Kushner discuss his great work, ANGELS IN AMERICA

I love Kushner's writing, especially his essays. Yesterday, he was interviewed on NPR's Talk of the Nation about his work, especially Angels in America. What struck me about the interview was Kushner's take on the plays enduring relevance. Money quote:

It's completely clear that what we were beginning to get worried about in the '80s was very serious and very real things ... so the play, and the times, both feel darker to me now than they did back then.

He mentions the Charlotte, North Carolina, production from the 1990s, too, which is mentioned in Dear Jesse.

A new documentary.

I went for a run around the Silver Lake reservoir tonight and had a little time to think about my home state of North Carolina. Today, legislators decided to allow a vote to change the state's constitution so that marriage would forever be defined as between two people of different sexes. No big surprise, but disappointing, to say the least.

Makes me think it might be time for another documentary.

My Art Day.

I missed the exhibit, but not for lack of trying. This morning, Drew and I showed up at ten thirty with our friend Amy, who's a member of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Under normal circumstances, members can by-pass the non-member lines and proceed directly to the exhibition. Not anymore. Or, at least, not this exhibition. I'm totally disappointed. What a bust. I hear the show is so great.

The lines at the Metropolitan snaked around all sides, up the blocks, and several people deep. In my more than twenty years in New York, I've never seen anything like that at the museum. It was heartening to see so many tickets being sold for a show of a fashion designer/artist's work.

Bummer number two occurred a little later. We decided to ease the disappointment of not getting into the McQueen show by seeing the Werner Herzog film Cave of Forgotten Dreams.

When we got to the box office, I learned it was a film in 3-D, which I can't perceive because I have amblyopia. I asked the staff at the theater on 86th Street if the movie's 3-D effect was discernible to the amblyopic eye (actually, I said, "Does it look normal without those stupid glasses?"), but no one could confirm. And they were rude. So, we walked.

Things started to look better at the end of the day when I picked up a painting that was shipped to me from Louisville, Kentucky, a gift from my pal and producer Gill and his wife, Augusta. After I admired it in a restaurant downtown during the filming of Tan Lines, Gill went back and purchased it and shipped it to New York. The painting is called It's A Dog's Life by the artist Petersen Thomas.

Here's a bad picture of it taken with my iPhone.

Brooklyn Bridge Park

For the past three mornings, Drew and I have climbed out of bed and walked to Brooklyn Bridge Park, coffees in hand. The park is a 1.5 mile stretch of bike path, sidewalk and trail along the East River from the bridge to Carroll Gardens. Some of it remains a work in progress, but the completed areas are fantastic and make me very happy to be back in the city. Not only that, next week I look forward to this.

I heart New York.

I'm still vibrating with excitement about the recent New York Senate vote to extend marriage rights to same-sex couples.

Despite success stories in Iowa, New Hampshire, Vermont, D.C., Massachusetts and Connecticut, I'd become convinced that the setbacks in California and Maine had permanently disabled the civil rights movement of our time. I was wrong. And public opinion and support for equal marriage rights is shifting dramatically as the five states and the District of Columbia have shown the fearful that the world will not end by letting two men or two women tie the knot.

To say that all of this change is a surprise would be an understatement. I did not grow up thinking I would ever be married to another man, but here I am, married legally - at least in states that recognize it. Next week is our third anniversary.

I've been a little angry with Obama during the last couple of days. He has stated publicly that he believes that marriage laws should best be determined by the states. I sent him a terse email on Monday reminding him that his own parents' bi-racial marriage had been illegal in many states and threatened withdrawal of my support, financial and otherwise. I haven't heard back from the President. Yet. I'm sure I will. His timing is impressive, to say the least.

