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hackthis Productions Present:
Make Sure They See My Face (The Making of a Movie in Five Acts)
featuring Ari Gold
George Clooney
Shia LaBeouf
and Milo Ventimiglia
With Viggo Mortensen. And some other folks.
Act I: Ari
Act II: Milo
Act III: Shia
On the fourteenth day of filming, Viggo shows up with two scraps of paper in the right-hand side pocket of his coat. It's a little after six in the morning, and the sun is just a hint on the Canadian horizon. The crew is buzzing around, setting up for the shot, while Milo and Shia are being inspected and prodded by the make-up and wardrobe people.
Milo is holding an enormous silver mug that Viggo knows is coffee, because Milo doesn't seem to drink anything else. Shia is smoking profusely, even while being examined and made over. They joke and laugh and poke each other and it warms Viggo's fingers. He wants them to bond. He wants them to be Noah and Simon and feel what brings them together.
For seven more days Milo and Shia are Noah and Simon. Noah is on the run and Simon is running, and The Frayed Edge is where they intersect. Viggo fingers the pack of American Spirit in his other pocket and watches his two young actors with a biased eye.
He wonders about their lives and their dreams. He wonders if they woke up 365 days ago and thought they would be here in a year. Probably not. Viggo didn't think he would be here. He thought he would be at his gallery. Or at the Perceval offices.
A year ago Viggo was probably looking at old photos of Henry and painting with a balled up tee shirt from Henry's fifth birthday. Maybe he was doing reshoots for Eastern Promises, but most likely he was painting. Viggo keeps Henry's baby things in odd places like the behind the toilet and in the pantry next to the bread to inspire him. He's not a pack rat, everything in life is only given on a temporary loan anyway, but he has a few things that he wants to make sure don't get returned before they're due.
Stanley, Viggo's lighting guru, comes up as Viggo's lighting a cigarette and asks him things about the back drop and shadows. Viggo shrugs. "Stanley, you are the expert, not me," he says, clapping Stanley on the shoulder. "You do what you think is right, and I'll learn from you."
Stanley pushes his glasses further up his nose and shrugs. "Okay, Viggo, whatever you want."
Viggo takes a drag of his cigarette and squeezes Stanley's shoulder. "No, not what I want, what the movie wants."
Stanley thinks for several seconds before he says, "Okay," and walks off. Viggo looks after him approvingly, takes another drag of his cigarette, and moves on.
Milo is the first one to spot him, and he nods in greeting. Shia stops whatever anecdote he's sharing with Penny from wardrobe and automatically turns in the direction Milo's looking. This is what Viggo wants from them, this sort of unspoken connection.
"Hey, Viggo," Shia's grin is as broad as a brushstroke and Viggo nods beatifically.
"Noah, Simon," he says, a reminder of who they are today. Off-set, they are Shia and Milo, but standing on the prairie in faded jeans, thermals and plaid shirts, they are Noah and Simon. Right down to Simon's archaic, stained leather jacket and the scar on the back of Noah's hand.
Both boys -– men –- nod acceptingly, and yet, can they be men when they're really only so much older than his son? How can they not?
Henry is the most mature person Viggo knows, and he's only 19. Age is just a calendar quantification, and the disparities between Milo and Shia aren't that great. The age difference will be negligible when Shia is 40, and they were both raised in Southern California. Shia was raised by hippies and Milo is a surfer. It's all surface plaster.
When Viggo reaches into his pocket and pulls out his American Spirits, Milo smirks. "I quit, remember?"
Shia laughs and drops his own cigarette, stubbing it out with the toe of his scuffed boots. "Dude, I know. You remind me every time I have to kiss you that I have to brush my teeth if I've been smoking."
Viggo's smile is small, but there. "I'm not trying to jeopardize your health, Noah. If neither one of you has gotten hepatitis from all of your tattoos, I'm certainly not going to help you along."
"Don't you have tattoos?" Shia asks.
"Yes, but I may already have hepatitis too," Viggo points out. "Don't assume."
Shia and Milo both fall silent, which is good. Viggo wants them thoughtful, not loud and garrulous. That will come later. He puts the cigarettes back in his pocket and reaches into the other to pull out the scraps of paper. "These are for you," he says, checking the colors of the writing to see who gets what.
Noah/Milo is blue, Simon/Shia is red, Eve/Kerry is green and Adam/John is purple.
