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Wednesday, November 23, 2011

SKYDIVING HULK, Or: WHAT THE HELL TO DO IF LOU WON'T JUMP


"You don't need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice" (Old Skydiver Joke)
* * *

"Here's the problem in a nutshell, guys: Fucking Lou is afraid of heights."


Afraid Of Heights?
The person speaking was Nick Corea. And the "Lou" he was referring to was none other than Lou Ferrigno - Bill Bixby’s big green alter ego in The Incredible Hulk.

"No shit," Chris said. "So that explains it."

"Explains what," Corea wanted to know.

"Why you bounced our story about the High Steel Hulk a little while back."

Chris was referring to what we thought was a perfectly good story idea: an episode of the Hulk involving the very dangerous and thrilling occupation of the guys who build our skyscrapers. It would also have given us a last act Hulkout in midair, which the kid in us really wanted to see. (The idea for the story was inspired by one of Chris' favorite books: On High Steel: The Education Of An Ironworker by Mike Cherry.)

Nick grimaced. "Well, I couldn’t exactly admit that Lou soaks his jock when he’s more than five feet off the ground."

Although we all laughed, with Lou being over 6’5" and over 300 pounds, the prospect of a fall from any added height might give even a Strongman pause.

"I don’t get it," I said. "If he’s acrophobic, why did you promise the network a skydiving Hulk story?"

"Fuck if I know," Nick admitted. "We were pitching the new season and it just sort of worked its way into the pitch."

Nick Corea
Nick was Ken Johnson's El Segundo on The Incredible Hulk. A superb story man. Possibly the best in the business. Give him any fact and any character and he could spin a yarn in three seconds flat that would tickle the fancy of the dimmest Network Suit. (It is a previously unheralded fact that the combined IQ of all the Suits at all the Networks might - just might - equal that of a brain-cell challenged chimp) However, his talent sometimes caused him trouble - such as the Skydiving Hulk episode we were now discussing.

"But, that’s not all," Nick continued. "There’s another problem. Maybe an even more serious one."

"Wait a minute," Chris said. "I’m still back on Lou fainting at the sight of a ladder. What about Manny? Is he afraid of heights."

Manny Pearl was the black stuntman who doubled for Lou.

"Fuck no," Nick said. "If you look up 'Big Brass Ones' in the Dictionary Of American Slang, you’ll find Manny’s picture there."

"So, why not just have Manny jump in at the last minute like he always does," Chris said, "and fall into an airbag or whatever?"

"That brings us to the second problem, Nick said. "Bixby says there is no way his character would ever jump out of an airplane."

That made sense. The David Banner character hated turning into the Hulk. In the internal logic of the show purposely triggering a skydiving adrenalin spike that would bring on the big green man was out. Bixby, a thorough professional, would never allow such a violation of his character.

An aside: It was our impression that as the seasons went by, Bill and Lou started to take on more and more characteristics of the parts they played. In short, they began to dislike each other. We were told that Bixby was always wanting to do an episode where the Hulk never appeared. And Lou kept lobbying to do an episode in which there was no David Banner. All that changed when the show ended and it is my understanding that they remained friends until Bixby’s untimely demise.

"Among the reasons I asked you guys in," Nick added, "is that you are the only writers I know who have ever jumped out of an airplane."

This was only partly true. I was with Lou. Nothing could ever tempt me to engage in the sport of damned fools. Chris, on the other hand, had been an airborne ranger in his Army days and had belonged to a skydiving club in civilian life. He used to joke: "Didn’t know that airplanes actually landed until I mustered out."

"Let me get this straight," I said. "You want us to write a story about David Banner joining a sky diving team - which Bixby says he’d never do. And Lou turning into the Hulk while parachuting - without Lou ever getting any higher than the first rung of a very short ladder."

"You game?" Nick asked with a wolfish grin.

Chris and I looked at each other. Shrugged.

"What the fuck," Chris said. "The fall will probably kill us anyway." (A line we loved to steal from William Goldman's Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid. Sums up the choices in life so well, don't you think?)

After that things got complicated. We had to have an airshow, complete with wildly cheering and whistling audience. The Hulk was already special effects heavy, which meant that before you even began shooting, your budget was stretched tighter than a Hollywood starlet’s tank top.

So, how to have an airshow when we couldn’t afford to stage one, and there was no chance of ever finding an event that just happened to be occurring during our shoot?

Producers Jill Sherman Donner,
Jim Hirsch And Karen Harris
I believe it was Karen Harris and her partner, Jill Donner who came up with the solution. They did most of the actual work on the Hulk, rushing around to pick up the pieces that Nick scattered about when he was having one of his attacks of brilliance.

Somehow they tracked down footage of a recent airshow in Palm Desert, or some such place. It included shots of small planes taking off in front of bleachers filled with skydiving fans. Skydiving teams - dressed in team colors - climbing into those planes. Shots of skydivers leaping out into the wild blue whatchamacallit. Helmet shots of skydiving tricks. Parachute landings. Crowds applauding. And so on.

