Snot Man
In 1991, to promote the movie The Rocketeer, the Oaks 10 had a contest. Patrons were invited to create their own superhero and make a short film. Entries would be judged by management and the winners received prizes. The grand prize was a skydiving trip for two. Riley was the assistant manager in charge of the promotion.
There was one problem. The deadline was approaching, and Riley only had one submission. He was desperate for the promotion to at least appear to be successful (bonus pay may have been on the line).
I still had my parents's Handycam, and the guys and I already made short films for fun in our spare time. Riley knew this and asked if I would enter the contest, even though I was an employee. Like I said, he was desperate.
I took some footage Burt, Dom and I had already shot (some of our random late-night craziness) gave it a bit of editing, and added some cheesy voiceover. The impromptu footage--showing Burt apparently stopping a moving car with his bare hands--became the superhero film Average Man. The name Average Man seemed to fit the fact that our hero (Burt) wore street clothes instead of a costume. The editing was rough, the footage dark and shaky, but I entered it.
Another guy I worked with, Roc (his name was Rob but a misprint on his name tag kind of stuck), wanted to make an entry called Snot Man, about a superhero who has amazing sinus abilities. It was silly and fun, and I agreed to help him. I starred as the bad guy, Jack Weasel, donning a jester's hat and some goofy bat glasses we'd found in an empty movie theater. Riley even helped us. We shot the whole thing in one night. I think about 5 or 6 theater people were involved in some way. The climax of the 4-minute film had Snot Man snotting on me (to the death) in a post office parking lot. The snot was a random mixture of salad dressing and other condiments.
Despite the graphic death-by-bodily-fluids of Snot Man, it only finished in third place (out of three entries, i.e. last place). I blame the editing, which was so horrible it was practically unwatchable. In 1991, no one had editing equipment, and digital editing on a computer was still close to 10 years away. Hell, I didn't even own a computer yet. So I had to edit the primitive way: with one VCR playing and a second VCR manually recording and pausing as needed. It was crude as hell, and the finished product looked it.
The one legitimate entry (it was pretty bad too) won second place. And Average Man won the grand prize! Riley never got around to hooking us up with the skydiving trip though. Major letdown.
Snot Man 2
Average Man disappeared into the mists of obscurity, but Snot Man became legendary. Everyone at the theater knew about it, and if anyone hadn't seen it, they wanted to. All Average Man did was stop a car with his hands. Snot Man killed the bad guy with his snot! Rumor always makes things better than they actually are, right? Soon, I decided to make a proper sequel. Unlike the make-it-up-as-we-go technique, I actually planned out a story using various locations around Gainesville. I maintained some of the bits from the original (as per the official crappy sequel formula) such as a work-out scene, and a climactic snotting.
Snot Man 2, with Roc as Snot Man and me as Jack Weasel, was also filmed in one night. To avoid the crappy post-editing, I edited mostly in-camera (that is, I'd start shooting exactly where I wanted the shot to begin, and if we messed up, I'd back the tape up to the same spot and do it over. Tedious, but it produced a much cleaner final product).
Part of Snot Man 2 was filmed in my parents' apartment (they were living in Gainesville too). We shot those scenes in the middle of the night, and we couldn't be too loud for fear of waking my parents up. So even though it's the big climactic fight scene, we never really raise our voices. Comical.
After a bit of post-production (mainly sound related) we scheduled a party just to premiere the 18-minute long Snot Man 2. It was a good excuse to have a party (by this time, Dom and I were sharing an off-campus apartment). I suppose getting people together to drink alcohol and watch the latest Snot Man movie helped cement the love of these movies in the hearts of dozens of Oaks 10 employees.
That fall, I shot a 20-minute horror film (starring Dom and Karla) for a Halloween party. It's hard to make a scary movie (much easier to make something funny) without coming across as cliched or cheesy. But I think I almost pulled it off with Death and Redemption, about as well as a 19-year-old with crappy equipment can.
