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  • March 2, 2010

    A Scouting Life: Whiskey & Trouble

    by Sam Hutchins

    Checking in was a nightmare. I had spoken to our office and asked that they put us in Caesars but rooms were once again too expensive. I could have called my rep there and gotten my suite comped and discounts on the other rooms had I known, but no one thought to ask me. Instead, upon hearing the rack rate at Caesars, they had booked us into the Luxor. I had stayed there before when it first opened and had a good time but that was twenty years ago. What had been a suitably fun and kitschy pyramid and tower had added several new buildings. Ancient Eqypt suffered from urban sprawl. The injury of waiting forty-five minutes to register was compounded by the insult of then walking approximately thirteen miles to find our rooms.

    I quickly rebounded once I had a nice hot shower and a massage. A few phone calls to arrange the evening later, I was sipping from a water glass full of Stoli on the rocks in a lounge. Waiting for a local friend to arrive, I lost myself in the combo playing the room. Vegas is full of acts like this, talented musicians who have smoothed all the edges off their performances. They still bring the energy, but in the safest and most acceptable way possible. Hearing stuff like this anywhere else in the world would horrify me, but in Vegas it is exactly right. I wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest to be rocking out to a soulless, ultrawhite cover of Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration” when my guy showed up.

    Visit concluded, I was reaching lofty heights when Stephane showed up and seriously brought me down. Just seeing him angered me, as he had not cleaned up or gotten dressed. He looked nothing but annoyed as he joined me at my table.

    “What are we doing here? This place is terrible.”

    “What are you talking about? This is great. Get your ass cleaned up, we’re hitting the town.”

    I signaled the waitress who came right over. The tips I was throwing around guaranteed that. Stephane didn’t even register her presence.

    “Hey, buddy, snap out of it. What are you having?”

    “Nothing,” he said petulantly, “There is nothing here that I want.”

    I rolled my eyes at the waitress before draining a few gulps of icy cold vodka and raising my empty glass. It went down well.

    “Well I could use another.”

    She headed off to fill me up and I turned back to my companion.

    “Quit getting all French with me. Kar Wai wants to blow off a little steam. Fucking relax and enjoy yourself.”

    Then the volcano erupted.

    “I will not relax! I will not have fun! You can’t make me! This hotel is terrible. I hate this city. My bed was dirty and I want to leave. This isn’t the movie I want to make. This isn’t the movie I signed up to make. I’m going to find Kar Wai and get us out of here.”

    I felt my insides tightening up as he stormed off. Life is hard, and I’ll take a break when it comes my way. Yet some people just refuse to enjoy themselves. I felt pretty certain that Stephane would happily join in the festivities were it his town, or he were somehow the center of attention. Not having the spotlight really bothered him. Wherever we go in life, some of us are still fighting for Daddy’s attention. Me, I’ll take my therapy in a rocks glass.

    My fresh drink arrived, and I signed it to my room while checking to make sure I still held the valet ticket. I did, indeed, so no one was going anywhere without me. Let him have his little tantrum. He already pissed all over another city I love when we were in New Orleans. I wasn’t letting him ruin another good time. Soon enough Darius and Kar Wai joined me.

    “Guys, you see Stephane? He’s pretty upset.”

    Kar Wai waved me off.

    “Yes, he will not be joining us tonight. Now I need a whiskey and some trouble.”

    Coming right up, my friend, coming right up.



    Sam Hutchins has been working in film production for twenty years. He started as overnight security on the set of “Working Girl” while attending film school at NYU. Since 1995 he has been a location manager for some of the top names in the business. He’ll be blogging from a unique insider’s perspective on the filmmaking process, as well as speaking to his colleagues in the production community to share their experiences with you.

  • March 1, 2010

    Best Movies by Farr: Parents and (Grown) Children

    by John Farr

    John Farr’s picks for films about the relationships between elder parents and their adult children.

