First off. Billy Burke’s new video for REMOVED is up and it’s awesome. Check him out at www.billyburke.net.
Here’s the thing, if I’m allowed a moment to brag, Drive Angry is a pretty good script. But Burke was exceptional. Wait till you see. He created an icon in this movie. So the kid can act. And as if that weren’t enough. He can sing too. His pipes are sexy. The more I get to know him the more talent I discover. I think I hate him. :)
Okay, so let’s get the Angry Driving underway. March began with a hop to LA then a stretch to Dallas and another hop to Shreveport.
On the first of March we found out what the Stix song “Renegade” would cost us. And it was a great price! But twice what the studio was willing to pay. So rather than continue going to our masters with a list of songs we had no idea if we could afford, we asked them to send us the bargain bin list of songs.
On the 2nd of March the tech scout began. Department heads and key crew scoured the village of Shreveport and its surrounding magical forests.
March 2nd Nathan emailed. He needed last names for Milton and Pipers Driver’s Licenses. I let him know it was John Milton and Piper Lee.
On March 3rd the day began with Tech Scout part duex. Much of the MBV clique was still together. Patrick and I, of course, but also, DP, Brian Pearson returned (pictured left). Between them, Michael Schaffer from Summit, pretended to make a very important phone call. To the right, you can just make out Jen, Head of Locations. Jen saved us. Back in November, during the original scout, Ed Lipscum was our Locations guy. But having closed zero deals, Ed dropped us three weeks out with no warning, to pursue a higher paying job. Sadly that job did not pan out for Ed. We at Drive Angry would like to extend our deepest…never mind. Ed. Blow us.
As for Jen, Jen is awesome. She picked up the ball and with three weeks to go, Jen, Sherrill and team closed a dozen deals, won over Shreveport and got us, not only everything we wanted, but a bunch of stuff we didn’t even know we needed. The movie will be better because of their efforts.
As mentioned before, Nathan Amondson, our production designer, found several of the locations that are still in the movie today. Of course if you asked the great quitter, Ed Lipscum, he would likely attempt to take credit.
Nathan, however, likely wouldn’t. Nathan doesn’t feel the need to toot his own horn. Doesn’t feel the need to prove just how fast a gunslinger he is. But having Nathan on your team brings with it a sense of security. You just know when some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, and he looks you crooked in the eye and he asks you if ya paid your dues, just know that Nathan will be nearby, ready to pull his hogleg and drop that sumbitch where he stands. Nathan is a keeper. If we survive this one, if we actually get to make another movie, then Nathan comes with us. Permanent teammate. One of the Beatles.
I’d love to call DeLuca one of the Beatles as well…but he’s too awesome. Has too many bands courting him. We get him when he’s not on tour, not recording a new album. He’s our Clapton playing on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”. But we’ll take what we can get. And when this wraps, the three of us will team with Nic and do something else.
Once we finally got back to the office I had a call with Bryan Furst to discuss RL Stine’s “The Sitter”. A great little thriller and Furst had a nasty little approach. But there was no money and I don’t have time to pitch. Falls into the realm of “Information I could have used earlier.” Wish Furst the best though. Heck of a take.
As I sit here thinking back, I can recall the electricity in the air. And the praise. Praise for the screenplay. Odd as it may sound, the last time I got praise on any screenplay was the first draft of Jason X. It was a good script. But it changed. Alot. Drive Angry hasn’t changed. The script that got all the praise in the beginning is still the movie we’re making.
March 4th was even more tech scout.
Here. Making each day of the year. Changing my life with the wave of her hand. Nobody can deny that there’s something there. — Lennon/McCartney
I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend. But I always thought that I’d see you again — James Talyor
Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping. Left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains, within the sound of silence. — Simon & Garfunkel
By day three we’d seen just about all of Shreveport and Bossier. We’d left barely a rock unturned. Good thing too. We’d need it all and more. Couple things we didn’t plan on. One, we’d be working 12 hour days. No overtime. Ever. Even if we only needed one shot to wrap a location, the moment we hit that 12th hour, they’d shut us down. 
We knew this going in and had made our peace with it. Planned to plan for it. We would improvise, overcome and adapt. BUT. What was never included in the memo was that those 12 hour days included travel. Forty-five minutes to get to your locations? Then your shooting day goes from 12 to 10.5.
