A kiss is a kiss is a kiss is a kiss

by Sean Donnelly

So sayeth Gertrude Stein…or maybe it was: a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose…In any case Gertrude and her brother Leo had a huge art collection consisting of late impressionist and post-impressionist paintings as well as Cezannes, Picassos and Matisse’s. Some of which the director had painted specifically for this set.
I also discovered that the director agreed with the hair and make-up person to let Whit pay for hair extensions. Armed with plenty of stills and a machete Whit and Stephanie took almost all night to make Whit’s hair the exact right length before Sandy massacred it with scissors. I certainly hoped that the drama would remain on camera and not permeate the set for a second day.
Whit wandered in wearing a rumpled pair of camouflage shorts a T-shirt and really great hair. Whoever fixed the debacle was a miracle worker making his hair look better than ever. “I’m gonna need a LOT of coffee.” He mumbled. “Like a church urn”. “A Church Urn?...” I said perplexed. “yeah, you know, those huge friggin’ steel drums that hold, like, 40 cups…” He replied as if it were common knowledge. I could hear the Duh in the silence.
“We only got about two hours of sleep.” Stephanie added as she unpacked a Starbucks Grande …black. “Come on, Whit we gotta put some shit in your hair.”
What she meant was ‘product’ to make him look rough and a bit dirty. Meanwhile behind the scenes in the kitchen Eddie Joe was making a large bagel topped with cream cheese, scallions, lox with fruit on the side. Everywhere Eddie moved Thom was right behind him cleaning like a hen. “I swear to GOD! You’re the messiest guy I’ve ever known.” Thom bellowed. “If you weren’t constantly up my ass I’d clean it up when I’m good and ready.” Eddie replied. Then Pat laughed and said, “Okay Felix and Oscar if you can’t play nice I’m gonna have to separate you two.”
“F**K you, pay me” Eddie replied. Then, good-naturedly began to move lights and C-stands as instructed.
The set looked fantastic and unchanged from the day before. Only the lighting had moved. Rebecca’s character, Victoria has been arranged on a lovely chaise lounge sitting patiently still as Richard (Whit) sketches across from her. He is intense even in repose. As she fidgets he gets up to straighten her necklace. Then he softly commands her to let down her hair. Well, this simply was not done back in the 1880’s. A married woman only let her hair down in front of her husband. She thinks he is kidding and then he requests that she let down her hair. After a moment as if on a dare, she does. He arranges how it falls on her shoulders and she is visibly changed. The delicate touch rife with an erotic ambience. Then he returns and continues his sketch as she remains in a state of flux.
I know you’re asking how the hell does he know this? I’ve been eavesdropping on the director as she huddles with the actors. I’m not that well versed in all things Victorian. Instead of googling these things like a good researcher might do, I find myself gravitating to the Yankee baseball scores on my blackberry. Balance, my dear reader, balance.
Whit requests to go into make-up first so that he might take a power nap as Rebecca moves out of her current gown and into the next costume. After quickly jumping into a wool morning coat and vest within minutes Whit is out cold on one of the chaise lounges. The entire set is moving and shifting with people laughing and shouting out directives. All the while Whit seems to snore right through it. In fact, he snores so loud that Eddie Joe and Rebecca decide to put powdered sugar from one of the donuts on his mustache and beard. Of course this is to the chagrin of Stephanie who will have to re-groom him. Rebecca got close and gave the sugar a quick puff of air. Whit nearly fell off the chaise lounge choking and looking like Hamlet’s ghost. Pretty damn funny! “motherf**ckers” he mumbled groggily as he was led back to the make-up area. “Payback’s a bitch” he added.
The next scene Victoria is dressed as if she were ready for a ball. The stakes have risen in the courtship dance. Richard continues his sketching and after a long afternoon Victoria returns to a book she had been reading. When Richard inquires what it is she is reading she begins to recite:

I have loved hours at sea, gray cities,
The fragile secret of a flower,
Music, the making of a poem
That gave me heaven for an hour;

First stars above a snowy hill,
Voices of people kindly and wise,
And the great look of love, long hidden,
Found at last in meeting eyes. (Teasdale)

