"Ronald, you said those girls dream was to appear on the big screen. What about your dream?" Gale asked as they tossed the last of the pizza boxes into the trash.
"My dream?" Ronald paused, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I guess I haven't found it yet. Right now? I just want my name in the credits of Rock 'n' Roll High School.
If I'm an 'official' Hollywood photographer, I can charge double for headshots."
"Why?" Gale looked confused. "You clearly have a talent for this. Directing, I mean. Why go back to taking portraits?"
"To be honest, I don't know if I have talent. But I do know that without money, talent doesn't matter. Only the people at the top of the pyramid make the real money. I need tuition for college. I need stability."
"College?" Gale looked him up and down. "How old are you, Ronald?"
"It's hard to believe, but the guy just graduated high school," Jim interjected with a laugh. "He's way years younger than us. He's taking a gap year to save up."
"Do you really do portrait photography?" Gale asked.
"Yeah. Back in New York, I shot headshots, weddings, family portraits. But out here, I'm a nobody. I can only charge thirty or fifty bucks a set. That's why I took the job at New World. I needed an 'in'."
"Well," Gale said thoughtfully, "Why don't you take some production stills for us? Behind-the-scenes stuff for marketing. I'll talk to Roger. You won't be the director tomorrow, but we can keep you on the payroll as a unit photographer. It pays better than being a PA."
"Really? That would be amazing," Ronald beamed. "Thank you, Gale."
"It's nothing," she waved a hand.
"What about you, James?" Ronald asked. "What's the dream?"
"Me?" Jim's eyes drifted toward the horizon. "I want to make a sci-fi movie like Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey."
He leaned forward, intense. "When I was at community college, I saw a re-screening of that film. It changed my biology. I watched it ten times. I told myself, 'Jim, you have to build worlds like this.'"
"So I came to L.A., went to the USC library, and photocopied every book on filmmaking I could find. You know the rest, I found twelve dentists to fund my short film. But they just wanted the tax write-off. They didn't want to make a feature."
"And you, Gale?" Jim asked. "What's the plan?"
"I love movies," Gale said, her voice steady and confident. "After graduating from Stanford, I could have gone into finance like everyone else. instead, I came here to be Roger's assistant. I've realized I don't want to direct. I want to produce. I like the logistics, the negotiations, the marketing. I want to be the one who makes the big-budget impossible movies happen."
It made sense. With her Stanford degree and sharp mind, Gale Anne Hurd was built to run the show, not just watch it.
"Well," Ronald raised his soda can. "Here's to dreams coming true."
"To dreams," they echoed.
The hour flew by. The crew and extras reassembled on the quad.
Ronald's plan was simple: rehearse the final two scenes now, then shoot them during the "Magic Hour" sunset.
He called over Mary Woronov, the cult actress playing the villainous Principal Togar.
"Ms. Woronov, here is the setup," Ronald explained. "You and two security guards march across the grass. In the background, the students are still dancing. Your objective is total suppression."
"Cut the wires, crush the rebellion," Mary Woronov said, instantly slipping into character. She made a sharp, chopping motion with her hand. Her posture stiffened into a terrifying authoritarian strut.
"Excellent," Ronald praised. "You walk from the deep background to a medium shot. I'll have dancers on both sides so you can react to them, give them that look of pure disgust before landing in a close-up."
"Got it," Mary nodded.
In reality, Mary Woronov was cool. She was part of the Andy Warhol crowd and loved rock music. But the moment the camera rolled, she transformed into a rigid, music-hating tyrant. Her control over her facial micro-expressions, the sneer, the twitch of the eye was masterful.
Next, they rehearsed the final scene of the day: The detention sentence.
Riff Randell (P.J. Soles) and the "Good Girl" Kate (Dey Young) are sentenced to detention. Kate is devastated, it's her first time in trouble, Riff comforts her.
"Detention is no big deal," Riff says. "I'm a regular."
The two friends walk toward the school building, Riff playing the Ramones on a portable cassette player to cheer Kate up. The shot would end on their backs, framed against the setting sun.
It was a surprisingly tender moment for a loud exploitation film. Roger Corman might be cheap, but he knew how to hire writers who put heart into the schlock.
After a few run-throughs, Dean Cundey nodded. "We're ready. Now we wait for the sun."
Ronald announced a hold.
On a big studio set, waiting for light was common. On a Corman set, it was a luxury. The actors retreated to the shade. The extras sat on the steps.
Ronald stood alone by the camera. He didn't sit in the chair marked DIRECTOR - ALLEN ARKUSH.
He looked at the equipment.
The Arri 35 BL camera sat quietly on the fluid head, a silent beast waiting to be fed film.
Nearby lay the clapperboard and the long boom pole with its furry wind-shielded microphone (the "dead cat").
Ronald touched the cold metal of the tripod.
What exactly is my dream? he wondered.
Directing was intoxicating. For the last six hours, he had been the general of this small army. He spent thousands of dollars an hour, commanded the movement of people and machines, and created something that would last forever.
Allen and Joe had spent five years cutting trailers just to get here. Did he have that kind of patience?
But God, I want to do this again, Ronald thought. Other jobs feel... small.
In peacetime, filmmaking was the closest a man could get to war. You command a legion. You fight against time, light, and budget. You strategize. And then, you wait for the release date, victory or defeat determined in an opening weekend.
No wonder everyone wanted to be a director. It was a profession for those addicted to command.
Authors Note:-
Third bonus chapter today....
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