Meantime, I've been reading different opinions about the President's reaction. The most reasoned comes from Andrew Sullivan, of course. In a nutshell:

A civil rights movement does not get its legitimacy from any president. I repeat: he does not legitimize us; we legitimize him. As gays and lesbians, we should stop looking for saviors at the top and start looking for them within. We won this fight alongside our countless straight family members, friends, associates and fellow citizens. As long as Obama has done due diligence in the office he holds - and he has - he is not necessary to have as a Grand Marshall for our parade.

Andrew's argument is worth reading, especially his take on why marriage rights are more protected at the state level. On the other hand, there's this devastating story from CNN that shows in human terms how marriage inequality literally destroys families. Not in the abstract. In reality. These policies harm people. Families are being ripped apart. I want the President to meet this couple and explain to them how this is a "states' rights" issue.

The bottom line is this: Drew and I got married in California, so our marriage should be recognized in every other state. That's only fair. I also believe churches and religious organizations who don't believe in same-sex unions should be allowed to discriminate against us. Sure, these groups and the fundamentalists who support them will increasingly look like relics, but they should be allowed to dig their graves as deep and as wide as they wish.

We don't live in a Christian nation or a Muslim nation. We live in a pluralistic society. I should be able to live a life of equality that is separate from your religion. And you should live separate from mine. And in between there should be this space that we share, a public space that we occupy together, where we all have access to the same rights.

I'm starting to feel sorry for the opponents of LGBT civil rights. They are missing out on so many great moments of growth in our nation. They're not celebrating progress, they're fighting it. Worse, many have children who are watching them stand in the way. In the not-so-distant future, these children will ask their parents where they stood in the fight for justice for gays and lesbians. These obstructionists will be held accountable for their action or inaction. Or maybe they'll remain silent. But I remember. And I'll tell their children exactly what happened.

Wrapped.

Eighteen days of shooting complete. Catching up on sleep. Game, set.

Day Thirteen: Stormy Weather

It has been a while since I last posted anything, so I will try to give the highlights in no particular order.

This morning we shot at a lovely historic home called Whitehall. Big white columns. Lots of floral wallpaper. Sprawling gardens. Rabbits running around the yard. Think old South and weddings with big tents and champagne flowing. This doubled for our "country club" tennis team, the Fountain Club. Weather reports indicated the possibility of heavy rain. It arrived early and in buckets. Though much of the morning was going to be interior shoots, not all of it was going to be. A quick revision of the screenplay allowed for a scene that was to take place on a tennis court to be moved to an office instead. The result was something much more comedic (which we needed) thanks to our crack production design team, headed by James Wise (the most cheerful, overworked man I have ever met and his sidekick Hannah, lovely and cheerful and talented, as well). Dash Mihok's hysterically funny performance also helped make the scene even better.

By lunch, Kathryn and I were rallying the team to see if we could get back to the Louisville Boat Club where we'd spent two of the hardest days of my professional life. The LBC is a fantastic tennis club on the river where for two Mondays we have shot the finale of the film, the climactic showdown between our hero and his team and the evil Fountain Club team. Both days were hellish. On me. On the crew. On the cast. On the Boat Club. Blazing hot sun on clay courts. Two dozen characters, most of them playing tennis (most of them actors who have never held a racquet until this movie), a hundred or so extras and an exhausted crew, since Tuesday is our only day off. Long story short - I didn't get everything I needed. So we begged Mark at LBC to return today for a couple of hours with a smaller crew and two cast members, Josh Hopkins (the hero, Owen) and Dash (Charles, of the evil Fountain Club). I knew that if I could get just these two guys back on the LBC courts, I could get what I needed to cut together the big scene at the end of the film. But other things needed to cooperate, especially weather, which had not been cooperating. Sidebar: It's difficult to concentrate on any scene when you know that the BIG SCENE you need is incomplete and can't be complete because you (1) have lost the location; (2) have run out of any extra time to shoot anything else; and (3) one of your lead actors finishes his work that day (Dash). So lots working against us. I wonder if any of this is making sense. Hope so.