The boys each take their scrap of paper and read it over once. Twice. Shia stares at his for a long time; Milo folds his up and puts it in his rear pocket.
The squares of paper aren't directions inasmuch as they're character insights that Viggo has created at three o'clock in the morning after he's watched the dailies. Sometimes he gives the ideas to his actors before they start filming, not as instructions, but as ideas for them to ponder that day. Sometimes he slips them under their doors, or, in Milo's case, in his empty coffee mug.
Sometimes Viggo has pieces of the puzzle for everyone. Sometimes he only has a corner edge for one of them.
On the first day of joint filming, he told his cast that these are only ideas, their characters can accept or reject them as they so desire, but regardless, he hoped that they would ask why that particular character accepted or rejected that idea.
The insights are just concepts; Viggo really just wants them to ask themselves why.
Why is important.
Even if you don’t know who or what or how or when, you should at least know why.
*
Being an actor is very different from being a director. On Lord of the Rings Viggo spent his down time hiking, painting and bonding with the hobbits and elves. On The Frayed Edge, Viggo doesn't really have any down time. If he's not shooting, he's talking about shooting, or lighting, or the wardrobe, or setting up the next shots, or George is on the phone wanting to talk about Bradley under the guise of talking about the movie or Bradley is on the phone wanting to talk about George. Brad, at least, just brings up George at the beginning without prevaricating. He's much more open in that respect.
If Viggo's not shooting, he's re-reading the script or going for walks with Shia to find out what he wants to do next. Or Milo's asking him about his favorite movies. Or he's watching Kerry and John charming half the crew -– or The Screw as they like to be referred to on occasion.
Sometimes Viggo stays up late, sometimes he's up early, but inevitably one if his children are always running around, because for this movie, they are his kids. They are his to guide, even John, who's closer to Viggo's age than anyone else. Viggo is nine years older than John, the same amount of years that separate Milo and Shia.
Viggo really likes talking with John, he reminds Viggo strangely enough of a very grown hobbit with his energy and love for life. John has a passion for people that makes Viggo feel less jaded in small ways; and Viggo wants to capture it.
When he asks John if he'll sit for photographs –- or in John's case stand/run/swim/sing/ whatever -– he's serious.
"Are these going to be nude photographs?" John asks with a wide grin over tea one night in Viggo's room. "I haven't done porn in a while, but I'd get my cock out for you."
Viggo sips his tea and takes one of the English cookies that John's partner sent in the mail. "Do you want to be naked?" he asks John bluntly. "I want my subjects to be comfortable, so you choose."
John mulls it over. "These aren't glossy fashion photos, are they?"
Viggo can't pretend not to feel slightly affronted. "I take photos of life, I have yet to see real life in People magazine or GQ." He gets up from his chair and goes over to his suitcase, and after rummaging around for a bit, he finds some of the photos he's taken lately. There are photos of Milo and Shia and the crew – pardon: the screw.
He brings the photos back over to John and hands them over. "This is what I do. Everything else is just to pay the rent."
John looks up at him curiously and then takes a look at the photos. "These are good," he says after some time. "They're really good."
Viggo doesn't practice his art for accolades or compliments. He paints because he needs to. He writes because he has to. He takes photos because he would die otherwise. Art does not ask, it demands. Art holds a gun to your head and whispers in your ear that you will do or die.
John looks almost contrite when he hands the photos back. "I thought you were trying to chat me up."
Viggo gives him a toothy grin. "If I wanted to have sex with you, I would just ask. I have more respect for you than that."
John's eyes crinkle around the corners when he smiles. "I keep forgetting you're so honest, generally, people aren't so straight-forward, so if you do want to take my photo, I'd be thrilled."
Viggo nods. "One of the downsides of getting older is seeing what the younger generation have thought up. I admit that if I were 20 years younger, I probably would be trying to get you in bed. And filming it for Youtube."
John laughs. "If I were 20 years younger, we'd already be naked."
*
Milo has something called the Divide Social Club with his friends. As far as Viggo can tell it's some sort of video site that show videos of Milo doing things like eating macaroni and cheese or tying a bow tie and brushing his teeth. It's very existentialist. Viggo likes it quite a lot.
He spends one entire evening just watching Milo's videos to get a better idea of who he's working with, and when he's exhausted the videos of Milo, and Milo's friends Dino and Russ, he writes down a thought about Noah and then pads down the hall to slip it under Milo's door.
