L.A. Stories: New Year’s Eve

This post is rated R for adult language, drug use, and vampire violence.  Parental guidance is suggested.

New Year’s Eve is always an iffy proposition. You want to be with your friends, you want the promise of memorable times. And you want to promise your friends memorable times. But there is always the chance that there may be little fun – or worse, boredom. Sitting around getting shitty on the couch with a bottle of Tott’s is not the best New Year’s Eve. The night should be memorable. This is the chance I was taking when trying to wrangle friends together for New Years. Out of the group of 12-some-odd friends, it ended up being myself and one another, who we shall call Duane for the sake of protecting the innocent. And here is how the night went:

8:00: I wait at home, dressed and ready to go. Duane and I decided that we should get to the party early so that if it blows ass we can punt on first down and find fun elsewhere. Destination is Pasadena, a good 35-45 minute hike on a good day. So, this place better be bumpin. I’m sacrificing an evening with some of my best friends, for a potential dud of a house party. But like I said before, therein lies the risk.

8:23: Duane arrives, finally ready to go. I question his promptness, which he retorts with some lame answer about being overworked and needs rest or some shit.

8:25: My roommate, John, announces his plans to go to Redondo Beach for something or another. Duane and I decide he’s gay for not joining us. We roll.

8:40: On the 10, heading East and onto the 110 interchange which goes right by the Staples Center, which is lit up by a billion spotlights, with tents around the main center, and a Ferris Wheel. Thats right, a fuckin Ferris Wheel.

8:41: I question Duane’s choice of parties and say we should have gone to the Ferris Wheel party. He says that the 18-year old model he is dating is going to be there and thought it would be weird to hang out with other 18-year olds. I question this logic.

8:42: I longingly watch the Ferris Wheel disappear behind the buildings of downtown LA as we bend around toward Pasadena.

9:03: We take the Arroyo Grande exit into Pasadena, and Duane realizes he fucked up and took the wrong exit, blathering some excuse about working in Pasadena and this is the way that he would normally take. He gets on his cell phone and calls for directions. I grunt in disapproval.

9:10: I look out the window, prompted by the sound of people yelling and horns blowing. Not car horns, but cheap, plastic, colorful horns that are sold at cheap, plastic stores like WalMart to cheap, plastic people. Outside, there are thousands…and when I say thousands, I mean THOUSANDS, of people on the sidewalks of Pasadena. My mind is a flurry of neural activity. Pasadena..click…New Years Eve…click click…New Years Day…clack click…Pasadena + New Years Day = Rose Bowl…clackety clack ching…Rose Bowl = Rose Bowl Parade … KA-CHING!! You have got to be kidding me. I look closer. Chairs are set up five deep on the sidewalk. Sleeping bags and inflatable mattresses puncuate the chaos. People huddle around fires with fingerless gloves keeping themselves warm. I look down the straightaway that is Colorado Blvd. Blinking yellow lights converge in perspective into one, blinking yellow mass. Miles ahead of us. Miles of people. Miles of lunatics who wish to spend the night in the cold…for a parade. I didn’t see the point of parades when I was little, when my parents forced my brother and I to go. I never grew to get the point or the attraction. And this scene from Escape from New York solidified my belief that I do not want to ever go to a parade again…I may not even watch one on TV.

9:17: WHACK!! Something hits the side of the car. Duane jumps slightly, as much as Duane will respond emotionally to a situation, which is usually not at all. Neither of us have any idea what is was.

9:18: WHACK! WHACK! A wad of wet toilet paper smacks into the windshield. The cast of Lord of the Flies point and laugh. I grab the door handle to get out to grab one of the beasts to use his body as a squeegee to clean off the window. I pause. Think. Contemplate. I am not one of the tribe. I am one man against a million insane, rabid Rose Bowl Parade fanatics. They would be unpredictable at best. Cannabilistic at worst. I have images of the crowd swarming around the Land Rover like rancid lake water, flipping it into the roof, and igniting it with makeshift torches from one of their bonfires.

9:32: We want to get off this road. Now! We have arrived at the RV area. Gas stations and restaurants have been made into parking lot C at NASCAR. Campers and Motor Homes are packed in together with barely enough room for the owners to slide their fat-pseudo-camping asses out of their luxury RVs to adjust their DirectTV so they don’t miss a minute of American Idol or Dick Clark’s animatronic doppelganger countdown to midnight for every time zone in the world.

9:45: We turn off Colorado after running the gauntlet for nearly an hour. Duane and I are both alive. The Land Rover is plastered with toiler paper and shaving cream. We park on the street without much worry that people will continue to vandalize the already vandalized SUV. At best, they’ll have pity.

9:48: We enter the party with our contribution beer. I survey the partygoers. 10-12 people. Not bad for ten minutes to ten. Fair mixture of guys and dolls.

9:50: Start to meet people. My brain stores everyone’s name for future reference. Begin to file by “hot”, “taken”, “cool”, and “douche”

9:51: I introduce myself to a moderately attractive blonde with a gemmed tiara that has a blinking colored light in it. This is Tracy. I introduce myself as Todd (which I have a habit of doing). She opens her eyes wide. “My brother’s name is Todd!” I open my eyes wide in kind “My brothers name is Tracy!” She pushes me hard in the shoulder, “SHUT UP! You’re lying. Really?” I convince her that I would never lie to her, which she believes. We’ve bonded.

9:58: A hot redhead, Erin, wearing a paper tiara explains to Duane and I that she made the Cheese and Sausage that is prominently displayed on clear plastic servingware. I tell her that I am extremely impressed that she makes her own cheese and sausage and ask her how that process works. I had never done it before and wished to know. She clarifies that she cut it and presented it – but she still appreciated my humor. I compliment her on her cheese and sausage cutting abilities, even though it was erratically sliced with no sense of consistency or creativity.

9:59: A dude, Christian, grabs a slice of sausage and states loudly, “Why the fuck is this sausage sliced so fucking thick?”

10:08: Duane comes up and tells me that Erin asked him for a Vodka Cranberry with Spritzer. I nod in acknowledgment…”OK”. Duane asks “What the fuck is a spritzer?” I make an educated guess that its some kind of carbonated beverage – seltzer, Sprite, Pierre. He evidentally has no confidence in my answer because he turns to Lindsay, a short, jovial young lady with a nice laugh. She confirms my answer.

10:10: Duane scurries around the kitchen looking for “spritzer”. I find a Black Cherry Fresca, which will have to suffice. At least its clear and carbonated. I decide that’s going to be my drink – Vodka and Fresca. I already feel closer to the people waiting out on the sidewalk for tacky floats to pass by.

10:15: A burly and slovenly dressed guy with a long forehead and a half empty bottle of Jager stumbles in and demands that I take a shot. I find out that this is Israel. I opt to not make any Palestinian references. I decline the shot.

10:18: In order to avoid further drunken chatting with Israel, I walk out to the patio where people linger and contribute to their eventual lung cancer. Suddenly violent chattering emerges from the trees across the cul-de-sac. Everyone turns with curiosity with lots of intelligent questions like “What the hell was that?” I explain that they are mating Spider Monkeys. One guy, Greg, feels that I’m serious and is determined to convince me that Pasadena is not the natural habitat for Spider Monkeys.

10:30: A conversation begins with Chad, who will appear later in our story, and Faith, a short brunette who has pounds on her that she seems like she is not used to carrying. The topic is Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Chad performed on stage in it. My family raised me on musical theater, so I’m familiar with it. And Faith just had a child…but is also a fan of musicals. I find that she likes to interject that she “recently had a child” at random places in the conversation.

10:58: Tracy passes out stickers with W.T.B.K. on it, which I came to find out meant “Wants To Be Kissed.” I support this plan as it provides an indication for those who would be safe to plant a kiss and not suffer violent repercussions from boyfriends and husbands. Or on the flipside, girlfriends and wives.

11:20: Faith finds me again and proceeds to enlighten me more about her child, and that SpiderMonkey Greg is the father of said child, but who, in fact, is not her husband. I wonder if this is supposed to be the “all-clear” message, and that I’m cleared for landing. Mind you, I’m still in a pattern and not prepared to land on anyone’s runway. She explains that she was a cheerleader in high school, and so this weight is not normally there (ah! Explanation). I tell her that I can still see the cheerleader in her. She glows and proclaims her love for me.

11:26: Faith pulls me into one of the bedrooms where there is a picture of her as a cheerleader with Not-Redhead Erin, the owner of the house and thrower of the party. Many others are in the bedroom chitchatting, so I feel safe that I won’t be molested. We look at her picture.

11:27: I feel a firm grip on my neck, and I’m pulled backwards. I turn and Israel is standing there, his hand still around the nape of my neck. “That’s my sister”, Israel proclaims, “Mi Familia” At the time I couldn’t recall if that was Hispanic or Italian. Either way, it’s a threat. I mention that I don’t see a resemblance. He seems not to understand, repeats “Mi Familia”, steps back and thumps his chest. I conclude that this may happen frequently given that Faith already had one fatherless child with SpiderMonkey Greg.  I guess the W.T.B.K. label doesn’t protect against neandrathalic brothers who have obviously grown up without a mother because their Oedipal instincts have been refocused on their sister.