Chris and I studied that footage until - without benefit of inducements - our eyes were a ghastly red. We took careful notes, making sure that we had every detail straight, including the colors the various teams wore so they could match our actors' costumes. And we worked out some scenes with very tight shots so they only had to build a tiny piece of the bleachers, filled with our own people, that they could match to the stock footage. And so on.

Finally came the day for first draft notes. Everybody agreed that we had solved the problems. We had delivered a story that got around Bixby’s objections and Lou’s fear of heights.

But, Nick said, there were a couple of fuzzy logic points they’d like to clear up.

Chris raised a warning hand: "Fine, Nick. But be careful. This thing is held together with spit and bailing wire. Pull one string and the whole fucking thing is likely to come apart."

Nick saw his point.

And so they shot the script.

They got Reza Badiyi - one of the best in the TV business - to direct the episode (titled Free Fall) and some superb guest stars. You can get the complete list here.

But the real work was in the editing room, matching live action to the stock footage of the airshow. In the end, you couldn’t tell that a plane never once took off, that no one ever was in an airplane, much less jumped out of one.

And the midair Hulkout was the stuff of every kid’s dreams.

Hulu.com doesn’t offer that episode for free any longer, thanks to the greedy so-and-so’s at Universal Studios. But if you want to see how Free Fall turned out, and don’t mind paying $1.99 for it, click on this link. here. (The full season goes for $12.99)

Full disclosure: if you choose that route, thanks to several Writers Guild Strikes I get about .000000000000000000000000004 cents in residuals. If about a zillion of you go for it, Kathryn and I will take it all and fly to Rio for the Carnival

NEXT: BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE HULK

THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: IT'S A BOOK!


THE VITAL LINKS:
The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we're now knocking at the door of 110,000) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. Click here. Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!

THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK





Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held  cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate.    




EMPIRE DAY 2012 - A COMMEMORATIVE EDITION

Relive the fabulous four-day Stregg-laced celebration.  Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever. New recipes from the Eternal Emperor's kitchen. Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever. Sten's thrill-packed exploits at the Emp's castle. How to make your own Stregg. And, did I mention, Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever?




Friday, November 18, 2011

MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES - THE BOOK!


NOW PLAYING:
THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES

These MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 visitors. When those numbers rose to over 50,000 I started listening to readers who urged me to collect the stories into a book. 

And so I rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. 

However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. 

So I'll continue publishing them every week until the final Fade Out. I'll add new MisAdventures as they occur, plus any forgotten ones that my eight-ball memory turns up.

Meanwhile, it would please the heart of your humble ink-stained wretch - as well as that hard black thing in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. 

HERE ARE THE VITAL LINKS

And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. Click here. Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. 

To Read The Latest MisAdventure Click Here.


NEXT WEEK: SKYDIVING HULK, 
OR WHAT THE HELL TO DO 
IF LOU WON'T JUMP 

Friday, November 11, 2011

THE HULK AT SEA: MANNY DODGES THE BULLET - AGAIN!

Lou Ferrigno, Frank Orsatti
(Bill Bixby's Double)
And Manny Perry
"He’s a charming rogue, like Harry Lime in The Third Man," I told Jeff (The EatAnter) Freilich.

"Yeah, yeah, like Harry Lime. The Third Man. Love it!" Freilich replied with marked enthusiasm.

"Matter of fact," Chris put in, "we’re even naming him Harry for those in the audience who might catch the reference."

"I love those kinds of insider touches," Freilich said. "Put it in."

We were discussing an episode in progress for The Incredible Hulk. Entitled, "The Lottery," it was originally scripted by the late Dan Ullman - a talented writer whose creds went back to the dawn of Television, or Time - whichever came first. The project had stalled out to the point that the people at the Hulk were getting ready to scrap it.

In a nutshell, here was the problem: (1) Everybody hated the story, no matter how many times Dan rewrote it. (2) On the other hand, scripts are expensive. You don’t throw them away lightly. (3) The Network wanted the damn story. Before the season started somebody told them they were going to do a Hulkout on a By God Yacht, which made them do whatever overexcited Suits do whilst wearing their pressed jeans. It also helped ensure a 22-episode pickup.

On the other hand, the Suits also hated the story as written. The guys in the Black Tower agreed with the Network, which they always did when the subject didn’t involve money from their vaults, which were as deep and well-protected as Jacky Benny’s.

Chris and I didn’t have the faintest idea what it was they hated. In our opinion, Dan had done a good job with the script, which had then been rewritten by him so many times that it was a veritable rainbow of many colored pages. (At each stage of a rewrite the changed pages are printed on different color paper.)

But the Hulk people told our agent they’d pay us full WGA boat to rewrite the sucker, so that is what we were in the process of doing. After puzzling over the matter for a couple of days, we took the problem - and a bare bones outline - to our producer/mentor Al Godfrey.

When we were done telling him about the assignment, he asked, "What the fuck did you guys do to piss off Freilich?"