Not surprisingly with all the coffee he drinks, there's light emanating from underneath Milo's door, and Viggo can actually hear Milo and Shia's animated voices babbling about something he can't quite decipher. This is as they should be; this makes Viggo happy.
He re-reads the slip of lined yellow paper twice before slipping it underneath Milo's door. Originally he had meant for this to be for Milo alone, but perhaps this is something that Noah and Simon should share.
If you have a suitcase, you have regrets. If you have a suitcase, you have left somewhere at some point. Maybe you've gone back, probably you haven't. Maybe you were glad to leave at the time. Maybe you thought you were going to die if you didn't escape. You're tired of packing now. Everyone is looking for a home.
He stands in the hallway waiting, watching his half of the paper on this side of the door. After several seconds he hears pattering steps coming to retrieve his gift.
Now he can go to sleep.
*
Viggo can hear the children at breakfast before he even walks into the craft services tent. It's a little bit after nine in the morning, the sun is gloriously bright, and today everyone is on set because they're shooting a bunch of shots in the diner and some of the ending. His very special Cronenberg-esque ending that George used to convince him to direct this in the first place. It involves a lot of safety gear and his kids being rather kick ass – but in a real way. There will be real bruises and real pain, but that's what makes the best movies in Viggo's opinion, and George keeps telling him that that's the only opinion that counts right now.
Everything Viggo does has to have a firmly grounded realism, even the most wild science-fiction or fantasy requires a human element. Which was why he sent his AD, Shirley, out with the crew yesterday to shoot external shoots and everyone else went to target practice with Ben Stevens, their safety expert.
Guns, knives and bows and arrows are nothing to mess around with. Even on the tundra.
This morning, everyone's sitting together, and Shia and Milo are loudly arguing about the merits of some sort of colored cereal while John is showing Kerry new uses for fruit. There's someone Viggo vaguely recognizes sitting next to Kerry, but he's not quite sure why. He's not a member of the cast or crew; this is a small production, everyone knows everyone else and who they're sleeping with. Or who they're not supposed to be sleeping with.
"John, I don't think bananas are supposed to go down your pants that way." Viggo plunks down next to John and proceeds to drink most of his tea.
John raises an eyebrow. "I think if anybody knows where a banana can go, it's me."
Kerry snickers, but Viggo concedes the point. "I suppose a banana can go wherever it chooses," he says thoughtfully.
"Exactly!"
"Unless someone calls The Banana Abuse Hotline," Shia offers.
"I knew you were a snitch," Milo scoffs, smacking Shia on the arm.
"Hey, somebody has to think of the bananas!" Shia retorts.
"Is it always like this round here?" the young man next to Kerry inquires, and with the strong accent Viggo finally places him.
"The Last King of Scotland," Viggo says, leaning across the table and snagging Milo's bagel over his protestations. "You were very truthful."
Kerry smiles, "James meet Viggo, Viggo this is James, he's shooting a movie in Saskatoon and came by for a visit."
"I've not see Kerry in an age," James says, bumping shoulders with her. "I couldn't believe she was down the road."
"Yeah, about 300 kilometers down the road," Kerry mocks.
"260," James corrects.
"That's -–" Shia interjects. "What is that? Like 100 miles? 150?"
"160," James and John say together.
"Jesus," Milo laughs, "the sex must be really good."
Kerry lets out this massive cackle, which is matched by a howl from James. "He's married," Kerry explains to a bemused group, "very very married. She's adorable too, so, sorry guys, no jerk off material for you."
Shia sulks, "You never let us have any fun, Ker."
"Besides, she's dating that bloke," James amends. "What's his name again, the rapper?"
"Lonnie," Kerry replies.
"No, no, no," James shakes his head. "Common, she's dating Common."
"You're dating Common?" Milo's voice pitches extremely high, and everyone at the table stares.
"Why didn't you tell us you were dating Common?" Shia demands, and Kerry just gives them both a very wry look that explains it all.
Shia and Milo's mutual excitement is a little overwhelming this early in the morning; it's almost endearing. They've managed to hit notes that, frankly, Viggo didn't think anyone over the age of twelve could achieve.
"I can't imagine why I wouldn't tell the rap fiends I was dating a rapper," she says with perfect deadpan delivery, and Viggo thinks that now is an excellent time to start shooting.
