Romania Travelogue II, Part 1

Originally published November 26, 1993, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1045

Meanwhile, back in Romania…

Once again I have journeyed to the low-budget film capital of the world: Romania, where Full Moon Entertainment works in conjunction with Castel Films to produce inexpensive genre films (science fiction, fantasy, horror, etc.) for the straight-to-video audience.

Last time I was here, it was to observe the filming of Trancers IV and Trancers V, the adventures of the time-traveling hero Jack Deth.

This time, it’s Oblivion.

Oblivion, as is the case with all of Full Moon’s productions, is the brainchild of FME owner Charles Band. And Charlie’s concept was simple: horse opera in space.

Hardly new, of course. Pulp magazines decades ago featured cowboys with rayguns instead of six-shooters, riding mechanical horses. Star Wars (the first one, at least) was simply an outer-space Western when it wasn’t busy being an outer-space World War II aviator flick.

But the concept of Oblivion that was handed to me was as basic as they come. There was no pretense of doing anything more elaborate than taking Cowboys and Indians, changing it to Cowboys and Aliens, sticking it on a far-off world and calling it science fiction.

And I agreed to write the project (and its sequel, filmed at the same time) because I thought it would be fun and also because—unlike most of Full Moon’s output—Oblivion is intended for theatrical release. That’ll look good on the old résumé.

Ultimately, I’m pleased that I participated for several reasons:

First, we’ve got one hëll of a cast.

Second, this time I have a guest with me: my father, Gunter, who is slated to have a cameo in the movie, thereby helping to fulfill a desire he’d had since he was a youth.

Third, no one in Romania has ever heard of, or gives a dámņ about, the Comicfest debate, so I can actually spend 10 whole days and not have to talk about it.

What better incentive than that?

The hotel is a vast improvement over the Triumf. The Hotel Lebada has nicer rooms, better staff, and, overall, promises to provide a fairly decent stay.

Only had one setback getting here, when the plane developed engine trouble on the ground at Vienna. Then again, I suppose that’s better than developing engine trouble over Vienna. It caused a two-hour delay, but we were met at the airport with a minimum of trouble.

While waiting on line to go through customs at the Romanian airport, I happen to look up at a TV monitor and am stunned to see Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Star Trek: The Next Generation has started running in Romania. Considering that one of the latest fashion statements among young Romanians is sweatshirts with university logos on them, this is just the latest American incursion.

My father and I have dinner at the special dining room that has been set aside for Oblivion cast members. Dad is having a great time chatting with the actors and Adolfo Bartoli, the director of photography. So far, so good.

Oct. 25—My first look at the Oblivion set, built from scratch on a large chunk of land in the middle of farm land. It was supposed to be a bizarre combination of Old West and high-tech. However, it turned out that most of the high-tech was high dollars, as well, and, as if usually the case with Full Moon projects, budget is the major consideration. So it largely looks like a standard Western town but with a handful of loopy touches. For example, the First National Bank has two automatic teller machines. There’s a large billboard for a science-fiction-themed movie—produced by Full Moon, of course.

And there are some in-jokes: One business venture has the name “Sam Irvin and Company” prominently displayed, Sam Irvin being our director. Some of you may immediately say, “Sam Irvin—I know that name.” You do. You’re thinking of Sen. Sam Ervin, who became a household name during the Watergate hearings. No relation. Sam’s major claim to fame at the moment is a little-seen film starring Rod Steiger called Guilty as Charged. Highly recommended at your local video stores.

First scene being shot today is a simple one, as follows: Marshal Zack Stone (Richard Paul), his sidekick Buteo (Jimmy Skaggs), and the dreaded galactic bounty hunter Sweeney (lifted whole from the Star Trek comic book character I created and brought to life by Max Caulfield) are to exit from the marshal’s office, leap on their horses, and ride away.

Richard has perfected an impressive leaping mount. Well, not exactly “perfected.” Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t. On the first take, Richard makes his leap, misjudges, and slides off the horse. When he does manage to mount, his horse bumps into Jimmy’s. Max, meantime, is riding serenely away and ad-libbing loudly, “And you call yourselves cowboys.”

Two takes later, Richard makes the leap perfectly. Unfortunately, the saddle on Sweeney’s horse has chosen that moment to come loose, and Max winds up practically upside-down.

Four takes (involving falling props, another missed mounting, and a horse collision) later, they finally get it. General applause from all.

A scene shot later involves “Mr. Gaunt,” the town’s funeral director. The hitch is that he’s psychic: He senses when someone is about to die and so heads over to them and waits. As a result, whenever he comes down the street, everyone scatters. Gaunt is being played by Carel Struycken. Carel is known primarily for his height: Lurch in Addams Family and Addams Family Values; the giant in Twin Peaks; Mr. Homn in Star Trek. He is perfectly suited for this role.

Sam is about to shoot one of the earliest scenes in Oblivion, involving Gaunt heading for the town saloon. And, out of the blue, Sam turns to me and says, “Do you want to be a cowboy running from Gaunt?”