Snot Man 2 had intentionally ended as a bit of a cliffhanger, so towards the end of 1991, the calls to complete the trilogy were growing strong. I started writing Snot Man 3 after Halloween for an intended premiere at a Christmas party (or New Year's party...can't remember). As the script got more and more ambitious, I knew I wasn't going to be done in time. I would have had full-fledged revolt if I didn't have something, so I made a 3-minute trailer for Snot Man 3. Just a teaser, really, with the revelation that there would be a new bad guy (I wanted to write my character out so I could concentrate on shooting and directing).
Snot Man 3
In early 1992, I had a completed script for my epic masterpiece Snot Man 3. I didn't know how long it was going to be, but I knew it was longer than the first two combined. The script was a shooting script. That is, I had each shot described. Like a written storyboard. Not sure why I didn't actually storyboard it out. Too lazy, I guess.
Filming was complicated for a number of reasons. The cast was all theatre employees, most of which were also college students. So finding times when the actors were free was tricky. The locations included the mall parking lot, suburban neighborhood streets, the North Florida Regional Hospital duck pond, various apartments, a parking garages, and a few locations on the UF campus. The bulk of the third act was shot at night, so finding locations with decent nighttime lighting was also a challenge. I did it all with the Handycam, editing in camera.
Dom turned in an inspired performance as the new bad guy, Twisted Larry. His death-by-snot was as over-the-top as you'd expect. Of all the principle actors in Snot Man 3, the one I've lost touch with is the main star, Roc, who played Snot Man. I have no idea where he is today. I need to look him up on Facebook.
The final product took about 4 months to complete and came in a little over an hour long. The Snot Man 3 premiere party was one for the ages. The movie was so popular among the theatre employees that our general manager, Chuck Dewitt, knew about it and wanted to see it. AMC had a rule that managers were not supposed to fraternize with employees, and I had at least 2 managers with acting roles in Snot Man 3 (and several more who eventually became managers). So I refused to let him see the movie. He eventually sweetened the deal by offering me a birthday package at Aladdin's Castle (an arcade across from the theatre in the mall). A birthday package at Aladdin's Castle consisted of (if I remember correctly) cake, balloons, and game tokens for 8 people or so. I took it. I let him watch Snot Man 3 for cake and game tokens. I suppose you could say that was my pay for making the movie. His only comment after watching it was "pretty good." As far as I know, no managers received any discipline for fraternizing.
Post-Snot Man
I met my future wife about 2 months after Snot Man 3 premiered, and for the next few years I devoted my energy and time to building that relationship, graduating from college, and planning a post-college life, which involved grad school. So the moviemaking took a backseat. My experiences making little movies with my friends, combined with what I learned in Journalism school, would come full circle years later when I taught TV production at GHS.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
My Movie History - Part 4: College
My Weekend Education
When I went to college, I was craving knowledge: cinematic knowledge! While I was well-versed in the Spielberg-Lucas oeuvre and the cheap slasher-flick canon, I was really a cinematic novice. My thirst for a wider experience was partially instigated by an issue of Premiere magazine I bought in 1989 or 1990 (the magazine was relatively new then). The issue was devoted to the top 100 films of all time, and I realized that while many of the titles sounded familiar, I hadn't actually seen very many of them. The write-ups for each one piqued my interest. They were brief and avoided boring summary. Things like "Dr. Strangelove: Stanley Kubrick has been ensconced in his English house for so many years it's easy to forget what a firm grasp he had on the American psyche when he made this black comedy." Kudos to that writer, since I still remember the gist of his words over twenty years later.
My first semester at UF, high school buddy Burton Meahl was my dorm roommate but spent most of his weekends back in Inverness, Steve had moved back to Scotland, Dominick was mostly working at Red Lobster in Ocala and still living at home (I think), and Damian was at UCF in Orlando. Since UF was so big, and I've never been that adept on the social scene, I spent many weekends alone in my dorm room. So one of the first things I did was buy a VCR.