Okay. Our fabu associate producer Laura Morton negotiated some time at LBC with Mark, who said we could come to the courts, but he wouldn't know until 3 or 4 if it was safe even to put a camera out on the clay. The rain had pummeled them so hard, the dolly might sink into the court clay. We took the chance and quickly shot everything we needed at Whitehall and moved to LBC.

The weather cleared! And we got what we needed, I hope.

I want to write more so I don't forget how incredible this experience has been and continues to be, but I am going to fall asleep. More rain in the forecast, but for now I am hopeful - and hoping - for sunshine.

Exhilarating.

The morning began in a sweaty, un-air conditioned locker room and ended in a swimming pool. In between, we shot four scenes, three of them intensely hot on a gravel rooftop under a blinding sun. Fortunately, the day was made bearable by superb, moving and funny performances from Sam McMurray, Josh Hopkins and the rest of the talented cast, and a tenacious, hardworking crew. 

No energy to write more now, but so happy with the results of everyone's work today.

Up on the roof.

Locker room scenes done. Moving to the roof!

Great day of scenes in the JCC locker room.

Day Two: Sunscreen.

Ironic that on a movie called Tan Lines, I forgot to apply sunscreen to my Scottish complexion. Neck and nose and cheeks received quite a beating today. No complaining, though. I wanted clear skies and that's what we have, so far.

Wrapped at 7:30 (7:29 to be exact) after a grueling morning and a rushed afternoon. Still, the footage looks beautiful and the performances sublime. Josh and the guys keep finding wonderful moments that have enlivened and deepened the story.

Tomorrow we're on the courts all day.

My latest favorite on-set comment comes (again) from Kathryn Tucker (with a hat tip to Dennis Dugan, I think), which was directed to the entire cast and crew: "Thanks everyone! You all did great work today except for one of you. Have a good night!" And then she walks away.

Big laughs.

Day One

I had no idea that beet juice would stain blond hair.

Other than that, Day One of production on TAN LINES was relatively surprise-free, thanks mostly to the fantastic cast and crew that worked as hard as I've seen any group I can recall — many of them first-timers on a set. Helped enormously by a colorful location (Louisville's own Vietnam Kitchen) and a sunny day, we made our day of nearly two dozen shots (multiple takes), seven pages in all. Or, as Gill says, six percent of the film. My feet appreciated that statistic, as I was on them all day.

Today's scenes all took place in a restaurant in which our heroes face-off with their opponents at a "Throwdown," an eating contest between tennis pros. For some reason it makes me think of the movie MEATBALLS, but without the tube socks and disco soundtrack.

The cast spent a good part of the day stuffing their faces with food: moo shu tofu, chicken on a stick, boiled eggs, fried rice and beets, which, as I mentioned, stains hair, among other things. It's too late to go into it now, I need to sleep, but I'll say this: watching an actor get splattered with beet juice is a lot of fun.

Tomorrow we move to the main location. Can't wait for Day Two.

Update

One of the frustrating truths about independent filmmaking is that sometimes you cast an actor who drops out at the last moment. Sometimes it is due to legitimate scheduling conflicts with, say, the television series on which she is the leading role. Sometimes it is due to money — Spielberg calls, for example. Sometimes it is due to illness or family crisis.

With one phone call, the lives of dozens of people, locations and enterprises shifted. I have no idea why Justin dropped out; I'd only had a brief breakfast conversation with him about it and he seemed genuinely excited to do the role. I believe that he wanted to do it.

Terrible. We had less than a few days to find a new Owen.

Fortunately, Josh Hopkins, who was all set to play Owen's nemesis, Charles, and I had spoken in our first meeting about how he could essentially play either of the roles. Josh is a talented actor, fearless, funny and a real goofball inside a leading man. I couldn't be more happy about Josh playing Owen!