"All right, little brothers –- and little sisters," he amends for Kerry, "all your batteries are sufficently charged, so it's time to get to work. You can either channel your enthusiasm into your characters or helping the caterers clean up. You choose."
There's a collective screech of chairs as everyone gets to their feet at the same time. "I almost forgot," Viggo says, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes and then pulling out two wrinkled bits of napkin. "Eve gets one and Adam gets one but Noah and Simon are on their own," he says, handing the slips to Kerry and John before taking out his last American Spirit and lighting it.
Shia and Milo look a little upset, but Viggo just smiles enigmatically. "I think I've given you enough guidance at this point, don't you?" he says, taking a drag on his cigarette and stepping away from the table to lead his soldiers off to battle.
"Will you be around for a bit?" Viggo asks, falling into step with James and Kerry.
James shrugs. "Not too long, but probably till after lunch. Why?"
"We need another body at the diner," Viggo says with a wink. "And possibly you're going to be the villain in this piece."
James doesn't miss a beat. "I've not been the villain before, count me in."
*
At the end of a take, Viggo is supposed to look over the film and make his lighting corrections or sound adjustments. He's supposed to put the focus on the face and not the body, but Viggo prefers his shots in whole, not in half. You act with your whole being. Of course, more often than not Viggo's behind a completely different camera, taking stills of his actors or his crew or the scenery. In most ways, Viggo knows he's not cut out for management, but he genuinely appreciates his cast and listens to them, and the crew is tolerant and he hasn't heard many grumblings. Viggo does most of his grunt work in the evening, when he puts the dailies on his DVD player and watches them while he paints.
After two-and-a-half weeks of shooting and three-and-a-half in Regina altogether, there are empty tubes all over his floor and half-finished canvases drying on his dresser. There's a part of Viggo that thinks that he could retire in Regina, but the other half knows that his peace is coming from watching his children grow and has nothing to do with the subzero temperatures outside.
They were supposed to work on the last few scenes today, but a blizzard came up that prevented them from actually being outside for an extended period of time, so Viggo decided it was time to reshoot the sex scene.
Shia called him a lecherous old man and Milo said Viggo was going to drive him back to smoking all over again. The fact that Shia had actually been sitting on Milo at the time made their protestations moot.
In fact, from the moment they stripped in front of the entire crew in Noah's tiny, freezing bedroom, Viggo knew that this was going to be the take that made it into the movie. Not because their looks had much changed or because the lighting was different. In fact, the awkwardness from the first day of shooting was much stronger and would have to be edited in some how. What Viggo saw in the bedroom, and what's coming across in the dailies now, is the camaraderie that Milo and Shia have developed.
In the last few days of tape, Viggo's picked up on the way they look to each other for cues, and nowhere is this more evident than in the sex scene. Generally, dailies are all stops and starts but for this scene Viggo let the camera roll and kept it rolling for 45 minutes, so what he sees is this: one touches and the other corrects.
They kiss and bite and move each other by force if they have to. They twitch and laugh and tease and look to each other for validity. One complains and the other either tells him to shut up or makes the adjustment. They man-handle and caress. They genuinely care. Shia brushes at Milo's hair and it's Simon touching Noah. Milo tilts Shia's head and it's Noah showing Simon what he wants.
This is acting at its best.
This is real.
Viggo perches on the edge of one of his chairs, with paint on his fingers and his palette balanced on his knee, and sees things that Shia and Milo probably don't see themselves. He wonders if they'll see it at the screening or the premiere. He's pretty sure George will see it when Viggo shows him the rough edit.
Regardless of anything else that happens, this truth will still be there a year from now, five years from now or ten years from now. Viggo can say that he did this, that regardless of anything else, he made a story about hope and love and that even if Shia and Milo didn't fall in love, Noah and Simon did.
For this moment in time, this love is real and powerful and tangible. And this is why Viggo does what he does, because this, this is art.
--Act V: George--
Dedicated toantheia and sameoldhope for their enthusiasm.
Special thanks tofangirljen for the DSC hook-up. And yes, there is a LJ feed for the DSC ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
dscyoutube. You can thank antheia.
