Roam with Me. Back to 1993. A movie set in the Arizona desert. George P. Cosmatos is being exactly who you'd expect a director to be. I'm standing just off camera, holding something alive, waiting for my cue, on set behind video village where the director is watching the scene play out on a monitor, or in this case a few monitors.
That's where we're going today. But first, a quick reminder of who's telling this story.
I'm the guy used to doing the thing he has no business doing… this falls directly in that category... I had no business being there…but there I was.
In my defense, there's no fun in being too predictable. I wasn't supposed to be there… on that set… and especially watching the movie being made over the shoulder of the newly hired director who was already having issues.
But there I was…
By this time, I had been in the film industry for a few years. I'd worked on bigger movies and felt comfortable on a film set of this size and scope. I'd worked with A-listers before, so being around Kurt Russell, Val Kilmer, Sam Elliott, Bill Paxton, etc. was just another day on set.
By all indications, this production was anything but smooth. Kevin Jarre, who wrote the brilliant script, had also secured the coveted job as the film's director. Not unusual in Hollywood. If a script receives a ton of attention, the writer will sometimes make the sale of said script contingent on other…let's say "requests."
Something they otherwise might not be able to suggest (read: demand), like, for instance, directing the movie.
Jarre had never directed before.
Sometimes these things work out, sometimes they don't. This time it very much did not work out.
After a few weeks of falling behind, he was fired… off his own movie… well, maybe not his own movie… but you know what I mean. He was out.
A new guy was in. It's never a good idea to stop shooting once you get a green light and get started… so they didn't.
Apparently, Kurt Russell helped keep things moving before and famously even after the new guy came on board.
The production continued down its rocky road. Something I was aware of but not concerned about. That's not all that unusual. Film sets are like extended family holiday gatherings, and just like in families, sometimes the wheels come off, and things can go sideways. Well, that was this production.
I had already planned to fly to Arizona for a week to see my then-girlfriend and the buddy who introduced us, who also happened to be her boss. Nothing going on with the production seemed severe enough to derail that.
Also, a really good guy and famous actor who had become a friend was on set as well. We had recently finished a feature film shot in Canada. He was one of the lead actors, and I trained the dog co-star of the movie.
At the time in my life, I was an avid collector of movie posters. I had found a really cool one for his films called Cliffhanger, the Sylvester Stallone hit movie. Michael Rooker was the co-star of that movie. I brought the poster with me to have him sign it.
Boy did he. It's one of the few posters I still have in my considerably smaller poster collection.
Setup
I first met David and Cheryl on the set of a movie called Iron Will a year or so before my Tombstone visit.
Iron Will is a Disney movie about sled dogs and a big race in Minnesota. One of the best experiences of my life for a lot of reasons, the main one being I got to hang out with a wonderfully silly husky named Beau, live in a hotel for three months, and the weather was wonderfully cold, which I happen to love.
On Iron Will, David was the key makeup artist, which means he was the head guy, and Cheryl was his assistant. We all hit it off, and Cheryl and I ended up dating, briefly. We are still friends. I broke up with her by leaving a note in her glove box, expecting her to find it after I had left her house, but a quick dinner run detour ended that when she opened the glove box for some totally random reason and found the note. She read it with me in the car, which was a bit awkward.
I saw her years later on another film in Montana and got to officially, like an actual grown-up, apologize. I ran into her on the set of a television show with Rob Lowe called 9-1-1 Lone Star a few years back. She's a neat human. I'm glad to know her.
David went on to be Val Kilmer's personal makeup guy and also spent time as Steven Seagal's personal makeup man. David is also an expert at special effects makeup. Tombstone was a gig right in his wheelhouse.
When Cheryl told me she would be working with David again, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to meet up and visit with them both.
I was excited to be on the set of a western. Truth is, back then I was excited to be on any film set, and this one was no different. There's a wonderful magic that can't be explained and can only be experienced on a good set with good leadership.
When crew and cast are firing on all cylinders and working toward the same goal, the energy and friendships made are lifelong, forged through a united set of inconveniences and sometimes even shared hardships.
Before I arrived, I had talked to Cheryl and to David about the set and being allowed to be there. Neither thought it was a big deal or that it might be an issue.
Neither had ever worked with the newly hired director either.
By the time I showed up, George, aka the new guy, was already in place. George was a large foreign man who didn't seem to bother much with formalities…like being nice to people, or in any way being easygoing. The word on set was to avoid him at all costs, as much as possible.
Again, none of that mattered to me, as I was just there to be a fly on the wall… to watch a big production with great actors… to continue learning the art of filmmaking. What I call my Disneyland.
David and Cheryl both knew I had set etiquette down and that I wasn't the kind of guy to make waves or get in anyone's way. They knew I wouldn't need a babysitter. I was very adept at keeping a low profile and staying clear of anyone who might wonder who I was or why I was there.