My producing partner, Gill, believes these things happen for a reason, that the movie that should be made gets made in whatever way the stars align... or something like that. (Full disclosure: Gill would never, EVER put it that way. I am paraphrasing. Okay, I made it up.) Anyway, things happen. We adapt or we don't.

When anything difficult happens on a film, I always rely on the advice of my friend Kathryn Tucker, who is also one of the producers of this project. She says, "Remember first to panic, then blame someone, then eat." Obviously, she's joking, but it kind of works!

Onward and upward and off to cast Charles.

Cast!

I'm very excited.

Casting, Auditions, Root Canal.

Pretty much the same. For everyone involved. Okay, maybe not the dentist, but for everyone else. Yes, actors, that includes the director and producers. (Okay, some of us.) I hate auditions because I don't like seeing talented people working hard and then not getting cast for something as simple as, say, their hair color or height or their age. It's brutal and unfair and inhumane. Actors too often get labeled as "crazy."

No wonder.

Scouting

Rainy and cold for several days in the Ville. Hoping it's all coming down now so June will be all clear skies for Tan Lines.

Enjoyed a full day of location scouting at several spots, including Whitehall, the hero's house (home of production designer's sister), and the River Walk park. Discovered some challenges and some nice surprises. Casting meeting at the Green Building with Mary Clay. Back home around nine, just in time to see Gill and Augusta for a moment.

I've been sick for a few days. At first I thought it was allergies, then a cold. Now I'm pretty sure it's allergies. Everywhere I go I hear people say that Louisville is the worst place in the country to live for seasonal allergies. Don't know if this is true, but I'm certain it's challenging. Driving around this lovely city all day and living among its citizenry certainly makes me believe it would be worth it. There's so much to do and see and hear and be in this town. There's art at every turn, delicious food and great music in every block, gorgeous architecture and thriving neighborhoods. Bike lanes and Olmstead parks. 

And now... a movie in pre-production.

In Tan Lines, Owen, the hero loses his job as a tennis pro from this place...

...and has to take a job at this place...

Intellectual Yoga

Whenever I work on a screenplay, I rarely have to try to imagine the world I'm depicting. More often, the rooms, the colors, the neighborhoods, the sheets and pillow cases, the schools — essentially, anything that gets typed into Final Draft — already exist somewhere in my brain. The spaces are there. My job is to populate them with authentic characters. Dialogue, plot and character work is where I toil. Perhaps not surprisingly, going into production can be a rude awakening. A location scout can easily become a chase after an environment or building that, while very real to me, simply does not exist.

Films with large budgets don't have this problem. The more money you have, the more options. (Isn't that true of everything?) But limitations also force you to be creative. A scene imagined as a spacious lobby with lots of glass bricks becomes in reality a narrow, cinderblock hallway with no windows. Hardly your ideal setting.

Or is it?

"Are there any more options?" No, I'm told. I have minutes to decide whether or not this will work and, if not, whether the scene can be conceived in another location, re-written for this one, or scrapped completely. That's where the toiling in plot, dialogue and character comes in handy. Ideally, I know the script so well, so intimately, I can answer any of these questions without disturbing the narrative, a veritable house of cards. That's the goal.

Today's scout tested my skill in this area. Fortunately, we were scouting a location rich with possibilities and alternatives, not all of them appropriate, but all informative. Each "no" moved me and the producing team towards a deeper understanding of the world we're creating, the characters who inhabit it and an appreciation of flexibility when confronting creative challenges.

I remember fondly the first day of shooting "Loggerheads." It was a beach scene, a simple scene really. I believe the scene description went something like this --

EXT. BEACH -- DAY
George runs on the beach.

