Acting, duvets, and Urinal Etiquette
Tue, Dec. 19th, 2006 15:38![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gominokouhaiTwice during the week before the release of episode 14, Hugh called me in on short notice to do some last-minute recording. As happenstance would have it, both times were days on which I happened to be working mornings, so I could go in straight from the Hotel on a few hours' notice. And I had my Sanderson's Specific and Vocalzones all with me. I'm so professional, it's nauseating.
So after a full day of work, I trekked up to Leith Walk for the sake of rerecording four words. Four words is apparently insufficient justification for the setting up of proper microphones, so my hi-tech professional recording studio consisted of me sitting in front of a MacBook with a duvet over my head. Tragically, when hugh got out the video camera it refused to work.
One of the four words I had to rerecord was
A couple of days later it was back up to Leith Walk again, after a full day of work, to do my fight scene noises.[0] The last time we did this it involved being introduced to a chap called Craig and then inviting him to beat the shit out of me. This time was different: it was a chap called Steve, instead. And this time I got to hit back.
I did make sure that the neighbours could hear when I buzzed the entryphone to get in and announced,
Finally, there came release and, after release, the obligatory wrap party. The party was held in some hideously trendy nowbiter-type bar on the Shore, but there was a free bar, so that was all right.
Hugh had invited my arch-nemesis along to be the Official Photographer and hadn't warned me in advance. This was probably a good thing all round, since I was dressed smart-casually and hence lacked weapons. I only found out once Jehane made a single polite comment about the photographer's camera, and ten minutes later I overheard the conversation as it reached the phrase
Despite the personal character of the photographer, some of the photos are quite good.
We watched episodes 12, 13, and 14[1] on the plasma screens in the bar and then mingled. I was chatting to one guy who said he was working for a talent agency, and who then got a look of utter fear in his eyes when I mentioned, conversationally, that I was looking for an agent. I am strongly considering getting some t-shirts printed which read:
Shortly after we arrived, the gents toilets in the nowbiter bar were co-opted by a strange black guy who moved in and said
After three or four more trips to the bathroom (I remind you about the free bar) I determined that you were supposed to use his soaps and tip him for the privilege. I am quite capable of washing my own hands—I've been doing it myself for quite some time—and this was not a service I required, so it rapidly became a game analogous to avoiding eye contact with the Big Issue salesman. I hate avoiding eye contact with the Big Issue guy, so this was making me afraid to go to the loo, and I'd had five pints by this stage[2].
The following evening was a Christmas™ party at the house of![[livejournal.com profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
verdandiweaves and draugluin. There were no scary black men skulking in the toilets, but there was a lot of Guitar Hero. And there was a lot of mulled wine.
Now all the episodes are out, so begins the process of making them into a film. This, I'm told, involves tearing down most of Act 1 and doing it again, so it was back up to Leith Walk today to record a new version of the opening monologue.
The new version is my Nazi Strutting Speech. I get one of these in every major production I've ever been in[3], and it transpires that Bloodspell is no exception. Finished in record time and had time to watch the rough cut of the new Act 1, see Jehane for lunch, and get an Aberdeen Angus burger this thick and mulled wine from the Christmas™ market before going into work.
Scurrilous rumours abound that final recording for the new Act 1 might take place in an actual church. This is marvellous news. I sound fantastic in churches.
Behold: a torrent of the complete episodic version![4] Worth it just for the smug satisfaction you get from using file-sharing legally, on files which the creators actually want you to have.
--
[0] A gentleman would find it impolitic to observe that I had told Hugh three weeks earlier that we hadn't got these. So I shan't.
[1] Not seen them yet? Go. Now. Watch.
[2] Don't worry, Hugh—they weren't all taken off the bar tab.
[3] I was Danforth in The Crucible and Theseus in MND. (Typecast? moi?) Minor roles in other performances—i.e. those in which I do not get a Nazi Strutting Speech—are exempt by definition.
[4] see [1].