Which is exactly what I did. I kept to myself, watched and learned, and stayed out of people's way. There are always a lot of people on film sets; the adage, act as if you belong, goes a long way in Hollywood. Always has. I imagine it always will.
On day one, I made it a point to see Michael to get him to sign my poster, which was epic; he loved "X"ing out Stallone's name and replacing it with his! We all had a good laugh. And then the makeup team went back to work, and I went off to see what they were shooting next.
When you're on a movie set, it's usually impossible to be too close to the set. There's always a ton of moving parts. It is less hard to be around one of the monitors set up for the director and producers to watch the scene being shot.
I intended to spend the rest of the day staying out of people's way. Watching as much filmmaking as I could. That's not how it played out.
The Moment
I found where the crew was setting up the next shot and found a spot in the back, out of anyone's way, and settled in to watch the goings on.
My spot, about ten or fifteen feet behind the director and his monitor, was perfect…until it wasn't.
Right after the director called cut on a take, he stood up and happened to turn my way. For a second we locked eyes. Odd, but not fatal…normally. I was such a nobody; he certainly would have no idea who I was, nor would he care. Certainly, he had bigger fish to fry.
Direct eye contact was something I had learned to avoid when working on a film set. It can be distracting to an actor, and sometimes it just irritates people, so I tried to avoid it unless I was directly engaging with someone.
So, to make sustained eye contact with a director on a set I wasn't working on and probably didn't have permission to even be on was not a good idea. So, while it was odd, I didn't think too much about…until the director called a woman over and looked at me again. Ugh. This wasn't good.
I was shocked that he even noticed me the first time. I'm usually really good at being invisible…something that goes back to grade school. But on this occasion, I was apparently not only visible, but I was a problem. A problem big enough for the director of a massive film that was already troubled to notice and not only to notice me, but to feel the need to have me dealt with.
Sheesh, what did I ever do to him?
Knowing what just happened might not be great, I decided to move away from the area. This was a huge western town set; there were plenty of other things to explore.
The Aftermath
Next thing I know, David has found me and is asking me if I did something to the director. What? I ask. Incredulous. Of course not. Well, David said, he doesn't want you back on his set.
Holy moly. That's harsh, especially since I was one of many people hanging out, and I was minding my own business. And yes, I had been technically "looking over his shoulder," something he expressed he didn't like; I certainly wasn't the only one.
And I certainly wasn't eavesdropping. I was plenty far enough away, or so I thought.
David said I'd need to leave immediately and was not allowed to return. Well, so much for five days in Arizona, so now what was I supposed to do?
I had four more days in a town in a state I didn't have a great relationship with in the first place. I was in the military in Arizona for far too long for my taste. I almost crashed in a commercial airliner in Phoenix. I moved rock piles from here to there weekly while getting then losing rank. My penance for saying the thing out loud that you're supposed to only think.
I wouldn't have been back except to be on a movie set visiting with my two good friends. By the way, to this day I still try to make it a point to stay out of Arizona, especially the Glendale/Phoenix area. Just not my favorite part of the United States.
So, now what? I had to fill my time waiting for Cheryl to get back from the crazy long days that make up movie work. Sitting in a hotel is not my strong suit, and I don't like to swim in public pools, and you can only watch so much television, and it's triple-digit heat outside. This was shaping up to be a staggering waste of time. I did find some cool bookstores, and when it was cool enough outside, the area where we were staying was pleasant to walk around.
But how I spent most of the rest of that week was wondering why the director singled me out…of all the people loitering around the monitor…and felt strongly enough about one dude watching the film being made to care enough to kick me off his set.
How did he even know who I was? Or maybe that was the point…I was some random stranger watching him work. I guess he wasn't a fan. David or Cheryl certainly weren't going to put up a fight. I don't blame them; I'm pretty sure they didn't get it okayed for me to be on set in the first place.
Which they might have been required to do. Some sets want everyone accounted for…some don't care. This was before cell phones and COVID changed everything about being on a film or television set.
Maybe it was bad luck, bad timing, or possibly just a wrong time, wrong place, and a frustrated director. I was an easy scapegoat. Embarrassing and annoying, but at the end of the day, he was right; it was his set.
The Button
I still love film sets. They will always be magic to me. Even the ones I don't belong on… doing the thing I'm not supposed to be doing. Which has its own appeal.
My takeaways?
If you act as if you belong, it usually works…but not always.
Sometimes the price of doing what you have no business doing ends in exile.
Sometimes it's glorious, but not always.
I did get to see some really cool actors doing some iconic and legendary work, so there's that.
And the three of us, David, Cheryl, and myself, remain great friends to this day; we don't speak often and see each other even less, but we will always be film family.
Oh yeah, and my custom 1/1 poster is pretty cool. At least I think so.
Sign-Off
Time stamps a unique patina on everything worth remembering. A little spit and polish can work wonders. Come Roam With Me, let's see what we can find.