Wednesday, February 17, 2010

That's Mister Sisyphus to You

The irony is not lost on me that I was on the treadmill when I got the call.  My casting director regretted to inform me that they had to table my project as they had just got in a feature that was shooting in five weeks and they were slammed.  I can't blame them.  A gig's a gig.  In this climate, no one can afford to pass on a job.  One that pays.  Mine doesn't. 

Back to square one.

I had to release my primary shooting location.  I had harassed the poor occupants ceaselessly until they relented and gave me permission to shoot there.  Now there was no way I'd be ready during the window we had selected.  Trying to make lemons out of lemonade, I decided that the push in schedule would give me more time to raise money, tighten the script, storyboard, cast, crew up, etc. etc.  But the next window that makes sense to shoot in seems to be summer, because pilot season will be over (greater talent availability,) the house will be available again, and my eleven year old lead won't be in school.  But summer is so fucking far away that it makes the whole thing feel utterly abstract and unreal.  And nobody knows what they're going to be doing six months from now, so how can anyone sign on to work on the project that far in advance?

On the bright side, a church in my neighborhood has agreed to let me shoot there.  I wrote them an impassioned letter, describing the project with, shall we say, certain omissions, and they thought it sounded like a good idea.  Of course I don't actually like the church in terms of a location.  It's ugly and nondescript.  But I figure if they went for it, maybe others will too.

Oh, and how come nobody returns a godamn email in this town?  You all have Blackberrys and iphones - I know you can hear me.

I feel utterly deflated.  The wind out of my sails.  Running in place and getting a cramp.

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