Some of you may've been around for my LOTRips stint a few years ago, which I have to say I enjoyed quite a lot, but writing Viggo always gave me migraine. Today, though, today there was no fit. Viggo approves.
hackthis Productions Present:Make Sure They See My Face (The Making of a Movie in Five Acts)
featuring Ari Gold
George Clooney
Shia LaBeouf
and Milo Ventimiglia
With Viggo Mortensen. And some other folks.
Act I: Ari
Act II: Milo
Act III: Shia
On the fourteenth day of filming, Viggo shows up with two scraps of paper in the right-hand side pocket of his coat. It's a little after six in the morning, and the sun is just a hint on the Canadian horizon. The crew is buzzing around, setting up for the shot, while Milo and Shia are being inspected and prodded by the make-up and wardrobe people.
Milo is holding an enormous silver mug that Viggo knows is coffee, because Milo doesn't seem to drink anything else. Shia is smoking profusely, even while being examined and made over. They joke and laugh and poke each other and it warms Viggo's fingers. He wants them to bond. He wants them to be Noah and Simon and feel what brings them together.
For seven more days Milo and Shia are Noah and Simon. Noah is on the run and Simon is running, and The Frayed Edge is where they intersect. Viggo fingers the pack of American Spirit in his other pocket and watches his two young actors with a biased eye.
He wonders about their lives and their dreams. He wonders if they woke up 365 days ago and thought they would be here in a year. Probably not. Viggo didn't think he would be here. He thought he would be at his gallery. Or at the Perceval offices.
A year ago Viggo was probably looking at old photos of Henry and painting with a balled up tee shirt from Henry's fifth birthday. Maybe he was doing reshoots for Eastern Promises, but most likely he was painting. Viggo keeps Henry's baby things in odd places like the behind the toilet and in the pantry next to the bread to inspire him. He's not a pack rat, everything in life is only given on a temporary loan anyway, but he has a few things that he wants to make sure don't get returned before they're due.
Stanley, Viggo's lighting guru, comes up as Viggo's lighting a cigarette and asks him things about the back drop and shadows. Viggo shrugs. "Stanley, you are the expert, not me," he says, clapping Stanley on the shoulder. "You do what you think is right, and I'll learn from you."
Stanley pushes his glasses further up his nose and shrugs. "Okay, Viggo, whatever you want."
Viggo takes a drag of his cigarette and squeezes Stanley's shoulder. "No, not what I want, what the movie wants."
Stanley thinks for several seconds before he says, "Okay," and walks off. Viggo looks after him approvingly, takes another drag of his cigarette, and moves on.
Milo is the first one to spot him, and he nods in greeting. Shia stops whatever anecdote he's sharing with Penny from wardrobe and automatically turns in the direction Milo's looking. This is what Viggo wants from them, this sort of unspoken connection.
"Hey, Viggo," Shia's grin is as broad as a brushstroke and Viggo nods beatifically.
"Noah, Simon," he says, a reminder of who they are today. Off-set, they are Shia and Milo, but standing on the prairie in faded jeans, thermals and plaid shirts, they are Noah and Simon. Right down to Simon's archaic, stained leather jacket and the scar on the back of Noah's hand.
Both boys -– men –- nod acceptingly, and yet, can they be men when they're really only so much older than his son? How can they not?
Henry is the most mature person Viggo knows, and he's only 19. Age is just a calendar quantification, and the disparities between Milo and Shia aren't that great. The age difference will be negligible when Shia is 40, and they were both raised in Southern California. Shia was raised by hippies and Milo is a surfer. It's all surface plaster.
When Viggo reaches into his pocket and pulls out his American Spirits, Milo smirks. "I quit, remember?"
Shia laughs and drops his own cigarette, stubbing it out with the toe of his scuffed boots. "Dude, I know. You remind me every time I have to kiss you that I have to brush my teeth if I've been smoking."
Viggo's smile is small, but there. "I'm not trying to jeopardize your health, Noah. If neither one of you has gotten hepatitis from all of your tattoos, I'm certainly not going to help you along."
"Don't you have tattoos?" Shia asks.
"Yes, but I may already have hepatitis too," Viggo points out. "Don't assume."
Shia and Milo both fall silent, which is good. Viggo wants them thoughtful, not loud and garrulous. That will come later. He puts the cigarettes back in his pocket and reaches into the other to pull out the scraps of paper. "These are for you," he says, checking the colors of the writing to see who gets what.
Noah/Milo is blue, Simon/Shia is red, Eve/Kerry is green and Adam/John is purple.