Crew call was early, before dawn. It was dark. We set up and, as the sun rose over the Atlantic Ocean, all I could see was fog. So thick you couldn't see but a few yards ahead. I thought we were doomed. I knew it could be several hours of waiting and we had no time to wait. Keep in mind that it was my first narrative feature and we'd done nothing yet. Not one shot. Not one take. My very first moment of directing. My mind raced. Could I re-write the scene to be morning? What would that do to the scenes that were supposed to be morning and where would I move them? The entire movie takes place over the course of three weekends in the lives of three main characters in three different years so there wasn't a lot of wiggle room, narratively speaking, and especially with this particular story line which involves two people getting to know one another. Each step in this story was a building block in their relationship. (I'll say it again: it's a house of cards!)

I decided I could adjust the script to accommodate the fog. This is what we got and it remains my favorite shot in the film.

The resulting image created some unexpected meaning for the story. The entire film is about people separated and searching. What could be more metaphorical than running through fog? And Michael Kelly's reaction upon seeing Kip Pardue sitting in the sand was worth the worry over this natural phenomenon.

Day One.

Greetings from Louisville, Kentucky, two days after the Derby.

After a half-night's sleep, I woke up early in an attempt to re-set my internal clock to Eastern Time. I'm not completely exhausted. Yet.

Truth is, I'm exhilarated. This is the part of the process of making a film that can be really fun. The part we're you're driving around, searching for locations in which to shoot, making friends with the locals, being in the world you're going to depict onscreen, meeting your creative team or getting to know them better and vice versa. It's the convergence of the social and the professional with all focus on what will end up on screen.

Today, the production designer, James Wise, drove me around the city in search of a few key locations: a coffee shop, a fancy tennis club, an upscale casual restaurant, and our hero's house. Among the many places we visited, we found possibilities for each. I'm very pleased.

One scene in the film is a date in which the couple wanders through a scenic spot in Louisville. A new park on the Ohio River was opened recently (or is scheduled to open). It's perfect. Now all we have to do is figure out how to light the thing at dusk.

Here are a couple of snapshots.

 

Ira Glass Wisdom

"Nobody tells this to people who are beginners. I wish someone had told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple of years you make stuff, it's just not that good. It's trying to be good, it has potential, but it's not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase; they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn't have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or are still in this phase, you gotta know that it's normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you finish one piece. It's only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure it out to do this than anybody I've ever met. It's gonna take awhile. You just gotta fight your way through.”

Ira Glass

What is funny?

Airplane. Preston Sturges. Tootsie. Ricky Gervais. I Love Lucy. Allison Janney. Dr. Strangelove. Buster Keaton. 30 Rock. Richard Pryor. The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Wanda Sykes. South Park. Gilda Radner. The 40-Year-Old Virgin. Woody Allen. The Simpsons. Lily Tomlin.

Funny is subjective. 

Here is one of my all-time favorites from David O. Russell.

Openings

The first scene or sequence of any movie is the most crucial. It really determines whether or not your audience is going to stay with the film. There have been some great ones, but I think my all-time favorite is Jaws. It's nearly dialogue-free, beautifully shot, captures the tone of the film and makes the audience afraid of ever going into the water again. Perfect.

Recently, filmmakers seem to have moved away from opening titles and credits in favor of starting the movie "cold," or without any introduction, though a quick glance into the past reveals some famously untitled opening sequences (The Godfather, Braveheart, Apocalypse Now). 

Comedies seem to use opening title sequences more consistently. One of my favorites is a beautifully animated one for (another) Spielberg film, Catch Me If You Can. The Saul Bass-inspired graphic design, combined with the retro score, strikes the perfect balance of humor and mystery and contains within its own narrative. It reminds me a little like Hitchcock's North by Northwest, too.

The opening sequence I show most often to students is Hal Ashby's Harold and Maude. The amount of information it reveals about the story is limited, but significant. Carefully cropped, dimly lit and meticulously composed shots reveal Harold, a pale young man wearing expensive shoes and a dandyish smoking jacket, wandering around a cavernous, opulent room. Harold's actions in the sequence speak for themselves, but Ashby's blending of Cat Stevens' song, John Alonzo's cinematography and the performances of Vivian Pickles and Bud Cort, introduce a sense of humor and sadness that will collide for the next ninety minutes. It is my top "desert island film." Hands-down.