11:30: Angry at this display of unnecessary AlphaMale-ism, I decide to distract myself by injecting myself into a conversation with Duane and a young, beautiful girl named Noelle, whose name is about as appropriate a name as I can think of for her. When you look at her, its like Christmas morning. Duane seems like he’s doing well. I dismiss myself, so that he may do better.

11:37: Meet Brittany and LuLu. If I rolled my eyes back any further when hearing the name LuLu, I could check my pituitary for tumors. They wear matching what looked like soft cotton potato sacks. So their bodies are a non-descript lump with arms and legs sticking out. Brittany is nice and bouncy and just became available – as indicated by her W.T.B.K sticker. LuLu was the designated cockblock. They spend much of the night in the bathroom. This is because anytime a guy would approach Brittany, it was time for LuLu to go to the bathroom. It was either that, or they snorted a lot of blow. I choose not to put in the effort, I could see from the get go that any move would prove otiose.

11:42: Chad, Linsday and two others, Ian (brother of Redhead Erin) and Derek. Suddenly, Chad starts dancing, which he seems quite good at and totally enjoys. It’s so sudden, that it’s like switch was thrown. I equated him to a late model G.I.Joe that you’d press on his back and he’d throw punches. But this was G.I. Chad – who actually sounds like he would be part of the Don’t Ask-Don’t Tell Platoon. Others seem to think that’s funny. They’re drunk though. Chad stops dancing, then asks me to throw his switch – which I mime doing. He starts to dance. Everyone laughs. I’m funny – or he’s funny – or we’re funny. Regardless, I’m gonna take some credit.

11:59:45: Everyone counts down to Midnight. I take a place closest to RedHead Erin who likes to hold stares with me without comment and wears a W.T.B.K. sticker. She might as well have being flagging “fuck me” in semaphore.

11:59:50: People chant “Ten!”

11:59:55: Erin and I watch the clock tick down on my iPod – still chanting.

12:00:00: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I tell Erin to kiss me. She does. People commence drinking.

12:38 I survey the crowd of drunken individuals. Faith sits on a small ottoman. She looks up at me and pats the open space next to her. I pause. Shrug my shoulders, and walk over to sit next to her. The moment I sit, Israel, from out of nowhere, takes her hand and leads her away. I have no idea I pose this kind of threat.

12:42 Brittany sits in a papasan next to me, she turns and we begin to chat. Lulu informs Brittany that she needs to go to the bathroom and leads her off…are you kidding me?

12:45 I stand and go to talk to a group of dudes including SpiderMonkey Greg, who doesn’t seem to have a problem with me talking to the mother of his child.

1:45: SMASH! The sliding glass door shatters. Everyone turns and gasps. Not-Redhead Erin’s mouth is agape. Israel stands there, rubbing the forehead that was just used as a battering ram. There is Karma after all. I smile that douchebaggery has not prevailed.

1:46: Christian the Sausage Critic proclaims that the party is over and that everyone needs to leave. People funnel out the door. I’m wondering where he got the authority to disban the party.  Evidentally, cheese and saugage are not his only specialty. Duane and I concede to going home. Chad and Lindsay cathc us and tell us to go with them. We ask where. They say downtown, “it’ll be fun.”

1:50: Chad stumbles toward his car fumbling with his keys. Linsday grabs him, telling him that he’s too drunk. Duane suggests that I drive because I have imbibed the least – which was true. My last Vodka and Fresca has been hours ago. Chad agrees.

2:05: We drive on the 210 headed for the 134. We had circumvented the army of misfit toys waiting for the parade and are headed downtown. Where? I don’t know, and all three of my navigators are hammered.

2:20: Chad’s on his phone. “Yeah? Still going on? Can you get us in? Me, Linds, Duane, and Todd. Nah, they’re cool. Yeah. How much? Can you do it for 40? Sweet!” He closes his phone. We’re good. I inquire what we’re doing. He claims that it will be fun. I don’t have a rebuttal.

2:35: Lost in downtown Los Angeles. Not necessarily a good place to be lost in driving a toilet-paper encrusted Land Rover at 2:35 am on New Years Eve.

2:50: We pull up to a parking structure. People mill about dressed as if there is a masquerade ball somwhere nearby.

2:53: We park for $10. Lindsay and Duane hang back on the sidewalk. I follow Chad as he stumbles across the street to the ATM, which is a freestanding box in the middle of the sidewalk. No bank. No storefront. Its like a mailbox that gives you money. Chad leans on it heavily for balance as he pulls 20s and stuffs them in his pockets.

2:59: Money in hand, we cross the street to meet up with Duane and Lindsay who are climbing into a non-descript white van along with many other people. We climb in and take a seat. Behind me is a gorgeous woman looking like she stepped out of Dr. Zhivago with a fur cap, matching coat, and boots, with a skin tight leotard. She demands that I share her Vodka with her, which is in a plastic athletic water bottle with a straw. Always a sucker for a beautiful Russian-looking woman in fur and skin-tight leotard, I gladly accommodate. She is right. It’s vodka. And that’s all it is. I smile and return it. She hugs me. I turn to Chad and mention that she just got off the lift. He tells me to be cool and not trip. I was cool and not tripping, but chose not to argue facts.

3:10: The non-descript van pulls up to a non-descript alley. We get out with our new group of very descript friends. We get into a short line waiting to go through a non-descript door.

3:22: We walk through the door into sensory overload. The first room people are dancing to music so loud you don’t hear it so much as feel it. The bars are still serving alcohol. Some rooms are stages ringed with sofas. People dressed as cats, pirates, DapperDans, Santa’s Elves, etc, etc lounge around. Dance. Drink. Further back is a patio area with another couple of rounded patios with rail-less balconies above. Women in 8” platforms dance perilously close to a shattered 3rd thoracic vertebrae. Another bar in the back serves more fantasy clientele. A line of fur and masks pours out from some curtains indicating the restrooms. Another DJ area is filled with dancers undulating to the rhythms.

3:35: Chad comes up and asks if I’ve having fun. I can’t say no. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. He checks if I want some E. Now, I’ve done some drugs in my life. E is not one on the list. And me, being the practical one, asks questions. How much? How long will it last? What are the effects? He answers. I say sure. Why not? I give him money.

3:45: Chad brings back a pill and a few bottles of water. I take it. Duane takes it. Chad and Lindsay take two or three.

3:47: Duane becomes paranoid about taking E. Last time he took it he ended up at a strip club and was considering flying to Hawaii with a stripper and marrying her. That is, until, from a sitting position on his lap, she laughed at him and called him stupid. I can understand his reluctance.

3:53: Line to the bathroom. Step through the curtains to an enclosed room of four porta-potties, and the worse stench I’ve smelled since the broccoli fields of Santa Maria. But, I have to pee, so, I deal.

4:07: I’m having a good time, but I’m watching myself, trying to pay attention to the E that is supposed to be coursing its way through my brain. I’m not getting anything. Honestly.

4:12: I find Chad and Linsday dancing. Duane is nearby talking with a BlueHaired Beautiful Asian. He doesn’t seem to be having a problem with the drug this time around. She leaves and he notifies me that she’s a stripper…who recognized him. Uh oh.

4:15: Chad makes sure that I’m OK. I’m fine. I’m not feeling any different.

4:18: Linsday comes up and hugs me, grabs the back of my neck and rubs vigorously. She asks if that feels good. Sure, it feels good. Doesn’t feel any different than any other time my neck is rubbed. But it feels good. I don’t let on that this isn’t doing anything. I don’t want to ruin it for her. She seems to be enjoying it. Not to mention that her pupils are big enough that I can see the rods and cones in her retinas.

4:38: I see Dr. Zhivago, she gives me a hug and a kiss.

4:41: Dancing happens.

5:02: The DJ switches. The guy is right up next to the crowd with equipment that I have never seen before – and I’m a techhead. It has buttons, and dials, and screens, and blinking lights, and I don’t know what else. But whatever this guy is doin – its creating music, and its amazing. He moves his finger around on a glowing touchpad and the music warps and bends. He spins it in different patterns and I’m reminded of some kind of Cronenberg bio-amalgam of a Spirograph, and Etch-A-Sketch, and a Lite-Brite.

5:13: Chad checks to make sure that I’m doing OK.

5:21: Lindsay comes by and rubs my neck more and squeezes my hand for what seems like a half hour. I’m still not feeling different. I’m a little disappointed.

