Back in DEATH VALLEY-- EMERALD CITIES gets its Central Location (thanks to info from waitress about "Charlie's place"). SO, we jumped into action w/sundown set at 4:30pm that December, 1979!

https://bynwr.com/videos/emerald-cities

Excerpted from my book, NEW DARK AGES––How a Punk Movie EMERALD CITIES Got Its IMPROV.

THE SHOOT/2 DAYS Shooting in Trona, Death Valley

Around 8:30am, on Saturday, December 15, 1979, my group of friends/actors/techs showed up at Julie and my apartment on Oakland Avenue, in Oakland, California. Ed had arrived in his jeep station wagon earlier than my call-time, and that had given us the opportunity to carefully load our gear/props (Julie’s camera equipment) and clothes for functioning in a hot and cold desert climate. I must credit everyone with their considerate arrivals, because when a filmmaker like me has put himself/herself on the line, our emotional state is very fragile. My subconscious mind was still asking the hard questions, even (especially) after my full commitment has been made to take action:

Is this correct?
Should I pull the plug on my folly?
Am I too stupid to realize I!ll fail?
Am I just wasting people!s valuable time?

Another skill-set for the indie writer, director, and/or producer is to subdue all doubts, shine with confidence, (not bullshitting yourself, but) somehow operating beyond even the most grave doubts that arise during a production. My enthusiasm and excitement about finally getting a new movie going did have the power to overrule my present doubts (and it can do the same for you!). But if a bunch of helpers had been horribly late, maybe even no-shows, it could have eroded that confidence. In any case, my dear friends were all there for me, arriving on the dot. Maybe, I thought that morning, I was right in demanding this grand filmmaking adventure from the universe!

I don’t remember many details of the trip out of the Bay Area; rolling north up to Reno, Nevada, then angling south on US-395, speeding toward Lee Vining (near the ghost town of Bodie, and the endangered Mono Lake), ultimately reaching Trona, gateway to Death Valley, in the dark. We bedded down for the night in the reserved motel rooms––less toxic- smelling at the outskirts ––and spotted a nearby cafe for breakfast the next morning.

DAY TWO/1st SHOOT-DAY (Trying to actually Film Something!).

Here’s where I get to say, “I love the smell of Trona in the morning––it smells like victory!” My victory was getting the opportunity to make feature #3, the final film for my trilogy.

As with such trips, whether filmmaking or just vacationing, the breakfast was highly anticipated; eggs, bacon, sausage, grits, oatmeal, toast, coffee, OJ, the works, all welcomed and quickly devoured. Finding a good breakfast joint was our first on-location reward, The hot food supplied the needed positive energy to jump back into our two-car caravan (Kelly had also driven his vehicle) for the all-important search for our as-yet-undiscovered Central Location.

LOCATION SCOUTING by Serendipity (On the Day of...).

As I purposely sped down the desert highway, the miles flew by. I was the lead driver, piloting Ed’s jeep, and I optimistically kept my eyes peeled for some small structure with gas pump. I was also noting any building in which we could at least shoot some exteriors. Nothing yet. Not even close. And 20 miles went by. Then another 20 more. With the newness of suddenly being exposed to wide-open desert terrain, my vision expanded to include the 50+ mile landscapes in all directions, and it was like I’d become hypnotized. I was driving fast toward...nothing. At some point my mind clicked into the fact that aside from a few ruins in the distance there had been absolutely no structures at all.

Saying I saw nothing was not an exaggeration.

Bill Kimberlin and I scout the Ballarat ruin, wondering if we’ll find a suitable location with cafe and gas pumps before the day ends. Photo by Julie Schachter.

I had just dragged two-cars worth of production personnel and gear 40 miles, burning precious gas (and time) without results. A loss-of-confidence rolled over me, but I somehow remained functional at the wheel. I turned the car(s) around, to retrace the lost 40 miles (another precious hour gone) and then experienced hunger. Yes, maybe it was due to a nervous stomach, but also we were now approaching noontime. In any case, half of the day was wasted. But everyone else seemed happy with the random sightseeing, and they didn’t seem to mind another serving of free food.