"Nothing," I said, a little taken aback by his reaction.

"We didn’t even let on that we call him the EatAnter behind his back," Chris added, his face showing that he was also surprised.

"The EatAnter?" Godfrey wondered. "Like the comic strip character? How come?"

"Because he’s a fuckin' EatAnter," Chris replied with some heat.

Godfrey thought a minute, then nodded. "Fair enough," he allowed.

"Freilich said he told Nick Corea we were the perfect writers to fix it," I added.

Godfrey snorted his disbelief that Jeff was good-mouthing us to Corea. Then he asked, "Have you ever done a rewrite before?"

We both shrugged. "No," I admitted.

Chris added, "How hard could it be?"

Godfrey made with one of his patented you guys are numb nuts sighs. "You two have no idea how deep you have waded into it," he said. "First, there’s studio/network politics. A whole lot of people had to sign on to even buy the story.

"Now they hate it. They think it is unshootable. And if it was shot, it couldn't be aired. And if it was aired, the ratings would be lower than whale crap. So whose fault's that? Since nobody wants to take the blame, they’re all pointing at the writer. Nine times out of ten the writer’s the guy who gets it when Shit Creek jumps its banks.

"But Ulman's out of it now. He’s done his allotted rewrites, been paid, and he’s safe at home taking long, hot, shit cleansing showers. Besides, Dan’s at retirement age, so what the hell does he care?"

Godfrey gave us a pitying look. "Then you putzes come waltzing into the picture and they’ve got a brand new set of writers to blame. You are at the beginnings of your so-called careers and when they get through hating the script yet again, you guys are going to find out just how deep Shit Creek can get."

"It’s not the same story anymore," I said, trying to defend the indefensible. "We’re basically jacking up the title and putting a brand new script under it."

Godfrey thumped the outline with his knuckles. "It’s still about a conman, right?" We both said, right. "There’s your trouble," Godfrey said. "Suits hate conman stories. Which means they think the audience does too."

"There’s been lots of successful conman stories," I protested.

"Name one," Godfrey challenged.

"The Sting," Chris said. "Beaucoup bucks."

"That wasn’t a conman story," Godfrey said tiredly. "That was a buddy story starring the original buddy picture boys, Bobby Redford and Paul Newman."

"Give me a break," Chris said. "It’s a conman story," he insisted. "A con is the whole point of the movie."

"Hey," Godfrey said, raising his hands. "I agree. But that’s not how they see it. They’ll say it’s a buddy story and go fuck yourself."

"Okay," I said, rising to the bait. "What about Paper Moon?"

Godfrey shook his head. "That's a father/ daughter buddy movie. With a real father and daughter playing the parts. Ryan O’Neil and his kid, Tatum."

Chris jumped in. "What about the Third Man? That’s a god damned classic con man story if I ever saw one."

"No, it’s another buddy picture. With Orson Welles and Joseph Cotton as the star-crossed buddies. With a script by Graham Greene, which you guys might be someday, but not just yet."

"We’re patterning the guy Bixby helps after the Orson Welles conman," I put in hopefully. "You know, Harry Lime."

Godfrey raised an eyebrow. "Did you tell Freilich that?"

"Sure, we did. And he loved it."

"You mean, he actually knows who Harry Lime was?"

"Absolutely."

Godfrey snorted. He obviously thought this was bullshit of the first order.

"Back to our problem," I said. "Riddle us this: why do the Suits hate conmen stories so much?"

"It’s because the assholes are all grifters themselves," Godfrey said. "And being conmen, they don’t believe that they personally can be fooled. Or, if they could be conned, the guy would have to be a past master of the screw. God damned Charlie Ponzi incarnate."

I pointed at our outline. "That’s a pretty good con in there," I said. "And the guy’s backstory is that he is a conman genius, getting ready for his last, best score."

"They won’t see it like that," Godfrey said. "After they read the script and find out what the con is, they’ll say, "Knew it all along. Didn't fool me for a second. So how could it fool our hero, David Banner? We’re not paying you to make Bill Bixby look stupid."

"But the only reason they’ll figure it out," Chris said, "is that we tell them how it works in the script. The Reveal isn’t until the end."

Godfrey chuckled, saying, "Wise up, Chris. They’re fucking Suits. You can’t tell them anything that they don’t already know. And when they tell you they already knew it, they’ll look you straight in the eye and believe every precious word they're saying."

There was a long silence. Finally, I said, "Okay, Al. The Suits hate conmen stories. We got that loud and clear. But we are stuck with a conman story. So what the hell do we do?"

Godfrey thought for a minute. Picked up the outline. Flipped pages. Then thought some more.

Finally, he said, "Your bad guys are Southern mob types. The guest star pulls a master con on them, which backfires, and Bixby has to rescue him, because he owes the guy, right?"

We told him he was dead on. And that in the course of the rescue, Bixby Hulks out and busts up a zillion dollar yacht along with the baddies, which is why everyone signed on to this turkey in the first place.