5:45: Duane stands underneath a space heater talking to Joy, a blond dressed in ripped nylon and leather. I join them. Duane states that he’s feeling waves of sobriety and the E. Joy explains that’s what they mean by rolling. Duane’s happy. He is in a state where he doesn’t care what other people think. He just goes up and talks to people. I mention that he should stock up on this stuff, because he is NOT like this otherwise. He probably would have agreed if it weren’t for the minor downsides of longterm ecstasy issues like serotonin loss, paranoia, memory loss, depression, and psychotic disorders. Looking at this though, it sounds similar to the laundry list of side effects from the multitude of FDA approved drugs like Cyalis, Zoloft, or Prevacid. I’m sure if E were presented in a commercial with a family running in slow motion though a field of flowers during a sunset, and the announcer listed all the side effects, that E would be a huge maintstream seller. Because its a controlled substance, however, its different. But hey, if you need help to get a hard-on, and it may potentially cause a brain embolism, go for it. It’s your body

5:48: The sky lightens with the coming sun.

6:10: Chad checks in on me and asks if I want another hit. I decline because we are going to have to leave at some point, and since I still don’t know how it would affect me…well, I need to possibly drive.

6:18: More dancing and talking and chatting and peeing and things happen for the next three hours.

9:00: I inform Chad that I have a breakfast to attend and that I must go. They are going to stay behind and keep going, and will take a taxi back. Duane is fine to leave. It’s been a long night. We find our way outside. A girl with a tackle box of piercings in her face asks if I got her a cab. I ask why would I do that? She asks if I would get her one. I inform her that I don’t work here. A thin woman named Donna in a cat outfit and insane blue contacts notifies me that I’m wearing a suit and I look like a work there. I’m actually not wearing a “suit” but I am wearing a suit “jacket”, so I concede.

9:02: We climb in the nondescript van that will presumably take us back to our car.

9:03: I’m conversating with Donna and others. Donna introduces me to Nikki, a beautiful, light-skin black woman in a fur Fedora. Nikki smiles a hello, turns back to Donna, and says “He’s hot!” Donna nods. I smile inside, which could mean that I’m so tired that my sarcasm and wit have run out, and that’s all I could do.  Either that, or I was blushing.

9:10: We climb into Duane’s toiletpaper and shaving cream covered Land Rover and head out of the parking lot.

9:15: Duane and I are lost in Downtown LA using the rising sun to gauge which direction we should go.

9:20: We head back to Venice Beach. I look around, and nothing really looks like LA. There is no traffic. The air is clear. The hills are green, dotted with homes. It’s very surreal – a perfect feeling for the kind of night that preceded it.

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 10 – Badminton

*** First written June 21, 2002***

Woke up a little late today — stemming from going to bed at 4am.  But I was only 5 minutes late to dailies — snuck in the back in the darkened dailies room.  I look around and many people are in the same shape.  The worst part of dailies is that it’s usually early in the morning, in a dark room, and you look at the same shots over and over, back and forth. No wait, stop on this frame.  Zoom in.  Pan right.  Forward. Stop.  It very much like Decker looking a photograph for clues toward finding rogue Replicants.  I smile as people slowly nod asleep and hitch back awake, catching themselves.  They shake their head. “Focus!” we yell inside our heads.  And it works….for another 90 seconds.

Spent most of the day going through the pipeline and procedures.  They have lots of scripts and stuff that automate most things for you, but you have to make sure that all your naming conventions and everything conform to the scripts.  So, a lot of detail work before the artistic work begins.

I don’t feel bad for not getting a shot rendered yet.  All the other TDs I have talked to say that they had to go through the same learning curve with lots of different teachers — each with a different opinion on how it should be done.  My problem is that my desk is sitting amongst some of the Massive team rather than with the other Gollum Lighting TDs.  So, I don’t really have anyone to conveniently turn to and ask questions.  I could pick up the phone and dial the shots department and talk to a TD, but it’s very hard to describe these procedures without actually demonstrated them.  So, I get up and walk down to the shots department, which is 3 stories down and across the building — there is no elevator.  One benefit of this is that I get a daily dose of exercise to counter the fact that I’m sitting in front of a computer all day.  I should leave a paper full of questions on my desk and remember only one question at a time.  That way, I run down, get my question answered, run back up, read the next question, run back down, etc.  This way I’ll be able to maintain an elevated heart rate and just watch the pounds melt away.

Did I happen to mention that they have a Badminton Hall — dedicated to …Badminton?  I never really considered Badminton a serious sport. It’s something that you play at a Fourth of July picnic when you tire of volleyball.  I don’t think I’ve seen people take the trouble to setup a net specifically for Badminton.  Its usually “Hey, the adults who were playing volleyball are now tired and drunk — lets give the little kids really light tennis rackets and a plastic things that won’t move fast enough to hurt anyone — no matter how hard you hit it”  I guess its serious enough here to dedicate an entire hall to it.  I wonder if there is a Shuffleboard Hall… maybe a Hackysack Hall.

The language censors for media are more lax here than in the states. “Shit” has broken the censorship barrier.  But I guess Fuck is still out of the question.  Although in certain settings you can use the word “bugger”.  Since “cunt” is used so loosely in the UK, I wonder if it will have the same affect here.  I’m certainly not going to give it a try.  As an American, its been ingrained in me that using the term, especially toward a lady, will end up at the very least an ice pick in the eye, and at worst you are dragging the river for your testicles.  All these vulgarities are on the radio anyway.  It’s hard to tell on TV – at least in the hotel – because I’m not sure if we are watching premium channels or broadcast.  I haven’t seen anything cut out of the movies — and these are playing on the same channel that brings us Miami Vice.  I’ll know better when we move into the apartment.

It was Beer O’clock today.  I had a bottle of very good beer.  For those of you who are beer aficionados, I’ll have to check back with what kind of beer it was.  It has the same taste as Guinness with a lighter body.  I’m still trying to absorb a lot of technical material, so I’m limiting my beer to one (plus the fact that I’m running on 4 hours sleep).

See you tomorrow, — moving into the apartment soon.

T

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 9 – The Fat Ladies’ Arms

*** First written June 20, 2002***

Hey All,

Its been brought to my attention that I have not yet mentioned the reverse Coriolis effect that occurs when liquids are swirling down a drain in the Southern Hemisphere.  Basically, its supposed to swirl in the opposite direction than it does in the Northern Hemisphere.  Has something to do with the rotation of the Earth.  Well, the reason I haven’t mentioned it is because it’s rather hard to tell which direction the toilet is swirling because of the velocity at which the water hits the bowl.  There is really no chance of the survival for anything or anyone who might be lingering around when the toilet flushes.  I’m surprised the porcelain is still there. A N.H. (Northern Hemisphere) toilet is more akin to a waterslide in a waterpark (and not one of those Six Flags waterparks either).  An S.H. toilet, at a similar scale, is like a #5 rated rapids on the Colorado River.  Once you’re among the white water, there is no discerning the particular direction, just that you know the ultimate destination.

The swirling drain is a commonly known legend.  What is not, however (or maybe it is and I just haven’t heard about it), is the difference between televisions in the S.H. vs. the N.H.  Now, bear in mind that we have not gone on a fact-finding mission to determine the veracity of these statements.  But, if its not true, it makes for a good myth —- When going to and from New Zealand (as with most other in countries) with electronic gear, there are a few things to take into consideration.  U.S. runs at 180V — the rest of the world runs at 240V.  U.S. uses NTSC as their video/broadcast format.  Most of the remaining world uses PAL (which is a superior format, BTW).  These are pretty well known at this point.  However, we were told that TVs are made specifically to be used in the Northern Hemisphere OR the Southern — but not both.  Evidently, if you buy a TV here, and bring it back to the States, the picture will actually begin to bow in on the sides, giving a kind of pincushion effect.  This seems to have something to do with the difference of polarity or magnetism of the Earth’s poles.  Again — we can’t verify this, but its rather interesting.

Downtown Wellington is filled with cafes, restaurants, and bars.  Lots of bars.  They are even called “bars”, rather than “pubs” (surprising, given the British history).  I don’t know what they would be called in Maori.  Probably something like Malataihanukapoapoa.  They were smart to choose “bar” — just for the savings in printing costs for signs, flyers, and newspaper adds.  All the bars have TVs to watch sporting events (not strange in the least).  The biggest event has obviously been the World Cup since we’ve been here.  This should not be confused with the America’s Cup (which also takes place in New Zealand this go around).  One event is populated with sweaty, dirty men hitting a ball around with their feet and heads. The other has to do with a cruise on a yacht.  Both events would be preempted, however, by an All Blacks match.  The All Blacks are the local rugby team and they have the same celebrity status as, say, the Lakers in L.A. or the Red Wings in Detroit.  The town is crazy for them.  I haven’t seen little All Black flags on all the cars, but I’m sure they would sell like Barbra Streisand tickets in West Hollywood.  I would have as much chance of picking out an All Black in a crowd as I would Marc Maguire or Barry Sanders (given my less than nil interest in watching professional sports).  But, if I were to make a wager, it would be the guy with a black eye and missing teeth, sitting amidst a swarm of admirers and drinking a pint of Steinlager.

As a side note, the New Zealand basketball team is the Tall Blacks.  No joke.