The lunch (deluxe burger, fries, coffee), helped bring on some new brain activity. As I was paying the check I offhandedly asked our waitress if she knew of any place that even remotely resembled my film’s wish list; a building with a cafe, maybe even including gas pumps. She didn’t hesitate before answering. “There’s Charlie’s place, up in Ridgecrest. About fifteen miles away. He’s pretty nice. Maybe there.”

Have you ever wanted to hear something so badly that you were not completely sure you actually heard what you heard? After that temporary brain freeze I quickly wrote down her directions, left a big tip and hustled my people back to the cars. The luck of that moment––right restaurant, right waitress, right day––still astounds me.

CHARLIE’S PLACE/Shooting the “Opening Curtain” Sequence Before Nightfall.

Within thirty minutes we arrived at Charlie’s place. While many would describe it as “shacks with piles of junk,”

I immediately saw it as a gold mine. And guided by co- camera Bill’s savvy, I right away offered $50 to the owner, Charlie, to ensure he would be so kind as to sign a Location Release form and grant us legal status to shoot a movie on his property. Luckily the money did talk and we were in business, able to temporarily take over the place.

Charlie's Place, Death Valley, California. Photo by Julie Schachter.

The problems of our spontaneous location began to immediately mount with the quickly fading winter light (remember it was mid-December). Soundman Nick Bertoni alerted me to that fact, and was instrumental in helping me get the first big shot (“Curtain Opening” effect) before it was too late. Without my knowledge he had had the foresight to bring along a very large diffusion curtain (“silk”) that could block the sun’s bright rays for optimum filmmaking. I have no idea where he got it, but his thoughtfulness saved the day. As Nick worked to erect the cloth––he had found a long pole to hold up one end while he managed to prop up the other corner––it became clear that we would have just one chance that afternoon to get our most important exterior shot.

Nick Bertoni hoists large “silk” for Z’s Academy Award(TM) scene, diffusing sunlight so she’ll appear on stage before the Curtain Drop effect. Photo by Julie Schachter.

As soon as Z slipped into her black velvet gown and my wife Julie, between snapping off stills, had helped fix Z’s hair in a Star Wars Princess Lela curl, co-cameraman Bill Kimberlin instructed the actress on exactly how the upcoming curtain effect would proceed.

As soon as she took her place, Academy AwardTM prop in hand, Bill proceeded to get focus and frame the shot from about 30 feet away. While he manned the camera, I worked with actor/production assistant Kelly Brock Boen (right) to center the red velvet material behind Z’s head. It took some serious coordination between her and the camera, to get things ready.

The magic behind the curtain-drop and after was dependent on Nick's skill and timing with the silk. He’d first need to use the fabric to block the sun’s rays (the “flat light” making Z appear to be inside, on stage receiving the Award). Then, on-cue (when Z ended her acceptance speech), Kelly would drop the red velvet curtain behind her, with Nick matching our action, lowering the silk so that the direct sunlight placed her outside, suddenly surrounded by desert.

I was excited to get the shot, especially while she was in the correct mindset (and the shadows were growing longer around the camera!)

Rehearsing the Curtain Effect, as shadows close in. Photo by Julie Schachter.

“CAMERA READY?” I called to Bill. “Ready,” he responded. With Z in position, Kelly holding the curtain aloft, and a quick word shouted to Nick up hill with the silk (“READY, NICK?”) “Yeah,” things looked good. I quickly ordered, “ROLL CAMERA!” adding, “SOUND ROLLING” (I was recording sound for the first take). Finally, I called, “SLATE IN” (Julie moved the clapboard into frame and closed it. marking for sync), and...“ACTION!”

And like the intelligent people whom I assume my actor/non-actor friends to be, Z took some interesting liberties in the AA speech, including calling me by name as she thanked “her director.” As soon as Z gave a verbal and then physical cue at the end of her speech (beckoning with her arm and outstretched hand), the velvet curtain that Kelly had valiantly held up behind her was dropped, to reveal a desert vista and Charlie's junk-cluttered backyard. Z’s downhill saunter followed, past an old Coke machine, leading to where Ed was positioned, his over-sized sombrero hat concealing his head and shoulders.