Godfrey thought some more, then said, "What we have to do is make the bad guys personally loathsome to the Suits. Play on their prejudices so they’ll believe the marks are prime conman bait. Marks that the Suits would like to fuck themselves."

Chris started to speak, but Godfrey waved him down. Drumming his fingers. Thinking. Then, his face brightened. "Make them oil sheiks," he said. "Those assholes are running all over town buying shit up and pissing people off. And they are prime marks. All the studios are lining up to fuck them, giving them points on the gross profits - which will always be zero - for satchels of money."

"Perfect," I said. And it really was.

"You’re a fookin' genius, Al," Chris said in his best John Lennon imitation.

But before we left, Godfrey said, "Did you really pitch the Harry Lime business to Jeff?"

"Sure we did," Chris said.

"Bet you lunch at Mousso & Frank’s that he never saw the fucking movie," Godfrey said with a wolfish grin.

Thank the Wallet Gods we didn’t take the bet because, a few days later...

..."Who the hell is this Harry guy?" the EatAnter demanded. "I hate the son of a bitch."

"Well, fucking stop hating him, Jeff," Chris said. "You approved his ass."

"I never!"

"Hello? We told you we were going to pattern the conman after Harry Lime," I reminded him. "Orson Welles. The Third Man, remember?"


"But this guy is all British, with a British accent," Freilich protested.

"So was Orson Welles in the movie," I said.

"But I hate this guy you have here," he said.

Chris sighed, as the reality of Godfrey's prediction sank in. "Did you ever see fucking The Third Man, Jeff?" he asked.

"Of course, I did," Jeff bristled. "I told you, didn’t I?"

We glanced at each other. The EatAnter was speaking with a forked tongue as long as a whale's pizzle.

"Okay, Jeff, so what’s wrong with the guy having a British accent?" I said, shifting gears.

"People in this town hate the English," he said. "They always have and always will."

Chris was about to clock Jeff, but I signaled a wiser course. He sat back, crossed his arms and put his boots on Jeff’s desk. Jeff looked at them, but did not dare protest.

"Okay, no problem," I said. "We'll lose the British accent. Anything else?"

Mollified, Jeff continued. Gave us a few cursory notes, then sent us on our way.

But just before we hit the door he thawed enough to say, "Boys, the oil sheiks business is great. Everyone's going to hate their asses. Some asshole prince just bought a mansion on Sunset. You know, right where it curves? He put up some Greek statue replicas. Painted their pubes black. Everybody’s talking about it. You drive down Sunset to see your agent and there's all those black and hairy pubes."

Chris laughed. "We saw. Reminded us what dicks our agents are."

Jeff’s prediction was on the money. Everyone liked the new bad guys. Nick Corea gave the script a thumbs up. So did Kenny. And all the Suits from the Black Tower, as well as the Network. (Although the Studio, as usual, waited until the Network liked it, before they said they’d loved it all along.) The script was approved and by and by it was set to be shot.

Dissolve To: Several Weeks later. Chris and I were discussing the news. Seems that a bunch of crazy Muslim college kids had seized the U.S. Embassy in Tehran. Bearded guys in pickups - all armed to the mustache - showed up in droves and before you knew it, they were holding fifty three Americans hostage. They were demanding that President Carter send them the Shah of Iran - who was holed up at some hospital in the U.S. - for immediate trial and execution.

Chris said, "That’s what we get for sucking up to the Shah. He's an asshole. If Carter had any balls, he’d get somebody to Tweep the fucker. Give him a hot shot, or something, then say, 'Oh, oops. You can have him. But for burial purposes only.'"

"Thus avoiding the whole 'giving in to the terrorists issue," I said in agreement. "Sounds like a good twist in the next Sten."

Before we could explore the subject further, the phone rang. It was Nick Corea.

"Boys," he said, "we’ve got problems."

"With what?" we asked the speaker phone.

"The Lottery Script," he replied. "We’re supposed to start shooting Monday and the Iranians have fucked us."

Chris and I looked at each other. We got it. That’s the trouble with being ex-newsmen: when something happens you know immediately just how fucked you are. In this case, with the Shah and all, we were royally fucked. Literally. Because when the episode appeared with our Middle Eastern bad guys center-stage, it would look insensitive as shit. People would think we were trying to take advantage of the hostage situation to boost our ratings.

Never mind the Iranians were Persians and our bad guys were Arabs, which is not the same at all. Only maybe two people out of a hundred knew that, and both of them would still think it was a ratings stunt.

"How about we flip them from oil sheik sons of bitches to South American drug kingpin sons of bitches?" Chris said right off the bat. "They’re both criminally swarthy so you can maybe even use the same actors and stuntmen."

"Can you do the rewrite over the weekend?" Corea asked, meaning the drug kingpins switch was a done deal. "Keep as much of it the same as you can, because people have already scored the locations, the gags are set and the actors are already memorizing their lines."

"No problem," I said. "We’ll change the 'Allah Willings' to 'Mother Of God' and shit like that. And they can wear suits and ties instead of turbans and Galabeyas."

