea how I happened to stumble upon her YouTube channel Ask A Mortician . But when I saw the name "Ask A Mortician" in a list of suggested videos in the side scroll bar, I couldn't help but immediately click the link. Then, once the video ended, something unexpected happened. I watched another one. Then another one. Then another one. Her basic gig in the videos was simple. As an experienced mortician, she took on the responsibility of answering people's burning questions about death, and specifically, certain questions about what happens to our bodies after we die. The queries have proven to be fertile ground for Doughty's YouTube career, because the channel has been going strong for six plus years. I have to warn you, some of her videos are not for the faint of heart. 

   If Caitlin Doughty's YouTube channel isn't for the faint of heart, neither is her autobiography, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes. It's amusing, it's gruesome, it's horrifying, it's sad, and it's... fascinating. Like I said, it isn't for everyone. It's perfect for someone with an inquisitive mind, and someone who is curious about the goings on of the funeral industry. (Because, who isn't?)  But there is another caveat which should be added; I would not recommend the book to anybody who is struggling with the loss of a loved one. If such a death is preoccupying your mind, it may not be advisable to fill your head with images of certain processes described in the pages of this book.   

   The book is many things. First and foremost, it's a memoir. She began life as a history major. I forget the exact major, but it was something like "the history of Witchcraft in medieval Europe." While a fascinating thing for her to learn, she was disappointed to find out it didn't lead to many job prospects outside of Academia, which is a field she was not interested in. But she did what any bright happy-go-lucky young woman would do; she walked into a crematory and applied for a job. She was basically hired on the spot, and on her first shift, was ordered to shave a corpse.  The next several chapters weave through many tribulations of her career and personal life. Everything from learning through awkward trail and error how to deal with the bereaved, to the time she, horrifyingly, became covered in an unexpected deluge of human fat.   

  But the book isn't just a memoir. It's also a cultural guide. She tells us about the customs of many tribes of the past. One of which used cannibalism to pay their respects to the dead. It was not only acceptable for the tribes to eat the dead, it was expected. I'll spare you further details, because I don't want to ruin the book for you. But you will learn a lot.

      Even more than memoir, even more than a cultural guide, the book is a manifesto. She wants to change how people mourn the dead. She believes it has become too impersonal, and the loved ones of the deceased should be in the room to wash and clothe the bodies of the departed. She thinks that death has become too hidden from our society, and we need to see bodies and interact with them more to remind us that we are mortal, and to help us better mourn the losses of those we love. I'm not sure I agree, but you should read her case for it in her book.  

  In similar vein of activism, she notes that in recent years, the funeral industry has become de-localized. The majority of funeral homes are now owned by a single conglomerate, Service Corps International, more commonly branded as Dignity. I've noticed the Dignity logo on the signs of many cemeteries, and have personally found the branding a tad tasteless. But Caitlin's concerns go beyond the McDonald's like branding of the funeral industry. 

  I suggest you read her book if you think it might be for you. You will enjoy it.   A. 

His Name Is Ron By The Goldman Family (with William and Marilyn Hoffer)

     In light of the recent parole of "alleged" murderer O.J Simpson, (yes, I know he was acquitted for that crime and he was in prison for something else, but come on. We all know he did it.)  I figured I would write a review of the book  His Name Is Ron by the Goldman Family and ghostwriters William and Marilyn Hoffer. The book doesn't pull punches with you emotionally. When you first begin reading the text, we enter the lives of the Goldman family on the day they found out that their beloved Son and brother Ron Goldman was murdered. Their recreation of their experience then and during the following months and years are heart-wrenching.
        Even without really getting a chance to know Ron Goldman at first, the opening pages are terribly hard to read. The sadness and horror of the moment translate so starkly to the page that I couldn't finish the first chapter in one sitting. It was rough medicine to take. All I could think while reading it is how much I wanted to reach through the book and hug the Goldman Family. Moments after Fred was notified of Ron's death, the image of the younger Goldman's face was flashed across television sets across the country. This filled Fred with a new horror- What if his daughter, Ron's sister Kim heard the news over the radio on her drive home from work? Luckily, that potential crisis was averted. But that didn't spare Kim or any of the other Goldman's from intense pain.
      Throughout the rest of the book, we are gradually introduced to the often secondary-in-the-media "friend-of-Nicole," Ron Goldman. We see him through family flashbacks and random stories that pop up through the book.  He was by no means a perfect guy, but he was a good guy.
  One story that stuck out to me was one about Ron when he worked at a home for people with cerebral palsy. He viewed them as human beings deserving of dignity. One day when he was taking some of the clientele out to eat at a fast food restaurant, the frustrated cashier couldn't understand one of the patients and asked Ron to relay the order. Ron looked at the guy, and said "She's right here. Why don't you ask her?"
     Through the book other stories of Ron Goldman come up. In moments where a random thing or song or place triggers a memory in any of their minds, we get to see just a little more of Ron Goldman. A man who lived, and was more than just the supplement to the O.J/Nicole story.
   We are treated to a Goldman-eye view of both the Criminal trial and the Civil trial. Both events are interesting to look at through their vantage point. One deeply frustrating, and one is affirming.
    Though this isn't written in any self-aggrandizing way, I've always thought the Goldmans, particularly Kim and Fred were the only real heroes of the O.J Simpson saga. When the unthinkable, "Not Guilty" verdict happened, they refused to leave well enough alone. Despite calls from ignorant folks with misplaced sympathies for the Goldmans to "leave O.J alone" they have been relentless in their pursuit of justice for Ron, and I think he would be extremely proud of their doggedness. A doggedness that they never violated any moral or ethical boundaries to maintain. (When you read the book, look for the part where Fred Goldman turns down an offer by a dubious gentleman to have O.J Simpson assassinated.)
      Some have made cute puns of their names, (Gold-diggers is the obvious one) to demean them. They claim, as the nickname indicates, that the Goldman family is only after money. Reading this book, I don't doubt for a minute that they would trade the Civil court award money for the resurrection of their lost loved one. I have nothing but respect for the Goldman family, and this book is interesting, heartbreaking, and eye-opening. Most of all, it's a loving tribute to a son and brother they lost too soon.



My only complaint about the book, is it tells of experiences of multiple people, who collaborated in the story but they chose to write the book from Fred Goldman's point of view. So it reads as if he knew the thoughts and inner-motivations of everybody involved. It gives him an omnipresent vibe that strikes me as a little bit... off.  Otherwise, I loved the book and recommend it. A-