But, I digress with my banter about sports, when the point was to talk about bars.  When reading these, keep in mind that I haven’t actually had time to go hang out in bars, so these observations come from just walking around town and peering through windows.

The Original Molly Malone’s is around the corner from the hotel.  I find it hard to believe that an Irish bar named Molly Malone’s originated in New Zealand.  But who am I to question.  Looks like a standard Irish pub with the requisite Guinness sign outside.  But what struck me as odd is that, mounted against the outside wall,  molded statues of toucans carry pints of beer on there beaks to some other place (South America, or Africa, or wherever the toucan’s indigenous habitat is).  Like storks delivering babies.  And this is an array of 6 or so toucans.  I’m not a zoologist, nor am I an expert on foreign cultures, but I do not see a logical correlation between a toucan and the Irish.  I’ve already gone through the whole trauma of figuring out why toucans would love the flavors of fruit.  Now I have to deal with toucans delivering Guinness to the unfortunates in the world who don’t have a Molly Malone’s to visit.

Another bar of note is The Fat Ladies’ Arms. Self proclaimed as “The Best Bar In The World”. This remains to be seen.  I would agree that it might be the best NAMED bar in the world.  It surely tempts me to go and see what exactly makes this the Best.  Its a very bold statement for a bar that is surrounded by other bars.  Who knows?  Maybe you can Karaoke while watching an All Blacks match? Maybe all the drinks are free all the time?  Maybe its government subsidizes to allow such a thing?  I’ll let you know when I’ve found the secret.  The Golden Fleece of the bar world.

I received a shot to work on today finally, so I feel like I actually did something. Granted, I didn’t get it until 3pm, but I got some work done nonetheless.

A rep from Electronic Arts came in today to demo The Two Towers Playstation 2 game that is due out next year.  The stuff looks like other PS2 stuff.  Its a hack/slash action game where you can choose between Aragorn, Legolas, or Gimli and thrash orcs about the head and shoulders. The game benefits by being able to use all the art direction that’s been put into the movies.  One brilliant thing about it is that Weta allowed EA to use many of the assets from the film to use in the game.  3D environments, 3D characters and creatures, and motion capture data is the same stuff between the game and the movie.  The game just has to make things simpler for the PS2 engine to handle.

Something that the guy said is that PS3 (due around XMas 2005) is going to be able to presumably handle 8 million polys at a rate of 60 fps.  For those of us in the industry — this means its REALLY fast.  For those who are not — this means its REALLY fast.

They promised that they would send new versions of the game as the development progressed and that we were free to play it as much as we wanted.  I asked “Who gets to play it?”  Which was interpreted three different ways by numerous people in the room:

the EA guy =  “Who has permission to play it?”

the artists = “Whose turn will it be to play it?”

the supervisors = “Who is going to have time to play it?”

Its much later than I want to be awake, so I am signing off.

More of “Reflections with Todd” tomorrow.

Todd’s New Zealand tips:  Don’t drive through a drive-thru.  Its hard enough to understand the person taking the order when ordering in the States.  Putting a New Zealand accent into it turns it into a low-brow sitcom sketch of misunderstandings.  When in doubt, go inside.

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 8 – First Day of School

First Day of School today.  Managed to find parking, which is a chore, as I believe I mentioned earlier.  It’s all a matter of timing.  Weta is located adjacent to the equivalent of an elementary school, so in the morning, some areas are no parking to allow for the little Kiwis to be dropped off for school.  If you arrive after morning dropoff, you can brave the parking spots.  However, you better have an alarm setup to go off when the schoolday ends.  The parking attendants are not kind when it comes to their parking rules.  This is their domain.  They ticket.  And the do it well.  Don’t even think that you can fool yourself into thinking, “I’ll remember.  I’ll just look at the clock, and remember”  No.  Doesn’t happen.  I suspect that I’m not alone in this.  I’ve found that I become completely absorbed in what I’m doing and won’t even look at a clock until I notice the sun has set.  So, my only sign that time has passed is that its dark when it once was light. 

Went through morning Gollum dailies and got my received my own workstation.  Most of the day was spent making sure I had the right programs, e-mail setup, and a working knowledge of the linux-based pipeline with Perl as the base language.  I’ve never used Perl, and have very limit experience in Linux at this point in my career.  But something that you learn, and I know that other people in this industry work on this premise, is that when someone asks you if something can be done, or if you know how to do it, you nod and say “Of course…” – and then you run back to you workstation and work like a motherfucker to find out how.  9 out of 10 times it works.  I’ve never been caught in that last 10 percentile.  But if you do, you blame the software and say it’ll take longer than you anticipated.

My office mates are John H, Geoff T, and Lisa W.  John is American and has been an animator for as long as I have.  Unbeknownst to either of us, we as been working at the same facility of a similar animated Barbie project at a place in Hollywood call RezN8.  Small world.  We would end up sharing plenty of war stories from the people we hung out with in similar circles.  His wife, Monica, is the HR department and helped me with negotiating my contract and all that nonsense.  Geoff T is a Aussie from Melbourne (I think).  A family man through and through with a mild personality, a good sense of humor, and can quote Looney Tunes almost as well as myself.  He’s also smart as hell, coming from an artificial intelligence research background.  Finally, little Lisa, is a Kiwi.  She’s a tiny Goth chick, with a cool sense about her, and dates a programmer of questionable sexual orientation to be dating such a potentially available vixen.  I’ll find out the details later.

These are to me my team for the next 6 months or so.  I’m a lighter on this.  I light.  These other guys are the Massive guys.  They act like God and make crowd of people do their bidding.  We shall see how we jive.

Miscellaneous thoughts:

I heard on the radio today a news blurb about tans and the harmful effect of UV rays.  Primarily, it was geared toward the fact that tanning beds are just as bad as the sun.  The report ended with saying “The only healthy tan comes from a bottle!”  Uh. Hmmm.  Somehow I think that chemically changing the color of your skin is going to have side effects — maybe not the same as UV exposure, but it ain’t natural.  The term “healthy” seems a bit misleading.  Kinda like filtered cigarettes.

So, when you are in a video store in a foreign country (albeit an English-speaking country), and you see a section that says “FOREIGN” — what exactly does that mean?  The video store I went into has a foreign section, but it doesn’t have U.S. movies there. Does the foreign section in say … Italy … have movies from the U.S.?  Would the rest of the video store contain only Italian films?  Its not like the United States is the most prolific film producing country — I believe India wears that crown.  The U.S. just has the highest amount of high profile movies, and so the largest number of movies in a video store is going to be U.S. releases (unfortunately, the most movies does not mean the best movies).  Has anyone been in a video store in a foreign country? I’m just curious how they section the store.

There is something strangely familiar about the sound of that the crosswalks make here.  I’m used to hearing the chirping bird sound to indicate to the blind that its safe to walk.  Here is a buzzing sound but I couldn’t place it until now.  When I was little — like around 3rd grade — they had (and still do I believe) an electronic circuit board that you could hook up different wires to make different things.  And the diagrams were all there to help you along.  It claimed that you could make an alarm clock, a transistor radio, a lie detector (!) — but it all came down to the same thing.  It just made this incessant buzzing noise. No matter if you made a doorbell or a flux capacitor.  Just the same buzzing sound.  This is the same buzzing sound coming out of the crosswalk lights in New Zealand.  So, if that circuit board is no longer available, I think it because Wellington installed them all into the crosswalk system.  If you are unfamiliar with the toy I speak of, just think of losing at Operation. Same kind of sound.

They should install buttons on the other side of the street that turns the buzzing off, so you can make an effort to run and shut the damn thing off.  Everytime it was time to cross the street, it’d be like a 15 yard dash by everyone involved.

I must sign off now and get to sleep.  I don’t want to be cranky on the morning and get into a fight on the playground.

Cheers,

Todd

 

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 7 – The Day Before Work

Today was a day of going back and forth with RockStar, so it was pretty dedicated to work.  I woke up at 4:30am to talk with him in New York – bleh. Made some adjusments and slept for a 1/2 hour here and there while the computer rendered.  Wake up.  Check image.  Make tweaks. Re-render. Sleep. Wake up. Check image….meh, its a living.

No rain, but very chilly, as was found out from a quick walk around town. I wore my jacket with the hood. Just in case. Although, it seems like Wellington chooses the weather for the day, and then sticks to it. It changes while you sleep. So, if you plan for something in the morning, then those plans aren’t shattered by a sudden change of climate.

I’m surprised to see kayakers in Oriental Bay. I guess rain is the only thing that keeps them away. Never mind the 40 degree water that you could fall into should the kayak capsize. Its that darn rain you have to be worrying about.

I start work tomorrow, so my journals are going to taper off in detail substantially. But I’ll try and keep you all in the loop.

Todd

P.S.: I have not heard one person use the term Crikey. Maybe that’s reserved for Australians.