There is another verse but Victoria stops there. That is when Richard moves to her and kisses her for the first time and realizes that she has never been in a real love affair. Then the whole pursuit and retreat thing begins and he is asked to leave. I feel for Richard. Women can be so coy and confounding at times. Navigating an invisible plane seems all but impossible like finding the Holy Grail and to my knowledge it’s still missing. But, alas, man must continue the quest or be alone.
Back in the kitchen I find frick and frack lunching together. Frick being Thom and Frack being Eddie Joe. For those of you who need more info on frick and frack here is what I found: Frick and Frack were two Swiss skaters who came to the U.S. in 1937 and joined the original Ice Follies show as comedy ice skaters. "Frick" was Werner Groebli born in Basel. "Frack" was Hansruedi Mauch, also born in Basel. Frick and Frack were known for skating in Alpine Lederhosen and performing eccentric tricks on ice, including the "cantilever spread-eagle,".
So Frick asks Frack to put the cap back on the Sprite bottle. Frack says he will in a minute. Frick gets agitated and tells him if he doesn’t cap it the fizz will escape. Frack replies that the fizz won’t escape in minutes. It takes longer for the soda to go flat. Frick tells him that he doesn’t want to come back an hour later to the craft table to find flat soda. Frack says he’ll put the cap on when he’s finished topping off his glass. Frick starts tapping his foot getting more and more irritable as Frack happily and very slowly sips at his soda until Frick stands up and with a boarding house reach caps the soda with an exasperated sigh and mumbles “Jesus Christ!” To which Frack replies, “See, it won’t go flat.” Thom calmly says, “I hate you , Eddie Joe” and walks away to everyone’s intense delight.
I ask where Whit might be hiding. Rebecca replies that he’s asleep on the set again. She looks over at Eddie Joe mischievously and says, “Eddie, let’s put something on his mustache again.” That is when I get up and make my exit. There could be blood this time and I don’t want to have to bail someone out of jail. Besides I have to pick my son up from a playground date in McCarren Park. Until tomorrow…