The boys each take their scrap of paper and read it over once. Twice. Shia stares at his for a long time; Milo folds his up and puts it in his rear pocket.
The squares of paper aren't directions inasmuch as they're character insights that Viggo has created at three o'clock in the morning after he's watched the dailies. Sometimes he gives the ideas to his actors before they start filming, not as instructions, but as ideas for them to ponder that day. Sometimes he slips them under their doors, or, in Milo's case, in his empty coffee mug.
Sometimes Viggo has pieces of the puzzle for everyone. Sometimes he only has a corner edge for one of them.
On the first day of joint filming, he told his cast that these are only ideas, their characters can accept or reject them as they so desire, but regardless, he hoped that they would ask why that particular character accepted or rejected that idea.
The insights are just concepts; Viggo really just wants them to ask themselves why.
Why is important.
Even if you don’t know who or what or how or when, you should at least know why.
Being an actor is very different from being a director. On Lord of the Rings Viggo spent his down time hiking, painting and bonding with the hobbits and elves. On The Frayed Edge, Viggo doesn't really have any down time. If he's not shooting, he's talking about shooting, or lighting, or the wardrobe, or setting up the next shots, or George is on the phone wanting to talk about Bradley under the guise of talking about the movie or Bradley is on the phone wanting to talk about George. Brad, at least, just brings up George at the beginning without prevaricating. He's much more open in that respect.
If Viggo's not shooting, he's re-reading the script or going for walks with Shia to find out what he wants to do next. Or Milo's asking him about his favorite movies. Or he's watching Kerry and John charming half the crew -– or The Screw as they like to be referred to on occasion.
Sometimes Viggo stays up late, sometimes he's up early, but inevitably one if his children are always running around, because for this movie, they are his kids. They are his to guide, even John, who's closer to Viggo's age than anyone else. Viggo is nine years older than John, the same amount of years that separate Milo and Shia.
Viggo really likes talking with John, he reminds Viggo strangely enough of a very grown hobbit with his energy and love for life. John has a passion for people that makes Viggo feel less jaded in small ways; and Viggo wants to capture it.
When he asks John if he'll sit for photographs –- or in John's case stand/run/swim/sing/ whatever -– he's serious.
"Are these going to be nude photographs?" John asks with a wide grin over tea one night in Viggo's room. "I haven't done porn in a while, but I'd get my cock out for you."
Viggo sips his tea and takes one of the English cookies that John's partner sent in the mail. "Do you want to be naked?" he asks John bluntly. "I want my subjects to be comfortable, so you choose."
John mulls it over. "These aren't glossy fashion photos, are they?"
Viggo can't pretend not to feel slightly affronted. "I take photos of life, I have yet to see real life in People magazine or GQ." He gets up from his chair and goes over to his suitcase, and after rummaging around for a bit, he finds some of the photos he's taken lately. There are photos of Milo and Shia and the crew – pardon: the screw.
He brings the photos back over to John and hands them over. "This is what I do. Everything else is just to pay the rent."
John looks up at him curiously and then takes a look at the photos. "These are good," he says after some time. "They're really good."
Viggo doesn't practice his art for accolades or compliments. He paints because he needs to. He writes because he has to. He takes photos because he would die otherwise. Art does not ask, it demands. Art holds a gun to your head and whispers in your ear that you will do or die.
John looks almost contrite when he hands the photos back. "I thought you were trying to chat me up."
Viggo gives him a toothy grin. "If I wanted to have sex with you, I would just ask. I have more respect for you than that."
John's eyes crinkle around the corners when he smiles. "I keep forgetting you're so honest, generally, people aren't so straight-forward, so if you do want to take my photo, I'd be thrilled."
Viggo nods. "One of the downsides of getting older is seeing what the younger generation have thought up. I admit that if I were 20 years younger, I probably would be trying to get you in bed. And filming it for Youtube."
John laughs. "If I were 20 years younger, we'd already be naked."
Milo has something called the Divide Social Club with his friends. As far as Viggo can tell it's some sort of video site that show videos of Milo doing things like eating macaroni and cheese or tying a bow tie and brushing his teeth. It's very existentialist. Viggo likes it quite a lot.
He spends one entire evening just watching Milo's videos to get a better idea of who he's working with, and when he's exhausted the videos of Milo, and Milo's friends Dino and Russ, he writes down a thought about Noah and then pads down the hall to slip it under Milo's door.