THAT, my friends, was a hit. But. Again. We’d work within the shackles our masters provided because we simply didn’t have a choice.
I said there were two things we hadn’t planned on. Number two was the weather. Shreveport exists in that fold within the “normal” fabric of the world. That odd place that Stephen King has built a career writing about. The weather is as unpredictable as Tom Cruise on Oprah. I think I mentioned before, but this resulted in our needing a Plan A for good weather and a Plan B for bad. It meant we would always need a backup plan for a production that barely had enough money for its Plan A. As I type this two weeks from wrap we’ve done brilliantly well. We always made the right call to flee beneath weather cover. We were smart. We were good. But if we’re being honest (and we will be) then we should give props where props are due. Thank you Mother Luck. Thank you for being there for us. Had the bond company known just how much of our production had been flung by the powers that be into a big boiling vat of luck, they would have crapped a Buick. At the time, of course, the creatives had to carry the load, the stress and the burden.
Patrick and I kept telling ourselves, if we can survive this one then we can make movies for anyone. And it’s true. But it was like preparing for battle by watching your general shoot you in the foot.
I made it through the stress because Mel and her mother kept spamming me with pics of Izzie. Amazing how one little pic can bring it all into focus. And focus I stayed. Long days and short nights. I was getting up at 4am every morning. I’d run 4 to 6 miles then work the guns. Then it was nonstop all day and most of the night. I rarely got to bed before midnight. Four hours sleep then the whole thing started all over again.
I work hard every day of my life. I work till I ache my bones. At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own – I get down on my knees, and I start to pray, till the tears run down from my eyes. — Freddie Mercury
Patrick and I are partners. That, and that alone is the reason I found myself in Shreveport. I am in his contract. When he’s on location, I’m on location. There are those who didn’t quite understand this. Assumed it was some sort of trick. Some slight of hand. And in their passive agressive ways would make snide comments. The sort of comment that if you called them on it they’d throw up their hands and proclaim, “Just kidding!” Before the slyest smile or grin. I don’t understand why it is fair for a man in power to use his money to destroy. While it is somehow frowned upoin if I punch the man in charge in the mouth hard enough to make him crap teeth. As it stands, I’ve yet to punch anyone. While nothing would make me happier, we still have to kiss the ass that feeds us.
Skeleton Jack might catch you in the back, and scream like a banshee, make you jump out of your skin. This is Halloween, everyone scream! Won’t ya please make way for a very special guy. Our man jack is King of the Pumpkin patch. Everyone hail to the Pumpkin King! — Danny Elfman
March 9th Stunt rehearsals with Stunt Coordinator Johnny Martin. This consists of me and Johnny beating the crap out of each other. Fun and painful.
Later, Patrick and I joined with the beautiful Amber Heard and together the three of us journeyed Shreveport and Bossier to visit all the various locations. It was a wonderfully funny and laid back afternoon. It would be the very last. :)
March 10th Rehearsals and Church scouting. The Church would be a backup plan to an exterior scene. In the event of rain, we’d move inside. Easier said than done. This required a scene that could seamlessly slide in and out unnoticed. Now, this wasn’t the studio forcing our hands. Interesting thing about Millennium is that they do not Big Brother you. Just the opposite. You’re on your own. It’s adult swim all day/night long. We made this change because WE were being accountable. If the rain came…and it would…we’d be screwed if we weren’t prepared.
We not only found a church that would work, we started to think the scene would be better inside than out. The church gave it…undertones. Goosebumps entered into the picture. The church was no longer Plan B. Welcome to Plan A. We told Jen in Locations that it was a go. She began to work her magic. And as it turned out, one of the days we shot in the church…it rained. :)
Later in the day we get an email that we have publishing clearance to use Sandman by America as a visual/background vocal.
March 11th, the Reverend overseeing the Church wanted to read the script. There was a debate. Do we send the script as is? Do we cheat and tone it down? Drive Angry is NOT Drive Subtle. Not the sort of thing you go passing around in Bible School.
It was decided to do a little of both.
Not to deceive though. Let me es’plain. No time. Let me sum up.