Tea and Scissors

by Sean Donnelly

I apologize to the filmmakers for my delay in this blog but my son came down with a respiratory infection and with a sick kid there’s no time to write. I am back, though. After being treated to a very condensed and whacked out version of “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” the day before I returned the next day to watch these guys shoot in the main room of their apartment. They must have had about 10 people dressing the space to become Victoria Thornton’s Parlor. As I walked in I thought I was in the wrong building. I couldn’t believe that overnight they had transformed the space with wallpaper, furniture, paintings, knick knacks, etc. I asked Patrick if they even slept the night before. “Yeah, we got a little sleep. We crashed at Thom’s place while Jessica (the Art/set dresser) created the room with her team.” He said. Jessica had been up for about 48 hours straight prepping and dressing today’s set. The dark circles under her eyes and the multiple cups of coffee are a testament to her hard labor.
As I wandered into the kitchen for a bagel and some coffee Thom was asking where Whit was. “He isn’t here yet?” Ashley the wardrobe mistress asked. People started looking a bit stressed. Finally Whit showed up about 20 minutes late. “Trains.” He said. Then Ashley shrieked and everyone filed onto the set. “Oh my God! What did you do to your hair?!” She said. The director appeared from around the corner and if looks could kill Whit was dead. The Director asked everyone to kindly return to work and then she led Whit into the kitchen to find out what happened and to problem solve the damage.
“What did you do?” She asked. Whit stumbled a bit and said, “My girlfriend told me that my hair had gotten a little long and that she would even it up for me. I gave her a picture---a still---so she could see---but---“
“You have completely put us in a real situation here. I’m not sure I can shoot today because of the continuity issue.” The director said calmly. “Yeah, I know---I’m sorry---“ Whit replied.
“Sandy is in cooking school. Do you think she is qualified to touch your hair?” The director asked. Whit just shrugged. “I have the card of a woman who does hair extensions---If I pay her enough she could probably fix it tonight.” Whit offered. The director stared at him for a minute and said, “Do not touch your f***ing hair, understand? Get into wardrobe while I figure this out.” And she turned and disappeared with some of her other crew people whispering and huddling as they moved like an amoeba across the room.
At about the same time Rebecca emerged from Hair and make-up looking sheet white. “What the hell happened to Whit’s hair?”
Thom replied, “We’re taking care of it.”
“Oh, Patrick is going to go ape shit when he sees him.” She added. “We’re taking care of it. Business as usual.” Thom reiterated. “Have something to eat, go over your lines, relax. We’ll let you know what the plan is.” Rebecca disappeared into the other room with a small muffin and some OJ. At that moment Patrick arrived on set and asked, “Why aren’t we rolling?” Eddie Joe, one of the grips on set said, “Hey, I have a friend, Anthony, in Queens who does wigs. Want me to call him?”
“I don’t remember paying you for hair and make-up, Ed. Why don’t you go plug in some lights.” Thom snapped. And Eddie disappeared mumbling, “First, I’m deferred so f**k you pay me.” I wandered out onto the stoop where most of the crew were smoking Marlboro Lights and downing coffee and experiencing tension tacos. AHHH! New York sets. Way different than the granola/evian kind in LaLa land. I took a short stroll around Fort Greene to call my wife and check on Justin. All was fine at home and upon my return to the set I felt like I had stepped onto a Merchant Ivory production. Whit had been groomed and trimmed and cleaned up. Stephanie, the Make-up person, fixed the botched haircut, trimmed his goatee and mustache and gave him a bit of a burnished glow. Rebecca was exquisite in a white polonaise dress with blue trim. She also seemed to have a glow but hers was natural.
The first time Victoria and Richard meet is by pure chance on the street in the snow. He is cut and bloody and she is dressed in bonnet and cloak. When Charles inquires about a portraitist for his wife he is given Richard’s name and arranges tea for his wife and the painter. Victoria has no idea who the painter is, but Richard in a previous meeting sees a small portrait of Mrs. Thornton on Charles’ mantel. It is obvious that Richard has cleaned himself up in anticipation of re-meeting Mrs. Thornton. When she sees him standing in her parlor he takes her breath away. She needs a moment to recompose herself. This man that she has been thinking about for weeks has suddenly appeared in her living room. Again, the chemistry between the two is palpable. I am told the director decided to add a small scene where we see Richard getting his hair cut. These unhappy accidents can sometimes lead to divine creative help. The layer it added to the scene makes Richard seem sensitive with a desire to impress this Lady. Victoria instantly realizes that he has groomed himself for her. It adds spice and subtlety to the rest of the scene as they verbally begin a kind of foreplay cloaked in their conversations about art. The scene went beautifully--kudos to the cast and crew for pulling it off. When I saw Rebecca on her way to wardrobe she smiled and said, “I guess we made lemonade.”
“Sweet lemonade.” I added. “Well the director is from Alabama so she’d know how to do it.” She replied and was gone.
I found Whit sneaking a smoke in the back yard waiting his turn for wardrobe. “I thought you were going to get your ass kicked when you walked in.” I said.
“Dude. Last night when Sandy started cutting I nearly shit myself. I didn’t sleep at all.” He replied. “The scene looks great, man.” I said. “This is only the third day and you guys have a whole vibe going. How do you do that?” Whit took a long drag and thought for minute. “I don’t usually give up my secrets…but…I observe a quality in my acting partner that seems the most familiar and work with that.” He said cryptically.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “There is a sliver of Rebecca’s personality that reminds me of someone I was involved with a while ago. The rest of it I make up and fill in.”
“Wow, must’ve been an intense relationship whoever she was.” I added.
“Yeah. It was.” He agreed.
Later I watch Whit and Rebecca practice their waltz for the next scene. It is tender and sensual. Previously Richard had been humiliated in public by his low station in life. An indignant Victoria admonishes the group of snobs as Richard excuses himself and vanishes into the night. She wants to go and tend to him but is held back by her husband and propriety. When Richard arrives days later to sketch her he is all business but she makes it known non-verbally that she wishes him to woo her. She says she was disappointed that he did not stay long enough to dance. Hence he waltzes with her in private and that begins their veiled courtship.
Most Merchant Ivory productions are adaptations of Henry James novels or writers of that period. They are brilliantly adapted by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala who has won at least one academy award (if not more) for her work. I’ve read a few of James’ novels and being a child of the 20th century find them to be enjoyable and brilliant yet slow with an incredible attention to detail so much so that it seems to take away from the flow of the story. That is more a judgment on me than on Mr. James. The same could be said of Edith Wharton. And books cannot be compared to screenplays as they are a different species entirely. However, there is a marked difference between something like The Golden Bowl (the movie) and this film. First they had a budget. But the other difference is the sheer sensuality that is translated onto film with this project. All the English etiquette pomp and circumstance that is so faithfully observed in the Merchant Ivory productions over shadow whatever sensuality there is in the actual story (with perhaps the exception being The Remains of The Day). James writes about marriage and adultery and very intense emotional situations and is a fascinating chronicler of the time. And it is also well known that the Victorians were outwardly repressed in their emotional and sexual natures. Human nature on the other hand seeks an outlet. That unencumbered and honest depiction in this project reveals the private side of Victorian life and human sensuality at the end of the nineteenth century.
I am summoned back to my homestead in Williamsburg to relieve the nurse on duty (my wife) and tuck my son in before he goes to sleep. As Scarlet says, “Tomorrow is another day…”