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 6 – Dailies, Tips and Channel 4

*** First written June 17, 2002***

I’m not due into Weta until Wednesday, but I went in today to watch dailies and get oriented with what is going on with the project. Everything at every stage of production looks outstanding. I got there for the Gollum dailies, but Susie, the 3D coordinator, asked me to stick around and watch the other department’s dailies as well. There’s a scene with Olyphants, another battle scene with Orcs on Wargs, and a bunch of Massive sequences at Helm’s Deep.

There is one scene of an explosion blowing apart a stone wall. I’m not really sure what I’m looking at. Is it a miniature explosion composited into a scene? Is the explosion CG? It looks absolutely real. I’m a little too new to feel comfortable saying “What am I looking at here?”

Massive, for those of you unaware, is the crowd control system that Weta created. Its an insane program where every character in the scene has a simple brain that is programmed to do a specific function — sounds simple. But no. The character makes decisions based on what is happening around him. He can see and hear other people around him and determine whether or not that person is a friend or foe, and act or react accordingly. This allows Weta to create armies of thousands without actually having to animate all the individuals. This has all been published in Cinefex, so I feel confident in letting you know.

I head back to the hotel after dailies and pick up some pancakes and a steakburger for Jennifer and I, respectively. The pancakes are halfway between Bisquik and a crepe. I wonder what the process is that makes them different. Its just flour, egg, salt, water and yeast — in the States its easier –  Bisquik and water (eggs for fluffier cakes). As far as the Bacon and Banana situation — I passed on the bacon, but decided to risk the bananas. The bananas are, in fact, NOT in the batter. The banana is split down the middle…within the peel…and then fried. Its an acquired taste — one that I probably won’t acquire.  However, I have befriended the owner of the City Street Cafe — an older woman of perhaps Persian decent.  She tells me that she will make whatever we want her to make.  She has been to the States before — to Las Vegas — evidently the Land of Pancakes.  She is sure that she can make then just as good as back home.  She is very sweet, and we become loyal customers for our entire stay.

The “steakburger” at the Canal Club in Venice is actually ground sirloin (and very tasty). The “steakburger” here is exactly what is says — a piece of steak in a bun. Still tasty though.  Out of curiousity, I look up the etymology behind “burger” to find out if ground up food on a bun defined one. I find that Hamburger originate from the German city of Hamburg in the late 1800s.  We ultimately dropped the “Ham” and now burger can be used with anything.  Cheeseburger, Vegiburger, Turkeyburger, and yes, Steakburger.  I could even throw in the toy-hating Burgermeister Meisterburger of Somberland who tried to prevent the young, svelt, red-haired, Kris Kringle from delivering toys to all good girls and boys.  All in all, you throw some kind of food filling onto a bun (slices of bread would imply “sandwich”) and it is automatically a burger.

Restaurants have three categories in New Zealand: Licensed (serve liquor), BYO (obviously, you bring your own alcohol), and unlicensed (uh…yeah, that). All restaurants that serve alcohol are explicitly labeled as “licensed”. In going to the City Street Cafe – licensed- to order our food, I notice lots of signs dedicated to alcohol consumption and sales rules. Like, you can’t take the alcohol you order with you when leaving the restaurant. This is nothing big, most places in the States have laws about open containers. But, last Friday, we saw plenty of people walking around with open containers. So, I’m wondering if this rule is specific to the restaurant.

The next rule dictates the hours at which alcohol may be sold. You can order booze from 8am to 1:30am. It makes me feel good that there are such rigid drinking rules. After all, you wouldn’t want people to be drinking in their sleep.

Since we are at a restaurant, I’ll comment on tipping practices in New Zealand. Its non-existent. Nobody expects to be tipped for providing good service, and no one is upset or hurt if you don’t. Jacqui informed us that we should only tip if we get absolutely exceptional service. Evidently, waiters and waitresses get paid enough that they are not dependant on tips to make a living. AS you can calculate, this saves 15% of everything from hotel service, to taxis, to restaurants, to pizza delivery guys. However, Jennifer and I are good tippers, and we like to tip to show our gratitude. And you know what?  When we went back to a restaurant, we not only received excellent service, always, but we were treated with special service, like the ability to order takeway food when its not the restaurants policy, served dishes that they were experiementing with, and offered complimentary drinks.  I’m not saying that for people to tip all the time.  In America, servers come off with an attitude that they are entitled to a tip.  In New Zealand — they actually, sincerely, appreciate your appreciation.

 

Side Note:

I have to say that Channel 4 is the best thing since sliced bread. The line up yesterday was:

Remington Steele

Knight Rider (part one of a two-parter with Garth – Michael Knight’s Evil Twin)

Miami Vice

A-Team — that crazy Murdock is at it again!

I feel like I’m in Junior High again. The only thing that would make it perfect is if Wonder Woman came on.  Linda Carter flying an invisible jet in her stars and stripes outfit is more than one American boy can take.

The Virginian and Mod Squad also came on. A bit before my time, but good ole stuff none-the-less.

See you next time

T

P.S. Its raining again.

 

 

 

 

 

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 5 – Here Comes the Sun

*** First written June 16, 2002***

Today is a rather uneventful day. Most of the day is spent working on Midnight Club 2.

The sun came out, however. The rains and winds have past. Sailboats and sea kayaks are out in Oriental Bay in droves. Still chilly though.

Brunch is a hard thing to come by. Most places have stopped serving after 11am. We didn’t wake too late, its just that we pushed eating back a while. We were looking for some pancakes. Evidentally, International House of Pancakes isn’t so international. Everyplace we looked, restaurants offered pancakes for brunch — but every single place had Bacon and Banana Pancakes. We haven’t found out whether or not they mix bacon into the batter or place cooked Bacon on top of the the cooked stack. There just seems to be something wrong about it. Perhaps in a couple months we’ll be ready to venture into the territory of Bacon and Banana Pancakes. Until then, I think they probably have cereal around here someplace.

There is a McDonald’s across the street, so we decide to take that as an alternative. They don’t serve breakfast after 10:30 here (just like home) — but its lunchtime anyway. I look at the menu and decide to go for the Quarter Pounder (not Royale with Cheese – BTW). I could have gone for the MegaFeast burger. It looks like it could be the Big and Tasty. Doesn’t the Big N Tasty have mayo? I’ve never had one before. OR — I could have gone for the Kiwiburger, which has an egg and something else unidentifyable. I ask what it is, but couldn’t understand what the McD employee said. After saying “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that” and him repeating it and I not understanding it again, I decided to leave it alone.

Its the Queen’s Birthday this weekend. I’m not sure if it was telecast in the States, but there was a huge ordeal in England with Paul McCartny, Rod Stewart, Joe Cocker, Eric Clapton, et al, performing on behalf of the Queen. Most stores are closed or have alternate hours to celebrate the event.  I have to find a technical book on Renderman and bone up before starting work, and now I can’t because a royal figurehead has to have her birthday party.  And everyone is invited.

Also caught the MTV Movie Award. Sigh. It makes me sad. At least Lord of the Rings got best picture. But against Legally Blonde and Fast and the Furious? It just makes me have so much more contempt for the MTV generation.  Is that how our parents felt when we liked movies like Jaws, or Close Encounters or Clash of the Titans?  Did they say “Those darn kids and their Indiana Jones!  Thats not filmmaking!”  Fast and the Furious…REALLY!?  Best picture?  Even if its just a nomination…I have very little hope for the younger generation.

Maori translations of Weta related words.

Weta (as mentioned earlier) – a large indigenous cricket deriving its name from “wetapunga”, which translates to “God of ugly things”

Rongotai = (possibly) “Listen to the Sea”. There are many definitions of both Rongo and Tai — this definition sounds the most poetic.

Weka = Barn Hen. Not really poetic, but the only definition.

Manuka = could be tea-tree — could be anti-inflammatory medicine. Smart money is on tea-tree.

The rest of the day is back to work. Gotta get this thing out of the way before wrangling Gollum.

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 4 – Movie Watching

*** First written June 15, 2002***

Woke up at 11am.  Pretty late for us since we’ve arrived.  I think Jennifer woke up earlier.

Still working on Midnight Club 2 cover.  One note was that they want the street to look wet. What luck!  We’ve got really wet streets, and its REALLY raining.  I pop downstairs with the digital camera and saunter out to the middle of the street and take my reference photos.  Back in the room, I can basically pop that road into the MC2 image and there you have it.  Wet road within a half hour.  Looks smooth.

Or — Looks Flash.  (another little Kiwi term — flash = swank, spiffy, highclass). Pronounced “flesh”.  If you want to learn to speak Kiwi, just take the word and shift the vowel over by one letter and you’ve got it.  A bat would be a bet.  The name Brett is Britt – as presented in an episode of the amazing Flight of the Conchords. 

Our meeting with the Real Estate lady is pushed back by a couple of hours, so we sit back and watch The Straight Story from David Lynch and the always good Quiz Show from Robert Redford (Scofield is brilliant in his supporting role as Charles Van Doren’s professorial father).

The real estate office is only 4 blocks away. In this weather? Thats 4 blocks too far. Decide to drive to the office.

