The Reel Deal and Other Bad Jokes
Thursday, April 22, 2004
Highway to Hell
I have seen Hell, and its name is I-40. Well, you know, aside from its name being Hell.
I was coming back from dinner in High Point on I-85, rather tired and dazed. I drove and drove and drove. "Gee, it seems like it's taking longer to get back there than it did to get here..." I realized why when I reached the fork in the interstate to choose between Raleigh and Durham. I pulled over and whipped out the map. A whole 'nother part of the fucking state, that's where I was. When I take a wrong tunr it pisses me off. This put me way past pissed off and out the other side to utter despair.
I turned around and went back through Burlington and Greensburo. Three hours out of my fucking way I went. I felt like I would drive forever on the dark lonely interstate and never reach home. But I did reach it at one AM. Then I stayed up until 4 AM, because I can't just go to bed--I have people to talk to and webcomics and blogs to read. Or at least check; it seems like Kevin never posts enough to satisfy. I guess he's taken a lesson from the dancers.
On the up side, I got a movie idea from it. This guy sells his soul to the Devil to become a winning race car driver. On his way back from dinner in High Point or whatever, he accidently takes a wrong turn and ends up on Route 666, the Highway to Hell! "Route 666" seems familiar, I hope it hasn't been used before.
On the Highway he picks up a hitchhiker, who is God. Or an angel or whatever. God explains what he has to do, which is outrace famed, dead race car drivers. The Devil appears as both a trucker and a biker, and after our boy has beat the old drivers as a racer also. The vehicles I'm imagining for this shit would be awesome.
The lighting would be intriguing as well. To motivate more light, the vehicles would be modded up with under-lights and so on. The backlights on the dashboard of Trucker Satan would be red. Headlights, red-tinted, or black lights. The camera work would be a lot of fun, too. Helicopter shots, car shots, drive-bys.
If he can't beat the Devil, he'll go to Hell and have to make the endless commute from, like the damned drivers he passes and sees coming the opposite way in souless, identical sedans.
So I got to class late and discovered we had biscuits available. Craft service, hot damn. I contributed two dozen Krispy Kremes.
The lighting set-up was that of a talk show. We had 14 lights in one small classroom. Two people, each with 3.5k watts pouring on them. It was fucking hot under there, actors have it rough. You know, aside from the whole "having sex with other good looking people and being obscenely rich" thing. Quade (our instructor) was very proud of the set-up, he said it was the biggest anybody had ever done in the Black Box room. He brought in a bunch of NCSA people and told us to keep the dialogue clean.
No cursing, no drug jokes, no miming drug use, no mention of sex or pornography or "your mom." So I interviewed Jon about how he was DP on a shoot that weekend. It was boring. I mentioned "the viewers" and he said, "You have no viewers," which got a big laugh. I get no respect.
Derek (buddy and fellow student) came in at the last hour because he'd been in court. I told him to sit down (Sit the fuck down!") and I interviewed him. "Here we are in the studio with Don Paskoloni! Don, I hear you just got out of court. What was the charge? Was it that prostitution ring?"
"No, public intoxication."
"Oh, you were celebrating getting off of that murder rap, then?"
"You're the biggest Don here in Winston-Salem. What do you do? Prostitution?"
"Sell crack?" I leaned closer. "Can I get some?"
"Here buddy." He slipped me some air crack under the table. "I gotta go."
"Can't leave that brick of crack out in the car alone, eh?" Over his protest, "Can I come?"
Cut. Hey, I thought it was pretty funny.
Earlier this evening I went over to Derek's house and we watched "The Way Of The Gun." It sucked. Good cinematography, and the beginning was funny, but the story sucked. Badly. Jonathan has poor taste in movies. I require my film to entertain me all the way through.
I bitched his ass out on IM when I got back to the house, but he ain't remoseful yet. To get him back, I'll reccomend "Cradle 2 the Grave," one of the most horrible movies I've ever forced myself to watch.
This could lead to unpleasantness...