    Tokyo Story (1953)


    Frail, elderly couple Tomi and Shukishi (Chieko Higashiyama and Chishu Ryu) set off from their rural village to visit their children in the hustle-bustle world of modern-day Tokyo. But when they arrive, doctor son Koichi (So Yamamura) and beauty-salon proprietor Shige (Haruko Sugimura) are too busy to visit and send the disappointed old folks to a health resort. Only their daughter-in-law Noriko (Setsuko Hara) takes time to show them the highlights of the city. Yet later, an unexpected illness leads the elder children to regret their selfish inattention.


    One of the enduring classics by celebrated master Ozu, this melancholic dissection of family dynamics in postwar Japan may sound simplistic, but “Story” packs an emotional punch as it observes the erosion of traditional values in modern lifeways. Among a uniformly strong cast, Higashiyama and Ryu give low-key, heartbreaking performances as the jilted parents-who seem bewildered as much by the clamor of the city as by their children’s inhospitable behavior. “Story” may be understated, but Ozu’s quiet, immobile visual style and deft direction reflect the nuances of everyday existence like no one else.

    The Graduate (1967)


    A model son and newly minted college graduate, Ben Braddock (Dennis Hoffman) is proudly paraded around his parents’ friends, who congratulate him heartily. But inside, Ben feels numb. He soon gets involved with his mother’s sexually frustrated best friend, Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), then creates a combustible chain reaction by falling for her daughter, Elaine (Katherine Ross).


    One of the signature films of the 1960s, this feature introduced the world to Hoffman and gave Bancroft a racy role she played with marvelous feline cunning. This sublime black comedy transcends its period, speaking to new generations of alienated youth beginning to navigate a discordant, dysfunctional adult world. The supporting cast, including deft character players William Daniels and Murray Hamilton, are note-perfect, and that Simon & Garfunkel score still stirs the soul. A must for repeat viewings.

    Lovers and Other Strangers (1970)


    The occasion of Mike and Susan’s wedding (Michael Brandon and Bonnie Bedelia) is pretext for examination of love via their relationship and those surrounding them, particularly his brother’s failing marriage and the dysfunctional but enduring unions of their respective parents (his: Castellano and Arthur, hers: Young and Leachman). The result is a farcical glimpse into the infinite variations on the necessary but complex mess we call love.


    Cy Howard’s knowing, often side-splitting ensemble piece benefits from stand-out turns by Gig Young (as the bride’s philandering father), Anne Jackson (as the object of his adulterous affections), and Richard Castellano as the groom’s awkward but well-meaning Dad. Bob Dishy almost steals the movie as a would-be Casanova. Wonderful early “70s flavor, and look for a young Diane Keaton as the groom’s unhappy sister-in-law.

    Visit Best Movies by Farr for more great DVD recommendations.

  • February 25, 2010

    A Scouting Life: By the Time They Left Phoenix

    by Sam Hutchins

    We limped into Phoenix after midnight. Little was said in the time since Kar Wai made the revelations about his past. Even if we were comfortable enough to speak out, when he was in that state it was useless. And if we could get through to him, what to say? Sorry Chairman Mao’s thugs tore your family apart? Don’t think Hallmark makes the appropriate card for that one.

    It’s probably for the best that there was no bar in the hotel. Or across the street, around the corner, or on any of the surrounding blocks, for that matter. After my brief, fruitless search I returned to the hotel and my room. Still, even absent the booze, I felt hungover in the morning. Perhaps an emotional hangover? We were all getting road-weary and the last few days had been pretty intense.

    Kar Wai appeared and was just as lost as when we last saw him. No smiles, no greetings, no breakfast. He went to the truck wordlessly, sat down and buckled in. Darius, Stephane and I all had the same intent, which was to do our best to bring him back to a good place mentally. For once, their solution was to work harder. While I felt them, my experience teaches me that scouting smart is more effective than scouting angry. They wanted to explore Phoenix. I’ve spent time there and didn’t think it had much to offer us. My solution was to bust ass straight to Vegas and have a good time, blow off some steam then get back at it fresh. My faith in the healing power of debauchery remained unshaken. As I lost the vote, we began grid-searching the town.