The Inspector Calls

Sean Donnelly

Intrigued by my visit to the “A Rogue in Londinium” set the night before I asked the producers if I could be a fly on the wall for the next day’s shoot and watch for a little while.  I knew they were shooting in their kitchen again a.k.a. Charles Thornton’s gentleman’s parlor and the idea of spending the day in a sauna in New York in the middle of August seemed like a masochistic way to spend my time.  Honestly, I could think of ten other ways to punish myself like driving bamboo shoots up my fingernails but I wanted to see these guys pull it off.  You know what they say---curiosity killed the cat.  But cats have nine lives and this cat was willing to die of heat exhaustion to watch besides which I have eight more.  (I protest too much.  It wasn’t that hot.)

As I wandered through the crew and found an apple box to perch upon Mr. Sullivan turned and said, “You’re in for a treat.  Thom Milano is playing Inspector McNeely from Scotland Yard today.”  The crew had the AC turned on turbo fan to keep the green room as icy cold as it could get.  Ms. Damon was in a stunning brocade Victorian dress sipping water daintily as the make-up person was powdering her down.  “You look so content under the circumstances”, I said.  She smiled and replied, “I’ve worked with the director before and it seems like extreme shooting every time we film---it’s either boiling hot or freezing cold.  That’s the nature of indies.”  “Why do it?” I ask.  “It’s the material---I fall in love with good material.  My being a bit warm is a temporary state.  I can deal with it.” 

Thom Milano was in another corner trying to keep cool in a wool frock coat and trousers.  In most films set against the Jack the Ripper murders, the police are the good guys, but Thom has something up his sleeve.  As I watch the scene unfold there is an antagonism between his character and Mrs. Thornton.  He’s mean, vitriolic, vengeful and jealous.  He certainly has an agenda.  We’re not sure what it is, perhaps to get even?  But with whom or what?  Inspector McNeely’s own issues of sexuality and propriety give this fellow layers and makes one question, could it be him?  Could he be the killer?  The layers Thom has created with this role also inform us of the class distinction evident in Britain of the time. A working class Englishman taking orders from a woman of leisure.  It is a bitter pill for him to swallow but I can see he is biding his time.

