Big Stumps and Fat Stacks
Where IS everybody?
It had taken me a while to find the house, since it was tucked away down a very long drive on an impressive amount of acreage. This was the pre-smartphone era, where navigating to a location involved looking at a map, following directions, and looking for road signs and landmarks. But I had made it and I was ready to start filming.
Only… no one was around.
The house was a large antebellum structure; a wide front porch lined with massive white columns and a second floor balcony with white railing that overlooked the front yard. I rang the doorbell. I knocked. Nothing.
I was at the location on assignment as a camera operator for a reality show featuring a well-known country music artist. The job was to follow her and her family around for three days, filming an upcoming move and all of the day-to-day stresses. The premise of the show was like every other reality show of its kind: document the behind-the-scenes life of a famous person and all the drama and conflict that comes with it.
But it was obvious that this particular show was produced on the cheap. Maybe they once had some money behind it (who knows?), but by the time I was hired they must have been hanging on by a thread. How do I know? Because the entire crew for this shoot consisted of… me.
CAMERA - Me
DIRECTOR - Me
PRODUCER - Me
SOUND - Me
Seriously, it was like the closing credits to a Neil Breen movie.
I called the producer who hired me to fill him in on what was going on and he promised to make a call and get back to me. In the meantime, I walked up to an RV that was parked to the side of the house and decided to try knocking on that door.
After a moment or two I could actually hear movement coming from inside the RV. The vehicle rocked slightly back and forth as the individual inside stumbled toward the door. The clanging sounds also gave me a clue that this person wasn’t quite steady on his or her feet.
The door swung open and a woman with tussled hair stood looking down at me. She wore a robe and it was obvious I had just woken her up, which was a bit surprising since it was mid-afternoon. I began to wonder if these people actually knew they were part of a reality show, or if this was all some kind of Truman Show thing and I just blew my cover.
I explained who I was and why I was there. She said she was the country music star’s publicist and that the aforementioned celebrity had thrown her back out while packing up her house and was laid up in bed. She didn’t know if she would be up for any filming. We would just have to wait and see, she said.
So I unpacked my car and followed her as she escorted me into the house, past the stacks upon stacks of moving boxes, up the curving grand staircase, and to a bedroom off the hall. More boxes were piled up there too. A solitary mattress (sans box springs) sat in the middle of the floor. The faucet only ran cold water and it smelled of sulphur. The entire situation had a certain “Charles Manson squatters” vibe, and I had to spend three nights there. The producer didn’t even spring for a hotel.
The house was eerily quiet. It was if I was completely alone, yet at the same time I could feel that there were people there, behind all the closed doors throughout the house.
After settling in and unpacking some gear, I called the Producer back to give him an update.
“There’s nothing happening,” I said. “Just piles of moving boxes everywhere.”
“Okay, well, just film that. Show that there isn’t anything going on.”
Riiiiiight.
So, I commenced to capture what was, undoubtedly, the least interesting piece of footage I have ever captured in my entire career.
Shots of an empty house, both interior and exterior (because, you know, it’s important to give the editor variety).
Shots of moving boxes stacked in a corner.
Shots of moving boxes stacked in a hallway.
Stacks on stacks on stacks. It was riveting.
After quickly updating my commercial demo reel with the cinematic gold I just captured, I heard signs of life coming from somewhere outside. I grabbed the camera and made my way to the side of the house and into a nearby field where a family member was working on clearing a stump with the aid of a few extra hands and a tractor. So, without anything else to do, I shot that for a while. At least it was something.
My first day wrapped without much to show for it. I drove into town, got some fast food at a mall, then drove back to the house where I tried to settle in and get comfortable for the night.
That’s when I started hearing noises.*
*The second part of this story and the lessons learned in next week’s issue.