    A couple hours worth of strip malls, mini-marts, blinding sunlight and disappointment later, they agreed with me. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. Darius and Stephane bemoaned the lack of “there” there while I drove the car and held my tongue. Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot to love about Phoenix. I’ve done some

    lovely camping in the deserts and mountains outside town. One of the best days of my life was spent in and out of a cool mountain spring that flows through the red rocks of Sedona. My first successful bar crawl using a fake ID took place in Tempe. However, our film stood nothing to gain from the area, and I was glad to put it behind us.

    We pulled into Vegas in the early afternoon. By then Kar Wai had at least partially checked back in. The four of us had scouted Vegas on an earlier trip and found some things there to our liking. A couple of the seedy motels and casinos downtown were promising, and Kar Wai inexplicably loved a seriously run-down convenience store deep in the North Vegas ghetto. He had no interest in revisiting them but was not ready for the hotel, either, so we rolled around a bit. The man had gotten very interested in poker and was hoping we could find an appropriately dingy card room to scout. The big casinos had pretty successfully taken over all the action on poker, though, and it makes sense. Why do you need an underground game when gambling is legal?


    Kar Wai and I had hit a mob-run poker game before we left New York. Our “poker consultant”, a former WSOP finalist, had hipped us to it. The three of us met in a Soho bar one night for a martini before making our way to a nondescript building on the edge of Little Italy. Stopping outside, the consultant got a little jumpy. Fair enough, as he didn’t know me and was trusting Kar Wai on reputation alone.

    “There’s no messing around in there. These guys are serious,” he warned us.

    “Don’t worry, I know these guys. If not, I know people they know,” I reassured him. He gave me a long look before making up his mind, then pushed the buzzer. The normal looking front entrance opened into a tight vestibule facing a reinforced steel door. We three squeezed in together and raised our faces to let the security camera have a good look at us. After an uncomfortably long pause we were buzzed inside.

    Half a dozen tables filled the room, which appeared to be a hastily converted woodworking shop. Low level wiseguys played with slick-looking Chinese and an occasional asshole white guy with a doofy fedora or wraparound sunglasses. An entire room full of stereotypes. A platter of cold cuts sat unmolested on a sideboard. The house used a rolling locked tool chest as a bank. My eyes were drawn to a ridiculously hot blond broad who sat behind a large and growing stack of chips. As a younger man I would have been all over that, but having lived through that movie and its resultant misery a wiser me took her measure and put her out of my mind.

    Our guide couldn’t play, which I understood. His rep at the tables was serious enough that sitting down was laying out a challenge that would have been met. Kar Wai is more about observing than participating, so it fell on my shoulders. Taking an open seat, I laid five hundred on the table and joined the game. Once again I found myself wondering what sort of receipt I could submit for this if I lost. Have to worry about that later and concentrate on the cards now, my game isn’t that sharp. Fortunately, I managed to tread water for an hour or so. Eventually Kar Wai leaned in and tapped me on the shoulder between hands.

    “I’ve seen enough. We can go now.”

    We gave each other a long look.

    “Are you going to scout anyplace else…?”

    He didn’t let me finish, but smiled widely.

    “Yes, you can stay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck.”


    Now it was months later and we were on the streets of Vegas. Kar Wai turned to me and I was pleased to see the return of that smile.

    “Enough work. I think you need to show me how to have a good time in Vegas.”

    My smile easily equaled his. Yes, my friend, you have come to the right place and you are with the right guy.



    Sam Hutchins has been working in film production for twenty years. He started as overnight security on the set of “Working Girl” while attending film school at NYU. Since 1995 he has been a location manager for some of the top names in the business. He’ll be blogging from a unique insider’s perspective on the filmmaking process, as well as speaking to his colleagues in the production community to share their experiences with you.

