comes from having sat in a darkened editorial room, looking at footage for the past forty-eight hours.
Pam gestures to the man in the chair at the control board. “Biz, say hello to Fin Dolan, Ian’s partner.”
Biz is famous. Biz is cool. Biz has guitars in his office. He plays in a band. He has tattoos. Biz edits the famous commercials and also one movie with Brad Pitt. Biz was the top editor at Foolish Braggart in New York (also an editorial company) before parting ways with his business partner (and taking the business partner’s wife) and starting Lazy Weasel. He has the laid-back demeanor of a rock star. We were lucky he agreed to do this.
“Fiiiiiiiiiin,” Biz says in a way that suggests that he’s stoned or recently ingested five Tylenol PMs. “Heeeeeey, maaaaan,” he says as he hugs me.
Biz’s head is shaved and he sports a beard that would give a grizzly bear an inferiority complex.
I say, “Hey, Biz. Thanks so much for doing this.”
“Pleasure, man.”
“How’s it looking?”
“Well. Ya know. Work in progress.”
After each shoot day in Los Angeles, the day’s film was processed and sent to Biz. He then went through every minute of it, choosing the best takes, building our commercial. Biz’s languid speech stands in direct contrast to his editing speed. He already has several cuts to look at. Ian and Pam have been going over the cuts, looking for additional takes. The editing process can be a pleasant experience if the footage is right and enough time is built into the schedule. It can also be a maze of confusion, trying to figure out which minutely different take is better. Much of it is about trying to convince yourself how good it is. At this I excel.
Ian says, “You want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Good.”
Ian says, “Scott and I are going to Paris in the spring.”
“Is that good news for me?”
“No. But it’s good news for me.”
“What’s the bad news?” I ask.
“Client’s coming into the agency tomorrow. They want to see a cut.”
“How is that possible? We’re supposed to have three more days.”
Ian says, “Jan said something about the CEO. He wants to see it.”
I say, “I wanted to go home. I wanted to unpack, unwind, bathe, sleep for twelve hours.”
The receptionist brings in a bottle of wine and three wineglasses.
Pam pours and says, “You can do all of it except unpack, unwind, bathe, and sleep. Settle in. It’s going to be a long night.”
• • •
Throughout the evening we post cuts for Martin. He reviews them and calls in changes.
He asks to speak to me.
“Martin,” I say. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“We need to talk. Tomorrow. After the meeting.”
He hangs up.
• • •
Most people have no idea how hard it is to create something good on film. Why would they? Easier to sit in front of your TV or in a movie theater and critique. You imagine it, write, rewrite it, plan it, see it, cast it, shoot it, reshoot it, edit it, re-edit it. You colorize it, find the right music, mix the sound. Months of work under normal circumstances. And yet most times, for most commercials—indeed, most movies—the result is simply . . . okay. But it’s not great.
But somehow, something remarkable has happened with our spot. It’s certainly not the writing. It’s Flonz Kemp and his babies. It’s Biz and his pacing: tight cuts, followed by unexpected long shots, followed by super close-ups of the babies looking at the screen, the mom hurling the diaper. He’s found the perfect balance between serious and absurd. It’s not terrible. In fact, it may be the best thing Ian and I have ever done. The sad thing is we’re not quite sure how. We look at one another, Ian, Pam, and I. Perhaps it’s the fatigue. But we’re surprised that it works. Even Biz gives it his blessing.
“I have to be honest, my dudes. No offense, but when I saw the storyboard for this I thought, ‘Oh, shit. Gotta pass on this job.’ But it’s awright.”
We post a final cut for Martin a little after 3 A.M. He responds two minutes later. Like it. Show this tomorrow. Nicely done.
We go to shake hands, but Biz is a hugger. We tell him we’ll call him tomorrow after the meeting.
• • •
Ian and I put Pam in a cab, then walk for a block or two. It’s closing in on 4 A.M. Pent-up energy from sitting. Too tired to sleep just yet.