But through that process, I learned the hard way that making a film is not the same as throwing a Sunday afternoon tea party. It’s actually . . . nothing like it at all. So I’d like to share my top five tips for anyone who decides to film a television-like show in their garage for almost no money!
[?1: Befriend a Hoarder or Become One?]
When Kim, Jane, and I started breaking down how we would shoot the first ten pages of my TV script for a grand total of $1,500, we realized, “Gee, we need a lot of stuff. For free. Why did I throw anything in my life away, ever?”
So while Jane pulled favors to get pro-bono crew members and Kim worked on the icky producing logistics, I concentrated on gathering the props and superficial stuff we needed, because in my mind, being able to put together a cute outfit equaled “Fabulous at film decoration!” natch.
There was no length I wouldn’t go to get the perfect object. I raided my friends’ houses for props we needed, even doing the “Look over there!” trick to steal a stuffed animal from a two-year-old’s hands. (She never noticed, babies are so dumb in those first few years after they’re born.) Without asking, I borrowed a large, fake house plant from the set of How I Met Your Mother to decorate the background of one of my shots, promising my friend who was an actor on the show, “I’ll have this back Monday!”
For some reason, it was incredibly important to me that each character’s room be well-decorated. This was a LADY production and I was obsessed with Trading Spaces and other renovation shows on TV that I watched alone on Saturday nights, no WAY were any of my characters living in a hovel! Unfortunately, my exacting standards often butted up against the practicality of having no budget. “Sorry, Kim, your aunt’s bedspread will NEVER do for Tink. Her palette is pinks and oranges. Let me show you the paint chips I collected from Home Depot. Can you search the old folks’ home for something in this color range? No? Fine! I’ll find it myself!” With zero dollars and incredibly high standards, I had to look in creative places for set decorations.
Thus began my obsession with trash.
I started trolling up and down alleys, putting anything colorful and not covered in feces into my trunk. Yes, that might sound gross and hobo-y, but it’s amazing what people throw away. I found a few things, like a hot dog cookbook and a 3-D picture of Jesus, that I still have in my home. (Wiped them off with Windex, promise.)
And it wasn’t only post-apocalyptic scavenging that decorated The Guild. I used technology to find trash, too. Since Craigslist was out of our price range, costing actual dollar amounts, I found an online service called Freecycle where people give things away, provided you immediately race to come get them. I’d click on the site dozens of times a day, like an obsessive day trader, so I could jump on a posting first.
“Broken electronics on curb near Glenoaks Ave and Hubbard St in Sylmar, come before 6pm.” Perfect set dressing for Bladezz’s gaming space? BAM! GET YOUR FAST AND FURIOUS ON, FELICIA! Sylmar was about an hour away from my house but the grainy flip phone picture of stacked microwaves and VCRs spoke to me, artistically, so I drove ninety miles an hour to beat whoever else might be vying to grab the precious treasure. Someone else could have used that DVD player for entertaining sick children, but I had a vision to bring to life. I needed that trash!
The scavenging process was satisfying, like acting out my favorite part of a video game in real life. I was smashing barrels and getting rewards! Except I didn’t find gold or weapons, I found actual garbage. And LOVED it. Maybe too much.
The tipping point came three weeks into pre-production when I dragged home a stand-up hair dryer that was probably made in the 1960s. It was huge, dirty, and my boyfriend was at his wit’s end. Justifiably so. Our place was turning into a dump.
He met me on the porch, and I could tell it was gonna be a THING. I tried to deflect with chipperness. “Hey, honey! Huge super awesome find today, huh?”
“Did you rob a salon?”
“No! I found it on the sidewalk with a ‘Take Me!’ sign attached. It was fate!”
“Is there a reason for this ‘fate’? Like, do you have a place for it in your script?”
“No, but it screams comedy to me!”
“That’s what you said about all the free yoga balls, and now my office looks like a gigantic Chuck E. Cheese.” He moved closer and examined the hair dryer. “There’s still hair on this thing! Don’t bring it into the house. Or anything else you find on the streets. Please?”
“Fine, I’ll leave it in the driveway, gawd!” What a hypochondriac.
After that, I stored trash in my car or in Kim’s garage. Life compromises, sigh.
[?2: “Favor” Is a Four-Letter Word?]
There’s merit in having the plucky attitude, “No problem is insurmountable if you’re willing to be creative and bat your eyelashes a little!” (Not sexist, guys have eyelashes, too.)