EITHER SIDE OF MIDNIGHT is in the can.

The wheels almost came off the bus on numerous occasions but, somehow, the film got over the line after four rollercoaster weeks of production. I was there for most of it.

I arrived in New York the night before shooting commenced and had supper on the Upper East Side with director Roger, his lovely partner Sylvia, his PA Anastasia (I later discovered she was Sylvia’s daughter-in-law), and several of their very cosmopolitan friends including the Oscar-winner Frank Stiefel whom I discovered was in town to be the film’s second unit director. Roger, on good form, explained a few misgivings he had about some members of the crew, but otherwise seemed remarkably relaxed.

Frank Stiefel, Oscar Winner and 2nd Unit Director

The next day remains vivid to me. As soon as I arrived on set at the Slipper Room on the Lower East Side a handsome hiply-bearded PA introduced himself as Michael and offered to get me a coffee. The crew and cast for the day’s shoot had already assembled. Extras were in costume. It was the best of New York: smiling, upbeat, multicultural, industrious. I introduced myself to several dozen different people. The scenes at The Slipper Room included a jazz band so I had the pleasure of meeting the musicians and Nick, our friendly and talented Aussie composer. They serenaded the gaffers and grips who set up for the first shot. I was given a cordless headset, Roger whispered “Action!” and… the actors started speaking my lines! I’m sure writers get jaded about such things but I could barely believe that all these people were here to bring to life an idea I had in my tiny old Upper West Side studio apartment back in 2001.

There was some unwanted drama that first day. The actor playing Daniel had just arrived and was preparing for his scene when I noticed he didn’t have a keepah on his head, a vital piece of costume on his Sabbath night journey. I mentioned this to the AD who mentioned it to the costume designer. She’d forgotten to bring one. I was soon scouring the Lower East Side looking for synagogues. In the end, the costume designer called one in but a good half hour was lost changing set-ups: an early clue that anything might go wrong at any time. A few hours later I was in Union Square, just after sunset, with the second unit filming the same actor stumble past the Hare Krisnas. Frank, the unit director, had set the shot up with the Krisnas ahead of time. Second unit was an entirely different set of personalities and there was almost a guerrilla vibe out there on those old streets that I’d trodden so often since the late 1990s. As we headed down Broadway to St. Marks Place I wondered if I was hallucinating. It was getting cold, I was jet-lagged and running on just a couple of hours sleep but I couldn’t pull myself away.

One day during the first week I was up before dawn and in bed well after midnight almost exactly 24 hours later. Second unit needed to be at Merchant’s Gate in Central Park to watch our Daniel fall asleep on a bench before sunrise and then have his shoes stolen before he wakes up in the early hours of the morning. Nobody could get into the holding area for hair and make-up on Columbus Circle until by some fluke I found the right entrance. New York was my town again. Another potential minor disaster averted.

A homeless man tries on Daniel’s shoes just after dawn at Merchant’s Gate

They kept working in Central Park while I retreated to my temporary Bushwick crashpad for a catnap before heading over to Queens for the night shoot - another pinch-myself moment when I discovered they were filming Phedon’s flat tyre on a deserted street in the shadow of the Queensboro Bridge, exactly the right location. A cold night. By about two in the morning I was freezing and exhausted. I tried to order an Uber but luckily my App wasn’t working. I returned to the set and immediately saw the wrong actress (Niki instead of Katarina) stick out her tongue at the Phedon character during a shot where a kid changes the tyre next to them. Tamara the very friendly German script supervisor assured me the script was being followed so I asked her to read the scene back to me. She soon realized which actor the pronoun “she” related to. I was amazed that the excellent actress playing Katarina hadn’t said anything but it was her first night on the shoot and she was probably nervous. It sounds like a tiny moment but her role doesn’t have many lines and relies on a few beats such as this. Luckily I was there in time to tell Roger ahead of the next take.

Cold night shoot in Queens - between takes, changing Phedon’s tyre

Another night that week I joined the second unit in Chinatown for the shots of Daniel leaving his office. There was a late autumn monsoon so the shoot had to be aborted after just a few takes, mostly for the safety of the camera. It was our only chance to get a few of the early shots on his walk and I fear we’ll run into continuity problems in editing or suffer narratively by having to edit around it. Another night we were filming Mohammad chatting on his phone on Chrystie and Grand outside a brightly lit shop while his nephew Kamal waits in the cab. We were completely dependent on the the shop’s lights for exposure but the shopkeeper felt he was losing customers on our account so he turned the lights out. He had to be bribed to turn them back on. A few hours later Roger was exasperated with the AD and line producer because some of the actors were late for a taxi shot losing vital minutes. And then he was furious with the Second Camerawoman and First Focus Puller for missing their cues. I don’t know how directors stay sane. There’s way too much to worry about no matter the budget or the circumstances. Happily, my battle (over the script) had already taken place in September. I’d arrived in New York determined to be chill and positive. For the most part I succeeded.

