Behind the Scenes(61)
I flush under the compliment.
The SUV glides past low white buildings, then takes a turn to the right. A parking attendant directs the driver up to the side of a building. Cloistered near it is a massive grip truck and beyond that a few tents. Past those, trailers — likely either for makeup, wardrobe, or actors — are visible.
The SUV parks in the shade of the building and the driver comes around to open Mr. Mulroney’s door. I get my own door open — hoping it’s not a breach of propriety — and scramble out.
My heart is thudding. I’ve been on multiple sets before, working as an assistant during summer breaks, but never on the set of a megalithic action film. Every film I’ve so far been a part of was an independent one, and none of them had more than fifty crew members. The Dawn Companion is the second in a trilogy starring the Hollywood hunk Devin Gaughen, and it employs hundreds of people each day. The first film grossed nearly double what it was predicted to, and its success has led to the studio pouring nearly everything they’ve got into this second flick.
Other films are being made by the studio at the same time, but hardly any talk about them. Instead, the hurricane of chatter and activity in and off the lot almost solely surrounds The Dawn Companion. Nearly every email or phone call that passes through the office is related to its production in some form or another.
Someone goes past me pushing a long rack of costumes. What appears to be police uniforms rustle underneath the clear plastic. People rush around everywhere, walkie talkies clipped to their belts.
David Mulroney sidles up next to me. “Let’s go see if they’re actually shooting a picture here, or if they’re just kidding around.” He laughs at his own joke.
“All right,” I breathlessly respond. I wonder for the tenth time why he invited me to the set with him.
Maybe he’s just the polar opposite of his son. Maybe he’s just a nice man.
I follow Mr. Mulroney through a maze of tents. A man with brown hair and glasses approaches, his hand extended. I’ve seen enough pictures of him to automatically know he’s Miles Lee, the director of Dawn Companion. Several people hover behind him, complete with clipboards and miked head pieces. They must be the me, Dana, Chuck and Daniel set versions.
“David,” Miles says with a slight Texas drawl. “How are you doing?”
Mr. Mulroney shakes his hand. “Good. I came by for lunch.” He winks. “Only joking. I wanted to see how things are going. I’ve heard only the best.”
Miles laughs and places his hands on his hips. “Well, we’re trying.”
“This is Sydney Andrews.” I start when Mr. Mulroney says my name. We’ve only known each other a few minutes, and I’m certainly not worthy of being introduced to the director of one of the biggest blockbuster trilogies ever made.
Poor Dana. David Mulroney has probably known her for years and he still thinks she’s one of the kids from Scooby Doo. I would have been happy if I got introduced as “Sara” or “Sabrina.”
“Hello,” I rasp. “Nice to meet you.”
“She’s Simon’s new assistant,” David explains.
Just the name sends a little tremor through my body. I do my best to ignore it and smile at the man I’ve just been introduced to.
“Ah.” Miles nods and tries to act interested, but my presence is, of course, anything but compelling. “Would you like to see the plane crash?” he asks David.
I try not to squeal or answer for him.
“We’re just finishing lunch,” he continues. “It takes a good twenty minutes to reset.”
“All right.” Mr. Mulroney nods.
Miles calls for a golf cart and one is there in a matter of seconds. We climb in and zoom past the long white tents and rows of trailers. In only about a minute, we arrive at a big patch of green. On two sides, tall trees tower up, and on the other two sides, crew members wrestle with equipment and lights. Video village is nearby, the monitor and chair from which the director watches the takes, covered by a small blue plastic canopy.
But the best part of it all by far is the “plane crash.” It must have taken the set designers weeks to build what’s in front of us. It’s an actual jet laying on the ground. The aircraft is ripped in the middle, cushioned seats tumbling out of it. One of its wings has been ripped off and lies dejected in the carnage of metal and tree limbs. The whole thing looks so real my heart starts speeding up, my body actually believing it’s standing near a literal plane crash. I almost feel as if I should be tearing through the scene in front of me looking for survivors.
“Looks good,” David Mulroney says.