I notice when the actors break for a moment they are still holding onto their hostility.  Mr. Sullivan chuckles under his breath, “Check it out.  It’s like watching “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.” Guess which one is Joan and which one is Bette”.   The actor’s themselves obviously like each other as they spend their time chatting while the crew sets up the next shot.  I interrupt the small talk and ask Thom why he isn’t working as much as he should.  He’s good---really good and absolutely castable for a variety of parts.  He tells me he was working quite a lot about eight years ago and then he met Patrick and his wife and they decided to form a production company.  “It’s a full time job trying to get projects off the ground.” He says.  “I look at my absence from acting as a hiatus.  I really want to make this work.  Besides, I act in a lot of our projects.”   Bjornquist Films produced Thom’s short films, “…go I” (it went on to over nine festivals across the US) and their most recent short “One Lies, The Other Swears”, (with the fabulous Keith Herron) will be premiering at the Poppy Jasper film Festival in San Francisco mid-November.  Thom is the writer/director on both.  Speaking of directors

the Director on this project is totally hands-on and I have yet to be introduced to her as she is the busiest person on set.  I ask Mr. Sullivan if he might make the introduction.  He says if she actually breaks for lunch he’ll make it happen.  “Oh, by the way, she’s my wife.” 

Whit Hamilton wanders in during the break wearing cargo shorts, sandals and a dead head T-shirt.  He looks like a skateboarding dude who forgot to shave for a few days.  He sports a patchy two-day growth that the make-up artist will have to ‘even out’. “Hey, How’s it going, man?” he says before disappearing with Ashley into wardrobe.  Someone at the lunch table starts singing, “I’ve written a letter to Daddy who’s address is heaven above…”  The infamous song Bette Davis sings in her infantile state at age 70 in the movie, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane”.  It must be Thom in a falsetto.

“So how did this project begin?”  I inquire.  It began as a play first I am told but trying to produce something beyond a showcase was out of the question. “We just didn’t have the whole chunk of cash at one time to do it”, Patrick said. “Besides, unless you’re Mamet or Albee you can’t make money on a play.”  Wandering through the set I discover that the Director is a painter and quite a good one at that.  “She began a few paintings of the characters as set dressing for the play, studying Whistler, John Singer Sargent and Edward Manet to start.  One thing led to another and before she knew it she had painted about two dozen works.  She just kept going”, Patrick said.  For a peek at the art:  (http://www.southernartwerks.com/Pages/WGallerypgs/wgallerypg9.html) “When we got to the point of production design for the film she had most of the work done.  We realized as we started putting rooms together for various sets that some of the art we wanted would be out of our price range in terms of rights so she painted every piece on the set.  There are, Goyas, Velázquez’, Eakins, Titians you name it.”, Thom added.  “Once we were shot out of a room or set she’d paint over the canvases for the next set.” I am duly impressed.  It is quite an undertaking to take on a chunk of art history and then add on the intense pressure of making a feature film.

Utilizing art as another character in the film informs us who is ‘in’ and who can afford such great works.  Apparently the Thorntons are well off enough to own masterpieces and bequeath them to museums of their choice. Seeing Richard Rhys’ canvases tells us that he is no slouch.  If he lived in America he could keep up and even give Whistler a run for his money but because of his station in British society at the time, the odds weigh heavily against him.  Mr. Rhys seems to have run himself into walls at every turn trying to carve out a living for himself and though he does seem to subsist on his meager earnings, he is only an accident away from the poorhouse.  Liquor seems to anesthetize his reality and he seems to supplement his income by servicing various ladies of means.  Intimacy for a price renders the experience innocuous.  Thus the darkness of Rhys is formed.  And yet his palette is colorful.  There is light in him somewhere under the layers of social and economic injustice.  That is the light that Victoria sees upon their first meeting on that magically snowy night.

The set is lit for night and Whit enters in his top hat and greatcoat.  The make-up person has roughed him up.  He has a fat lip and a bruise on his cheek.  “What happened to you?” I ask.  “Well, I just beat the shit out of Jules Whitby in the park trying to protect her.”  Rebecca stands in for lights and laughs, “Poor Stewart.  Poor Stewart.” 

