Trailer Park #8

My final day on the set was April 12, and it was a short day. I had to come out of my (Dewey Knox's) trailer and yell at a drunken Terry (played by a sober Tyler). It was a night shoot, and we were pretending it was well after midnight, when in fact, it was just after dark. The sequence was this: I yelled some rough equivalent of "Get off my lawn", Tyler invites me to perform an act most generally thought of as impossible, and then the scantily clad Doreen (played by the scantily clad Dinah) comes out of her trailer to yell at Terry (Tyler) as well. Her husband Sean (played by her former classmate John), comes out of their trailer with a coat to wrap around Doreen, and back in they go.

This was filmed a number of different ways, and Tyler cut his hand pounding on the rusty exterior of one of the trailers, so I expect to hear he'll soon accept a lifetime engagement playing Capt. Hook.

I quit smoking a few weeks back, and this surprised many on the set, including Patrick (co-director), who said I smoked more than anyone he ever met. Not smoking makes breaks and downtime meaningless, changing them from something eagerly longed for to something to be endured.

After channelling my non-smoking grumpiness into the grumpiness of Dewey Knox, I next had to do a little ADR--for those of you not versed in the arcane language of film, ADR stands for Another Day Ruined--no, no, I'm kidding, I kid, I'm a kidder, you know that about me...it means Actors Don't Read...no,no, just a joke, again with the kidding, I kid because I love...it means, and I am serious this time...uh, something about recording lines, dubbing or looping, I guess. Stand by...

Ok, just googled it, and it means Additional Dialogue Replacement. I thought it meant Additional Dialogue Recording. Whatever it's acronymic  meaning, the upshot is that you stand in front of the screen while a scene you've previously filmed rolls by, and you record additional words which are then  inserted into the scene. The scene was the exterior Michigan shoot from February, with all of us scrabbling on the frozen lake for a bunch of money that was flying around. The directors felt like there wasn't enough grunting and stuff to fill the moments, so several actors were rerecorded for extra noises, and so I stood there in front of the mic and grunted and made exasperated noises, and such like, all the while biting my sleeve because in the scene I had a glove dangling from my mouth.

After ADR, I then went to a trailer where some young videographers recorded me answering questions about the whole process. I think I sounded stupid and pretentious--as I was talking I was thinking to myself "Oh, just shut up you arrogant dweeb!" I hope they decide my video contribution isn't needed.

Then, as promised, I picked up my newest little pal... a young (month old) guinea pig, black and white like a Jersey cow, and I adopted him. Or her. Turns out the only way you can tell if a Guinea Pig is male or female is to read " Twilight" to them and see they like it. You can also set them in front of the TV and tune in to the Lifetime Channel, and go away for a while. If you come back and they've created rudimentary tools and used them to commit suicide, you'll know you were dealing with a male.

So, anyway, I christened the rodent "Dewey" after my character. The production was nice enough to include a cage and some food, and after waving bye bye to the admirable and dedicated crew, Dewey and I hit the road, getting home around midnight. Didn't tell Dani I was bringing home a new member of the menagerie. Earler, I'd mentioned to Frederick Lewis (the professor who conceived the whole process of Trailer Park) that my wife had no idea that I was bringing home a guinea pig, and in fact, had threatened me with death whenever I mentioned that I was gonna do it. Frederick looked at me with those wise eyes, and said, " That's how you've decided to play it, eh?" I said " Yes, I am going with the completely blind-siding her with the guinea pig option. After carefully considering all the alternatives, this is the one I've chosen." 

This harkens back to a time-honored truism I discovered many years ago, that no matter what dumb-ass, idiot fool thing we end up doing, it began somewhere earlier that day as a damn good idea. 

I arrived at this amazing life-fact years ago, when my then girlfriend Glenda told me how her dad's brother got liquored up one night, and called her mother (the uncle's sister-in-law) at 3am and asked her if she'd mind giving him a blowjob. Of course, the answer was no, and he quickly hung up the phone, but not before she'd yelled " Ed, is that you?!" Many recriminations and allegations followed, a permanent rift opened in the family, all over a question that began earlier in the day as a damned reasonable request. 

I could see Ed sitting alone in his house trailer (it sort of has to be a trailer, don't you think?), drinking beer after beer, stacking the cans on the card table in front of him, and as the wall of cans rose up ever higher, he kept revising his plan--"should it be a blowjob, and maybe just a handjob? How about I don't call her at all--nah, that's no good... how about I ask her to dinner instead...no...I really think blowjob is the best option here..." and so on, into the early hours until, finally, " Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do! I am gonna call her up and ask her if she'll do this perfectly innocent thing for me, and even if she says no, there is no way this could ever come back to haunt me--she would never tell my brother what I said. This is the perfect plan, the best way to proceed with this business. And right after this next 12 pack, I am gonna pick up that phone and dial her number."

One imagines Ed on the phone, smiling, his face shiny and red, glowing with anticipation, and then, as he heard himself say the words "Dolores, suck my dick" to his sister-in-law, suddenly realizing how horribly awry it all had gone, and in a sober, blindingly clear flash saw the end game of all this, the unhealable breach between his brother and himself, the hatreds and embarrassments that would last even unto the grave.

How could this have gone so terribly wrong? It had seemed so perfect just five minutes ago!

Anyway, by the time I got Dewey home, Dani was asleep, so I took his/her cage into my little office, and installed her/him there. The next morning, while Dani was in the bathroom getting ready for work, I got out of bed, tiptoed into the office,  took Dewey out of his/her cage, and carried (let's settle on "it" for now) into the bedroom, and put it on my chest, under the blanket. Dani came in to kiss me good morning, and I pulled down the blanket just a little, and said " Meet Dewey!" I don't think she saw the guinea pig at first, and thought I was making some Ed-like request, until Dewey whistled and after an initial frozen moment, she finally laughed and said, " You really did it, didn't you?" 

Of course, now, a week later, Dewey and Dani are best pals, and Dewey couldn't possibly care less about me. When I come in, it hides in its little house inside the cage , but it whistles and gets excited when Dani enters the office. 

So anyway, whenever I see my little guinea pig ignoring me and  loving my wife instead, I'll think of Trailer Park, and of the wonderful young artists I met there. It's been both fun and educational,  just like the Lifetime Channel.