Ian McColgin
04-07-2007, 07:32 AM
The movie "Chatham" is based on one of wassisname's - Lincoln something or something Lincoln or something like that, Cape Cod writer of just before and after WWI, very prolific - novel about three retired sea captains, David Carradine (Zeb), Rip Torn and Bruce Dern. They need a housekeeper and figure the cheapest way would be for one to get a mail-order bride. Draw straws, Enter Muriel Hemmingway. It turns out so sweetly that this may become a chick flick.
In the morning we had a bunch of close-ups of Zeb in Marmalade's cockpit. I mean close. Huge cameras maybe 18" from David's hands on the wheel. He loved the wheel. Reminded him of the wheel on his father's old Hand designed schooner. The plan is for those hands to be the visual behind the opening credits. It's a movie. An hour to figure the camera angles, an hour to wander off on other missions as they also had Hindu careened at the dock and some poor stuntmen were having water thrown at them. Then a while to get David to the set, get seated, take and retake.
Then he sits in the corner of the cockpit. This means different cameras at different places. Some arcane discussion of lenses. David and I stood on the dock talking boats. I must say, he was most likable, pleasant, easy to get on with, and interesting. Like any actor he likes telling stories. But he also likes hearing stories.
Back in the cockpit, unbutton the peajacket and sit down. Bunch of takes. Then get out the tobacco pouch and pipe - should it be packed already? - a half dozen times. Finally Mr. Torn is eased aboard to loom in the companion off-camera so he can feed David the line to which he reacts - something like Rip says, "Crabs are ready." David replies, "Good." Bit of work to get face, hands and gestures just right.
An hour of prep and an hour of star time for but a few fleeting moments in the film. Which is normal. The intricacy and logistics of movie making is amazing.
Then I sunbathed, if you call bundled in the cockpit in my work-exposure suit in 45-degree weather sunbathing. At 1530 we get the call for Marmalade to put to sea. I'm issued cloths from wardrobe since for these distance shots I am Zeb. Hair's right length but a tad dark. Beard's the right color but too long. But it's long shots that will work so long as I don't look at the camera. The idea for these shots came from yesterday's photogenic parading.
I got one of the stunt-double actors, Luke, along as crew and radioman. Luke's a good sailor himself, once a liveaboard on a nice steel sloop, nearly Olympic level windsurfer.
The beat out to Hyannis Port was wet. The wind was a southwesterly strong breeze - Force 6, about 25 knots, whitecaps everywhere. We went triple reefed - could have shaken one but why stress out? The tide was ebbing strongly against the wind making for some boisterous waved in the channel. I believe that a wool peajacket can hold 50# or more of water. The long lens may have gotten us while still bashing that stuff. I hope they use it.
So we get into flat water in Hyannis Port. The film crew was in Sam Barber's (American Impressionist) studio tower just south of the HPYC dock. We sailed about a lot - maybe two dozen tacks and as many gybes. I hope they closed in on the sheet tossing for those gybes.
And then Charlie got to Foxtrot. (Think radio speak for CF) I was to single hand a mooring pickup. I was only beginning to get the hang of this under sail late last summer and I'd not been sailing except for Thursday since mid-January. And Marmalade hates to have her head held. She's so psycho at a mooring with sail up that my under sail departure is to cast-off, drift into a heave-to, and then hoist sail.
The plan was to scandalize the sail bringing the gaff to horizontal and, third reef after all, only about 4' of luff showing. Then slither up to the mooring on a slightly tight reach, stop with the mooring abeam the cockpit, grab it with the boat hook, loop a line that's secure at the bow over it, set back into the wind, and get the sail the rest of the way down.
One problem was vision. With no glasses on and shooting moorings that were into the sun, I couldn't see very well.
A big problem was momentum and timing. I was really raw.
The hat kept blowing off.
Snagging a winter ice-buoy - no rigged moorings out - and then hauling up the chain to get a loop over the buoy was tough
All on the starboard side so the shore-bound cameras could get it.
We missed a lot. Got a few that either slipped off the hook or we fell off to fast for me to hang on. All the while trying to stay within a tight camera view and some character with alleged local knowledge ashore grabbing the radio to warn me, through Luke who had the radio and was hidden below, about rocks.
It had to happen. I'd just told Luke that I knew all the rocks when there was a huge metallic clang as the centerboard jumped. He was right by the trunk and quite startled. Before he could say anything I said, "Told you I know all the rocks here. Allow me to introduce you to that one."
Anyway, we finally made a textbook hit, I got the line on the mooring and turned to get the sail down but we swung off on a beam reach and held there. The line from the bow had snagged on the mid-ships springline cleat. Enormous pressure. I eventually pried it off my big - 24" - fid.