Drive Angry was written in a very unique tone. In other words, the action lines are very colorful. Rather than just describe the action there’s some descriptive narrative at play. Normally you NEVER do this. Bob McKee would crap a cantaloupe. For instance, the first three characters you meet in Drive Angry are Fucking Passenger, Fucking Middle and Fucking Driver. When you watch the movie you will never hear those names spoken. You’ll never see them written. You’ll never know that’s what they were called by watching the movie. Therefore, many would argue that we should have called them Passenger, Middle and Driver. We didn’t. BUT, it was decided that I would lose the colorful metaphors in action since they were purely for the enjoyment of the reader and had no impact on the movie. The script was still dark, vulgar and offensive. But those F-Bombs dropped in description would be removed. It was sort of a silly exercise and in the end and just meant busy-work for me but sobeit. I cut a dozen wordy dirds from the action and the PDF flew via internet to the reverend at the end of the day.
Friday the 12th we had Fichtner, Katie Mixon and Jack McGee for a half day of rehearsals. Ten minutes in it was clear our movie was going to kick ass. We had a blast. Patrick and I stood together and watched with goosebumps. Our words given life in ways we’d never even imagined. Makes all the BS worthwhile. Mostly.
On the 13th Patrick and I both received remote control ’69 Chargers from our agents. Fun little gift. At the time we were sharing an office. But don’t cry for us, Argentina, it was a big office. Soon, however, our office would become trailers moved from set to set.
March 13 Nathan throws a production launch party at Grandma’s house. If’n you think Grandma’s House is a restaurant then you’d be wrong. Grandma’s house is just that. Grandma’s house. A furnished house complete with all the decore only a grandmother could provide. Nathan has rented the place on his many visits to Shreveport. With him stays most of the Art Department and Big Toe, props master. It was a great gesture on their part and a perfect way to launch the movie.
Mel and Nanna kept sending pics from home. Here Izzie paints a portrait of Momma which I can only assume is now hanging proudly on the fridge.
March 14 we get pics of Nic’s looks. His hair, which has been a big and mostly silly debate involving lots of people with way too much time and energy on their hands. Patrick and I love the look.
March 15 Day one. Email from Malek Akkad wishing us the best. Folks. I’ve said it before and I’ll never stop saying it. The man who owns Michael Myers is one class act.
Let’s take a moment to talk about Fat Lou. He’s been in every screenplay I’ve written. I don’t really know why. Fat Lou was the rail thin pilot of the Grendel in Jason X. Fat Lou was the Feed and Grain Store owner in the original script for the Messengers (nuked in the later Pang version). Fat Lou was the bar owner in MBV3D (nuked during production). But Lou didn’t get nuked this time.
Pictured are the before and after photos for Fat Lou’s Roadside Diner.
The after photo was taken just before sunrise on the first day of shooting.
We’d done it. We’d fooled them all. Per Diem had been paid. There was no going back. We were gonna make a movie, like it or not. Hell or high water. As it turned out. We got both.
But we will win and here’s why. Compassion. We love our crew. We love our cast. They are not just cogs in the machine to us. They are our air. They complete us. Our masters stare at us with confusion, scratching their heads and laughing to themselves at our silly ways. Our masters are Dexter without the code of ethics.
Insanity laughs under pressure we’re cracking. Can’t we give ourselves one more chance? Why can’t we give love that one more chance? ‘Cause love’s such an old fashioned word. And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night. And loves dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves. This is our last dance. This is ourselves. Under pressure. Pressure. — Mercury/Bowie
We get the glory of Gary Tunnicliffe for our first day of shooting. Gary is a Makeup FX master. Quite literally. He IS the best in the business. He IS one of the Beatles. Where we go, Gary goes. That is non-negotiable. A deal breaker.
Gary has killed me more than anyone and I simply cannot stomach death by anyone else.
Not only that but he drove his own truck from LA filled with the bloody gore only Gary can make. He did this because the masters are hard and would not cut a better deal. He did this because he adores his director. His friend. There are very few for whom I would kill and/or help dispose of the body. Gary is one of them.
Gary Tunnicliffe is the best in the business and he’s my friend.
On the 16th of March I started filming the role of Frank. I don’t want to get into specifics but Frank is the hero of Drive Angry. Frank makes children laugh. Frank makes Scientists smarter. Frank makes woman feel fulfilled.
Izzie Rain. She keeps me sane. She and she alone keeps me from destroying my enemies in an way which results in my going to prison. Have I fantisized punching a couple fellas so hard I dent their foreheads? Sure. Who hasn’t? But Izzie Rain keeps me sane.