For Tan Lines, I'm thinking of something closer to this or this. But just for fun, here's another great one, Woody's love letter to New York City.

Save the cat.

I have a crush on my friend's cat, Bailey. We are in love. (Drew, don't be mad.) Every day, he lies on my desk and stretches and purrs like Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys.

Held auditions today for the character Jake, goth-garbed fifteen-year-old son of the Derby City Racquet Club manager. Have I mentioned how much I hate auditions? I like the conversations with the actors though, except when I learn, for example. that an adolescent has traveled three hours down the California coast with his parents to talk to me for twenty minutes. Have I mentioned how much I detest auditions?

Broke down today and traded in my old 3G iPhone for a new one. People heard me speak tonight without static for the first time in weeks. (Months?)

Inspired by Bailey and, to a lesser extent, his brother George (above), I am going to put the screenplay through the Blake Snyder Save the Cat test. It's a rock-solid, step by step structure that I find useful. I have a feeling it's going to fall apart around page 60, then pick up again around 85. Just a hunch. More on this later.

Dew or don't.

Tan Lines takes place in the world of tennis pros in a small southern town. One of the hilarious--and true--recurring gags in the story is the consumption of Mt. Dew, the tennis ball-colored soda pop that (allegedly) contains the most caffeine. According to the screenwriter, James Markert, tennis pros all over chug the Dew with abandon. It makes sense to me, but even if it didn't, it's very funny.

But it might not happen.

Product placement is a delicate piece of this filmmaking puzzle. As much as people bemoan the obvious positioning of labels and brands, both visually and through dialogue, I think it's worse when a film that supposedly takes place in the U.S. in 2011 completely avoids product names. It makes the world of the story feel less authentic when someone orders, say, "A beer." (Full disclosure: I did that in one of my films. It still rings false.) People drink Amstel Light. Corona. Bud. They like Pepsi. Gatorade. Woodford Reserve. We are a nation of brands and tastes.

So, here's hoping PepsiCo, the makers of Mt. Dew, agree to let us use their yellowgreen liquid product in the film.

What makes you think I won't cut you?

Spent the last several days making cuts to the script. Trimming for space. For clarity. For budget. It's amazing how quickly you can get to the root of a scene, its reason for being, when you're told by your producing team: we can't afford to shoot that.

My trusted pal slash assistant, Daniel Crooke, walked with me through the story on Saturday afternoon, step by step. We scoured the words, the motivations of the characters, the actions, anything we could find that felt extraneous to the narrative. Daniel made some great suggestions (thanks again for the Giggles moment, Daniel).

I've been deliberately avoiding some of the more obvious sports comedies (Dodgeball, Caddyshack, Bad News Bears, etc), but now I think it's time to revisit them. Although I'm trying to think of TAN LINES (yes, it's official for now) as a more stylized comedy - more RUSHMORE, less SANDLER -- I think there is value in becoming acquainted with all of them.

Speaking of which, I just saw WIN WIN, a wonderful new comedy by Tom McCarthy, director and writer of one of my favorite films, THE VISITOR, as well as THE STATION AGENT. The cinematographer, Oliver Bokelberg, shot my film, LOGGERHEADS. His work is stunning. I loved WIN WIN so much. I found it moving and funny and real. Where did they find that blonde kid? Wow.

Opening Scenes

A conversation with the brilliant cinematographer Gabe Mayhan, who has signed on to do TAN LINES (or GAME SET MATCH, depending on what we choose), led me to a major revision in the script: I reversed the opening two scenes.

In the original version, we meet the hero at home, before his first day on the job at the down-and-dirty Derby Club, a public tennis facility. Second scene was going to pick up his last check at his former employer, the fancy Fountain Club. By reversing these two scenes, we accomplish two things. One, we meet Owen and his chief antagonist, Charles, head pro at the Fountain Club. Two, we have an opportunity for a time jump, which allows for Owen to have secured a new job at the Derby Club, where most of the action in the movie takes place. Seems so obvious now.