Ishan Gandhi (Kamal) - night shoot on Chrystie and Grand

And the first week went by.

I adored Joe, the craft services guy - a big bald-headed film buff (favorite director John Sturgess) ready to talk your ear off about a million different movies. I was more than happy to let him. His van was his domain. I stood there dipping chips into guacamole while he sat on a cooler and pontificated about Scorsese and Marvel movies and the dangerously excessive hours on film sets. When Justine, the excellent second AD, stepped out of Joe’s van onto Orchard Street and got hit in the arm by a passing car he was furious that we were shooting there in the first place. (The accident led to Justine having pins and needles and a very stiff neck for the rest of the shoot while she waited for the police to file a report for insurance so that she could get a proper scan. Life without the NHS.) Joe didn’t like people getting in the way when he was loading or unloading his truck and he could therefore come across as surly to those who hadn’t got to know him better. This led to Joe getting fired third week after a war of words with one of the camera operators. I missed him afterwards.

I shuttled between friends. During the first week I went from Michael’s in the East Village to Tony & Axel’s in Bushwick to Peter & Sophia’s in Tribeca. I was getting about three hours sleep a night and I still hadn’t made up for two 24 hour days. I needed the first Sunday & Monday off to sleep and also to execute some more moving logistics. But I’d agreed to meet Natalie Paul on the Monday afternoon for what I thought would be a brief discussion about some of her dialogue as Carol.

Father & Son team - Ronnie (Unit Production Manager) and Jed (Set PA)

I underestimated Natalie. After four hours she still had more suggestions but I was too exhausted to continue. Her notes were excellent and they made the script significantly better. Carol is the most complex role in the film: the daughter of a black clergyman, a single mother, a woman who hasn’t had sex for years and who is now being set up with Michael, a white saxophone player. I’d written her into a short story in my twenties. What did I really know about a woman like that? But there she was on the page. No one who had read the script had ever commented negatively about any of her lines. Then again, no one was going to perform the role. Natalie schooled me, gently. She suggested better slang for her son though no cuss words, more ways for her character to connect with Michael, and, best of all, no words at all when she finally takes him to bed. The script had a long writerly monologue there which I’d lifted from my original short story. Natalie was right. The speech didn’t belong on screen. There was one disagreement: Natalie didn’t like Carol telling her son to apologise to Michael during the climactic scene back at her house. Robert, the son, is rude but he’s also trying to protect her. So Natalie thought asking him to apologise was too much. For me, it was credible, dramatic and an essential part of the flow of the scene. “But it doesn’t feel right to me. As a black woman.” My heart sank. Natalie meant what she said. She wasn’t being manipulative. And it was precisely her insights that were already benefiting the script. I could only apologize and say I still felt that Carol’s demand for an apology needed to stay. To my relief, Natalie didn’t pursue it. After the meeting I would still have to persuade Roger to go along with the revisions Natalie and I had agreed to and I knew he was reluctant to make any changes this late on. Given the much more significant late changes Roger had made to the script himself I found his concern somewhat ironic albeit understandable. To be fair, he agreed to them all.

Natalie Paul (Carol) and Chris Stack (Michael)

The second week started on 74th between Columbus and Central Park West, my original NYC stomping ground! I’d been introduced to lifetime friends and even girlfriends at parties on that very block. Now it was Daniel’s turn. Here he was, chasing Leah down the street begging her to forgive him, later jumping into a cab in order to propose.

For the rest of that week I was preoccupied with music: One rehearsal and five concerts in four days including a show at Rockwood Music Hall, the only seven-piece Enemies gig of the year. It was surreal to be the performer again rather than the neurotic impotent writer. And a thrill as always to perform with the band. A treat also to return to the deej a few nights later and play to so many old DC friends. Playing shows, especially good ones, only gets more important the older I become. It’s both an escape and a reconnection. I can’t explain. I’ve enjoyed my solo shows this year - some kind of artistic breakthrough may have finally happened - but there’s still nothing like playing with my Enemies, even just a few. And it meant the world to me that John and Tony were able to make the time to to be in the film as members of the bouzouki band at Niki’s father’s wedding.

