Day 7 - Tuesday, October 7

1PM

Tonight we start shooting at Club Castaway, and it almost feels like we're making two different movies. Last week we only had three scenes with extras, and much of the time the cast and crew totalled 5 or 6 people. This week, we have a dozen new cast members and three nights to shoot 30 pages in a strip club that is open for business. If last week was occasionally a battle, this week is a war.

But first, we have to finish the scenes we'd put off last week. The first two are pillow talk between Nikki and Alice - Jess and Bella are relaxed from the break, and they've settled comfortably into their roles. It's a pleasure to basically just try to stay out of the way and let the relationship they've created take over. The third scene, an argument between the characters, is pretty broad on the page - name-calling, objects thrown - and doesn't really match the tone of what we've shot so far. We have to push the scene further, make Nikki and Alice really hurt each other. The challenge for me isn't to provoke the emotions the scene needs, but to keep from pushing it too far. I have a tendency to be what people charitably call "sharp," to tell the truth a little too truthfully, which is great for my work and terrible for my social life. When I was directing plays, I consistently elicited the best possible work out of my actors, and they hated me the whole time. I was talking about this problem to Jess a few days earlier; she gave me permission to be mean if it would make the movie better. I hope to not make her regret her generosity.

We think of things for the characters to say to hurt each other. I tell Jess to accuse Nikki of "blowing dudes for money," knowing from my friends that nothing pisses a stripper off like being called a whore. Nikki comes back by attacking Alice's drug use and her looks, which prompts Alice to dump a glass of water on Nikki's head. Jess is having trouble with this part - she doesn't want to soak Bella, and she says she once left a guy for doing exactly this. Bella and I assure her that the use of food or drink is a common, even zesty way to put a stop to an argument. On the last take, she drenches Bella, and as I call cut, Jess mutters under her breath, "I'm not fat."

6PM

Since I first met with Jimmy, he's taken a special interest in the film. It was Jimmy who insisted on shooting during club hours, thinking it would help business. He's called me a few times a week to see if I've gotten notices in every local paper - he wants everyone to know there's a movie being made at Club Castaway. Except a few of the dancers didn't get the message, and as the cast gets ready in the dressing room, it becomes clear that they're not happy about it. Bella points out that she wouldn't be happy if someone was interrupting her work, and I get that. But I've also had fliers in the club specifying the dates since August, so there is a limit to my sympathies. Regardless, I'm facing a night of filming my fictional strippers while being yelled at by very real, very pissed-off strippers.

Before we start our first scene, I apologize to the dancers for the misunderstanding. I try to assure them that we'll stay out of their way as much as possible, but Jersey, a tall dirty blonde with Mick Jagger lips, cuts me off.

"So who's going to pay our shift?"

"Like I said, you'll be able to - "

"This is bullshit!" Jersey loudly tries to convince the others to walk. Black Light may have sparked a strippers' labor movement.

We grab a shot of Diamond, Nikki's friend (played by my friend and co-worker Sasha Feliciano) dancing before moving onto a scene at the bar between Dusty (Danielle Raimer, who works with Sasha and me), the owner of the club, and Bill (Gershon Eigner, recently seen as the doctor in Without You), a former flame of Dusty's. Danielle and Gershon are sweet together, which is particularly impressive since they have to act through the sounds of dancers trying to ruin our audio by moaning and yelling profanities offscreen. I try to explain between takes that they're only making it harder for us to get out of their way; they accuse me of having B.O. Fair enough - I've been running around all day - but my cast members are kind enough to assure me that mine is not the most pungent aroma in the club.

Jimmy seems intimidated by the dancers. After the bar scene, he pulls me aside.

"Hey Andy, why don't you just shoot in the back room?"

"Well, Jimmy, I can move some scenes to the smaller stage, but for others I really need the main stage. It's why I wanted to shoot here."

"Andy, when you came to my office, you told me you were going to use the small stage only!"

