Happiness Is A Warm Gun

I spent the latter part of the afternoon painting a gun. With interior latex paint. Yes, house paint, you heard me.

Earlier that day, Tonya and I watched dailies from the previous night's rehearsal.

I've never really done rehearsal. Not for movie stuff. I remember doing it when I was an actor in junior high. It has to help. It just has to. Last night's events left me a little frustrated.

Quinn, the young kid whom I saved a really important role for, was ill or uncomfortable or I don't know what all through last night's lines. He started off well, but quickly took a turn for the worst.

He struggled all night with his material. He was unprepared. Thing is, I know he can do it, he just needs to convince himself. He mumbled. He stuttered. He apologized. He repeated.

For a brief moment, I was unsatisfied enough to call in a backup. Tonya and I talked about it. He would simply be notified of this.

I called him early in the morning and let him know, in no uncertain terms, that I had made concessions for him to be in the film and that if his performance didn't improve, he would be replaced.

I have a really good feeling about this film. Despite the slap-dash way I'm throwing it all together, I think it has a lot going for it.

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