Look what I found attached to my mail box moments ago: A “Notice of Filming.” This quiet little portion of the street where we live is going to serve as the location for a film shoot next week.
Movies were shot all around our little Chicago pad back in the days — the producers of The Color of Money, for instance, needing a really nasty, dangerous, nitty-gritty sordid urban backdrop for their nitty-gritty sordid film, thought our neighborhood looked about right — but this is the first time we’ve ever been given advance warning. Must be an L.A. thing.
I do appreciate the heads up. Wouldn’t want to wake up to the hoarse cries of gaffers, the piping voices of the best boys, the roar of generators and later, blinded by the movie lights, to stumble over miles of cable snaking and sparking all over Mulholland Drive. Foreknowledge allows mental adjustment to the impending invasion. So thanks, film people. It’s just that I’m beginning to worry about what I should wear.
Among the promised diversions listed on the back of the notice were “camera on sticks” and “scissor lifts.”
Cameras on sticks? I can hardly wait!