Not surprisingly with all the coffee he drinks, there's light emanating from underneath Milo's door, and Viggo can actually hear Milo and Shia's animated voices babbling about something he can't quite decipher. This is as they should be; this makes Viggo happy.
He re-reads the slip of lined yellow paper twice before slipping it underneath Milo's door. Originally he had meant for this to be for Milo alone, but perhaps this is something that Noah and Simon should share.
If you have a suitcase, you have regrets. If you have a suitcase, you have left somewhere at some point. Maybe you've gone back, probably you haven't. Maybe you were glad to leave at the time. Maybe you thought you were going to die if you didn't escape. You're tired of packing now. Everyone is looking for a home.
He stands in the hallway waiting, watching his half of the paper on this side of the door. After several seconds he hears pattering steps coming to retrieve his gift.
Now he can go to sleep.
Viggo can hear the children at breakfast before he even walks into the craft services tent. It's a little bit after nine in the morning, the sun is gloriously bright, and today everyone is on set because they're shooting a bunch of shots in the diner and some of the ending. His very special Cronenberg-esque ending that George used to convince him to direct this in the first place. It involves a lot of safety gear and his kids being rather kick ass – but in a real way. There will be real bruises and real pain, but that's what makes the best movies in Viggo's opinion, and George keeps telling him that that's the only opinion that counts right now.
Everything Viggo does has to have a firmly grounded realism, even the most wild science-fiction or fantasy requires a human element. Which was why he sent his AD, Shirley, out with the crew yesterday to shoot external shoots and everyone else went to target practice with Ben Stevens, their safety expert.
Guns, knives and bows and arrows are nothing to mess around with. Even on the tundra.
This morning, everyone's sitting together, and Shia and Milo are loudly arguing about the merits of some sort of colored cereal while John is showing Kerry new uses for fruit. There's someone Viggo vaguely recognizes sitting next to Kerry, but he's not quite sure why. He's not a member of the cast or crew; this is a small production, everyone knows everyone else and who they're sleeping with. Or who they're not supposed to be sleeping with.
"John, I don't think bananas are supposed to go down your pants that way." Viggo plunks down next to John and proceeds to drink most of his tea.
John raises an eyebrow. "I think if anybody knows where a banana can go, it's me."
Kerry snickers, but Viggo concedes the point. "I suppose a banana can go wherever it chooses," he says thoughtfully.
"Exactly!"
"Unless someone calls The Banana Abuse Hotline," Shia offers.
"I knew you were a snitch," Milo scoffs, smacking Shia on the arm.
"Hey, somebody has to think of the bananas!" Shia retorts.
"Is it always like this round here?" the young man next to Kerry inquires, and with the strong accent Viggo finally places him.
"The Last King of Scotland," Viggo says, leaning across the table and snagging Milo's bagel over his protestations. "You were very truthful."
Kerry smiles, "James meet Viggo, Viggo this is James, he's shooting a movie in Saskatoon and came by for a visit."
"I've not see Kerry in an age," James says, bumping shoulders with her. "I couldn't believe she was down the road."
"Yeah, about 300 kilometers down the road," Kerry mocks.
"260," James corrects.
"That's -–" Shia interjects. "What is that? Like 100 miles? 150?"
"160," James and John say together.
"Jesus," Milo laughs, "the sex must be really good."
Kerry lets out this massive cackle, which is matched by a howl from James. "He's married," Kerry explains to a bemused group, "very very married. She's adorable too, so, sorry guys, no jerk off material for you."
Shia sulks, "You never let us have any fun, Ker."
"Besides, she's dating that bloke," James amends. "What's his name again, the rapper?"
"Lonnie," Kerry replies.
"No, no, no," James shakes his head. "Common, she's dating Common."
"You're dating Common?" Milo's voice pitches extremely high, and everyone at the table stares.
"Why didn't you tell us you were dating Common?" Shia demands, and Kerry just gives them both a very wry look that explains it all.
Shia and Milo's mutual excitement is a little overwhelming this early in the morning; it's almost endearing. They've managed to hit notes that, frankly, Viggo didn't think anyone over the age of twelve could achieve.
"I can't imagine why I wouldn't tell the rap fiends I was dating a rapper," she says with perfect deadpan delivery, and Viggo thinks that now is an excellent time to start shooting.