As a side note and for reasons of posterity and Historical recording…once I arrived in Shreveport Tom Jane and Tim Bradstreet upped the pressure for me to finish our old project, Devil’s Commandos. As it turned out, I had finished the script a couple months ago but due to creative differences decided to sit on it. My decision started a string of back and forth which ran the gambit of emotion. It is still ongoing therefore I will hold off on fully commenting until we have reached a conclusion. But, for the first time since Comicon, I think we might actually be able to continue as friends and partners. To be continued.
You know what? I sort of like acting. Writers, for whatever odd reason, get zero respect. I still don’t understand why. Writer slashes are treated fair better though. Nobody is kicking Patrick in the balls. But the gatekeepers here still struggle wrapping their minds around my being here. Until I started acting. All of a suddenly, I was human again. I can’t explain it. Shouldn’t have to explain it. Shouldn’t have to point out, hey, numbnuts, without my scribbling some words on paper you don’t got no job. Maybe that’s it. Maybe the jokers who supply nothing don’t like feeling they owe those that do. But, for whatever reason, while I was acting…everyone was cordial. It wouldn’t last.
Last week someone commented on my being grumpier than usual. Live with daily passive aggressiveness and it’ll drive anyone to grumpy.
Tim Trella is my friend. Whether he wants to be or not.
You see, I’m amazingly gentle. A delicate flower and I have nothing but respect for those in the profession of getting banged up on my behalf. Tim is one of those maddeningly insane hombres. A stuntman. He won’t take a bullet for me but he’ll take a shot to the ribs and that wins my frakking loyalty. He is the first of many stuntmen I will introduce on this Angry Driving journey.
But this isn’t the last you’ll hear of Tim. When making a film called Drive Angry, you’re gonna keep the stuntman profession busy. Tim beats, drives and jumps over and over and over. I’m just glad he’s on my side.
March 17th we go to splits. Half days half nights. It’s ugly. Can be anyway. But we make the best of it. The whole crew does. Cast too. It’s a necessary evil.
It’s on this day that I notice the massive guff that exists between the three entities involved in movie making. The suits, middle management and cast/crew. As a southern boy, simple thinking man, I’m stunned that it has to be so hard. Imaginary lines are silently drawn in the sand. Not only am I writing and acting, but I’m spending most of my time putting out fires started either out of stupidity or insecurity. I accept the burdens I have to bear but it is draining and goes completely unappreciated by the masters.
Our house is a very, very fine house. With two cats in the yard. Life used to be so hard. Now everything is easy. ‘Cause of you…and our…I’ll light the fire, while you place the flowers in the jars…that you bought today. — Graham Nash
Michael Wandmacher composed the music for My Bloody Valentine 3D. He’s now a daily part of my writing life. His compostions fill my iTunes playlists. He is one of the Beatles. Patrick, Brian, Gary, Michael, Nathan, with special appearances by DeLuca and more to come. Yes, our particular Beatles entity has more than the standard four man band but that’s just how we roll.
What was I saying? Oh. I was going to say, since we got word on America’s Sandman that Wandmacher had immediately started composing his Bluegrass version. His did several versions. His first with his voice and it is still, to this day, my favorite. He should get the band back together.
One of Izzie Rain’s iPhone apps allows her to design and decorate cookies. She presented this one to her mother and informed her that it was “For Daddy.” Thus momma sent it my way and I have enjoyed it many times since.
Days and nights flowed into one another. We got into the groove. We handled the daily obstacles and kept fighting forward. After week one the masters eased up a bit. Happy with the results they seemed a little less convinced that we had secret intentions of screwing them. In fact, they were thrilled. Dailies started making their way back to the suits in LA. Even the big dogs were thrilled. So we hunkered down and kept going.
Locations after location. Day after Day. Day into Night and the many inbetweens.
You remember the Matchbox Car? Did you have it? I did. So did Patrick. I remember sending Nathan a picture of that old Matchbox car and saying, “Like this.” I still glow looking at it.
By the way. While I’m thinking about it. IF you can avoid using a location that is in flight path of a military base, then you should. But the location, found by Nathan Amondson back during that November scout (which seems like a decade in the past at this point), was just to frakawesome to pass up.
I’ve said it before and I shant stop saying it. Our crew is incredible. Our money and schedule was stupid. We should have shut down and failed a week into production but we journeyed on due to Patrick’s leadership and the crew. Richard Moriarty is our “A” Camera 1st AC. Rich and Joey (not pictured) assist “A” Camera and Steadicam Operator, Dave Crone. More on Joey and Dave later.