"Go, guys," Corea ordered.

So we got.

Another Dissolve To: The next week. Rewrite of rewritten script completed, approved and in the process of being shot.

As it happened, I lived practically across the street from the Marina Del Rey, where they were filming the yacht portion of the episode. After clearing it with Nick, we wandered over to the main channel of the Marina, where the leased yacht was berthed.

Marina Del Rey
It was just down from the Marina Yacht Club - close enough to stroll over for a toddy, but far enough away that when the scripted fiery explosion erupted, all would be safe from flying (Styrofoam prop) debris. Also the explosion wouldn’t be loud enough to harm the countless windows at the club, because a much bigger and scarier boom would be dubbed in later during post production.

The place was crawling with below the line talent. (People whose names on the End Credits Roll come after the actors, producers, directors and, ahem, writers.) There were weapons wranglers, explosive experts, sound boom and camera guys, continuity girls (who are often guys... it's an industry lingo title), make up people, fake blood people, hair people, costume people, electricians, set decorators, tech advisers, etc. They were running around everywhere between takes, then they’d all stand silent when the director’s assistant gave the word and the shoot would resume.

It was like having an on-off switch hooked to an ant’s nest.

There were also some people from the Army Corps Of Engineers, who oversaw the Marina waterways, and a lady from the LA County environmental office to watch over the effects of the explosion and so on. A couple of firetrucks and an LA County fire boat were also on hand.

Meanwhile, a semi-circle of cops on cop boats stood well off the yacht, controlling traffic. Letting boaters through between takes, stopping them when the shoot resumed. I used to fish off the rocks in that channel and usually the boat traffic was fairly light on a November weekday afternoon. But today it was crawling with rich lookie loos with teeny-weeny bikini entourages to catch the Hollywood action.

Cops were hard at work clearing them out of the way when the cameras were rolling, and heated words were being exchanged. One sheriff’s deputy I knew from my newspaper days said some yacht club members had set up a pool to bet on whose boat could get on film when the episode showed. It probably wasn’t true, but everybody got a laugh when I spread the word.

Finally, the big moment came. The idea was that Bixby would be locked into a compartment, chained to dangerous explosives, and just before the kaboom went kaboom, he’d Hulkout (it really was a verb on the show). Then he'd break the chains, smash through the compartment door, hammer the bad guys while dodging bullets, then leap off the boat and swim to safety before the above mentioned kaboom did its business.

Okay, everything was set. Chris and I repaired to the opposite bank of the channel so we could catch all the action. We heard the distant noise of the Hulk versus Drug Lords scuffle. Squibs went off, pocking prearranged bullet holes into the walls of the yacht as the bad guys opened up with blank-loaded automatic weapons. (They use Vaseline bullets to make the pock marks.)

Then we saw the Hulk rush onto the main deck. He posed nobly for a split second. We knew it was Manny, the black stunt double for Lou Ferrigno, but all we could see was a big damned guy painted green. It was a thrilling moment, even if you knew it was only movie magic.

Then the Hulk dived into the water and swam toward us. Pop! Pop! Pop! As the bad guys fired and, as usual, missed.

Then, just before he reached the safety of our shore, a big damned boat throttled out of nowhere and roared past the protective ring of cop boats.

It came straight at Manny. People were shouting holy shit, and look out Manny, and oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god.

At the last possible second, Manny/The Hulk dove for the bottom of the channel.

The boat swept by.

Beat, beat, how long can he hold his breath, and then another beat.

Finally, Manny's head burst to the surface. And amidst loud cheers, he swam for shore.

But there was still work to be done. The scene was reset. The director shouted orders. And then we got a very nice Kaboom. Debris rained down and the director shouted "Cut!" and then everybody applauded as Manny strolled up, draped in a robe and dripping green paint, but lookin’ good, babe, Lookin' good.

Take a peek at the episode one of these days and you’ll see what happened yourself. Put an eagle eye on the end sequence of The Lottery where the Hulk dives into the water. First you’ll see an oily green smudge, where the makeup paint came off. Then you’ll see a boat nearly nail the Hulk as he swims toward shore.

You got it. Even though it was accidental, they left the bit in of the boat that almost killed Manny.

After all, it was the best shot.

Wonder how much the Yacht Club pool paid off?

NEXT: SKYDIVING HULK

THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: IT'S A BOOK!


THE VITAL LINKS:
The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we're now knocking at the door of 110,000) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. Click here. Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!

THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK





Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held  cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate.    




EMPIRE DAY 2012 - A COMMEMORATIVE EDITION

Relive the fabulous four-day Stregg-laced celebration.  Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever. New recipes from the Eternal Emperor's kitchen. Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever. Sten's thrill-packed exploits at the Emp's castle. How to make your own Stregg. And, did I mention, Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever?


