By Ray Downs
By Lindsay Toler
By Danny Wicentowski
By Lindsay Toler
By RFT Staff
By Lindsay Toler
By Allison Babka
By Lindsay Toler
In The Changeling, Hahn is played by character actor Geoff Pierson, best known as the U.S. President in the fourth season of 24, and the scene being shot today is the kind that actors playing lawyers dream of—an impassioned, accusatory aria in which Hahn hurls reams of incontrovertible evidence at the smirking Jones (played by Burn Notice star Jeffrey Donovan) to the enthusiastic cheers of a crowded courtroom. The extras file in with the hushed decorum of parishioners at Sunday Mass. Then the film's stars, Angelina Jolie (who plays Collins) and John Malkovich (who plays Briegleb), take their front-and-center seats.
After conferring briefly with the actors (including a note to Pierson to speak his lines at a "Preston Sturges" tempo), Eastwood tells the crew, "Let's do this and see how it goes," and they begin — Pierson orating grandly as a steadicam operator follows his every move. When the shot is over, Eastwood mutters a barely audible "Stop" — "cut" being a word, like "action," he avoids at all costs. And with that, the crew begins to prepare the next set-up. There is no pause for playback — the ritual on most film sets where the director watches the take back on a video monitor to see if he's happy with it. On an Eastwood set, playback isn't even a possibility, since nothing, save for the image on the film inside the cameras, is being recorded. In another technological innovation, Eastwood and his cinematographer, Tom Stern, have small, handheld wireless video monitors at their disposal that allow them to watch a live feed of a given shot when the cameras are rolling. But as I observe Eastwood, I see that, more often, his gaze is fixed intently on the actors.
All this, too, is part of the Eastwood mythology: He is famous for putting his trust in first (or, at most, second) takes, for sometimes shooting (and using in the finished film) what the actors think is merely a rehearsal, and for moving from A to B with a speed that belies his 77 years.
"You have to choose the crew as carefully as you choose the cast," he tells me during the brief break between shots, which could explain why some of Eastwood's collaborators have been working with him for as many as 25 years. Then Eastwood's in-house producer, Robert Lorenz (who began working with Eastwood as a second assistant director on The Bridges of Madison County), interrupts to get "the boss'" approval on a long-lead Changeling press release about to be issued by the studio. Eastwood looks it over and asks that the words "based on a true story" be removed from the film's synopsis. "The important thing," he says, "is whether it's a good story, and if it's well told." After that, it's back to work, as Eastwood and company plow through the rest of the sequence, finishing the entire day's shooting before lunch. "We do in eight hours what most crews do in 16," says Eastwood's current second AD, Katie Carroll, whose duties, I discern, include walking the perimeter of the set and shushing the extras whenever the noise level rises above a modest din. This, it's hard not to think, seems a very civilized way of going about making a movie.
"I thought this was going to be one of the most difficult things I've ever done, given the subject matter, but instead it's been the easiest," Angelina Jolie tells me, looking even more radiant than usual in her period attire and short bob hairdo. It's now early December, one week before shooting wraps, and the production has arrived at the climactic scene in which Collins confronts convicted child-killer Gordon Northcott in his prison cell on the eve of his execution. It's a physically and emotionally draining sequence, during which Jolie must push actor Jason Butler Harner against a wall and repeatedly ask, "Did you kill my son?" her pleas becoming increasingly anguished until two guards intervene. It is, Jolie says, her "big, Stella Dallas moment."
On Stage 20 of the Warner Brothers lot in Burbank, production designer Murakami has constructed Northcott's cell, as well as the institutional shower and elaborate series of interconnecting hospital corridors where the final week of shooting will take place. Today, there are no extras on set, and the faint chill that hangs in the unheated air seems appropriate to the gravity of the scene.
This turns out to be, by Eastwood standards, a long day, which means that instead of wrapping at four in the afternoon, shooting drags on until 6. At one point, I venture across the lot to the film's post-production suite, where editor Joel Cox shows me his cut of the courtroom scene. When I return, Eastwood is prepping the last shot of the day (known, in insider Hollywood parlance, as the "martini shot"). I tell him I like what I've seen and look forward to seeing how it all turns out. He shoots me his deadpan, squinty gaze and says, his voice just this side of a whisper, "I look forward to seeing how it turns out myself."
— Scott Foundas