Production Diary
June 6th, 2012
Day One
Pre-Production
Inspiration
Dirty Books
The forbidden literature of my youth included a generous helping of the work of Orrie Hitt, who generated new titles faster than Mom could turn out pancakes.
ORRIE HITT, my idol
I grew up in an other-side-of-the-tracks world similar to the ones he created for his tales, and knew exactly what he was talking about (most of the time–the sex thing was still something of a mystery).
Some of his once-forgotten works (porn ephemera, you know) are now available in Kindle editions!
At any rate, his sensibilities often influence the choices I make with the stories I bring to the screen; Slow Heat in a Texas Town and Kansas City Trucking Co. being key examples. I am now diving back into that world for After The Heist, some of whose characters include a gas station attendant, an appliance repair and service man, a military officer and a young drifter. Principal photography starts tomorrow; The performers begin arriving this afternoon. The locations are ideal, the sets look pretty-much spot-on. Now Ray and I are driving over to the Salvation Army store to pick up a coffee table (nobody says “cocktail table” in this universe).
Orrie, I promise to make you proud.
_________________
It sounds awesome.
Comment by Robert — June 6, 2012 @ 9:07 am
Father and Son?
Comment by Mondragon — June 6, 2012 @ 12:20 pm
Plaid couch?
Comment by Lew — June 6, 2012 @ 1:37 pm
Mondragon–No.
Lew–Yes, but this time it’s a chair.
JG
Comment by admin — June 6, 2012 @ 4:16 pm
Cocktail table? Who the fuck says cocktail table? I guess someone wrote an article, and was clever and quippy, and then everyone started calling it that. It’s common I guess to think that changing the name of a thing somehow makes it cooler.
Speaking of changes, I was in the city yesterday for the first time in a while. I was around midtown and near the corner of 46th and 8th Ave. It took me all day to realize that a big black building had eaten a cocktail lounge and restaurant I had gone to many many times. I had great times in that place. Gone. A theater has a show that’s the musical version of Ghost, which seems strange enough, but then everyone says it sucks. People sit out in the middle of the streets, lounging around in the middle of the street. People told me it was “european” but fuck that, New York is not european. Only Central Park seemed eternally unchanged, cleaner but still the same old park. An enormous glass tower climbs out of the old Hearst once-upon-a-time to be skyscraper platform on 57th. I suppose if you think of that city as a living thing, she has as much right to change as any of us, but some changes seem awkward, and forced. Like a cocktail table.
Comment by Ptolemy13 — June 7, 2012 @ 11:07 am