Quick on the uptake, as usual, I say, “Huh?”

He repeats the question.

“OK,” I say. Fifteen minutes later I saunter out of wardrobe wearing a brown hat, leather-fringed brown jacket, and a raygun strapped to my side.

My role is as a drunk, passed out in front of the saloon, where a number of other cowboys are hanging about. Then Gaunt is sighted heading our way. One cowboy is on horseback. The horse rears, which is my cue to snap awake, see Gaunt, and bolt to the horse’s left. It seems pretty straightforward.

And, moments before Sam yells, “Action,” Jeff Moldovan, our stunt coordinator, says to me, “Now when you run past the horse, be careful. Because the horse is rearing up and the rider might lose control, and the horse might charge you. If that happens, get out of the way.”

I was fine until he said that, but now I’m faking a drunken stupor while envisioning myself being trampled.

Sam yells “Action!”

The horse rears.

I come to. I see Gaunt. I smile weakly, and then bolt around the rearing horse. The horse watches me. I’m watching the horse. We don’t get near each other.

It requires only one take. Good. Because I didn’t like the way the horse was eyeing me. Maybe the horse was concerned I was going to run into it.

Captain Cameo strikes again.

Another highlight of the day is Marshal Stone’s lengthy kiss shared with Miss Mattie, his love interest, who runs the general store. Mattie is played by Jackie Swanson, best known as Kelly (Woody’s girlfriend/wife) for four seasons on Cheers.

I time one of the takes. Their liplock goes for 32 seconds. The only other time I’ve seen a screen kiss that lasted that long (wherein both participants remained vertical and fully clothed) was Big Top Pee-Wee. Later Jackie, having her makeup retouched, murmurs, “I can’t believe I get paid for this.”

Nice work if you can get it.

My father is having the time of his life on the set, watching the direction, the technical crew, and the actors, all laboring to bring to life stories and characters that came from my head. After 25 years as a reporter and another decade as a family therapist, striking up conversations with people is not difficult for him.

The Romanian crew is still addressing me as “Mister Vlad.” If you don’t know why, it’s too long a story to repeat here. You should have subscribed to CBG earlier. Too bad for you.

Oct. 26—It’s gotten colder. Yesterday, shirtsleeves were more than enough. Today, if you’re not wearing a sweater and a lined jacket, you’re in trouble. The weather is dark and foul.

The script for the scene being filmed reads as follows: “As Zack is crossing the street, Mr. Gaunt rides up on his horse-drawn hearse.” A one-sentence description I tossed off in my office. So here we are, six months later, on a set in Romania, and the wranglers are trying to keep the horses calm, and Carel is having trouble getting the horses to stop in just the right place so Adolfo can keep everyone—Zack, Gaunt, and the horses—in the picture, and it’s taking longer and longer, and the wind is blowing more fiercely, making each take progressively more difficult, and we finally have a usable take except, no, it’s no good, because Sam sees in the video playback that, as Gaunt was riding out, one of the large lights for lighting the scene was reflected against the glass of the hearse. So the entire scene has to be completely relit, which takes even more time, and I’m ready to throw myself under the horse’s hooves because I feel so guilty.

All because of one sentence. If I’d written, “As Zack is crossing the street, Mr. Gaunt walks past in the other direction,” the scene would have been done in two minutes instead of two hours.

Ah, the guilt trips inherent in being a screenwriter.

Controlling excess noise is impossible. Stray dogs populate the set. A farmer on nearby land is constantly riding his tractor. It seems we’re near enough the airport that incoming planes are beginning their descent right overhead. There have been several takes where, the moment that Sam shouts “Action,” we get all three sounds sequentially and even simultaneously.

I wonder how much of the film they’ll have to loop. Practically all of it, I think.

George Takei is working today. George plays the town doctor, Doc Valentine. It’s the first time in 30 years that George has played a character not specifically written to be Asian. It’s a welcome departure for him, although he and the director have been conspiring to slip in Star Trek jokes shamelessly (not that I haven’t done a few myself).

In one scene, Doc Valentine breaks down and sobs piteously, when an invention of his fails to prevent a dear friend from being shot down. George’s performance is gut-wrenching. He gets to do more acting in this three-minute scene than he had in three years of the original Star Trek. Between the presence of Carel and George, my hope is that Trek fans will turn out in droves to support the film.

Chicken for dinner tonight. I’ve had chicken for every lunch and dinner since I’ve gotten here. I’m going to start clucking soon.

Oct. 27—My father and I arrive at the set dressed for the cold snap that has hit. Unfortunately, the weather is shirtsleeve warm again. Typical.

We now film the moments leading up to the scene we filmed the previous day. How in God’s name actors can keep anything straight is beyond me.