Papers signed.  Agreements made.  We move into the apartment in a week and a half.

Try numerous restaurants within walked distance to get a bite.  No one opens until 5?!  Not too strange.  Los Angeles has those restaurants that are open from 11-2 and then close until 5 when they open for the dinner crowd.  We decide to drive around and get acclimated to the one-way streets and stuff.  We drive out to Weta and back.

What to do now?

Its Saturday night.  We must see a movie. Takes a couple times around the block to find the parking lot (or “CarPark” if you speak Kiwi) for the theater, but we get it.  Now — what to see. Its an odd choice of older and newer movies.  Attack of the Clones?  Seen it.  Spiderman? Seen it. Royal Tennenbaums!?!!  Yeah, seen it and loved it — but seen it 7 months ago.  Charlotte Gray? Eh. Maybe wait for DVD. Panic Room?  Yes! Love Fincher’s stuff. Oh wait — one showing.  4pm!?! Darn.  Surprisingly, Jennifer suggests Resident Evil.  Jennifer’s not big on the horror movie scene. I love horror movies. I have no objections. SO, why not — we missed it in the States, so this seems like destiny.  Or not.

The tickets purchased have actual seat assignments. J14 and J15. Now, I don’t mind assigned seating.  The Bridge in El Segundo has assigned seats — but this is the difference:  The Bridge lets you CHOOSE the seats.  WE have no idea the layout of the theater.  How many seats across? The “J” is a no brainer — 10 rows back.  But, we shall see when we get in.

An hour left before showtime.

Swing through the bookstore to browse. I decide I’d like to grab a couple books on New Zealand history.  Looks like the British had about as much luck with the Maori as they did with the North American Indians.  Treaties. Wars. It is intriguing how paralleled the events are to American history.  But, I made a commitment that I won’t buy a book until I’ve finished the last book I bought (or received as a gift) — my current book is a series of William Goldman articles that he wrote for The New Yorker that Tracy gave me.  I’ll probably whip through that so I can get to reading about the Treaty of Waupapi.  Jennifer picks up an issue of “Who Weekly”. We both have come to the conclusion that it is really “People” in disguise.

Pick up a bite of Japanese cuisine at a place called Shin Ju. Its a food court version of a Sushi place — with essentially the choice of Salmon — and … Salmon.  The Miso soup was tasty though.

Movie time.  There are posters around for up coming movies(which isn’t odd…you know…for a movie theater).  What is odd is the collection of movies that are coming out.  Looks like Ice Age hasn’t hit the screens here. Nor has Hardball (Keanu Reeves as a child role model in the projects of Brooklyn – whatever).  But neither has Black Knight with Martin Lawrence — this, I feel should probably be declared as dangerous material and not let into the country.  I’ve already been exposed to it once through US marketing.  I don’t feel that I should have to be subject to the abuse for a second time.  Other films like Minority Report look like they are going to have a similar release date to the US.  This is a good thing.

A couple theater rules to point out:

Must wear clean, presentable clothing…including shoes.

No laser pointers.  At last someone got the clue that these annoy the majority of the audience.

Seats aren’t too bad — I would have chosen different ones — but they aren’t too bad. Some guys behind us are acting really loud and pretty much moronic.  This lasts through the previews and I pray that it will subside once the film starts.  Most of the audience arrives late — or at least in my opinion, they are late.  They walk in during the previews.  Sacrilege.  I’m guessing that this behavior has emerged from having assigned seating.  No one needs to arrive early to get good seats. They don’t have to worry about their seats being taken. So — they arrive late.

The morons make comments until I hear a gasp when Milla Jovavich shows a brief view of skin – then they stop talking so much.

The movie is pretty much a piece of shite (not that I expected much).  Its a high budget Roger Corman film with cheap scares and horrible dialogue.  The visual FX are surprisingly horrible.  Jennifer finds nothing redeemable as well.

When the credits roll, one of the guys behind exclaims “Wow!” and starts to clap.  I have to turn around to see what a person who liked this movie looks like.  He doesn’t show anything indicative of low IQ.  I sigh in distress that you can’t profile IQ based on looks.

2008 Addition*

At the Reading Cinemas on Courtney Place — THE place to see movies…outside of the Embassy, perhaps, there is an upper deck known at the Cinelounge.  The Cinelounge is accessed through a mirror, guilded elevator like some kind of exclusive, elite secret.  But for a few Kiwis more, you too can live the lives of the pampered.  We walk out onto the deck, which is essentially a balcony overlooking the mall and moviegoers below.  Comfy chairs and high tables circle the area.  On one side, near the entrance to the actual theater, a cute redhead tends a full bar.  Not only can you order mixed drinks and beer, but Copenhagen ice cream! and sushi!!  I approach the redhead and order adult beverages and ice cream. “Would you like it now, or would you like it brought to you?”  I look at her sideways “Brought to me?”.  ”Yes sir,” she replies in her delightful Kiwi accent. How much better can THIS get? “I think we’ll have it brought to us.”  She nods and makes a note “And when would you like it brought?”  Yes, it can get this much better. I smile, “I would like it half way through the third trailer, please”.  She squints her eyes and smiles.  I can’t tell if its a “You’re charming” response or a “Fucking American” response.  

Jennifer and I go into the theater to choose our seats.  The balcony looks over the common area below which is filling with people trekking to their assigned seats.  Our seats, are WAY better.  The balcony is made up of three rows of Lazyboy Recliners (or the Kiwi equivalent) with tables inbetween.  Yes, fair reader, is just keeps gettin better.

We take our seats, and halfway into the third trailer, our ice cream and drinks.  I order the next round while our waitress is there, requesting that the next drinks come 27 minutes into the feature. 

The only downside to that first Cinelounge experience is that the film is Mr. Deeds with Adam Sandler — a film that I categorize as a non-event.  A movie that is so mundane that I neither liked nor disliked it.  Just a waste of time.  But sitting in a movietheater in a recliner makes it worth it.

As you can guess, the Cinelounge became THE meeting place for the Weta artists.  Every Friday we would gather for the most ridiculous movies — all made better because of ice cream, alcohol and Lazyboy recliners.

New Kiwi words:

Clearaway = taking away the trash.  It indicates areas on the street where trash is put out and picked up that night by the sanitation department.  If you notice — this has the “way” word in it.

Rubbish = Garbage, Trash. Not a stretch, but not commonly used in the states.

Time to put time in on MC2 — should be wrapped in the next couple of days. Hopefully.

 

 

 

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 3 – Hotel Rooms and the Weta Tour

*** First written June 14, 2002***

Never make it a plan to live out of a hotel room.  Sure, people clean up your room and make your bed.  Fetch your car when you need it. But confined to a room with 5 channels of television and being charged by the minute for Internet access certainly does have serious psychological drawbacks that I won’t see for years.

Tomorrow we have an appointment to go over the terms of the lease, but I’m not sure when we can settle down and get focused.  Until then, I’m going to have to just avoid going stir crazy.  The weather has it prohibitive to go walking around downtown.

The day starts by heading out to WETA for a formal tour of the facilities.  Getting there — no problem.  Parking?  I’m reminded of Los Angeles parking by the beach on Memorial Day.  But that’s what you get when you have 280 artists swarm into an area that didn’t expect it.  I spot a small and questionable space.  But the car is small — not Mini small, but more like VW Cabrio small.  Some of you may know that I am the King of U.S. Parallel Parking.  I can now claim that title for the International sector. Two point park job. 6 inches front and back.  While piloting from the right side of the car. On the first try.  I wear the crown if someone wants to try and knock it off my head.  Bring it, Bitches!

 Walk in with 5 minutes to spare.

All the new recruits are there, waiting for the big tour. 15 new people.  These are people who just arrived this past week.  And more are on the way.

Mikkel – Swedish – Lighting TD – Double Negative in London

Eric – American – Compositor – Rhythm & Hues  (This guy was the guy at the airport with us)

Matt – American – Compositor -  R&H

Jill – American – Lighting TD – Cinesite-Los Angeles

Keith – American – Compositor – Digital Domain

Tim – Canadian – Animation TD – Alias/Wavefront

Kareem – American – Compositor – Tippett Studios

Oliver – American – Animator – Foundation Imaging & Nickelodean

Jess – Kiwi – Editorial

Demitri – Russian – Texture Artist

Deborah – American – Compositor

and three others that eluded my introduction.

These are the people who are going to be riding the learning curve along with myself.

We are led by Kim Rickard into WETA Workshop – the hub of all the practical effects for the films.  Miniatures. Prosthetics. Armor. Weapons.  Basically — anything that is not created in the computer.

Did I happen to mention that Weta is named from a huge, ugly, indigenous cricket.  And this ain’t no cute Jiminy Cricket with a tophat and cane that happens to be your conscience and recommends that you wish upon as star, convincing you that it makes no difference who you are.  It derives its name from the Maori name “wetapunga”, which translates to “God of ugly things” — an ironic name for a company that chruns out such beautiful imagery.  If it were tiny, like our crickets here in the States, maybe you could saw “awww, its adorable as it chirps its little song”.  But, no, these things are INCHES long.  Imagine a cricket the size of gerbil.