Friday, November 4, 2011

LOU FERRIGNO AND THE HARLEY HULKOUT

Manny Perry - Stunt Hulk
The enormous Green Man stands - cornered on a forest road. A gang of badass bikers charge him on thundering steeds of steel. But The Incredible Hulk swats them away like so many puny fighter pilots trying to strafe King Kong.

Insane with rage the Biker Chieftain hurtles toward the Hulk, flanked by his Number Two man. The engines of their big Harleys roaring, drowning out even the bellows of defiance from The Incredible Hulk.

But the infuriated Hulk doesn’t back down. He grabs up a huge log. Turns it sideways, ready to sweep the bikers off their charging machines.

And then... and then...

It all goes horribly wrong, and the bikers smash into the log, the Hulk goes reeling back and the director shouts: "Cut! Cut! Fucking cut, goddamnit!"

Then everybody is running, shouting, "Manny, Manny, you okay Manny?"

You’re probably asking yourself a couple of questions right now. Like who the hell is Manny? Why weren’t they shouting, "Lou, Lou, are you alright Lou?" After all, it was Lou Ferrigno who played the Hulk, right?

Right.

But Lou didn’t do his own stunts. The guy who actually crashed through buildings, jumped off cliffs, and generally beat the hell out of the bad guys, was Manny Perry, one of the premier body builders and stunt men of his era. He was also black.

It seems they cast seventy or eighty guys to stand in for Lou, but only Manny was big enough to double Ferrigno and athletic enough to do the stunts. As Manny once told an interviewer, "They figured green is green and who could tell the difference?" (If you want to know more about Manny Perry - a helluva guy - check out this site.)

Lou Could Really Roar
Okay, we’ve all got that straight now, right? A big black dude played the big green dude when something dangerous was going on. When everything was cool and safe as pie again, Lou would take off his robe for his closeup, flex his mighty muscles, take the cue and roar into the camera.

Second question you are surely asking yourself: What the hell was happening in that scene?

It was like this. When it came time to do the charging motorcycle gag, Manny got into position on the forest road. They put a big damned Mitchell (a big damned movie camera) right behind him to catch the action over his shoulder when the bikers charged. Other cameras were strategically placed to get the wide shots.

Step one: Manny picks up the log as the bikers charge. Now, the script says they are going to hit the log, which will break as they go flying into the bushes. Then the director will Cut, then Lou will shed his robe and take Manny’s place to do the above mentioned flexing and roaring.

Only thing is: (a) The log is supposed to be scored nearly through so it will break at the slightest pressure. And, (b) the bikers are supposed to hit their mark, stopping just in time so no heavy contact occurs.

Well, none of that happened. The log wasn’t scored anywhere near enough, plus the stunt bikers missed their marks and slammed into the log full force, knocking poor Manny back so his head hit the fucking Mitchell.

Ouch, and double ouch. In fact, it’s the Incredible Hulk of all ouches.

Fortunately, Manny wasn’t hurt and they were able to re-shoot the scene. But if you ever watch the episode, look closely and you’ll see that they left some of the accident footage in because it was so - well, realistic, I guess is the best way to put it.

Now, a lot more things went wrong with that episode, titled "Long Run Home" and written by me and Chris. It was a good script - everybody said so. But, as they say, there’s many a skid between the bike and the road.

FLASHBACK: A COUPLE OF WEEKS EARLIER

"You’re gonna lose this car gag, guys," Al Godfrey said.

Godfrey was one of our producer/ mentors and the car gag in question was a scene in the above mentioned script. We were a little anxious and Godfrey was kindly taking a break from his Show Runner chores on Quincy, M.E. to peruse our first draft.

"What’s wrong with the scene?" I asked, puzzled as hell.

I mean, this was supposed to be a simple little bit of fun in the second act when a pissed off Hulk bangs heads with some bad ass bikers in an auto wrecking yard. Going after a biker, he hammers the hood of an old heap, which is smashed to suitably smither, smithereens.

"Too expensive," Godfrey said. He flipped pages of our script. "You’ve got a borderline budget breaker as it is. The car hood gag will fatten it even more."

"How can it be too expensive? Chris wanted to know. "It’s supposed to be an old junker to begin with. Says so in the script. And the breakaway hood should be no sweat. I mean, there’s more rust than paint."

"Yeah," I said, having been saddled with many junkers in my youth and confident in the cost estimates. "Couldn’t cost more than fifty dollars for the car."

Godfrey sighed that weary sigh he gave when dealing just as patiently as he could with green horns like me and Chris. "Guys," he said, in the film business there is no such thing as a fifty dollar anything. Especially a fucking car. Be it an elderly junker, or otherwise. You have to buy the heap from some old retired Teamster - there’s three or four in town who do that kind of thing. And they are gods in their union who will want several thousand dollars for the junker."

We were incredulous. "Come on," I said. "Several thousand dollars?"

Godfrey shrugged. "If you go to an actual wrecking yard for the car you might save money in the short run, but in the long run you are going to piss off the Teamsters. Before they are through, they’ll ass drag your show to the tune of many hours of double golden overtime."

Now it was our turn to sigh. Chris said, "Shit." Ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, we’ll lose the car gag."