  • February 23, 2010

    A Scouting Life: Out of the Past

    by Sam Hutchins

    The four of us returned to the car wordlessly. Sharing that sunset was one of those unforgettable moments in life, and the raw emotion of Darius’s statement settled over us. I learned long ago that you don’t have to like someone to love them, and this is as illustrative example as any I could provide. We each had a litany of complaints regarding the travel habits and petty selfishness of the rest of us yet there were no others I’d rather be with at that moment.

    I took the wheel and blasted through the darkness. In a rare lack of foresight, I’d lost track of the next move. Usually I had mapped out each possible choice and done my best to be prepared for whatever decision we came to. Fixated as I was on making the sunset at White Sands I hadn’t been able to see past it. Now it was dark and we were in the wilderness, screaming westward down the roadway. At least our direction was decided, as the options were to continue west or cross into Mexico.

    My choice would have been to drive until we were exhausted, then find a fleabag motel to crash in. Hell, given my druthers I’d have us pitching tents and camping in the desert. Had we done that we would not only make better time, we would have so much more memorable a trip. The closer you are to the ground the better you can tell the story. I’m reasonable, and could see us alternating between camping and sleeping indoors so as to keep the truck from stinking too awfully. But my companions would not dream of such a move. They required a certain comfort level, and wanted to stop and figure our accommodations out.

    So against my objections we looked around Las Cruces for a place to grab some coffee. Not seeing a Starbucks by the time we reached the far edge of town, we pulled into a small strip mall. Light from a small storefront café beckoned to us. The sign read “Atomic Diner” and had the symbol for the Atom on it. What an odd thing to take pride in and a name from.

    Maybe it was all the time spent with my companions, but the place seemed so utterly and inexorably foreign to me, for lack of a better word. I felt like I was in a David Lynch film, only with brighter lighting. The place was stark white, bright, and completely spotless. Its owner was aggressively friendly and slightly effeminate, a Mexican-American fellow with plucked eyebrows and what appeared to be traces of eye makeup on. He grinned like an idiot the entire time we were there and insisted that we try the pie. We lied and told him it was good. It wasn’t. All of it felt like a fever dream and I was eager to put some distance between us and the weirdness of the place. It was decided that we would press on to Phoenix even though it meant arriving late at night. I surrendered my objections in order to facilitate as quick a departure from the place as possible. I wasn’t sure if the proprietor was about to hack us up with a knife or perform an elaborate lip-synch number to Leslie Gore but I knew the next scene in that particular movie was grotesque.

    Though I’d been driving hard all day I continued behind the wheel. Feeling energized by events I had no problem pushing us west on I-10. No one played any music, no one spoke. Our soundtrack was the wind buffeting the truck as we sped into the inky black night. Then, from nowhere, Kar Wai opened up.

    “I lived in Shanghai when I was young. Very good childhood. My parents were very good to me. Dad was distant, but that is normal for our culture. My mother made up for it by loving me very, very much. My sister and I were very close, but my older brother was my hero. He was the coolest guy I’ve ever known.”

    I was shocked by the words pouring out of him. Glancing at the rearview mirror I could see that Darius was as fixated as I was. So much so that he didn’t even meet my eyes but instead had his gaze locked on Kar Wai. I couldn’t see Stephane but could only hope he was hearing this as well.

    “My Brother was very fashionable. He wore tailored suits wherever he went. He always had the prettiest girlfriends and all the guys worshipped him. He had the greatest, thickest hair. A pompadour, like Elvis. I wanted to be him when I grew up. Then the Cultural Revolution came.
    “I was young, so I didn’t really understand what was going on. My parents tried to comfort me but I was very afraid. Suddenly it was dangerous to be noticed and everyone had to be quiet. The thing that scared me most was when I saw my brother did not wear his suits any more. I knew something bad was going on.”