"All right, little brothers –- and little sisters," he amends for Kerry, "all your batteries are sufficently charged, so it's time to get to work. You can either channel your enthusiasm into your characters or helping the caterers clean up. You choose."
There's a collective screech of chairs as everyone gets to their feet at the same time. "I almost forgot," Viggo says, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes and then pulling out two wrinkled bits of napkin. "Eve gets one and Adam gets one but Noah and Simon are on their own," he says, handing the slips to Kerry and John before taking out his last American Spirit and lighting it.
Shia and Milo look a little upset, but Viggo just smiles enigmatically. "I think I've given you enough guidance at this point, don't you?" he says, taking a drag on his cigarette and stepping away from the table to lead his soldiers off to battle.
"Will you be around for a bit?" Viggo asks, falling into step with James and Kerry.
James shrugs. "Not too long, but probably till after lunch. Why?"
"We need another body at the diner," Viggo says with a wink. "And possibly you're going to be the villain in this piece."
James doesn't miss a beat. "I've not been the villain before, count me in."
At the end of a take, Viggo is supposed to look over the film and make his lighting corrections or sound adjustments. He's supposed to put the focus on the face and not the body, but Viggo prefers his shots in whole, not in half. You act with your whole being. Of course, more often than not Viggo's behind a completely different camera, taking stills of his actors or his crew or the scenery. In most ways, Viggo knows he's not cut out for management, but he genuinely appreciates his cast and listens to them, and the crew is tolerant and he hasn't heard many grumblings. Viggo does most of his grunt work in the evening, when he puts the dailies on his DVD player and watches them while he paints.
After two-and-a-half weeks of shooting and three-and-a-half in Regina altogether, there are empty tubes all over his floor and half-finished canvases drying on his dresser. There's a part of Viggo that thinks that he could retire in Regina, but the other half knows that his peace is coming from watching his children grow and has nothing to do with the subzero temperatures outside.
They were supposed to work on the last few scenes today, but a blizzard came up that prevented them from actually being outside for an extended period of time, so Viggo decided it was time to reshoot the sex scene.
Shia called him a lecherous old man and Milo said Viggo was going to drive him back to smoking all over again. The fact that Shia had actually been sitting on Milo at the time made their protestations moot.
In fact, from the moment they stripped in front of the entire crew in Noah's tiny, freezing bedroom, Viggo knew that this was going to be the take that made it into the movie. Not because their looks had much changed or because the lighting was different. In fact, the awkwardness from the first day of shooting was much stronger and would have to be edited in some how. What Viggo saw in the bedroom, and what's coming across in the dailies now, is the camaraderie that Milo and Shia have developed.
In the last few days of tape, Viggo's picked up on the way they look to each other for cues, and nowhere is this more evident than in the sex scene. Generally, dailies are all stops and starts but for this scene Viggo let the camera roll and kept it rolling for 45 minutes, so what he sees is this: one touches and the other corrects.
They kiss and bite and move each other by force if they have to. They twitch and laugh and tease and look to each other for validity. One complains and the other either tells him to shut up or makes the adjustment. They man-handle and caress. They genuinely care. Shia brushes at Milo's hair and it's Simon touching Noah. Milo tilts Shia's head and it's Noah showing Simon what he wants.
This is acting at its best.
This is real.
Viggo perches on the edge of one of his chairs, with paint on his fingers and his palette balanced on his knee, and sees things that Shia and Milo probably don't see themselves. He wonders if they'll see it at the screening or the premiere. He's pretty sure George will see it when Viggo shows him the rough edit.
Regardless of anything else that happens, this truth will still be there a year from now, five years from now or ten years from now. Viggo can say that he did this, that regardless of anything else, he made a story about hope and love and that even if Shia and Milo didn't fall in love, Noah and Simon did.
For this moment in time, this love is real and powerful and tangible. And this is why Viggo does what he does, because this, this is art.
--Act V: George--
Dedicated to
antheia and sameoldhope for their enthusiasm.Special thanks to
fangirljen for the DSC hook-up. And yes, there is a LJ feed for the DSC dscyoutube. You can thank antheia.Some of you may've been around for my LOTRips stint a few years ago, which I have to say I enjoyed quite a lot, but writing Viggo always gave me migraine. Today, though, today there was no fit. Viggo approves.
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Date: 2007-11-06 10:46 pm (UTC)