Written By
Ted Nicolaou
During the Making of Subspecies
September – December 1990
NOV 25 — Sun — The coffeeshop’s closed when I come downstairs. I plead with the waiter and he lets me in for a couple of cups. I run into Tani in the lobby, and he explains why he had to speak to the pimp/dick when we got home last night. The night before last, his girlfriend left his leather jacket in the bar, with her return ticket in the pocket. They forgot it there for a few hours, and when Tani went back for it, it was gone. When we got home last night, Tani asked the pimp/dick for his help getting it back. This morning Tani got his jacket back with the plane ticket still in the pocket. Maybe pimp/hotel detective is a good combination after all.
Vlad and Oana are taking Michael and Brenna to the flea market. They invited me, but they’re getting a late start, and I feel like eating a real lunch and plotting out a scene we’re shooting Tuesday, so I stay at the hotel.
Ion has arranged for us to shoot 5 hours today, beginning at 5 PM, to make up for the time lost last Thursday when the sword broke and the crew went home.
We gather in the lobby at 4:30 for the trip to Buftea. Laura throws a fit about the transportation, insisting that there better be a place for her in the Mercedes when she wraps. Apparently, the other night, Michelle beat her into the car, and Laura had to wait until the it circled back for a ride to the hotel. Everybody is pissed that Brenna always tags along, taking up a precious space in the car. They have a point and I agree, but I’m sick of being the receiver of these complaints. They should talk directly to Ion.
I herd everyone out of the hotel, insisting we have to be at Buftea at 5 o’clock sharp in order to finish the sword fight tonight.
We arrive at the studio. Vlad shows up 30 minutes late with Michael and Brenna. I scold them about the 10% of the night’s work they’ve cost us with their tardiness.
Vlad and I walk onto the set and I show him where I’d like to begin shooting. He looks at me sadly. There’s trouble brewing, I can feel it. Viorel the stunt coordinator comes in and asks if Ion is here. He needs to be paid for working on Sunday, and none of the production team has any money. Vlad also needs to talk to Ion before he’ll start working. There are some problems that still have to be worked out for him and his crew. Stellica the main production guy on set gets Ion on the phone, and Vlad talks to him awhile. After Vlad’s finished, I get on the phone with Ion, and Ion asks if there’s any way that Tani the Steadicam operator can shoot tonight instead of Vlad. I ask Ion if he’s crazy or what. The electrical crew is Vlad’s. If Vlad’s not working, no one’s working. I tell Ion if there’s a problem with Vlad’s contract, it needs to be settled. Ion swears on his Mother that he just now found out there’s a problem.
Lying asshole. He knew. That’s why he asked me last Thursday to ask Vlad if he’ll agree to work on Sunday. Ion was scared to ask himself because he knew what the answer would be.
Ion and Vlad talk some more, and somehow the problem gets resolved.
We set up for the sword fight.
I go upstairs to the green room to tell Anders and Michael and find them drinking wine. I take the bottles away and ask them what they think they’re doing, drinking before this fight scene with the saw blade swords. But they’re so fed up with everything that they’re out of control.
The set is lit and we call them down to rehearse. By the time we’re ready for the first shot, the fight looks pretty good. We shoot two takes, go for a third, and as the swords clash — CLANG! — Radu’s sword — the one that was repaired the other night — breaks again. Luckily no one’s hurt.
We’re stuck again until the sword can be welded together tomorrow morning. It’s Sunday night. Michael’s last day is Tuesday.
Anders is on a drunken roll. He jokingly calls my assistant Carmen a bitch, and Carmen takes offense. He tries to apologize, but she’s had enough of his rude behavior, and doesn’t accept his apology. Which makes him even more furious. I tell him to lay off Carmen, she’s not the cause of his problems, and doesn’t deserve his abuse. He says he has enough problems of his own and bellows “FUCK YOU, TED!!!” at the top of his lungs. I tell him he’s not making any sense and go on about my business, planning tomorrow’s work. He storms off, then returns a few minutes later to apologize to Carmen.
Everyone walks off the stage. Ion is waiting out in the corridor. The production team descends on him. The translators, including Carmen, gather around to get some satisfaction for their many hours of overtime. Ion gives them the runaround with the excuse that since they’re not studio employees, Buftea cannot pay them overtime at all. He tells them he’s not a money tree and can’t help them either.
So Catalina quits. Carmen threatens to quit, but I assure her I’ll pay her out of my pocket for her invaluable work. There aren’t enough seats in the two Mercedes to ferry all the actors plus Brenna back to the hotel, and after Laura’s snit fit and Anders’ tirade, I don’t feel like riding with them, so I arrange for Laura and Anders and Keith to ride with Colombo in my car. Ion doesn’t offer to take anyone to the hotel, and I don’t feel like riding with him anyway, so I board the crew bus for the slow ride back to Bucharest.
Translators Catalina and Ioana are on the bus with me. I call Catalina over and ask her to tell me what’s going on with their salaries, thinking maybe I’ll have to speak with Vasille, the head of Buftea tomorrow on their behalf. She tells me there’s a more pressing problem. The bus driver refuses drop them off at their homes on the outskirts of the city, and they can’t afford the taxi fares home, and they’re scared to ride alone in taxis anyway, so they face the prospect of being stranded in the dead of night in Bucharest. Luckily, Valentin from production is on the bus, so I badger him for awhile, asking why is it that these young women are not being taken care of. I offer to pay their cab fares home, but somehow, Valentin feels guilty enough that he intervenes and sorts it out with the bus driver.
I get back to the hotel hungry and feeling like hell. Go to the restaurant and luckily don’t see any of the actors, so I get an out of the way table for myself and eat, brooding about it all, scribbling a song about the gloom of night in Bucharest on a random page of my script.
As I’m leaving, I spot Anders, Laura, and Michelle at their table, and go over to say goodnight. I ask Anders to please not bellow “FUCK YOU, TED” at the top of his lungs at me anymore, and furthermore, to have a little sympathy for the pain everyone on this production is experiencing, especially the people like Carmen who are fighting for their tiny salaries which are less than Anders pisses away every day in wine alone. This leads to another session of table pounding by me and Anders both, followed by a close call with broken glass as Laura stands up and says she doesn’t care about the others, “if they want to quit they should quit, they have other jobs, and anyway, Ted, you talked me into staying here and I expect you to take care of me!!!!!” She leans across the table at me, yelling louder and louder, building up to the obligatory “FUCK YOU, TED!” Michelle and I quickly clear all the bottles and glasses out of her reach before it turns into another night of shattered glass. And all at once the absurdity of the moment passes into a temporary calm.
STILL MORE TO COME. . .
Thanks for reading. If you’re enjoying the journal, please take a moment to hit the “like” button, tell your friends, and come back for more. I promise - the worst is yet to come.
Ted Nicolaou
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