Last night of principal photography for Pray For Daylight: Hunter. Casa de Bruno, with a truck full of equipment. All re-shoots, but I'm glad we did them, as I was able to take a little more time and get some really freaking beautiful results.
Okay, I'm as tired of the next person of the blue-light-means-nighttime school of lighting, but really, how do you light darkness? I used a blue gel. Actually two, slightly offset to give a gradation of blue, and shot through a window at a low angle with some interesting window treatments to provide for some mottled shadows. For a fill light, we used a flashlight with a blue gel, bounced off of the wall. Mightily impressed with the pretty-pretty nature of the images, particularly with the cheapie camera.
Shooting until something like 3:30, with a final image of Rick in a true Fabio moment with candles and blood and the bare chest-- and his son at one point saying "Behold, the power of cheese", which cracked us up to no end. We also watched dailies, while Tony had a beer and proceeded to laugh himself into a state of near apoplexy.
Discovery: they make quarter-pound hot dogs which are so large as to be nearly inedible. No jokes, please, we heard all of them.
Rollicking, exhausting fun. Home at 4:30.
Saturday the 14th:
Up at 10:00. Later than we were supposed to be to be on the road for a picnic and the Wild Hunt. The Wild Hunt is an annual event hosted by our friends Darrel & Alicia over in Westbrook, MN. (AKA The Boonies). It's an event where we use the Atlatl, which is a prehistoric javelin-throwing device. Essentially, we are throwing spears at styrofoam critters with a competition for accuracy and such. It's really pretty damn difficult. The rest of the time was spent in picnic fashion, which was nice. Got to meet some new folks, and see Alicia's new baby.
Oh dear, the baby.
Barb spent time with a baby.
Barb wants a baby.
Barb wants a baby NOW.
Barb had me captive in the car for three and a half hours expressing her pressing need to have a baby. Despite my what-I-consider-to-be-logical arguments that we can't afford a baby and we are not responsible enough to handle a baby. Barb seems to think that I am merely terrified of being a father, and am trying to make excuses.
Apparently logic and reason are not apt reasons for considering whether or not to have a child. Okay, yes, I am terrified of being a father, and with good reason. Not exactly big on role models, ya know? And babies are really minions of the devil. Sure, they look all cute and helpless, but it's all a ruse. When you're not looking, they are secretly carrying out their plot to destroy your life.
I can get over the fear. But realistically, we can't afford to pay our outstanding debt right now. Adding a baby is not gonna help that. And we are really not responsible enough people to be parents.
Barb's response is that having a baby will make us more responsible.
And that just leaves me cold.
So she is (ahem) rather strongly encouraging me to talk to my friends who have whelped. Recent and perhaps not so recent fathers to talk about the daddification process.
See Rob run screaming.
Sunday, the 15th:
Decided to grill. First grilling of the season, so basic grill cleaning & maintenance.
First, the handle broke off. Doesn't bode well for the grill which is several years old and has been refurbished twice already.
The aluminum body of the grill is decaying now. The outside is covered with the white aluminum oxide crystals, so it needed a good brushing. And to do that, it basically has to come apart, so it's the unloading of the grill rocks, the cleaning of the grates, removal of the burner and so on. And in the process, discovering that the ignitor needs to be replaced.
Off to the hardware store, only to find that the "universal ignitor" repair kit doesn't fit my old grille. But aha! They have some small Stainless Steel pieces for model building, and for another 99 cents, I have a nice piece of stainless to form a new spark cage.
So a lot of wire-brushing, metalforming, drilling and epoxying later, I have a working grille. And several packages of chicken leg quarters.
Wors of advice. Remove the skin from the chicken before grilling. Apparently, chicken fat when melted and spread on lava rock is highly combustible. Talk about yer blackened chicken...
Barb rented some movies. Perhaps in some calming notion. One of the ones she rented was "Monster's Ball" (Halle Berry and Billy Bob Thornton). After watching it, I turned to Barb and said "I feel like I've been slowly hit by a truck".
It's a heavy movie. The performances are spectacular, the music is fantastic, the cinematography is stunning. Peter Boyle is the best I've ever seen him. The only bitch that I have is that the sound was not done for the DVD, and many of the dialogue passages are so quiet that it's hard to make out what they are saying. There are also some extra features that are well worth watching, including two commentary tracks that I am looking much forward to (one is the director and cinematographer). But alas, I had to go to bed.
Thus endeth the narrative. Shalom.