    Kar Wai was staring off in the distance and letting the words fall out of him as if by gravity. He often went into his little fugues, but never spoke and always smiled when in one. He wasn’t smiling now, but he sure was talking.

    “One day they came to our house. They were there for my sister. Every family had to sacrifice for the common good, and they needed her. It was not uncommon. My brother fought them, though. He refused to let her go, even though my father was allowing it. Finally, and I don’t know how he did this, my brother convinced them to take him instead. He left with them and my sister and I got to stay.”

    “What became of him?”

    “I never saw him again. Just a picture, once. Years later someone who had survived the camps smuggled out a picture. It was taken a year after he left Shanghai and went to the countryside. His hair was all gone, he was bald. That’s the thing that really upset me. No more suit, he was naked from the waist up, bent over working in a rice paddy. His face had aged twenty years and all the laughter had left his eyes. That’s the last I ever saw or heard of him. Shortly after that my Mother and I moved to Hong Kong.”

    Now openly staring at him, I was completely overcome with emotion. A few sniffles emanated from the back seat. What an absolutely soul-crushing experience. I couldn’t imagine living through something like he had. Yet his visage remained stoic, and he stared impassively into the darkness as we pressed on. Ultimately that’s all you can do, right? Just keep going, if you can.

    We went.



    Sam Hutchins has been working in film production for twenty years. He started as overnight security on the set of “Working Girl” while attending film school at NYU. Since 1995 he has been a location manager for some of the top names in the business. He’ll be blogging from a unique insider’s perspective on the filmmaking process, as well as speaking to his colleagues in the production community to share their experiences with you.

  • February 22, 2010

    Best Movies by Farr: Culture Clash

    by John Farr

    Guess who’s coming to dinner?

    Hester Street (1975)


    After emigrating from Russia in the late 1800s, Jewish immigrant Jake (Steven Keats) has shed all the outer signs of his heritage, including side locks and traditional clothing, and settled into a bustling, profitable life on New York’s Lower East Side. So he is less than thrilled when his wife Giti (Carol Kane) joins him five years later, and seems unwilling to relinquish her Old World values. She, in turn, is dismayed by the profound change that has taken place in Jake.


    A low-key, moving story about the conflict between tradition and modernity as it is played out in the confines of a marriage, Silver’s “Hester Street” is a lovely period piece that earned newcomer Kane an Oscar nomination for her sensitive portrayal of Giti, who must cope not only with Jake’s cultural transformation, but the fact of his new lover as well. Silver went on to become a busy movie director, but her authentic evocation of a woman’s struggles in turn-of-the-century New York in this quietly assured debut remains her finest work to date. Made on a modest budget, “Hester Street” has a homemade feel that perfectly suits its subject.

    The Namesake (2007)


    After an arranged marriage in 1970s Calcutta, Ashoke Ganguli (Irfan Khan) moves with his bride Ashima (Tabu) to New York City in hopes of a bright future as an engineer. The adjustment is hard on Ashima, a homesick Hindi speaker only barely fluent in English, but they persevere. Years later, their Americanized teenage children Sonia (Sahira Nair) and eldest son Gogol (Kal Penn) present a wholly new challenge, as they resent their parents’ conservative values and seem disconnected from their Indian heritage. But family ties prove hard to break.


    Based on a novel by Jhumpa Lahiri, Nair’s chronicle of the Indian-American immigrant experience is sensitive, intelligent, and surprisingly true-to-life, especially as it focuses on the rebellious Gogol’s conflicted relationship with Ashoke, whom he neither respects nor seems willing to understand. When he acquires a perky WASP girlfriend at Yale, Gogol finds himself poised between the world he wants to dissociate from (old India) and the one he feels he belongs to (mainstream America). Wisdom arrives, as it often does, in the form of a crisis, and Nair makes sure we earn the catharsis her excellent young actor eventually undergoes.

    Visit Best Movies by Farr for more great DVD recommendations.

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