Highlight of the day is a sequence involving Oblivion‘s cyborg deputy, Stell Barr (played by Meg Foster, the woman with quite possibly the most gorgeous eyes in Hollywood). In the scene, Doc Valentine (George Takei) has outfitted Stell with a new and improved bionic right arm—except it malfunctions during testing, seizing up and quivering. Ultimately, the fist shoots off like a rocket, hurtling through the air and almost decapitating Zack Stone (Richard) before expiring against the far wall.

It’s a scene fraught with peril. For six takes, Richard dodges the flying fist, courtesy of repeated strong throws by the assistant director. Fortunately, it does not require a seventh, because one never knows when Richard’s luck might run out (or, for that matter, the a.d.’s aim might be off).

Meg’s reactions as Stell are hilarious, running the gamut from almost childlike glee upon the first, positive test and then dissolving into concern and ultimately panic as the arm goes haywire.

My father is still having the time of his life, chatting it up with the actors or crew members and, courtesy of an unspoken agreement (OK, OK, it was spoken, actually), he’s not trotting out a plethora of “embarrassing things that Peter did while growing up.” As on the previous days, he leaves a bit early before the sun sets and it really gets cold. I, utter obsessive that I am, wait until the final shoot before heading back to the hotel.

I get to the hotel restaurant at 9:30 p.m. and am informed by both Jackie Swanson and my dad that a call came in for me. Jackie was coincidentally standing near the front desk when a call came in for Room 108. Since she was in Room 107, Jackie knew 108 was my room and knew, further, that I wasn’t there. She heard and saw the operator say, “Yes, I’ll tell him it’s important that he call back,” hang up, and then not write anything down. The hotel operator simply does not take messages.

Jackie passed the word on to my father, but they both see me within seconds of each other and so I get the news from both sides. As I run to my room and then wait 40 minutes until I finally get a line, naturally I keep thinking the same thing: Who died?

Nobody died. Everything’s fine.

Oct. 28—My father has his cameo appearance today. Actually, as cameos go, it’s pretty decent.

The scene occurs in the general store run by Mattie (Jackie Swanson). She and Marshal Stone are having a quiet conversation, while my father, playing a customer, lurks in the background, checking out cans and fruits. Then Mr. Gaunt (Carel) sweeps in. My father looks at him, stammers to Mattie, “I, I think I’ll come back later,” and bolts out the door.

In the far shot (the master shot), the door refuses to cooperate. First he has trouble opening it; then he has trouble getting it to stay closed behind him. Every time a take is blown, he gets more upset because he’s tremendously concerned about embarrassing me. It requires four takes, but finally the door opens and closes to the satisfaction of the director.

Dad thanks the director for the cameo. And Sam says, “Oh, you’re not done. Now we have your close-up.”

He isn’t expecting that. Neither am I. Hëll, I never got a close-up.

Sam instructs Dad to show fear when Gaunt enters. This is a tight shot, so the aggravating door doesn’t factor in. He can concentrate entirely on his performance.

Years and years ago, Dad dreamt of becoming an actor. In fact, as a teenager he came to this country from Israel because of that ambition. But he gave it up upon realizing that a profession that involved constant rejection was simply not for him. Now he’s having his shot.

The first take is less than impressive. Dad shows fear in a purely comic manner, his eyes bugging out, his jaw going slack. He says his line and runs off-camera. I’m feeling fairly bad at this point and am hoping that the take winds up on the cutting room floor, since Dad would just be embarrassed by it.

Sam, however, wants to give it one more try. “Think of something really frightening, Gunter,” he advises him. Eric, the assistant director, chimes in, “Yeah, like that we’ll kill you if you don’t get this take right.”

Part of what was making it difficult for my father was that, although he was supposed to deliver his line to Mattie, she wasn’t there because he’s in close-up. Jackie Swanson, who seems so taken with Dad that I think she might want to adopt him, says, “Gunter, do you want me to be your eyeline?” Gratefully, he says yes, and Jackie takes up a position behind the camera so that Dad can actually be looking at the person he’s supposed to be talking to.

I’m watching the monitor, as Sam yells “Action!” for the second, and likely last, time.

My father looks up, sees Gaunt.

And I am stunned to see genuine terror in his eyes. No pseudo-emotion, no surface. He has looked up at this black-clad giant and he is indisputably petrified to see him. He looks straight at Jackie, still maintaining the fear, says his line, and runs off screen. Cut, print.

“My God, he was good,” I murmur. Sam nods.

He was actually good.

One can’t tell from one line, of course, whether someone could really have cut it in show business. But, judging from that take, maybe the potential was there.

Maybe he might have been able to make it, at that.

And we’ll never know.

Today is George Takei’s last day of shooting. After the final scene, Sam announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, George Takei has wrapped his part.” Everyone applauds and cheers.

Apparently, this is a show-business tradition. Me, I think it’s dámņëd weird. To me, it’s the equivalent of saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, George Takei is now unemployed.” And everyone cheers this fact.

And I thought writers were strange.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, will wrap this latest Romanian odyssey next week.)