But then we charged ahead, tacked on the mooring, ran over it, and gybed. After the gybe, I got the sail down and demanded whiskey. Thank the shade of Cecil B. DeMille for the magic of editing. I'm sure that the perhaps 45 seconds of film time that bit of sailing will come to will look trescool.
We sailed home, landing about 1900.
That's a wrap.
In the morning we had a bunch of close-ups of Zeb in Marmalade's cockpit. I mean close. Huge cameras maybe 18" from David's hands on the wheel. He loved the wheel. Reminded him of the wheel on his father's old Hand designed schooner. The plan is for those hands to be the visual behind the opening credits. It's a movie. An hour to figure the camera angles, an hour to wander off on other missions as they also had Hindu careened at the dock and some poor stuntmen were having water thrown at them. Then a while to get David to the set, get seated, take and retake.
Then he sits in the corner of the cockpit. This means different cameras at different places. Some arcane discussion of lenses. David and I stood on the dock talking boats. I must say, he was most likable, pleasant, easy to get on with, and interesting. Like any actor he likes telling stories. But he also likes hearing stories.
Back in the cockpit, unbutton the peajacket and sit down. Bunch of takes. Then get out the tobacco pouch and pipe - should it be packed already? - a half dozen times. Finally Mr. Torn is eased aboard to loom in the companion off-camera so he can feed David the line to which he reacts - something like Rip says, "Crabs are ready." David replies, "Good." Bit of work to get face, hands and gestures just right.
An hour of prep and an hour of star time for but a few fleeting moments in the film. Which is normal. The intricacy and logistics of movie making is amazing.
Then I sunbathed, if you call bundled in the cockpit in my work-exposure suit in 45-degree weather sunbathing. At 1530 we get the call for Marmalade to put to sea. I'm issued cloths from wardrobe since for these distance shots I am Zeb. Hair's right length but a tad dark. Beard's the right color but too long. But it's long shots that will work so long as I don't look at the camera. The idea for these shots came from yesterday's photogenic parading.
I got one of the stunt-double actors, Luke, along as crew and radioman. Luke's a good sailor himself, once a liveaboard on a nice steel sloop, nearly Olympic level windsurfer.
The beat out to Hyannis Port was wet. The wind was a southwesterly strong breeze - Force 6, about 25 knots, whitecaps everywhere. We went triple reefed - could have shaken one but why stress out? The tide was ebbing strongly against the wind making for some boisterous waved in the channel. I believe that a wool peajacket can hold 50# or more of water. The long lens may have gotten us while still bashing that stuff. I hope they use it.
So we get into flat water in Hyannis Port. The film crew was in Sam Barber's (American Impressionist) studio tower just south of the HPYC dock. We sailed about a lot - maybe two dozen tacks and as many gybes. I hope they closed in on the sheet tossing for those gybes.
And then Charlie got to Foxtrot. (Think radio speak for CF) I was to single hand a mooring pickup. I was only beginning to get the hang of this under sail late last summer and I'd not been sailing except for Thursday since mid-January. And Marmalade hates to have her head held. She's so psycho at a mooring with sail up that my under sail departure is to cast-off, drift into a heave-to, and then hoist sail.
The plan was to scandalize the sail bringing the gaff to horizontal and, third reef after all, only about 4' of luff showing. Then slither up to the mooring on a slightly tight reach, stop with the mooring abeam the cockpit, grab it with the boat hook, loop a line that's secure at the bow over it, set back into the wind, and get the sail the rest of the way down.
One problem was vision. With no glasses on and shooting moorings that were into the sun, I couldn't see very well.
A big problem was momentum and timing. I was really raw.
The hat kept blowing off.
Snagging a winter ice-buoy - no rigged moorings out - and then hauling up the chain to get a loop over the buoy was tough
All on the starboard side so the shore-bound cameras could get it.
We missed a lot. Got a few that either slipped off the hook or we fell off to fast for me to hang on. All the while trying to stay within a tight camera view and some character with alleged local knowledge ashore grabbing the radio to warn me, through Luke who had the radio and was hidden below, about rocks.
It had to happen. I'd just told Luke that I knew all the rocks when there was a huge metallic clang as the centerboard jumped. He was right by the trunk and quite startled. Before he could say anything I said, "Told you I know all the rocks here. Allow me to introduce you to that one."
Anyway, we finally made a textbook hit, I got the line on the mooring and turned to get the sail down but we swung off on a beam reach and held there. The line from the bow had snagged on the mid-ships springline cleat. Enormous pressure. I eventually pried it off my big - 24" - fid.
But then we charged ahead, tacked on the mooring, ran over it, and gybed. After the gybe, I got the sail down and demanded whiskey. Thank the shade of Cecil B. DeMille for the magic of editing. I'm sure that the perhaps 45 seconds of film time that bit of sailing will come to will look trescool.
We sailed home, landing about 1900.
That's a wrap.