So after a full day of work, I trekked up to Leith Walk for the sake of rerecording four words. Four words is apparently insufficient justification for the setting up of proper microphones, so my hi-tech professional recording studio consisted of me sitting in front of a MacBook with a duvet over my head. Tragically, when hugh got out the video camera it refused to work.
One of the four words I had to rerecord was
again. I repeated the word
againinto the laptop enough times to make me unsure whether or not I was a Teletubby, and then it was time to go home.
A couple of days later it was back up to Leith Walk again, after a full day of work, to do my fight scene noises.[0] The last time we did this it involved being introduced to a chap called Craig and then inviting him to beat the shit out of me. This time was different: it was a chap called Steve, instead. And this time I got to hit back.
I did make sure that the neighbours could hear when I buzzed the entryphone to get in and announced,
Hi, I'm here for my beating.
Finally, there came release and, after release, the obligatory wrap party. The party was held in some hideously trendy nowbiter-type bar on the Shore, but there was a free bar, so that was all right.
Hugh had invited my arch-nemesis along to be the Official Photographer and hadn't warned me in advance. This was probably a good thing all round, since I was dressed smart-casually and hence lacked weapons. I only found out once Jehane made a single polite comment about the photographer's camera, and ten minutes later I overheard the conversation as it reached the phrase
f-stop R1A filterand determined that she needed rescuing.
Despite the personal character of the photographer, some of the photos are quite good.
We watched episodes 12, 13, and 14[1] on the plasma screens in the bar and then mingled. I was chatting to one guy who said he was working for a talent agency, and who then got a look of utter fear in his eyes when I mentioned, conversationally, that I was looking for an agent. I am strongly considering getting some t-shirts printed which read:
I AM NOT NETWORKING. I AM HERE FOR THE BEER.
Shortly after we arrived, the gents toilets in the nowbiter bar were co-opted by a strange black guy who moved in and said
Helloto me while I was peeing. For those of my readers who do not understand the finer points of urinal etiquette, this is something that one simply does not do unless one is soliciting. He was still in there the next time I went to the loo, and by this time he'd spread out a range of toiletries and haircare products all over the sink unit. He was sat at one corner of the sink, watching, while I tried to urinate.
After three or four more trips to the bathroom (I remind you about the free bar) I determined that you were supposed to use his soaps and tip him for the privilege. I am quite capable of washing my own hands—I've been doing it myself for quite some time—and this was not a service I required, so it rapidly became a game analogous to avoiding eye contact with the Big Issue salesman. I hate avoiding eye contact with the Big Issue guy, so this was making me afraid to go to the loo, and I'd had five pints by this stage[2].
The following evening was a Christmas™ party at the house of
verdandiweaves and draugluin. There were no scary black men skulking in the toilets, but there was a lot of Guitar Hero. And there was a lot of mulled wine.Now all the episodes are out, so begins the process of making them into a film. This, I'm told, involves tearing down most of Act 1 and doing it again, so it was back up to Leith Walk today to record a new version of the opening monologue.
The new version is my Nazi Strutting Speech. I get one of these in every major production I've ever been in[3], and it transpires that Bloodspell is no exception. Finished in record time and had time to watch the rough cut of the new Act 1, see Jehane for lunch, and get an Aberdeen Angus burger this thick and mulled wine from the Christmas™ market before going into work.
Scurrilous rumours abound that final recording for the new Act 1 might take place in an actual church. This is marvellous news. I sound fantastic in churches.
Behold: a torrent of the complete episodic version![4] Worth it just for the smug satisfaction you get from using file-sharing legally, on files which the creators actually want you to have.
--
[0] A gentleman would find it impolitic to observe that I had told Hugh three weeks earlier that we hadn't got these. So I shan't.
[1] Not seen them yet? Go. Now. Watch.
[2] Don't worry, Hugh—they weren't all taken off the bar tab.
[3] I was Danforth in The Crucible and Theseus in MND. (Typecast? moi?) Minor roles in other performances—i.e. those in which I do not get a Nazi Strutting Speech—are exempt by definition.
[4] see [1].