In 1990, Gainesville had a music and movie store called Spec's that rented VHS tapes. They had a large "classics" section. Having whole weekends to watch whatever I wanted, with no one else's tastes or opinions to consider in the selection of movies, allowed me to stock up on films that would, to most 18-year-olds, seem like lame, boring choices. I spent many weekends ensconced (like Kubrick in his English house) in my dark dorm room, watching Citizen Kane, The Godfather, Taxi Driver, Chinatown, Dr. Strangelove, The Birds, Raging Bull, Touch of Evil, Rope,... pretty much every Kubrick, Hitchcock, and Scorsese movie I could get my hands on. Instead of going to Gator football games on Saturdays, I was eating corn flakes with George Roy Hill and tuna melts with Orson Welles. It was bliss.
I'll always have fond memories of those weekends alone in the dorm room, watching so many great films for the first time. That was as much a part of my education as the classes that I went to during the week.
By the time Spring semester came around, three things happened that changed my weekend habits. First, Dom moved to Gainesville, as did Burt's girlfriend. Dom was much more available to hang out with, and Burt was in the dorm a lot more often on the weekends. Second, I took a class called "Writing About Film." After my semester-long film gorge, I felt much more competent, but the class still opened me up to directors I hadn't yet gotten to, like Zeffirelli and Kurosawa and Jacques Tati. Thirdly, I got another job at a movie theatre, this time at AMC in the Oaks Mall. Not only would this broaden my choices for seeing current movies, it would also give me the social network I lacked during the fall. Suddenly, I had people to hang out with, and they all loved movies as much as I did.
One more memory about that film class. The professor showed most of his films on a 16mm film projector rather than a VCR. During the first week of class, he asked for a volunteer to thread up the projector each week. I told him I had worked as a projectionist in a movie theatre back home. I got the job.
That class was one of the best classes I ever took. Unfortunately, I got a B+, only because I skipped one of the film viewings. Steve was visiting from Scotland, and besides, I'd already seen the film. But missing a viewing dropped your grade one letter grade. Oh well.
Laserdiscs
During that first year of college, I had educated myself about aspect ratio and mise en scene, enough to a) know that you lost a lot of the picture when you watched a movie on your TV and b) to care. There was a new format of home video just becoming popular that appealed to cinephiles like myself: laserdisc.
Even before everybody's TV was widescreen, most laserdiscs were released widescreen, and the audio and visual quality was far better than VHS or Beta. I saved up my money and got a laserdisc player in early 1991. My friend Damian worked at a Service Merchandise in Orlando. I gave him the money to buy my laserdisc player with his employee discount. It was a basic, no-frills model. Pioneer. I think I paid $325 for it.
The first laserdiscs I bought were the Star Wars trilogy. I got them through a mail-order movie/music service called Columbia House for something like 49 cents each (with an obligation to buy 3 more in the next year...you probably know the drill). Dom, Steve, and I (Steve was visiting from Scotland) inaugurated my laserdisc player by watching all 3 Star Wars movies, in succession, together. It was the first time any of us had seen the Star Wars movies widescreen since seeing them in the theater.
Over the next 5 or 6 years, I amassed a laserdisc collection of about 100 movies. When DVD came out in the late 90's, I knew laserdiscs' time was up. Luckily, I sold almost all my laserdiscs on eBay before DVD became fully entrenched. I got pretty good prices for them too. Definitely broke even. In 2003 or so, I finally sold my laserdisc player (still working fine) to one of my students. For sentimental reasons, I kept the Star Wars trilogy, an REM concert that Steve and Dom had bought me for my birthday, and a Paul McCartney concert film.
The Perfect College Job
Wanted: a young person who can stay up late, occasionally work hard with plenty of slow times where he can surreptitiously study, and get paid slightly more than minimum wage. Perks: free movies, popcorn, and soda. What college student wouldn't want that job?
Unlike my theater job in Inverness, I was now working with college students. A whole new ball game. It didn't take long before I had a big group of friends who I spent most of my free time with. Many of these people I'm still friends with today.
Within my first month working at the AMC Oaks 10, I asked a girl from my film class, Laura, to see Silence of the Lambs with me. It was the first time I'd asked a college girl out since being in college. Ten years later, Laura would work at GHS at the same time I did. Yep, Gainesville is a small town.
