"Will you at least look at it when you come back?"
"No. When I come back we're moving onto the next shot. If you need someone called a director sitting in that chair to do this shot by this time in our professional relationship, that means I already fucked up my job. We prepare so that when the time comes, we don't have to think. We can just do. Now do your jobs. I've got a tampon stuck in my cooch and I've got to get it out of there before it dries in place forever and becomes part of my fossilized body. Marcy runs things while I'm gone. Action in 15 seconds—got it?"
Marcy: "Yes."
"I'll be back in five. Then we're moving on to shot seventeen-oh-five in your binder. Be ready 'cause if not I'm gonna throw my dried fucking bloody tampon all over your made-up little faces. Are we clear?"
Sometimes I left the set just to create confusion.
Sometimes I worked on my actors with toothpicks—literally. Fixing the eyelash makeup of Amanda Haines to my perfect specifications. I mean I was hands on. If Tuesday Walker's underwear were out of place I would reach up her skirt and adjust them.
Every shot we shot was perfect. You know why? Little trick I learned from some Sidney Lumet book. A director doesn't really have much power, but one power they do have is the ability to say "action." Until the director says action, the shot doesn't happen. So don't ever say action until everything is perfect (according to you) and essentially you won't shoot shit. Wait. Don't say action until it's perfect. Everyone is waiting on you to say that one little word and you don't have to say it until you're good and ready.
I compromised, though.
I had a scene that required Tuesday Walker to smoke.
Do you believe that diva? She says:
"I won't smoke on screen. It's a conscience thing. Bad role model for kids."
"You know what, Tuesday—good call. We'll go your way on this one."
"That's it?"
"That's it. Done deal."
I shake her hand.
"No argument?" she says.
And I say, "Do I seem like a person who likes to argue?"
But after that, Tuesday does everything I say, including let me take panty shots of her struggling with the police and strip naked in front of our entire crew for a shower scene..you win people's allegiance that way: show 'em you respect 'em and after that, they'll follow you over a cliff.
When Shelly Kind saw that move, he got his fat ass up and left my set. He could see I had paid attention to his five-minute lesson in directing and that he and I were on the same page on the nature of control. Didn't see him around much after that.
Tuesday Walker was my slave. It was beautiful.
I had actors doing things that would break a career—or make one.
No one was sure if we were shooting a porno or the next Eyes Wide Shut. I wasn't sure myself.
But I believed in me.
And those poor fuckers, they believed in me, too.
I threw things. This is a confession. I threw chairs when I got mad. I didn't throw them at anyone.
Then the entire set would be on pause while I hid in the lighting grid with Kristen perched beside me.
Marcy—the 1st AD—insisted we wear climbing harnesses. The 1st AD is responsible for safety on set.
I'm crying and telling Kristen stories from my childhood.
"My dad says, 'What're you doing?' And I say, 'Thinking.' And he says, 'I hate it when you say that. Thinking. 'Cause what that means is, I'm thinking about things so complex or esoteric that there's no reason for me to even tell you what I'm thinking about. So you just say, Thinking. But I know what you mean. By the fact that you just say, Thinking. I know what you mean.' "
"Damn. Then what'd you say?"
"Nothing."
"Why not?"
" 'Cause he's right. It's an insult, it's a chasm, it's whatever it is but he's right. I can't tell him what I'm thinking 'cause he wouldn't understand. Also, he wouldn't be interested. That's just an assumption on my part. I've never been able to talk to my family."
Kristen rubs my shoulder.
"I'm getting a headache."
"Like the bad kind."
"Yeah. Will you tell those motherfuckers down there that this movie is over and they can see payroll for their final checks but at the rate we're going we'd be better off doing mass suicide than finishing this piece of shit okie film?"
"I'm driving you home."
"Yes you are. Have Eldon get you down from here. Don't climb down by yourself."
"How are you getting down?"
"I'm taking the lift."
Kristen goes down and talks with Marcy.
Then Marcy yells: "Ok, everyone! That's it for today! Leave everything where it is except for camera and walk away. Just walk away. Get rest and I'll see you at 6am tomorrow. Six am call. It's all on your sheet. We're shooting the not-funny rape scene on page 17—scene eight. Show up rested; it's a hard scene. Have a good night off. I want this stage cleared in 30 minutes!"
Marcy yelled this.
Everyone obeyed.
First ADs have to be good at yelling.
Directors never yell. We sit in catwalks wondering what in the fuck we have gotten ourselves into.