“I don’t think she appreciates the beating I took.” Whit adds.  That is followed by more laughter from Ms. Damon.  In the previous scene yet to be shot, the character Jules Whitby has a magic lantern.  However this particular camera is a prototype of the first motion picture camera akin to the Lumiere brothers or Thomas Edison.  Personally I love this angle.  Watching the first actualities by the Edison Company or any true silent films is like drinking fine wine for me, but I digress.  Jules has recorded Richard and Victoria stealing a private kiss in the park.  Richard realizes that an image of them together could throw Victoria into a terrible scandal and potentially ruin her socially.  So he defends her reputation and honor by attacking Jules almost killing him and exposing the offending celluloid to daylight.  As the scene begins they have returned from the park to Victoria’s home.  Victoria is frightened of his rage and violence, but more than that anything that is uncivil is repugnant to her.  Richard tries to persuade her that he would never do anything to hurt her. He is from the streets and that is what one does to protect the woman he loves. She remains unconvinced and sends him away.  But there is something else going on.  She is trembling and the concern is deeper than witnessing a violent outburst.  He is devoted to her.  He is that guy that is waist deep in a relationship.  I know, I was that guy when I was in about the sixth month of dating my soon-to-be-wife.  I won’t spoil the surprise.  I’ll write about that scene when they shoot it.  Until then…stay tuned.

A Period Film Grows in Brooklyn

by Sean Donnelly

On a hot August night in Redhook, Brooklyn I ventured onto the set of “A Rogue In Londinium”, having been invited a few days before by the producers Patrick Sullivan and Thom Milano. It was late in the evening amid the centuries old cobblestones that the filmmakers erected a snow machine. Actors dressed in wool sucked down bottles of Poland Spring water like they were in Death Valley. However, on the screen it is a brisk winter evening with a light snow falling. Ice cubes in the character’s mouths provided the cold breath necessary for a realistic portrayal. Crewmembers cranked up the behemoth snow machine and if you were deaf it would be a quaint November evening with Jack Frost nipping at your nose.

It was in the late Fall of 1888 that Jack the Ripper committed his last and most gruesome murder of Mary Kelly. This movie does not try to explain or even portray Jack the Ripper, but rather tells the story of an artist at the wrong place at the wrong time during the infamous serial killer’s reign of terror in London’s notoriously dangerous and poverty stricken East End. The question does arise, though. Could this sensitive artist be soulless enough to brutally murder and mutilate women? And still fall in love with a socially conscious reformer? Can a murderer be reformed, redeemed? It would be naïve and ridiculous to think that Jack the Ripper, whoever he was, was the only murderer in town at that time. There were plenty of unsolved murders and random killings to keep the police on their toes at every turn.

Whit Hamilton plays Richard Rhys, a Victorian painter and if you saw him from a distance you’d think, oh, yeah, another Johnny Depp. But Whit has his own style and demeanor that is a departure from Depp’s characters. There is a different type of intensity deep in his eyes. And it is quite obvious why he was hired. He is sexy. And coming from a straight man that is a compliment. However, it’s not overt. It is a sensual ease with which he conducts himself. He is incredibly charming and quite disarming when you speak with him. Put a little blood on his hands and a frock coat and top hat and you’ve got yourself a convincingly scary sociopath. Soft spoken and controlled it is in his subtlety that he creeps you out. He is a small guy standing only about 5’6” but so was Claude Reins and he is ‘Notorious’ for his portrayals of bad guys. Pun intended. There are moments on the set when I’m not sure whether I’m speaking to Whit or Richard. And it isn’t a conscious effort on his part. Frankly I don’t think he knows that he is blurring the lines. The Wardrobe mistress, Ashley, says she thinks he channels Richard since he is so unaware of himself (and creeps her out simply by reading the paper). Something anathema to some actors who seem to be painfully aware of themselves and what they are doing.

