The Voice of Reason: A V.I.P. Pass to Enlightenment (29 page)

 
A Moment to Laugh at Me
 

 

am going to take a momentary break from telling you how things should be and share with you an embarrassing story about myself.

When I was twelve years old, I went to my cousin Lowell’s wedding. Lowell has a twin brother, Sid, and with the two of them being very close, Lowell asked Sid to be his best man and give a speech. When the time came, Sid turned to his new sister-in-law and said,

“My brother and I have been very close our whole life, and we have shared everything. We look forward to sharing you, too.”

It was all very sweet, and the assembled guests immediately erupted into applause.

Fast-forward twelve years. My buddy Terrance was getting married, and he asked me to be his best man and give a speech of my own. Well, Chael P. hasn’t always been the smooth-talking, quick-witted girl magnet he is today, so instead of coming up with an original speech, I decided to steal my cousin Sid’s. When it came time, I turned to Terrance’s bride and said,

“My buddy Terrance and I have been like brothers for as long as I can remember, and we have shared everything, so we are going to share you, too. See you tomorrow night.”

I immediately realized the implication of what I had said. It wasn’t sweet and innocent like my cousin’s speech. I had basically said that within twenty-four hours I would be climbing into bed with her. Not to mention that my buddy Terrance, her husband, would be present. I didn’t say he would be videotaping the whole escapade, but I might as well have. I hoped the crowd was too drunk to catch my unintended drift, but unfortunately they did. I heard a plethora of gasps, and even heard a glass break, as if the person holding that glass had just been struck with a fatal blow. I didn’t bother to look to see if it was the bride’s father.

When I got back to my seat, everyone was staring at me. My girlfriend asked me how I could say such a thing, and then turned away in disgust. I’d rehearsed the speech several times, and for reasons I couldn’t fathom I had ad-libbed that last line. It was, without a doubt, the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. I’m still mortified by it, to this very day. I can’t even think about it without cringing.

 
victimhood and Other Nonsense
 

’m sure all you folks remember when an audio clip surfaced a few years back of moody actor Christian Bale lambasting a crew member on the set of
Terminator Salvation
. (If you haven’t heard it, it’s worth a listen.) The clip went “viral,” which is what I believe all you lil’ geeks with your Interwebs and whatnot call it, and the consensus opinion assigned victimhood to the target of Bale’s fury, director of photography Shane Hurlbut. After reading numerous comments and having discussions with my friends and cronies, all of whom love movies, it became apparent to me that Bale had been cast as a bully. He was generally regarded as a pampered lout of an actor who cruelly lashed out at a subordinate, a crew member who was “just doing his job.”

Having been on a movie set or two, allow me to give you a slightly different perspective on the nature of the circumstances that created that particular incident and its resultant behaviors and impact. First, let’s dispense with the notion that the subject of Bale’s wrath was some poor workin’ stiff schlumping across the set clad in a pair of Carhartt overalls and construction boots who just happened to have wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time in front of the wrong actor. No. He was the director of photography. He was the head of a department, a high-ranking member of the creative team; more “talent” than “crew”; more “management” than “labor.” He
hires
guys to work for
him
, and he collaborates with the director (in this case, a hack and a complete fraud who calls himself “McG,” whatever the heck that is supposed to mean) to envision, design, and create shots.

Prior to Bale’s appearance on set, in wardrobe and makeup, the DP and his entire crew had full, unrestricted access to the set and all the equipment (in this case, lights), with the added assistance of a stand-in for Bale—an individual of similar size and approximate physical architecture whose one and only job on set was to sit where Bale would sit and stand where he would stand. All these luxuries were offered so that any “fine-tuning” and “tweaking,” code words for “fixing my screwups, could be performed without disturbing Bale, so that when he showed up on set he could do
his
job, which is
acting
.

I can assure you that the DP was given as much time as he needed to accomplish his tasks. Rest assured, my fine friends and fellow film-fanatics, had the DP (or any of his mindless minions) been rushed or inconvenienced in any way, he would have howled to the AD (essentially the quarterback on set), the producer, his agent, his manager, etc. And he would have howled longer, louder, and with a lot less decorum than Bale howled at him.

Second, and this is vitally important—if you listen to
what
Bale says with the same degree of enraptured attention you give to
how
he says it, you will realize that this is not the first time this had been an issue. Bale makes it clear that the DP has already behaved unprofessionally and inappropriately, and someone, in all probability Bale, has already told the DP to stop walking around and adjusting the lights, which as we have already discussed, should not have required adjustment during a scene if the DP had done his job properly.

By now you are probably wondering why I am talking about this at all, and I am going to tell you. Because the DP manifests a behavior pattern that has become all too common in modern American culture, the characteristics of which include:

 
  • Laziness.
  •  
  • Incompetence.
  •  
  • Impunity.
  •  
  • Self-confirmance of ictimhood status upon oneself as immunization against criticism.

 
 

Bale went to the set expecting Hurlbut to perform at a certain level of professional competence and with mutual decorum and respect. When that proved unrealistic, he took the step of discussing it privately (or, at least, in a less-incendiary and obvious manner than the recorded rant later caught). When that failed, Bale focused his righteous, warranted, justified fury at him. If I were a bettin’ man, I’d wager my dear, old danglers that since that incident, that DP has his lights set and ready before actors are called to set, which means that:

Christian Bale’s rant made him better at his job.

Think about that the next time you decide to let someone do less than his or her best so as not to “victimize” or “oppress” or “offend” him. You’re not
helping
anyone by sparing his feelings and letting him get away with terrible work. When you allow stupid, lazy, incompetent, indolent people to make themselves into victims, you’re shirking your own responsibility as a member of culture, society, and civilization itself.

 

So I want to take a step back and say, Thank you, Christian Bale. You made the world a better place.

 

 

Other books

Flesh and Blood by Nick Gifford
Real Time by Jeanine Binder
Singe by Ruby McNally
Fixing Perfect by Therese M. Travis
What Happened in Vegas by Day, Sylvia
Georgia's Daddy by Dinah McLeod
The Clue of the Broken Blade by Franklin W. Dixon


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024