A freaking chore to get to your damn city
by Kyle Allatt
Ugh. On the bus. Finally on the bus.
This was a bit more of a hassle than I’d originally planned. It all started some two months ago when I got booked to play a small role in the new Jean-Pierre Jeunet movie coming out next year. My first thought was “He’s the guy that did that Amelie flick, right? Then Shit Yeah, I’m in.” The first problem occurred when I got my shooting date of July 2nd. I didn’t see this as a big deal until my producer pointed out that this was the same day as our Tech run in Toronto. Being that cloning technology has not yet been perfected (as least not in this country, Botswana has that shit locked up tight) I was stuck, the situation was that neither me nor any reasonable (or indeed even unreasonable) facsimiles of myself would be present for our technical run. Thankfully I have a rather tech light show. Lights on, Lights off and a sound cue or two. So my idea was that my producer could go ahead to Toronto before me and run everything herself. While indeed she agreed with me that this would be no problem and didn’t even bat an eyelash, no conflict makes for a poor story. So let’s pretend that the following conversation took place:
Me: “I have simultaneously good and bad news. I have been given a golden opportunity to feature in the new Jean-Pierre Jeunet film, my favourite director. This once in a lifetime chance is however complicated by the fact that I will be unable to attend our tech run in Toronto. Could you by any chance run things yourself? I will be ever so grateful for your help in this manner.”
Danielle, my producer: (Through clenched teeth, and in between sips of Jack straight from the bottle) “You god**mn motherf**king piece of s**t actors. Always trying to squeeze every last drop of blood out of us producers. I swear to Christ I will sh*t on your grave and make it my mission in life that you will never know love.”
Once again, I must stress that this conversation never took place. My producer is actually a rather sweet young woman whose only flaw is a somewhat disturbing obsession with Doctor Who and Benedict Cumberbatch. (Btw, there’s a great idea for the 12th Doctor. Call me BBC, let’s talk deals.) I also apologize for my fictional producer’s fictionally salty language.
So while things were still looking ok, as I was only scheduled for shooting one day (and therefore able to board a bus that evening) shit got complicated when, while on set and during the very first take there was a tremendous *CLANG* and everyone looked in horror to see the camera operator standing above the now shattered remains of the steadycam rig worth tens of thousands of dollars that just decided to disassemble itself in his hands. However this was nothing compared to everyone’s further panic upon seeing the 3D camera, worth HUNDREDS of thousands of dollars, that had fallen at the same time.
Needless to say, the shooting schedule was altered while an assistant prepared for a somewhat uncomfortable conversation with the insurance company. Now I was required to re-book my bus trip to the T-dot, which due to another assistant's confusion between the concepts of 12AM and 12PM, I was forced to do twice.
Well, three booked tickets and one ‘no cancellations after 24 hours’ policy later I am finally on a rather expensive bus to Toronto, with a full 22 and a half hours to spare before my first performance. Thank Buddah.
The No Bull$#!% History of Canada in Toronto next show: Friday July 6th @6:30, Venue #11 Theatre Passe Muraille Backspace, 16 Ryerson Avenue. If you’re around you should check it out. A real show by a real actor with real actor problems, like scheduling conflicts and travel snafus.
Until next time,
The House of Style