TALES FROM THE BARSTOOL
By: Clint Lien

“Alive and Dangerous”

The question was being asked by a producer I'd worked for in the past and it most certainly came as a surprise. The last time we'd collaborated it had ended bloody. With a great effort on both our parts we'd managed to remain friends, but working together again seemed unlikely. So why was I getting the call?

I was in Victoria and the job was in LA. I knew this guy operated on shoe string budgets - broken shoe strings-and he knew I'd work for Burger King coupons, but flying me down and putting me up in even the most squalid motel when young directors looking for a break could be found at any restaurant in Southern California seemed suspicious. The thought occurred to me that I might be getting set up. Maybe he was still angry about the last "thing" and had thoughts of revenge. I was still angry and he's more sensitive than I am. There were other reasons to decline this offer as well.

I had just submitted a screenplay for the Sci-Fi channel and the job had arguably been the most difficult writing-for-hire job I'd ever tackled. Conflicting notes, conflicting producers and down right rude behavior had, for the first time in my career, driven me to consider walking off a project. Needless to say I was tired and needed some time to recover. Directing a music video could not be considered recovery time.

Then there's the small fact that I'm a writer, not a director. I had done some directing - theatre and small student stuff-but nothing as substantial as this. It is a cliché to say every writer is a director in waiting and I'd be a liar if I said I did not harbor some desires to get behind the camera and bring to life some of my own works, but starting out on someone else's seemed foolish - almost as foolish as most of the music coming out today. As I get older my musical tastes slip further and further backwards. Growing up I enjoyed all the standards of the day - Elton John, The Rolling Stones, The Who and all the others of that generation. I still listen to those guys but now I find myself regressing even further. Frank Sinatra and Chet Baker are frequent guests on my MP3 player these days.

So the reasons for not doing this thing were numerous and valid.

"Sounds great! When do I fly?" The words fell out of my mouth like a bucket of marbles - there was no gathering them back.

That night I told my girlfriend. The conversation went something like this:
"I've been asked to direct a rock video."
"That's wonderful, darling. What's the name of the band?"
"I don't know."
"Well what kind of music do they play?"
"I don't know."
"Are they sending you the song?"
"They didn't say."
"What about a script for the video?"
"Not sure."
I don't know why but she was beginning to make me feel foolish.

The next day I got on the phone.
"Before I agree to do this project I've got some questions."
"You've already agreed to do it. What are your questions?"

So the name of the band was Taxe (pronounced Tax), they were old school rock 'n' roll - Guns and Roses, Bon Jovi sound. They were from Holland and apparently had a good following in that country. That sounded good. I liked Guns and Roses. "It's one of the reasons I asked you to do this job. We wanted someone who remembered back that far."

"Can you email me the script and song?" I asked.

Problems there. They only had a live version of the song. The studio cut was in the final stages and wouldn't be ready before I had to go to L.A. The concert tape would have to do.

"And the script?" A long pause followed.
"You're a writer, aren't you?"

Later that afternoon the song arrived. I double clicked the icon and waited with bated breath. I didn't hate it. It was old school and these young fellows were trying to say something with some meaning. I could work with that. I started to write out a story for the video. Two days later I had a script and I fired it back to the producer. They liked it and my ticket was booked.

It turned out to be a challenging shoot in many regards. Three days before filming was to begin we did not have a cast nor did we have any locations. The cast wouldn't be much of a problem. Finding actors in L.A. is easier than finding herpes on a whore. But I wanted to shoot a bunch of stuff out in the desert. There would be permit issues and direction issues. In the end we decided to meet at the McDonalds on 138 (between Vegas and LA) and just find some place barren. It took a while but we found the perfect spot. I was the first to get out of the vehicle and explore. I found that we had been beaten to the location by a moderately large rattlesnake. I went back to the caravan and suggested we roll a little further up the road.

My wardrobe mistress spotted two large rock formations and we stopped to check those out. There were no snakes - probably due to the absolutely foul odor that hung in the air like smoke. I know snakes don't really smell - but even a snake would have smelt this. I grew up on a farm and I recognized it right away - a large rotting mammal. It didn't take long to find the source. I was wrong. It was five medium sized mammals. Dead sheep. Someone had dumped them right where I wanted to put the drums. They hadn't dumped them long ago either. In that desert heat those bad boys would have dried up in days. I couldn't ask anyone else to move them so I grabbed a rake and set to. My first lunge resulted in a black cloud of fat flies you couldn't see through. The remains were still quite damp. I would not be eating for many hours after.

Finally, with the offending carcasses off my set, we commenced to shooting. Things went well after that - until we tried to leave and discovered the equipment truck was stuck in the sand. It took the men over four hours to get it out. Next days call times would be late.

The next three days were filled with similar adventures but at 9:30 Tuesday night we managed to get the final shot in the can. It was a guerrilla style pick-up in front of a famous strip bar off Sunset called Crazy Girls. Everyone hugged and agreed to meet later for celebratory drinks at the Back Stage Café in Beverly Hills.

I called the producer to tell him the good news.
His first question was, "What are you going to do with the tapes?"

Now you have to understand that on a big shoot there would be bonded employees whose sole job would be to stay with the tapes and move them from the set to wherever they had to go - be it the editors or a processing house. These tapes needed to get to the editors but it was almost ten o'clock at night and he was a forty-five minute drive away. I hadn't slept more than sixteen hours in the last four days and I was simply not going to make that drive.

The producer was concerned. "Where are you staying?" he asked.
I told him.
"I know that guy. He 'entertains' a lot. I don't think the tapes should be there."
I told him he could hire someone to deliver them or put me up in a hotel.
"Just make sure you hide them if you go out." (You can see where this story is going).

I dismissed his paranoid ramblings and went out to celebrate with the crew. Later that night I returned to my friend's house and slept the sleep of the righteous.

In the morning I woke, keen to get to the editing bay. The only problem was I couldn't find my briefcase - the one with the tapes in it.

Reactions? Comments? Write me at barfly@netlistings.com