I bite my lip. "No, I don't think so." I walk away and ask Ray, the bouncer, "Is there anything we can do to talk to them?"

Ray shakes his head. "Jimmy fucked up. These girls are ready to leave."

"It's ironic, you know, because the movie's actually really empathetic towards strippers."

"Well," Ray says with a big, fraternal laugh, "Maybe if you'd hung out here longer, your script would be different."

Nooo! I think to myself. I will not become a misogynist douche! And suddenly, it makes perfect sense why the strippers want us out. I cross the room to Jersey.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

Jersey looks at me suspiciously. "Are you guys getting out of here or not?"

"No. We made these plans months ago, and I'm sorry Jimmy didn't tell you, but it's not our fault. I get why you don't want us around, but we're not a porno and we're not going to take pictures of you without your permission. You'll know where we are at all times, and we'll do everything we can to stay out of your way."

Jersey sighs. "I'm just trying to make a living, man."

"So am I."

"Alright, just stay out of our way."

"Of course."

Later I find out that Jersey's a theatre major who tells anyone who will listen that movies aren't art. This makes her my sworn enemy, but dammit if I don't respect her.

The rest of the night proves to be worth the trouble - though most of the actors have never danced before, being in the club loosens them up. The bar helps too, of course; during one scene the characters pass a bottle of Scotch around, and the actors declined to have the bottle's contents replaced with juice. Sasha, in particular, is hitting the bottle hard, and it's amusing to watch her get more, um, comfortable with her role on each take. And it's a surreal feeling to watch Nikki put on her blue wig for the first time, or to watch the danceers have an argument about blowjobs that I wrote a year ago. This is my happening, and it freaks me out.

We get a great shot of Michael (playing the Captain, the house DJ) gyrating at his booth, framed by Bella's legs in the foreground, before we move into a montage of dancers hitting up customers. It's fun to sit an actress like Alicia Thibault, an MCLA student playing Pinky, next do one of our "customers," a burly retired Marine named Fred who is old enough to be her dad (really nice guy, though) and watch her negotiate the situation. Najwa Rosdi, an actress originally from Malaysia who is playing Jade, has an easier time with her customer, played by a very polite, hard-working RI actor named Peter Hoey. Najwa has no trouble intimidating barking orders at Peter; later, when she shows me her previous movie, Christian Vampires From Beyond Suburbia (where she has romantic scenes with a garden gnome), it confirms my suspicion that her gretest strength as an actor is to dive headfirst into a role no matter how strange or ridiculous it requires her to be.

As the club's business slows down, we get a few scenes on the main stage. Najwa had recommended a RI punk band called The Sleazies, and she literally jumps for joy when I tell her Jade will be dancing to "I Wanna Fuck Your Mom." Pinky dances to the Blueberry High Heels song "Dice," and she attacks the pole with such ferocity that she nearly knocks herself out with one of her shoes. But my favorite soundtrack cue of the night is the Atomic Swindlers' "Diamond Dreamers" - with its Bowie-inspired guitar riffs and lyrics about space-age lesbian romance, it comes closest to the feeling of the '70s-heavy masterpiece of a mix CD I originally sent out with the script. I play it for Bella, who says, "Well, it isn't what I expected, but you're the director." Oh well. We get the scene - Alice meeting Nikki at the club for the first time - and, with some time left, we decide to put Jimmy in the scene. Jimmy had asked for a scene where "I tell the girls how to make a lot of money," so we have him mistake Alice for a dancer and hustle her. Before we start, Jess whispers to me, "I hate you." Thanks to her obvious discomfort, the scene is hilarious.

We wrap for the night soon after; our problems were solved tonight, but there will be different dancers working tomorrow, and I dread the thought of a repeat of tonight. The next morning, I play the footage, bracing myself for the worst. But it all plays fine; I'd forgotten that all that matters is what's in the frame, and the rest - the tension, the drama, the B.O. - is peripheral.