We pass through a large shelving unit of the designs and maquettes. These are all the small sculptures of all the creatures in the film.  Not only for the production, but also for the marketing team.  Some of you may have seen the enormous variety of busts found in bookstores and hobby shops.  All the original sculptures are created at WETA Workshop before being mass produced from the molds pulled from the originals.  Otherwise, these maquettes are used in the Workshop side to create the life-size prosthetics for the actors and well as over at digital for modeling and texturing the digital creatures.  I can’t even express the amount of detail that is present in these.  Just looking at the store-bought busts and you get an inkling of what I’m talking about.

A full-size sculpture of the Cave Troll was intimidating.  Standing around 20 feet tall it dwarfs all of the artists.

In the maquette area, a few artists work in clay as we admire the sculptures around the room.  A sculpture of Gandalf holding his sword, Glamring, with robes flowing violently in a hurricane of magic.  Looks like he stands about 12″.  We are told by the artist that this is going to be for a bronze casting that will be put up for sale.  The current size is 1/4 of the final product.  This means that the bronze will stand 48″ high and will retail for probably $7000 US.  Only 1000 will be made.  The cast and crew have already put dibs on most of them.  I hate them for it.

Everything that we see and touch is absolutely astounding.  I don’t know how much I can really reveal at this time, so I’ll leave it at that.  I wouldn’t want to be escorted out of the building before my job has started.  I’m going to check with production to see if I can take some digital photos of some of the sculptures to send to you guys.  But no guarantees.

The next building was the animation building on Weka Street.  Animators sit at each of their desks divided with the same Japanese-style walls as the digital production building.  You can tell the tenure of animators based on the amount of glaze on their eyes.  The late arrivals still have a spark.  The older ones generally communicate with non-descript grunts and groans with occasional biting.

The dailies cinema is also located at Weka.  The cinema is currently setup for ADR (Automated Dialogue Recording).  This is a process where actors re-record their dialogue while watching their performance.  ADR is necessary usually when the sound onset of on location wasn’t clean — aka polluted by other sounds like wind, planes, cars, etc.  Its also used to dub voices for overseas presentations and/or the producer doesn’t like the accent of the actor, so they have someone else read for it on top of the actors performance — for examples see these dubbed actors — Mel Gibson (Mad Max), Arnold Schwarzneggar (Hercules Goes To New York).

The cinema looks like it holds around 300 people (which is closely becoming the size of the staff at WETA).  Its immaculately designed with friezes and a waterfall curtain at the front.  Detail work on the columns are sculptures and molds showing characters from Peter Jackson films including Bad Taste and Meet The Feebles.  The murals on the walls, showing expansive-Tolkienesque landscapes, are actually printed carpeting rather than painted directly on the walls.  This decision feels like an acoustic consideration to deaden any potential echo.  Overall, the cinema is more ornate than 99% of the theaters in the US — barring of course the older theaters such as Grauman’s Chinese in Hollywood and the Westwood and Bruin just south of UCLA.

Saying goodbye to the animators and leaving them to do their work, we head back to Manuka Street and the digital production facility.  I won’t bother describing the rest of the tour because I’ve already shared with you the ins and out of the Manuka offices and all of its eccentricities, reminding me of the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose — another example of improvisational architecture.  That one however was a result of an insane woman thinking the victims of her husband’s invention, the Winchester rifle, were haunting her and that continually adding onto the house would confuse them.

Kim asks the artists if they wish to go visit the facility over on Rongotai Street.

Side note: if you’ve noticed some of the names (Manuka, Weka, Rongotai).  These are words coming from the Maori, which is the race of Polynesian seafarers who happen to be living here when Great Britain decided to move in (sound familiar?).  The area is filled with reminance of Maori names.  This is parallel with the United States’ habit of adopting words from its previous indigenous tribes. (Seattle, Nisqually, Milwaukee, Mackinac, Dakota, etc).  The language and culture – stemming from Polynesia – sounds very similar (not surprisingly) to Hawaiian.

The Rongotai Building is filled with the rest of the departments (rotoscoping, painting, camera matching, modeling, and the creature department).  The building is located about a five minute drive from the rest of the facility, so it feels like a completely different company. I question how we will be effectively sharing digital assets with them — how can we share a network over such a distance. I also sense that because of this inconvenience, that there is relatively little interaction between Manuka/Weka and Rongotai.  Its like Rongotai are the rogue artists — which is understandable because Roto (tracing elements on every frame), Paint (painting elements out of every frame), and Camera Match (recreating the onset camera for every frame), is extremely tedious work and would drive most normal people into a state of insanity within a few minutes.  If you doubt me — ask Taz Goldstein — he went insane after rotoscoping 3 frames on Pearlmageddon.  Its a very thankless job, but without these detail-oriented unsung heroes the shots just simply wouldn’t be able to be completed.

Kim informs us that the tour is over (which makes me wonder if she is now saying that we have to walk back to Manuka).  But her final comment is that every Friday at around 6, it becomes Beer O’Clock.  This means, oddly enough, that the artists gather around and drink beer and wine and basically relax.  I ask if Beer O’Clock happens at Manuka or Rongotai.  She sighs and says that they used to have it up at Manuka, but since they’ve grown, Beer O’Clock at Manuka is for Manuka artists, and there is a separate Beer O’Clock ay Rongotai. (I didn’t ask if they were in different Time Zones).  This feeds my theory that there will be two separate cliques based on being a ManukaWeka or a Rongotai.  If it weren’t wintertime and it wasn’t raining 15 inches a day, I could see softball teams started — or Rugby, just to keep with the local culture.  Although seeing a bunch of digital artists playing contact sports would either be very funny or very sad — especially if the teams are shirts and skins.

Each month, there is a Weta-wide Beer O’Clock where everyone gathers at the cinema to drink beer and watch all the shots that have been finalled over the last month.  This isn’t unique to Weta.  In by days at Imageworks, they also held Monthlies followed by an outside gathering with Beer, Wine, and Crackers.  The only difference is that Imageworks is in Los Angeles, where you can safely have a Wine and Crackers affair in the outside court yard.  Weta is in Wellington, where an outdoor event in the winter would be either crazy or futile.  If the torrential downpour didn’t wash the keg down the road, then the winds would pick it up and loft it into the Cook Straits where penguins and seals would grow fat and drunk on the hops.

BTW — did I happen to mention that in our briefing that we have been informed that due to the proximity to the hole in the ozone layer, the UV rays from the sun are much more potent than in the States.  So, if we happen to see the sun while we are here, we should where sunblock and a hat if possible.  And if we decide to do outdoor events on the water, like Sea Kayaking or something, that the sun will fry us in about 15 minutes.

Back at the homestead (which is the hotel room — sigh), Jennifer and I get a chance to relax and have a bite to eat.  The food here requires some getting used to.  However, I can’t really put a finger on what it is that we are supposed to get used to.  There is a split between a British-type of cuisine and Polynesian/Thai.  Pizza Haven offers a Satay Chicken pizza. Eggs are poached, serves with a boiled tomato and a sausage.  And these sausages aren’t the little, dinky, spicy sausages — these are like Johnsonville Brats.  Things are either spicy (the Thai side) or heavy and thick (British).  I’m sure that we’ll get used to it.  Coca-Cola tastes the same though.

I have to get some cables for the 220V outlets here, which can be found at Dick Smith’s Electronics.  So, I go out into the city to get my cables. Jennifer stays behind to maintain business affairs back home.  The rain is coming in sideways with the extreme winds.  I figured I would be more protected walking amongst the highrises downtown.  Not the case.  The rain is everywhere.  I feel like Forrest Gump. “There was stinging rain.  Big fat rain. Rain that came in from the side.  There was even rain that came from below”.  I think I’m going to pull out my winter jacket with the hood.

A successful mission prompts me to return.  I pick up some ice cream — a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of banana.  A lame attempt to recreate Chunky Monkey.  Jennifer concurs that its not the same.  Oh well.

The rest of the day/night is divided between Midnight Club 2 and relaxing.

This is Todd on a Friday night. Signing off.  And I just realized that its way past Beer O’Clock.

New Zealand Terms:

Takeaway = Take Out (like food)

Give Way = Yield (driving)

Way Out = Exit

 

Seems like “way” is a VERY popular word.

The New Zealand Chronicles:Part 2 – Bank Accounts, Taxes, Housing and other Mundane Essentials.

*** First written June 13, 2002***

Up at 8am to work on the box cover for Midnight Club 2 — an upcoming game from Rock Star.  Unfortunately, they are in New York, so by the time 8am rolls around, its already 4pm over there.  So to get feedback, we need to start rather early.

Wellington is windy.  Watching the thick clouds looks like the scene is shot in time lapse  The clouds race across the sky like rapids on a river.