Beyond Rich is Will Cotton. Will is a Digital Loader and part of Paradise 3D. It’s Will’s job to capture every frame and lovingly keep it safe. Will has never lost a frame and has taken an oath to put his body and mind on the line in protection of said treasure. 
These guys, along with the rest of the cast and crew went above and beyond in a hot room which was forever being pumped with FX smoke by young master Will Purcell, who I gotta admit, seems to love his job a little too much. 
Meanwhile, pics of Izzie kept streaming in. And they kept me going. Mel, Nana and Izzie Rain would fly to Memphis for Easter where we would all crash with my sister. My brother and his wife live just down the road. My other Brother, his wife and daughter would drive down from Northern Kentucky as would my father. The pics would hold me over.
That and the video chats. Although I could only chat for a couple of minutes at most before the servers drop me. You see, my masters, in their attempt to show their dominance, put me up at the Holiday Inn. My room was a little bigger than a closet. Assistant editor and friend, Martin Bernfeld, came up to borrow some quarters and while visiting could not help from proclaiming how small my room was compared to his. Mica, the production masseuse, who came to visit as a gift from the lovely Amber Heard was unashamed to note the teeny size of my room. Apparently, of all the guests at the Inn who she had given massages, my room was the smallest. Funny. My masters, of course, as well as the other suits, cast and the rest of the above the liners were over at the Hilton. Even my own agents stayed at the Hilton during their visit. But me, nah. They stick me in the Holiday Inn. And so freaking be it. The bed is comfy for the at most six hours I see the room. The water is warm and the weight room is sufficient at 4am. The crew stays at the Inn and I’m happy to live with the crew.
Although the internet annoys me. Even now I sit in an extra room in the editing suite because fighting over internet with the porn users at the Holiday Inn is a losing battle my feeble patience cannot manage. All I really want is better internet but if I ask I’ll be told no so there’s no point giving my masters the pleasure of denying me. Let my masters pat themselves on the back. Let them continue to look down their noses at me. I feel sorry for them. You can’t sustain forever when your job is to screw your crew. Karma WILL track you down. Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.
These are just some of our stuntmen slash actors. Front from left to right. Oakley, Tim (you’ve met), Jake and Papajohn (he killed Peter Parker’s uncle, you know). The two in the back I’ll come back to later. But the four in the front I’ve grown the closest with. Oakley has beat the crap out of me. Tim has been beat up for me. Jake shoved me in a harness and threw me around…over and over and over. Papajohn has yet to hurt me but I did assist in the theft and hiding of his cellphone which is a story for another day. These four beat up, get beat up, drive fast, skid, jump and crash cars on a daily basis. They are men. They are stuntmen. They are my friends.
And then there’s Patrick Lussier. Writer. Director. Editor. And Swordsman. At the end of every 12 hour day, the moment our 1st AD calls the day’s wrap, Patrick begins his journey. He visits every department. Every crew member. He thanks them. For their hard day’s work. For all that they have to put up with. He does this because it’s the right thing to do. He does this to combat master/slave mentality enforced on us. Then he goes home, exhausted and shotlists the next day. He doesn’t do that because he’s unoriganized. He does it because we’re on such tight money and schedule that our days change every day. You cannot plan 48 hours ahead because we have no Plan B’s in the event of problems. You have to improvise on a dime. You have to adapt to any situation. You have to overcome any challenge. Because there are no heroes waiting to swoop in and save us. Patrick is the only hero we get and he’s more than up to the challenge. But at least he has the weekends to reboot. To re-energize himself…oh…wait. No. He edits all day and most weekend nights.
And all this he does with enemies around every corner. Patrick has me and DeLuca. Powerful allies if I say so myself. The masters are terrified of DeLuca. Thank the Heavens. And I figure as long as the masters are preoccupied belittling me then that’s time they aren’t annoying my director. So we all have our part to play. But by the end of week two it is clear the crew believes. They have been in the trenches before and they recognize the real deal. Patrick is the real deal.
My favorite photo of March. Jake Brake. Stuntman. Actor. Friend.
And thus brings us to the end of March. The end of Week two in the journey of Drive Angry.
Next: Something April This Way Comes.
