clock on his phone. “We could go anothereighteen minutes. We have to break them at eight.” Lunchtime is no laughing matter; there are very specific union regulations about when the crew gets their meal breaks and stiff penalties that producers take very seriously before violating. It’s not a lot of time, but I can think of two setups we can get done that will be critical. I glance at McCourt for the final decision, only to find him looking at me.
“What do you think, Maddy?”
I don’t have time to feel flattered that at last he’s asking my opinion. Before he even finishes his thought, I start talking. Eighteen minutes isn’t much.
“Let’s reset the cameras to their second position. I think we can get these two close-ups done if we go right now.” I circle my script to show him what I’m thinking.
“Let’s do it. Frank. Get people onto their marks for the second half of the scene. From Billy’s line, ‘We have to go now!’ we’ll take it to the end of the scene.”
McCourt disappears after Frank to go over the plan with Victor and the camera team. I get my red pen out of my hair and start marking up my script with notes about the additional takes. Craig comes back to video village and takes a seat in his chair, sipping coffee. Still looking at the screen, he asks if we’re breaking for dinner soon.
“Yeah,” I say, not looking up. The audio guy is still at his station slightly behind my chair. “We’ll break right at eight.”
McCourt comes bounding around two set pieces and slides into his chair. Frank calls out, “We’re rolling! Quiet on the set.” And then McCourt bellows, “Camera!” prompting the cameras to start moving. A beat later, “Action!” I start my timer as Billy and the others come charging through the shot, and we’re back in business. Seventeen minutes later, we have two of the pickup shots McCourt wanted, and Frank loudly dismisses everyone for the meal.
All of a sudden I’m starved. Maybe Craig and I can have some time to catch up over dinner. We’ve been so busy all week, let alone tonight, that we’ve barely had two seconds to talk. Those plans are quickly dashed as Craig tells me he is going to eat with McCourt since they have some “things to chat about.” I feel for McCourt. Somehow I doubt an ass-chewing about cost overruns will complement his dinner.
“What time do you think crew call will be tomorrow?” Craig asks me. The crew always starts at least ten hours after they wrap (more union rules), so if we wrap at midnight, production can’t start the next day until 10:00 at the earliest.
“We’ll probably start at ten. I’m hoping.”
“Do you want to grab breakfast with me? There’s this place that looks good right by my club.”
“Sure.” Aside from the rare exception this morning, I’m not really a sleeping-in type anyway. “What time?”
“Let’s say eight-thirty. I’ll text you the address. But you know where Soho House is, right? It’s right near there.”
Soho House is a super-exclusive club on Sunset Boulevard. Lots of people in the entertainment industry are members. On any given night you can expect to see Leo DiCaprio there, Matt Damon, supermodels, and music legends. I’ve never been inside, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful.
“Of course,” I say as if I have been there a thousand times. “On Sunset, right?”
“Yep. I’ll see you in the morning.” We’ve gotten to the edge of the elephant doors that open wide enough to accommodate huge set pieces. Outside, catering is set up and all 200 crew members are gathered. In the shadow of the oversized doors, Craig leans down and kisses me briefly on the lips. It’s nice and his lips are firm on mine, but the whole thing is over before I can process it.
“Oh hey,” he calls back as he walks away. “Will you do mea big favor? Will you check on Adam and see what we can do to make sure he’s back by tomorrow? I don’t want him feeling like we sent a PA and then
“What do you think, Maddy?”
I don’t have time to feel flattered that at last he’s asking my opinion. Before he even finishes his thought, I start talking. Eighteen minutes isn’t much.
“Let’s reset the cameras to their second position. I think we can get these two close-ups done if we go right now.” I circle my script to show him what I’m thinking.
“Let’s do it. Frank. Get people onto their marks for the second half of the scene. From Billy’s line, ‘We have to go now!’ we’ll take it to the end of the scene.”
McCourt disappears after Frank to go over the plan with Victor and the camera team. I get my red pen out of my hair and start marking up my script with notes about the additional takes. Craig comes back to video village and takes a seat in his chair, sipping coffee. Still looking at the screen, he asks if we’re breaking for dinner soon.
“Yeah,” I say, not looking up. The audio guy is still at his station slightly behind my chair. “We’ll break right at eight.”
McCourt comes bounding around two set pieces and slides into his chair. Frank calls out, “We’re rolling! Quiet on the set.” And then McCourt bellows, “Camera!” prompting the cameras to start moving. A beat later, “Action!” I start my timer as Billy and the others come charging through the shot, and we’re back in business. Seventeen minutes later, we have two of the pickup shots McCourt wanted, and Frank loudly dismisses everyone for the meal.
All of a sudden I’m starved. Maybe Craig and I can have some time to catch up over dinner. We’ve been so busy all week, let alone tonight, that we’ve barely had two seconds to talk. Those plans are quickly dashed as Craig tells me he is going to eat with McCourt since they have some “things to chat about.” I feel for McCourt. Somehow I doubt an ass-chewing about cost overruns will complement his dinner.
“What time do you think crew call will be tomorrow?” Craig asks me. The crew always starts at least ten hours after they wrap (more union rules), so if we wrap at midnight, production can’t start the next day until 10:00 at the earliest.
“We’ll probably start at ten. I’m hoping.”
“Do you want to grab breakfast with me? There’s this place that looks good right by my club.”
“Sure.” Aside from the rare exception this morning, I’m not really a sleeping-in type anyway. “What time?”
“Let’s say eight-thirty. I’ll text you the address. But you know where Soho House is, right? It’s right near there.”
Soho House is a super-exclusive club on Sunset Boulevard. Lots of people in the entertainment industry are members. On any given night you can expect to see Leo DiCaprio there, Matt Damon, supermodels, and music legends. I’ve never been inside, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful.
“Of course,” I say as if I have been there a thousand times. “On Sunset, right?”
“Yep. I’ll see you in the morning.” We’ve gotten to the edge of the elephant doors that open wide enough to accommodate huge set pieces. Outside, catering is set up and all 200 crew members are gathered. In the shadow of the oversized doors, Craig leans down and kisses me briefly on the lips. It’s nice and his lips are firm on mine, but the whole thing is over before I can process it.
“Oh hey,” he calls back as he walks away. “Will you do mea big favor? Will you check on Adam and see what we can do to make sure he’s back by tomorrow? I don’t want him feeling like we sent a PA and then
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