"No, no," Godfrey said. "Leave it in."

We gaped at him. "But you said to scrap the scene," Chris said.

Godfrey shook his head. "No, I said you were gonna lose the gag. I didn’t say take it out." He thumped the script. "It’s a good first draft. They are going to love it. But, take it from me, it is in a producer’s nature to fuck with things. So you need to leave them something to fuck with. In other words, leave the scene in so they can get all happy and say take it out, and it’ll be a lot less work for you in the long run."

After making Godfrey’s suggested fixes, we took the script to Jeff Freilich. He’d wanted an early look because he was new in the producing game, and besides, he’d brought us onto the show.

Jeff was an editor of the picayune variety. Fussing over typos and misplaced punctuation marks. This is when we first thought of him as "The EatAnter." He reminded us of the character in the old comic strip who was very smart, but wasted his smarts whining about teeny things. Jeff also had a habit of making suggestions that not only took you nowhere, but fattened a script he already said needed to be cut.

The meeting, however, was fairly brief. And Jeff was well satisfied.

Especially after he’d told us to take out the car gag. "Too expensive," he said.

Okay, the EatAnter was happy, just like Godfrey had predicted. Onward and upward to the rest of the production staff. Nick Corea was the main man - after Ken Johnson. And it was he who had made the pretty good tale we had pitched him into something way more than pretty good.

Nick was one of the best story men I ever met. He’d sat there with us for nearly two hours, tearing the story apart, then helping us put it back together again, adding interesting twists and turns.

The Socratic Bixby
He’d also coached us on David Banner’s dialogue. Bill Bixby saw his character as Socratic - he asked questions, rather than making statements. Drawing out others to make the points. If we did it right, Nick advised us, "You'll add more dimension - depth - to the scenes."

Bixby's methods also shone the spotlight on the guest stars, which is one reason so many fine actors ended up appearing on a show about a comic book hero. It was also damned generous of Bixby. Most stars want the light flooding over them, not the guest stars.

Like I said before, the way most actors read a script is "My line, my line, bullshit, bullshit, my line, bullshit, my line."

The late Bill Bixby was not known for being an easy guy to get along with, but in that area, he was the king of hearts.

The crux of our story - Long Run Home - was sort of a 60 minute modern version of the Odyssey, except where Homer had a God-tormented hero on a ship, we had a angst-ridden biker on a Harley chopper. After a chance encounter, David Banner joins him in his quest for self knowledge. Meanwhile, the biker’s former outlaw brothers pursue him like so many demons perched over red-flamed peanut gas tanks.

Okay, so Nick liked our script. Karen Harris and Jill Sherman Donner liked it. And I suppose Ken Johnson did as well, otherwise I would not be telling this tale.

Before we left the final meeting, Chris had a warning for Nick. "I assume you’re gonna use real Harleys right?" he said.

Nick nodded. No self-respecting outlaw biker would ride a rice burner," he replied.

"That's great," Chris said. "But watch out for one thing: there’s a scene in the script that has the gang roar away from a bar in pursuit of our heroes."

Nick nodded again, he recalled the scene. "What’s to worry about?"

The Tree That Wouldn't Break
"Harleys really are hogs, just like their nickname. They sound great, but they leak oil on the garage floor, and worst of all - they are a bitch to start. Sometimes you can boot them over with one kick, but other times you can kick yourself blue in the face and they still won’t start."

"No electric starters," Nick said. I knew that. So what?"

"So don’t let the director get all artsy fartsy and try to get the whole thing in one continuous shot," Chris said. "It will be a temptation. Bikers come running out. Jump on their bikes and roar away in unison."

There were few people - especially in Hollywood - who knew as much about bikes as Chris. At one time he wrote for - or edited - all the top bike magazines - from Big Bike, to Chopper Magazine, to Easy Rider. And he also knew all the outlaw gangs as well as their leaders in both America and Europe. In short, when he spoke of two-wheeled motor monstrosities, it was best to listen.

Nick listened. He said. "I see where we could get royally fucked. Everybody takes off except one or two guys who are hopping up and down, kicking at the starters like clowns until the fucking sun goes down and the fucking stars come out to shine."

"You fucking got it," Chris said.

And we left, well satisfied.

RESUME THE FUCK UPS

Come the week of the shoot - things started going to shit on Day One.

The director of the episode was Frank Orsatti, Bill Bixby’s stunt double. Mainly known as a stunt man and stunt coordinator, Orsatti went apeshit with the opening sequence of Act One. In it, cops raid a bikers' camp, with shots fired and much squealing of tires, and bikes going this way and that, and pebbles and dirt splashing the (hooded) camera lens. Mr. Orsatti was a passionate man when it came to action and he shot the hell out of the scene. Take after take. Close up after close up.

In short, he ate up all the time in the day, which meant there would be less time for the other scenes in our story. It was a six-day shoot; and with the seventh day costing double golden time for all unions concerned, there would be a day of rest decreed from the Black Tower. Shoot the sucker in six or look for a career in some other town. And if you wanted to stay in show business maybe - just maybe - they'd let you work at the circus cleaning up behind the elephants.