The summer of 1991 was glorious. Dom started working at the Oaks as well, and we spent most of the summer with Tesa and Karla, two of our co-workers. It was all platonic, but we'd work together, and spend many an evening together at someone's house, watching movies, cooking, and sleeping. College life at its best.
At some point, Burt also got a job at the Oaks, and when Steve came to visit in the summer of 92, we had enough pull with some of the managers to get him hired just for the summer. For the first (and probably last) time ever, Dom, Steve, Burt, and I worked at the same place.
I kept that job until the birth of Sofia in 1996 (my notice of resignation was for 4/30/96: Sofia's due date), though by then I was only working an occasional shift, mostly to retain free movie privileges. It was awkward to work there while student-teaching at P.K. Yonge, where invariably I would find myself selling popcorn to one of my students. I never got into management, like Burt did. Although when I neared graduation in 94 and wasn't sure what I wanted to do, I considered going the management route. But booth supervisor and then Senior Staff (which was the step right below part-time manager) was as far as I went with AMC. It was a good run, but I'm glad my life took a different turn.
I admit, though, that I occasionally miss working in a movie theatre. I still feel nostalgic when I see the projectors through the windows, or even when I see the ushers standing at the back, waiting to clean up, as the end credits roll.
When I went to college, I was craving knowledge: cinematic knowledge! While I was well-versed in the Spielberg-Lucas oeuvre and the cheap slasher-flick canon, I was really a cinematic novice. My thirst for a wider experience was partially instigated by an issue of Premiere magazine I bought in 1989 or 1990 (the magazine was relatively new then). The issue was devoted to the top 100 films of all time, and I realized that while many of the titles sounded familiar, I hadn't actually seen very many of them. The write-ups for each one piqued my interest. They were brief and avoided boring summary. Things like "Dr. Strangelove: Stanley Kubrick has been ensconced in his English house for so many years it's easy to forget what a firm grasp he had on the American psyche when he made this black comedy." Kudos to that writer, since I still remember the gist of his words over twenty years later.
My first semester at UF, high school buddy Burton Meahl was my dorm roommate but spent most of his weekends back in Inverness, Steve had moved back to Scotland, Dominick was mostly working at Red Lobster in Ocala and still living at home (I think), and Damian was at UCF in Orlando. Since UF was so big, and I've never been that adept on the social scene, I spent many weekends alone in my dorm room. So one of the first things I did was buy a VCR.
In 1990, Gainesville had a music and movie store called Spec's that rented VHS tapes. They had a large "classics" section. Having whole weekends to watch whatever I wanted, with no one else's tastes or opinions to consider in the selection of movies, allowed me to stock up on films that would, to most 18-year-olds, seem like lame, boring choices. I spent many weekends ensconced (like Kubrick in his English house) in my dark dorm room, watching Citizen Kane, The Godfather, Taxi Driver, Chinatown, Dr. Strangelove, The Birds, Raging Bull, Touch of Evil, Rope,... pretty much every Kubrick, Hitchcock, and Scorsese movie I could get my hands on. Instead of going to Gator football games on Saturdays, I was eating corn flakes with George Roy Hill and tuna melts with Orson Welles. It was bliss.
I'll always have fond memories of those weekends alone in the dorm room, watching so many great films for the first time. That was as much a part of my education as the classes that I went to during the week.
By the time Spring semester came around, three things happened that changed my weekend habits. First, Dom moved to Gainesville, as did Burt's girlfriend. Dom was much more available to hang out with, and Burt was in the dorm a lot more often on the weekends. Second, I took a class called "Writing About Film." After my semester-long film gorge, I felt much more competent, but the class still opened me up to directors I hadn't yet gotten to, like Zeffirelli and Kurosawa and Jacques Tati. Thirdly, I got another job at a movie theatre, this time at AMC in the Oaks Mall. Not only would this broaden my choices for seeing current movies, it would also give me the social network I lacked during the fall. Suddenly, I had people to hang out with, and they all loved movies as much as I did.
