"The Dog Walker Scene"
Ah, yes. The Dog Walker scene.
For all that went right during the filming of "Small Apartments," the one scene that fell far short of my intentions and expectations was the scene where Franklin encounters a dog walker who instructs him on the rudiments of driving a manual transmission automobile.
The theme of "Small Apartments" -- sort of the whole philosophy of the film -- is that we are all inside our own small apartments. We have our personal shit we're dealing with and, while we appear to be listening to and caring about other people, we are so enclosed in our private headspace that there is no room for anything else.
Thus, each time in the film when someone is informed that Mr. Olivetti is dead, their immediate response is: "Is he alright?"
"No," says Burt Walnut. "He's dead."
No one listens to anyone.
"Ask him yourself," says Franklin to Mr. Allspice. "He's lying dead on the ground."
"What?"
"Nothing."
For me, the Dog Walker Scene was meant to be a foil to that over-arching thesis of the film. An unexpected counter-point. An anti-thesis, designed to initiate the rocket-boost Franklin requires so desperately to ultimately get away with (what he wrongly considers to be) murder.
A reluctant kindness from a stranger. Someone who, for just a brief moment, saw Franklin, heard Franklin, and helped him.
This does occur in the scene... sort of. But it certainly doesn't happen the way I wrote it.
The Dog Walker was played by Noel Gugliemi. I'm sure he's a nice guy. I see him in a bunch of stuff. Jonas liked his "street-tough" look for the role. But in my opinion, he arrived unprepared to deliver the lines I had written. I don't believe he even memorized them -- riffing in his own words from the first take.
Unfortunately, this provoked Matt Lucas into improvising, too. Suddenly the odd, tightly scripted little sequence I had written was obliterated.
What was intended to be funny about the Dog Walker was that, though he is walking a pit bull and looks as though he could twist your head from your shoulders like a soda cap, he speaks to Franklin in a very technical, instructional -- almost professorial -- way as he teaches Franklin the proper technique for driving stick.
When I saw, take after take, that the Dog Walker was determined to stay completely off script, no matter what our terrific Script Supervisor, Britta Menges, tried to do about it, I commenced doing tortured back-flips in my chair behind Jonas, employing every muscle fiber to restrain myself from launching into a dead sprint and leaping on Gugliemi, shaking him until he delivered the words I'd written.
Jonas could sense my anger and anxiety like a hot wind on the back of his neck. He, too, knew the original scene was blown, but kept shooting all the coverage he needed to get out of it the essential elements needed to move the plot forward when he got to the editing bay.
On one level, I knew that's what Jonas was doing -- and I understood all would be well in the final cut. But on another level, I wanted to commit homicide with impunity.
My displeasure with the Dog Walker's performance was no secret to all those on set shooting into the wee hours of the morning. But the only one to approach me was Matt Lucas. He plopped down in the seat beside me and proceeded to scroll through the screen of his iPhone, showing me the various pages of the gay meet-up site his friend had submitted his name to.
He got me laughing, of course. Leave it to Matt to diffuse the situation.
Britta and I still joke about "The Dog Walker" every time we see each other. That's our inside joke for the one-and-only less-than-awesome day of shooting on the set of "Small Apartments."
If you want to read the original scene (even though script formatting is a bit funky online), I've posted it here...
http://www.chrismillis.com/p/stuff.html