Playing opposite Whit is Rebecca Damon. Her character, Victoria Thornton, is a member of the Astor family---the English branch. Ultra Rich and endowed with a conscience and several foundations she moves about the East End of London trying to help women of the evening find another line of work. She imbues her character with a compassion one only reads about in history books. She seems completely out of place in this industrial dark, dank area. Confronting the prostitutes of White Chapel her voice is helpful and yet pleading. Ms. Damon could be a cross between Kate Beckinsale and Mary Louise Parker (pre-Weeds) and delivers a woman conflicted between the status Quo of an arranged marriage and her growing restlessness with great aplomb. Jennifer Larkin plays Beatrice Potter Webb, (not the Beatrix of Peter Rabbit fame) another reformer working hard to change the tide of poverty. As the scene unfolds Richard has been attacked and blood trickles down his face. He stumbles across the cobblestones as Victoria moves to him. Two strangers meet and the chemistry is electric. When they set eyes on each other the scene becomes otherworldly and the recognition of soul mates is entrancing. Beatrice, cautious and conservative, does not care for Victoria’s naiveté and Jennifer plays the part with astute British-ness (if that is a word). With almost no lines she conveys an entire character in her demeanor that only Emma Thompson might top. The Director and Crew set up an extended jib arm on a spider dolly. The cobblestones posed a technical nightmare regarding staying level, but Patrick Sullivan ever the problem solver figured out a solution with a little help from Lowes. The shots look like something way beyond a micro-budget indie. The production value from the costumes, sets, and cinematography would rival any multi-million dollar budget film. I’m not saying it is of blockbuster quality but it is way better and far more interesting and thought-provoking than the Blair Witch Project. Bjornquist Films knows that it is far better to own your equipment than to rent. Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Milano said it took them almost seven years of steady work to acquire the needed production package. Start small and build big. And whatever you do, keep shooting.

Earlier in the day I paid a visit to the filmmaker’s apartment. It is located in Fort Greene, Brooklyn and is a lovely brownstone complete with high ceilings and crown molding built in 1858. I want to know why living spaces like that don’t exist any more. Whatever happened to craftsmanship? They occupy the parlor floor and upon entering I was astounded at how they turned their living space into an elaborate Victorian set. The kitchen was temporarily designed and decorated to be Charles Thornton’s smoking parlor. Once again, Mr. Sullivan erected false walls of gator board to hide the stove, fridge and sink. The wallpaper, a red damask pattern quite suited to the place and time. The set dresser, Elizabeth Hodges, told me that everything---and I mean everything down to the knick knacks and tintypes on the mantel were bought at auction on ebay. I asked how that could possibly work since film sets must adhere to a strict schedule. She demurred that months and months in advance each room was designed and decorated via what was available and won on Ebay. “In a sense Ebay had a say in how the room formed”. Divine intervention? Perhaps. A lot of the props and dressing are the real deal. Antiques found by trolling internet flea markets and garage sales. “Some people just don’t know what they have”, Elizabeth said. The filmmakers plan on re-auctioning most of their treasures and hopefully make a profit reselling. “That is the business plan for now”, Thom Milano added. “It’s a risk. Especially with the economy as it is, but we have time. We own it all. We can sell it when there is an upturn in consumer spending. Until then we can use it in other projects or rent things out like a small prop house. Either way we’ll make our money back on this part of the budget”.

As I was touring the set with the producers, the crew and talent were getting last looks for the first shot of the first scene of the movie. Ms. Damon is costumed in a lovely Japanese Kimono. (an ebay find and another real deal). Keith Herron playing Charles Thornton, one of the richest men in the British Empire arrived in his smoking jacket looking quite dashing. As the scene unfolded we are immediately aware that husband and wife have come to some kind of arrangement. It is not a physical union whatsoever. However, the devotion and true friendship that underlies the marriage is tender and we can empathize why they are together and stay committed. I have seen Keith Herron’s work before and I am a huge fan. I don’t understand why some savvy casting director or film producer doesn’t just snap him up and put him to work. He is a chameleon and can do anything. He can play anything. He IS Charles Thornton in this movie. Keith is the type of actor who can have a long, varied career playing roles that other lesser actors have been playing for years; Indie, mainstream, experimental, television (HBO in particular), podcasts---you name it, Keith can do it and do it extremely well.

It is one o’clock and the set is boiling. The actors are in full costume---God Bless them! Unfortunately the air conditioners and fans have to be turned off because of sound issues when camera rolls. To top that, the carriage doors had to be closed to the kitchen to cut out unwanted ambient noise. By lunchtime I had sweated off several pounds and thought maybe I should go and hydrate at a local eatery, The Smoke Joint---a Fort Greene treat, and save myself for the evening’s shoot. Stick with me, kid. We’re going places and this blog and the film I’m writing about have only just begun…

Still Photography courtesy of Elisa Gierasch