Drill Sergeant In The Desert

It was in the middle of Palmdale, California. I can’t remember how I got to this out of the way diner. But it looked like a biker stop. And it was empty. Built specifically as a film set. And I was a camera assistant for a incredibly disorganized movie. Because I started out as a electrician on this project. So naturally I jumped the lines to camera. Since the original assist ran. I don’t mean ran. I meant disappeared.

The trek out there was mysterious. I’d never been out there. So highway becomes dirt road. A single lane that ran through a town. At a certain point the signs become hand painted. I thought it was a kitsch thing. But it turns out, they just were tired of the sun fading the signs. And there wasn’t anyone out there that gave a damn. Anyone out there knew where they were, by compass.

So I arrived and was thrown back by how remote we were. I was still in film school and desperate to work on anything. This place was cool. The location, by the way, became a hot spot for music videos and bigger movies. That’s the thing with Hollywood. Big and little productions share space. I once saw a location we used on a feature seen in Spielberg’s “Catch Me If You Can” (Lacy Street Studios) and Linda Vista Hospital, which was used in “Pearl Harbor.”

Anyway, walking into the Palmdale location, it was dark (as it was early morning). And smelled like sweat and stale food. I negotiated through the darkness and met up with the director of photography. A nice guy. But he seemed really tense. Nervous and impatient. He was standing next to the camera. We shook hands, exchange quick pleasantries. He told me his previous experience was as a camera operator on “Survivor.” I noticed he’d worn hiking shoes, and had a weird uncontrollable habit of clicking his feet together. When I gathered enough time with him, I finally asked what that was all about. Apparently it was a hiker’s trick. If you stand long enough, the blood in your legs will stop flowing.  He constantly moved his feet so that he would maintain circulation. A neat trick I sometimes do to stave off fatigue.

The director on this project was clueless. Young with a TON of resources, but clearly overwhelmed. It was clear they were WAY behind schedule and we were still waiting. I’m not sure why, just that we weren’t shooting. That’s when I heard the voice. It’s un-mistakable. The one that was iconic with boot camp. The one that made drill sergeant glamorous. It was R. Lee Ermey. And he was sitting in the chair in the diner, smoking a cigarette. My mouth hung open. Here he was. A man Stanley Kubrick plucked as a technical advisor into an Oscar contending performance, for…being himself. He was casually chatting with another older gentleman who I recognized in many westerns, but couldn’t tell you his name. They were laughing and just…so very relaxed. And having a good time. Here we were, in the middle of the desert, with flies everywhere, and he’s just chatting like he was on a picnic. The cinematographer was clearly stressed as was the director. I just stood by the camera (this was a digital movie, so it was a digital camera, nothing but to watch to make sure no one bumped it) and watched one of my absolute favorite people in entertainment. I couldn’t believe it. I overheard one conversation that changed my perspective towards working actors. As R. Lee was sitting there talking to the other guy, something he said struck me. He was laughing and he spat out “I love this. This is so much fun. Hell, I’d come out and do this shit for free if they just offered me a sandwich.”

I kid you not. This is what he said. I was really moved by how much this meant to him. A po-dunk crappy project for which I’m still not sure if they finished production (this was over a decade ago). And he was willing to work for nothing but a hot meal. That was unreal to me. This is a guy who’s worked with David Fincher, Stanley Kubrick, Spielberg…you name it, he’s done it. But you know what I approached him with. Colonel Happablap from “The Simpsons.” He even recreated the scene for me and laughed like he heard it the first time. I laughed along. It was absolutely amazing. I have high respect for people like him. A strong work ethic with zero pretense. He is EXACTLY who you think he is. And he is flattered and touched that he made a difference in anyone’s world. A total professional.

The drive to the same set the next day didn’t seem as bad.