Cutting characters, scenes, dialogue = cutting budget.

I called a friend who works primarily as an A.D. on big budget Hollywood films.

"My line producer just told me something I'll bet Adam Sandler never hears," I said.

"Spill it," she said.

"We need to cut some speaking roles or combine some existing ones," I said, parroting the Line Producer. "And we need to get our page count down."

"You're right," she said. "Adam Sandler never hears that."

Not that we're making an Adam Sandler picture. No disrespect to him or those filmmakers, but even if we wanted to make a film like that, we simply don't have that kind of budget.

One of the joys of any creative project is boundaries. Limitations. Parameters. It is also one of the frustrations. As P. Lyn said in typography class, "Limitations free you." She was right then and it applies now. We're going to make a funny, smart comedy, full of heart. It's going to look beautiful and it's going to be well-acted. It's already well-written. The immediate goal at hand is making it affordable. We don't have the luxury of playing too much. Every frame, every shot, every scene, every sequence needs to be completely considered now, before we get to the locations. Before we shoot one frame. And that's what we're doing. I don't want to sacrifice anything that we need, but at the same time I don't want to be inflexible.

This evening, after combing through the script, I found seven roles that could be severed, at least as speaking parts. It wasn't even difficult. Every movie should be so lean.

Casting the tennis movie.

It's on. Or, as one character in James Markert's hilarious screenplay says repeatedly, "It's own."

Yes, casting has begun for the tennis comedy I'll be directing in June in Louisville, Kentucky. As of today, it's called GAME SET MATCH, according to imdb, though James called it TAN LINES AND TENNIS BALLZ. I like the simple, shorter TAN LINES (sans AND TENNIS BALLS), which is what everyone would call it anyway. "Hey, wanna see TAN LINES tonight?" It's also what would be on the movie marquee at a theater. And, once you've seen the movie, TAN LINES is an even better title. Of course, the trick is to get butts in seats, which begs the question: Does TAN LINES get people to buy tickets? GAME SET MATCH seems so overtly tennis-focused that it's not as interesting to me. TAN LINES!

TAN LINES/GAME SET MATCH reunites me with my long-time producer, Gill Holland, who found the script and shared it with me. It's the story of Owen Match, a washed-up tennis pro who gets fired from his cushy job at the local country club for holding "private lessons" with some of the wives of members—not to mention a few of their daughters, and for general bad behavior. When he takes a new job at the grittier, public Derby City Racquet Club, he meets a ragtag band of oddball pros, led by a smart, attractive single Mom with a fifteen-year-old goth son who needs help getting his serve over the net. In order to get back his self-respect and earn the respect of his co-workers and community, Owen has to learn to put his own needs aside and build a team to take on his former boss in an annual tennis match.

That's pretty much the pitch. Now comes perhaps the most important decision that is made in pre-production: casting. Kentucky native Mary Clay Boland and Gill worked together on a previous film, Spin the Bottle, so he suggested we hire her to help us find the right actors. We held our first auditions in Louisville last month, an open call for locals, then a New York session last week. I saw some wonderful actors for a few roles. The toughest is going to be the 15-year-old goth kid. I had forgotten how adolescent boys can look like they're both ten and twenty.

I have an Owen in mind - and an offer has been made to a certain actor. Fingers crossed his schedule works out. He wants to do it. I want him to do it. He's perfect for the part. If it doesn't work out... well, I've been down that road before, too.

What I know for sure: I hate auditions. I hate the process. I hate seeing actors go through it. I hate being there while they do. It is brutal. I especially hate rejecting them for the roles. That is not fun. The upside of auditions is hearing the dialogue over and over, which helps me see where it can be improved or made more clear.