by Cameryn Moore
I was going to write this whole column this week about how I’m starting to see the merit and the interest in writing shows that other people would perform in with me, and maybe at some point shows that other people would perform in without me, and wouldn’t that be a mind-blowing thing? I’m still going to write that piece, but that is not this week. This week is the week that filming is happening for the feature-film adaptation of Phone Whore, a five-day shoot in an apartment, and everything normal is out the window.
EVERYTHING EVERYTHING EVERYTHING IS AT ALL TIMES
I can’t even imagine how wiped Jason is, who is shifting around heavy tripods and lights, or Vincent from France, the sound guy who is making like a tree the whole time, holding the boom over his head, or Sheri, the P.A. who keeps stepping up to give me an ice pack to keep cool just when I need it, or Stephanie, the script supervisor and assistant director, who has to remember WHERE EVERYTHING EVERYTHING EVERYTHING IS AT ALL TIMES, lights, pens, last position of that glass of water, what order I take things out of the grocery bags. She takes pictures of it all, and re-sets it, scene after scene. Never mind my director, who is like a sweaty, slightly impatient little hummingbird all day. I don’t know what’s in that Gatorade bottle of his, but I’ve never seen anything like it.