Jacqui rings us at 10 to inform us that we have an appointment at the bank at 11.  Not much time to get showered, shampooed, and shined.  But we make it.

Jacqui stands about 5′4″ with a short crop of brown hair.  She’s well travelled and has even been to Eugene, OR.  She hosts Sea Kayaking trips in the summer, but spends her time finding housing for the huge influx of immigrants coming to work for WETA during the winter months..  She’s fun, funny, and on top of things.  Jackie’s job is to get us a place to live.

First stop.  The bank.  Dreadful.  I hate money issues.  Taxes, banking fees, paperwork.

New Zealand doesn’t have a debit card that looks like a VISA or Mastercard.  They have EFTPOS, which is like your ATM card, but everywhere in New Zealand accepts it.  UNfortunately, if you order stuff online — well — you’re just shit outta luck.  They do have credit cards however — and this is odd — if you have an outstanding balance of $0-1000, then the percentage rate on the card is 19.6%…..19.6!!!!!!  In the U.S., those kinds of cards are for the guys who can’t get credit!!  But, if you have an outstanding balance of $4000-$5000 (These numbers are in Kiwi dollars, BTW.  Which exchanges at a rate of around .50 to the US Dollar. So, $1.00 US = approx $2.00 NZ) — OK back to the weirdness.  If you have a balance of $4000-5000, then the APR is 12.5%.  So, the higher debt you have, the less you are paying in interest.

I’m not sure if you guys find this odd, but to me it comes off as some kind of Jedi mind trick. It lulls you into a false sense that you are saving money by retaining more debt.  Hey!  Who cares that I owe $5000 — I’m getting a GREAT APR!!!  This is a dangerous game they are playing.

After an hour at the bank (while Jacqui patiently waited in the car finding more places to rent), we go driving off to look at places to live.  I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised with the state of nearly every single place we looked at.  There was nothing that stood out as “we could never live here — this is awful”.  In contrast, this is USUALLY the reaction you have to rentals in Los Angeles, although in LA, you also add the more viseral reaction of nausea when you see the price.  We saw some furnished, some unfurnished.  Some homes, some apartments.  Some in the burbs of Seatoun, some right Downtown.  None of them ever more than a 10 minute drive to WETA.

One house was located on a stretch of road called Breaker Bay, an area with occasional “Penguin Crossing” signs.  The house sat across the road from the water (which today was mildly choppy despite the insane winds).  Jacqui told us that when the weather gets really bad that the waves crest over the banks and into the road, and sometimes the waves are so huge that they look like they are going to smash into the house.  I don’t think that Jacqui should go into Real Estate Sales.

Then it was off to WETA.  But now I’m driving.  Jacqui wants to make sure that we are comfortable driving on the right side of the car and the left side of the road.  When we were riding, it all feels a little odd.  Every time we stopped it was an habitual urge to reach down and pull the emergency brake — even though I had no steering wheel in front of me.  Driving, however, is a little odd — but not daunting.   This is the car that WETA has provided for the next 2 weeks.  I have no idea what it is — it has a little lion on the steering wheel — but its not a Peugot.  All I know is that its white and it drives.

Arrival at WETA.  I get the feeling that the building is an old elementary school or something.  Its not.  People bustle about from here and there.  Some don’t where shoes.  Our buddy Mike is there — he still doesn’t have shoes on.  Jennifer is planning on getting him a toe ring.  I really don’t think this is a hobbit thing.  I think its a Kiwi thing — primarily a South Island Kiwi thing from the looks of things.  But perhaps this is why they made Lord of the Rings.  Only they have that no-shoes connection to get into the mind of a Frodo and Sam.

Suzanne LaBrie runs us through all the paperwork and applying for taxIDs. Oh joy.  She dedicates at least an hour and a half of her time to answer all of our questions and then provides an informal tour.

Jacqui has waited for us the entire time.  She wanted to escort us back to the hotel to make sure that our driving abilities are in order and we are comfortable. Pfft!  I’ve been driving for 17 years, even if it has been on the other side of the road.  Both Jennifer and I encourage Jacqui that all will be well and that she can head home without worry.  All in the room are shocked and impressed that we are so confident.  This makes me a little worried about the other WETA immigrants who have come through and had to get their Jacqui driving seal of approval.

WETA is a labyrinth of corridors and hallways.  This stems from the fact that WETA was never supposed to be this large.  Peter Jackson have planned for WETA to be no more than 60 people, and the interior architecture was designed accordingly.  This obviously isn’t the case.  So they had to keep buying the buildings around them — a car mechanic shop, a cosmetic factory, and so on.  Each building had construction done to connect the new addition.  The elevator in one area is actually the lift in the lube pit of the car shop.  They open up new areas, run a Cat-5 cable, put a computer in, and then place an artist there.  Closet, corner, cubicle — wherever the artist might fit.  They are concerned with your comfort however, so they provide any kind of ergonomic apparatus that you request.  I’m thinking about requesting a personal massuese as my ergonomic apparatus.

The walls are adorned with props, armor, weapons, etc from the film. Each chosen by physical effect supervisor Richard Taylor.  Every piece is an emaculate piece of artwork.  Walking into the programmer and texture artist area, we are greeted by a life-size maquette of Gollum, used for texture and modeling reference.  On to the compositing room, which is a rather large room with Japanese paper walls as dividers between artists.  All the artists seem quite involved with the shots at hand. One artist, a woman named Gigi, coming from New Jersey and an ex-Kleiser-Walzack employee, is working on a Gollum scene.  Its a scene where Gollum has snared a rabbit for Sam and Frodo and is completely miffed that Sam has decided to cook it rather than eating it raw.  The scene is in broad daylight (albeit on the edge of a forest) and Gollum looks great.  He’s quite a bit more fleshy-colored then I had envisioned.  I’m used to the Rankin-Bass design from The Hobbit and the Bakshi design from Lord of the Rings from the late 70s.  The Jackson Gollum is much closer to a natural physiological change happened from the influence of the Ring on used-to-be hobbit, Smeagol.  So, his features remain a distorted reflection of the hobbits he is accompanying.

Gigi feels sincerly that Sam has wronged Gollum by cooking the rabbit, and that he could have at least given Gollum SOME of the rabbit.  After all, Gollum was the one who caught it.  I thought that Gigi might be having too many feelings for the synthetic character.  And I told her so. (however, this is a fine compliment to the animators).

I finally talk to the coordinator, Susie Klies — who ironically was the first HR person that I had spoken with upon applying to WETA.  I have found out my duties.  I’m going to be a lighting Technical Director on the Gollum team.  This essentially means (for those of you not in the industry) that I’ll be taking the 3D files from the animator, the lighting schemes from the team that has been writing scripts and so forth for Gollum, and the textures — and lighting Gollum so that it looks like he is in the scene. I render out Gollum and pass the elements to the compositors. I’ll be working on an SGI, in a UNIX environment, using Maya and Renderman, and a proprietary tool called Liquid.  So, basically, I’m using tools that aren’t the most used tools in my toolchest.  But I have confidence that I’ll acclimate quickly.  I’ll be finding out more next week when I begin attending the Gollum dailies in the morning and finding out whats going on.

Tomorrow is a formal tour of both WETA Digital and WETA Workshop (the model and prop team).  Perhaps we’ll see them shooting the pickups that I mentioned Brad Dourif was here for.  What we’ve found out is that they actually have a ton of the actors here for pick ups.  So Elijah and Sean are here — not sure about Sir Ian.  Also, Franke Pontente is here (she’s from Run Lola Run) — evidently she and Elijah have a little thing going on (no “little” Hobbit jokes please).

On the Choose Life front (which as most of you know, Jennifer may be producing), the negotiations are continuing.  Until next Jennifer is taking things day by day, with no plans to return to the states until the green light is given.

We’ll keep you informed.

Oh — we met up with Stacy (the airport girl) at an antipasta bar called Imbibe, and met a number of her friends.  John is a hairdresser (so now we can get our haircut) who is also a tri-athelete (This is his connection with Stacy — she’s going for her PhD in sports medicine).  He informed us of a 3 bedroom – 3 story house that looks out over the bay.  We have already made our housing choice, but Jennifer is planning on passing the infor to Jacqui — who will be ecstatic.  We’ll probably use it as bribing material for some favor in the future, of which we do not know of yet.  But, one day, she will get a call — probably from a guy named Luca or Vinnie — to inform her of her debt to be paid.

Today, I realized that not everyone is the same, but they should all be treated as equal.  Everyone has there own problems and they should be free to handle them in the way they see fit….

Actually, I didn’t come to this conclusion at all.  I’m just a digital artist.  I’m not a 17-year old doctor prodigy on TV.  So my life isn’t really filled with life-altering drama.  If we took the house on the beach where we are in danger of being washed out to sea — THEN maybe I would have something to write about.

Til then, you’ll have to deal with the mundane facts of working on the FX of a feature film.

Cheers,  <— starting to pickup the very difficult “New Zealand” language.