I had earlier noticed that Charlie or someone had installed an old camper/trailer shell right into the side of the main building, presumably adding a small extra room to the doublewide’s floor space. The weather-beaten camper with obvious wheel-wells (no wheels), and a small side window that looked out to where I was planning to shoot obviously needed to be incorporated into her dialogue. I quickly discussed the possibilities, beginning with something like, “Ed first arrived...in that trailer...” and Z ad-libbed the rest, “...and he’s never been anywhere else, since then!” Her words and their intonation––her script-developed snide attitude––would be perfectly aligned with the acceptance speech and her intro to father Ed.

At the appropriate spot in that initial take (Z had exited the frame) I called “CUT,” and Bill and I repositioned the camera (me now taking over as camera operator job). After shooting Z pulling off Ed’s sombrero––he’s wearing a Santa cap underneath––she introduces him, adding lines about his arrival in that old trailer in 1936.

Then, soon after Z exits the frame (heading into the house), Ed began taunting daughter-Z, demanding she supply him with another alcoholic beverage. I don’t think this was ever scripted––Ed really did want another drink and was using the scene to get one! And within this shot, a mini-miracle happened. A beer bottle that was finally tossed to Ed from off- screen, landed hard near his feet and burst open, its lovely white foam draining out from its jostled cap. And that was the perfect punctuation to end the curtain sequence. Within seconds, the sun sank completely behind the mountain range.

SHOOTING NIGHT INTERIORS.

I’m now trying to remember how we had energy to keep shooting into the night, first filming Ed and Z inside Charlie’s living room, and then completing later shots of Ed in full Santa costume back at the motel. Iguess it’s called being young (I was 35 at the time). In any case, the night scenes we did that first night at Charlie’s––Z complaining about the green color TV, and Ed’s defense (“It’s emerald”) benefited from his drinking habit. It helped him to be fearless, and as spontaneous as any actor could possibly be. And YES, there’s no question that my luck had held regarding Charlie having both a TV and it being the older kind with an adjustment knob for turning images to green. We hadn’t brought a TV, and yet one of the set pieces of the movie was the father-daughter discussion about it! So, either I was crazy or just way too believing in the universe supplying ALL necessary miracles, on time to make a film.

Perhaps, in my defense, I may have figured that anyone and everyone had TVs in 1979, but I could have easily been mistaken. Just as wrong-headed as believing that I could somehow find a prime location like Charlie’s during the short two-day window of hanging out in the desert. In any case, we got through those shots pretty quickly, in spite of needing to turn off and on the outside electrical––Charlie was a saint to let us fool with his equipment––while establishing how Z had been “raised by TV,” not by parent Ed, and giving him a chance to defend his green images and deliver his “America needs hope” speech.

Ed Nylund as Santa, prepares for bathroom scene, while co-camera, Bill Kimberlin, readies lighting. Photo by Julie Schachter

It was early evening when we finally wrapped at Charlie’s and drove back to the motel. Some broke for dinner while Bill, Ed and myself (plus Julie shooting stills) kept working to nail Ed’s bathroom ruminations, him talking to the mirror about following Z to San Francisco. I can’t remember if/when we grabbed a bite ourselves, but probably we hit the cafe between 9:00PM and closing. Thus, end of shoot, DAY-ONE (and one more shoot-day left to get everything done!)

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Watch FULL EMERALD CITIES MOVIE here:

5.0 out of 5 stars This Book Will Make Your Soul Fly

Reviewed in the United States on July 25, 2020

“What Rick Schmidt does, entertaining us with the miracles and synchronicities that always accompany bold, improvisational creativity, is a thrill. Anyone who has been part of a piece of theater, or a scene or two in a movie, or is writing or painting or dancing, just for the love of it, will soar when they read this. I think of Art as the Language of the Mystery, "the one that can never be solved," as writer Tom Robbins puts it. This book is pure Art.” –– Steve Gillard

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