Okay, then we get to the bit where the Hulk confronts the bikers with a log and with time running short it was surprising that other stunts were not fucked up and that Manny only got a bruised noggin from being conked on the head by a camera.

Another screw up for lack of time to think things through was the dramatic end shot (things are generally filmed out of order in TV and movies), when the exiled biker chieftain - and Banner’s new best friend - shows his disdain for his former life by burning his Originals - his jacket with the nifty biker brotherhood patch on the back.

Although the costume directions called for the jacket to be an oil-soaked never washed rag, the jacket was, in fact, typically Hollywood clean. When the renegade biker chieftain tried to set it on fire with his cigarette lighter nothing happened. Not even a wisp of smoke.

Orsatti had somebody squirt lighter fluid on the sucker.

Nope. No go. Maybe a weeny bit of darkish smoke. But no flames.

Then he had somebody douse the jacket with gasoline and when the lighter was applied a huge ball of flame burst out, eliminating the actor’s eyebrows and eyelashes. (Make-up reapplied them every day after that until the end of the shoot.)

Finally, the jacket burning was put off for another day when they could do a controlled shoot on the Universal lot. Then insert it into the film. This is what they usually do in similar circumstances, but the director had his "vision," you know?

The last day of the shoot they made the ultimate fuck up. Remember Chris’ warning about the difficulty of kicking over a Harley? Yeah, you got it. They didn’t listen.

Actually it was the director who didn’t listen, because Nick Corea had passed along the warning, underlining it to make sure. But Orsatti was an old stuntman in real life and knew better than Chris-Effing-Bunch about motorcycles and such.

Intent on making his Grand Artistic Statement, he ordered a wide shot as the greasy biker gang slammed out of the bar. There must have been twenty of them. And, lined up in front of the bar, twenty chopped Harleys awaited their masters.

As one, the gang members leap aboard their mechanical steeds.

As one, they lift heavy boots, then slam them down on the starters.

Only two go Va-room. The rest just go Ka-chuff.

"Cut!"

They do it again - starting with the gang coming out of the bar so the director could do it in one smooth artistic take.

Hop aboard. Boots down in unison.

Maybe six va-room. The rest more or less go Ka-chuff.

"Cut! Cut! Cut!"

Again.

"FuckingCut!"

To shorten the wait time - you have to set up, or at least check, the lights and sound levels with each go - they shoot the gang coming out of the bar. Cut. Then Another Angle and another shot as the gang members hit the bikes and boot the starter.

Finally - after many, many takes - all but one bike starts and the gang thunders away, leaving one poor slob back at the bar, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Ka-chuff. Ka-chuff. Ka-chuff.

In the end, the sequence was re-staged with Chris' warning in mind, and with a little editing it all came together so you wouldn’t know that anything ever went wrong.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

Some months later, at season’s end, we were invited to the Wrap Party. There was me and Chris, his new girlfriend, Karen Eisenberg (who would remain with him until the end) and my wife, Kathryn, Chris’ sister.

The Hulk company took over one side of a huge sound stage and there was music and loud talk and laughter, and good food and good booze. All the stars were there: Bixby, Lou and so on. Also the various guest stars from throughout the season, and the crew and other cast members. Hot rods from the network and the studio. Nick, Karen, Jill, Jeff, Ken Johnson, and everybody down to the secretaries and the story editors.

We had a great time and at bash's end, the lights darkened and they showed a reel of bloopers from the season. All the things that went wrong that in retrospect were humorous.

Ka-Chuff! Ka-Chuff!
Of the twenty two episodes that appeared that season, they started with ours: the bikers coming out of the bar scene. Jump on the bikes. Boots stomping on starters in unison. Some bikes starting. Some bikes futzing.

The audience goes ha, ha.

More bloopers shown from other episodes.

Then return to the biker scene. All the bikes but one, roar off. The remaining guy kicks and kicks and kicks.

Tight on the kicking. More ha, ha's.

More bloopers shown..

Back to Tight on the kicking. The ha's are getting louder and louder.

More bloopers, until we come to the end.

Last shot: Boot kicking Harley starter. Ka-chuff. Ka-chuff.

And then, finally, we hear the biker groan: "Fuck me!"

The laughter was - well... Incredible.


(Click here to see the episode.)

NEXT: THE HULK AT SEA
THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: IT'S A BOOK!


THE VITAL LINKS:
The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we're now knocking at the door of 110,000) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. Click here. Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!

THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK





Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held  cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate.    




EMPIRE DAY 2012 - A COMMEMORATIVE EDITION

Relive the fabulous four-day Stregg-laced celebration.  Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever. New recipes from the Eternal Emperor's kitchen. Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever. Sten's thrill-packed exploits at the Emp's castle. How to make your own Stregg. And, did I mention, Alex Kilgour's Worst Joke Ever?