Director Allen Arkush walked over, trailed by his inseparable buddy Joe Dante.
Dante stood about five-foot-six, moving like a point guard dribbling behind a center.
When they reached the group, Joe's head popped out from behind Allen, his center-parted hair couldn't hide a rapidly retreating hairline. He grabbed Allen's arm with one hand and pointed at Ronald with the other. "Ronnie, Ronnie, how are we looking today?"
"I just ran the extras through two rehearsals. The leads have hit their marks and touched up their make-up.
As soon as you and Director Allen approve the costumes, we can do a dress rehearsal in five minutes. The DP says we roll at six-thirty sharp."
As he spoke, Ronald handed over yesterday's storyboards.
Joe Dante took them, eyebrows raised.
"You drew these?"
Joe was being unusually proactive today, essentially assuming the mantle of command. While he poured over Ronald's boards, he called out, "Bring Director Allen's chair!"
Ronald could see Allen wasn't well.
He hurried over with the canvas chair, the kind with DIRECTOR stitched across the back. He slipped an arm under Allen's and eased him down.
Allen's forehead glistened with cold sweat, his face pale and clammy. Ronald leaned close and murmured, "Hot coffee, Director Allen?"
Allen nodded weakly. Ronald signaled Jim for a steaming cup.
"Good, we'll shoot your boards today. P.J., wear the red one," Joe Dante said, handing the storyboards to the Director of Photography, Dean Cundey. The two dove into the technical details.
"Start tight on the freshman, then dolly back, boom up to a wide of the yard, push in to the Science Club table where the straight-A student is recruiting…"
Once they agreed, Joe unfolded the boards and walked Allen through them. Allen gave a silent nod of approval.
The extras drifted back onto the quad. Ronald lifted the bullhorn and herded them into position.
Nearby, the red-haired First AC (Assistant Camera) slipped the film magazines into a black changing bag, plunging his hands inside to load the film by feel alone.
In under a minute, the redhead had the reel loaded in total darkness. He pulled his hands out, tore off a strip of black tape, and sealed the magazine's seams.
On a low-budget shoot with rented, beat-up gear, tape was the only insurance against light leaks ruining the negative.
Once the mag was taped, the DP had the crew hoist the camera onto the crane.
They ran it up and down a few times, the rig was second-hand; better safe than sorry.
Co-director Joe Dante began blocking the scene with Dey Young, the actress playing the studious Kate Rambeau.
The set transformed into a machine, each crew member a cog turning in perfect rhythm.
Ronald loved the order of it. A good director is a general; the crew, his troops. Filmmaking is war, and the director must lead the charge.
The leads and supporting players took their marks, ready for rehearsal. Joe Dante conferred with the seated Allen Arkush over the final details.
Ronald raised the bullhorn. "Van Nuys High boys and girls, we're going to dress-rehearse! Everyone to your first positions...everyone to your first positions!"
"Football team, over here. Great jerseys. You start here; on my cue, you rush the map, hoist the freshman, and carry him off-set. Got it?"
Joe signaled. The actors began a half-speed run-through, saving their energy for the take. The extras cooperated, except for the odd glance at the lens.
Dean Cundey climbed onto the crane bucket himself, ran the full movement, and gave a satisfied nod.
Ronald barked through the horn:
"Back to first positions!"
The crew stepped outside the camera range, waiting with a mix of patience and anticipation.
Joe Dante gave Dey Young a couple more notes on her timing. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the light.
Just past 06:28, the atmosphere shifted. It was as if a starting gun had gone off. The sun had not yet breached the horizon, but the ambient light began to swell, painting the backdrop in soft, shadowless illumination.
It was the Magic Hour, the camera's metal body took on a pale-blue sheen, as though the machine had been dipped in liquid sky.
The hair clips worn by the high school girls and the black-rimmed glasses of the straight-A Kate began to glint faintly.
The red-haired AC trotted up to the actors with a light meter, took a reading, and dashed back to the camera, calling out the f-stop numbers.
The boom operator hoisted the long pole over the actors' heads, positioning the microphone inches out of the frame line.
"Light's perfect!" Dean Cundey shouted.
At a nod from Allen, Ronald raised the bullhorn. "All right, we're rolling on the first take—stand by!"
Jim obliged with three blasts of an air horn...BEEP… BEEP… BEEP...the signal that the set was locked down.
The whispering stopped. Silence fell over the schoolyard.
Ronald looked toward the directors. Joe Dante gestured for him to proceed.
"Sound?" Ronald called.
"Rolling!" the mixer replied.
"Camera?"
"Speed!" the redhead signaled. The camera motor hummed, locking in at twenty-four frames per second.
Clapperboard in hand, the Script Supervisor, Jane, dashed in front of the lens. "'High School Life,' Scene 127, Take One."
She ducked out of the frame.
"Action," Allen Arkush whispered from his chair.
"Action!" Ronald relayed the command through the bullhorn, his voice echoing across the quad.
The performance began.
A freshman student stared at a wall map marked with a red X and the caption: YOU ARE HERE.
"Where am I?" the freshman muttered to himself.
Dean Cundey guided the camera in a lateral move, then slowly pulled back. The frame widened from the freshman's upper body to a full shot. Suddenly, three football players entered from the right.
"Hey, a frosh!"
"Fresh meat! Fresh meat!"
The gridiron trio rushed forward, hoisting the extra onto their shoulders.
"Where are you taking me?!"
"To your locker!"
"Oh no—don't stuff me in the locker!"
The crane arm ascended smoothly to eye level, tilting into a bird's-eye view. As the players carried the freshman out of frame, the lens drifted, searching, until it found the Science Club table.
It settled on Dey Young's character, drifting downward to lock off at the tabletop.
Beakers of red, green, and blue liquid bubbled beside a sign: Science Club...Kate Rambeau: Chemical Reaction Demo.
Ronald watched from just behind the camera. This was the opening shot of the movie. It had to work.
The movement was smooth. Comparing the live shot with the dream vision in his head, Ronald nodded. It looked perfect.
He waited for the director to call cut.
....
Silence...
The camera kept rolling.
The actors' faces began to stiffen. Dey Young, frozen in her "studious" pose, darted a nervous glance at the lens, searching for a cue.
Why isn't he calling it?
Ronald turned to the director's chair.
Allen Arkush, nearly six-foot-six of him, was slumped over. His head wasn't tilted for a camera angle. It was hanging limp.
Ronald's blood ran cold. He snatched the bullhorn.
"Cut! Cut! Cut!"
The frantic shouts shattered the mood. Heads whipped toward him.
"Medic!" Ronald screamed, dropping the horn and rushing to the chair. "The director has fainted!"
Authors Note:-
Well that's 5th chapter.
Support with power stones and collections for more chapters.