One more memory about that film class. The professor showed most of his films on a 16mm film projector rather than a VCR. During the first week of class, he asked for a volunteer to thread up the projector each week. I told him I had worked as a projectionist in a movie theatre back home. I got the job.
That class was one of the best classes I ever took. Unfortunately, I got a B+, only because I skipped one of the film viewings. Steve was visiting from Scotland, and besides, I'd already seen the film. But missing a viewing dropped your grade one letter grade. Oh well.
Laserdiscs
During that first year of college, I had educated myself about aspect ratio and mise en scene, enough to a) know that you lost a lot of the picture when you watched a movie on your TV and b) to care. There was a new format of home video just becoming popular that appealed to cinephiles like myself: laserdisc.
Even before everybody's TV was widescreen, most laserdiscs were released widescreen, and the audio and visual quality was far better than VHS or Beta. I saved up my money and got a laserdisc player in early 1991. My friend Damian worked at a Service Merchandise in Orlando. I gave him the money to buy my laserdisc player with his employee discount. It was a basic, no-frills model. Pioneer. I think I paid $325 for it.
The first laserdiscs I bought were the Star Wars trilogy. I got them through a mail-order movie/music service called Columbia House for something like 49 cents each (with an obligation to buy 3 more in the next year...you probably know the drill). Dom, Steve, and I (Steve was visiting from Scotland) inaugurated my laserdisc player by watching all 3 Star Wars movies, in succession, together. It was the first time any of us had seen the Star Wars movies widescreen since seeing them in the theater.
Over the next 5 or 6 years, I amassed a laserdisc collection of about 100 movies. When DVD came out in the late 90's, I knew laserdiscs' time was up. Luckily, I sold almost all my laserdiscs on eBay before DVD became fully entrenched. I got pretty good prices for them too. Definitely broke even. In 2003 or so, I finally sold my laserdisc player (still working fine) to one of my students. For sentimental reasons, I kept the Star Wars trilogy, an REM concert that Steve and Dom had bought me for my birthday, and a Paul McCartney concert film.
The Perfect College Job
Wanted: a young person who can stay up late, occasionally work hard with plenty of slow times where he can surreptitiously study, and get paid slightly more than minimum wage. Perks: free movies, popcorn, and soda. What college student wouldn't want that job?
Unlike my theater job in Inverness, I was now working with college students. A whole new ball game. It didn't take long before I had a big group of friends who I spent most of my free time with. Many of these people I'm still friends with today.
Within my first month working at the AMC Oaks 10, I asked a girl from my film class, Laura, to see Silence of the Lambs with me. It was the first time I'd asked a college girl out since being in college. Ten years later, Laura would work at GHS at the same time I did. Yep, Gainesville is a small town.
The summer of 1991 was glorious. Dom started working at the Oaks as well, and we spent most of the summer with Tesa and Karla, two of our co-workers. It was all platonic, but we'd work together, and spend many an evening together at someone's house, watching movies, cooking, and sleeping. College life at its best.
At some point, Burt also got a job at the Oaks, and when Steve came to visit in the summer of 92, we had enough pull with some of the managers to get him hired just for the summer. For the first (and probably last) time ever, Dom, Steve, Burt, and I worked at the same place.
I kept that job until the birth of Sofia in 1996 (my notice of resignation was for 4/30/96: Sofia's due date), though by then I was only working an occasional shift, mostly to retain free movie privileges. It was awkward to work there while student-teaching at P.K. Yonge, where invariably I would find myself selling popcorn to one of my students. I never got into management, like Burt did. Although when I neared graduation in 94 and wasn't sure what I wanted to do, I considered going the management route. But booth supervisor and then Senior Staff (which was the step right below part-time manager) was as far as I went with AMC. It was a good run, but I'm glad my life took a different turn.
I admit, though, that I occasionally miss working in a movie theatre. I still feel nostalgic when I see the projectors through the windows, or even when I see the ushers standing at the back, waiting to clean up, as the end credits roll.
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