Tony Lauria outside Tatiana’s on Brighton Beach, Brooklyn

The Greek wedding scenes were shot on Halloween at Tatiana’s, a fantastically gaudy Russian club in Brighton Beach. I was amazed that only a day had been scheduled but that’s low budget film-making. Roger had lost his voice so we were lucky that Ronald Guttman was on hand as Konstantin. One of my biggest regrets before shooting started was that my dear and talented friend Tony Patellis didn’t get cast in that role. Tony had once directed a public reading of the script and, since then, I had always imagined Tony playing the role. But Roger had gone with Ron Guttman, a man I only met that one day at Tatiana’s. Ron certainly knew how to make an entrance. He charmed and bullied and directed everyone in the room, especially all the extras. He was outstanding. With Ron’s help Roger and his crew were somehow able to get the shots and performances they needed in time. Well, that’s what I’ve been told. It all went by so fast but Roger was later pleased with the dailies. I haven’t dared look.

I do remain skeptical about the final scene Roger conceived for the reception: Niki brings her girlfriend Alex back to the party, they start dancing and then, to everyone’s surprise, Niki’s father accepts them and joins in before Alex leaves on her own. Various people told me that some of the extras were in tears during the scene. Maybe it worked? Maybe Ron as Konstantin turned the moment into gold? My concern is that the scene will feel a bit like a dated gay Hallmark card, too easily and happily resolved. Roger would argue that it’s a better choice than the catfight with the stepmother that I’d originally written. He may have a point. I just wish I’d been aware of his misgivings earlier.

The whole band at Tatiana’s including Enemies Tony Lauria and John Young and bouzouki maestro, Costas Baltazanis (middle)

I believe that was also the week we shot the final scene - Mohammad handing his nephew Kamal over to his aunt at Central Park. I had suggested The Great Lawn in the script but Roger and the location manager decided on Bethesda Fountain. a much better choice. Unwanted drama again when the actor playing the sister’s husband didn’t show up because he thought his lines had been cut. Turns out the scene worked fine without him thanks to Roger’s idea to have a cousin on hand for Kamal anyway. The only problem - for me at least - was that Kamal wasn’t provided a suitcase. The item had somehow been dropped from the shooting script during one of the late revisions. Will anyone notice besides me? Kudos to Keith Fereira for operating the steady-cam while riding a hoverboard. Former professional snowboarders have even more built-in life skills than I thought.

Keith Ferreira geared up for a steady-cam shot by the pedestrian tunnel near Bethesda Fountain

That was also the week when my old pal Jason Kravits choked on a wedding ring and spat it out into someone else’s curry, all in character of course. We were at the tiny Raj Mahal Restaurant on East 6th Street, so tiny that I couldn’t even watch the rehearsal for the big shot as it was taking place. But when I listened to the first actual take through my headset I was horrified to discover that the actor playing the restaurant manager had not followed the script. He had only shouted “Nobody panic! Heimlich Maneuver!” without following the instructions to also shout to the other waiters in Hindi. But it was too late. The actors had already hit their marks perfectly. It would be too much to ask them to do it again. Surreal scenes as I tried to direct some wild sound of the actor shouting garbled words of Hindi in the make-up room. Will they make it into the final cut? I doubt it.

Diamond, Stacey, Lisa and Keely making sure that Jason Kravits is ready for his star turn

Like I said, the wheels so often nearly came off the bus. Even so, I never expected the soap opera of Week 4. And I can’t properly explain it now, partly because I still don’t understand all the details and partly because I don’t want to embarrass anyone. I am a humble scriptwriter and songwriter. By trade my job is to empathize with different people and opposing points of view. I’m also the youngest of four brothers. I want peace and resolution. I am constitutionally conflict averse which is the very reason I need to sublimate my own issues of anger and existential confusion in narrative. All I can and will say is that a key member of the team convened a meeting of the entire crew including the director and one of the producers in order to express his fury about certain events that had taken place during the production. The meeting occurred in the middle of a day shoot on a residential Harlem street just outside the unbelievable three-storey location we were using as Carol’s house. The catalyst for the meeting was an apparently “unauthorised” second unit shoot in a “picture car.” In other words a vehicle had been rigged and driven with an exterior camera attached to the windshield without any permit from the New York Film Commission. As a much larger budget period film was being shot just a couple of blocks away the relevant law enforcement officials knowledgeable about such permits were close by. The vehicle was stopped and some kind of caution/fine/arrest (?) was made. I’m still not sure. The team member’s speech eventually became an awkward dialogue with the director. No apology was offered. The crew member walked. Then another crew member expressed his frustration. At that point I feared a general walk-out until the producer, Dan Wigutow, came forward and said some calming words. Soon everyone else was back to work.

Oddly, this surreal hiatus seemed to focus everyone’s minds. There were a lot of big scenes to shoot in Carol’s house over three days and somehow the crew and cast all knuckled down and got them done. Natalie as Carol had already had her own teary scene at a fabricated Chinese restaurant in Brooklyn’s Industry City the week before. Now it was Yasha Jackson’s turn as Tina. Her breakdown is my probably my favorite and proudest scene in the script. Superficially, Tina and I are nothing alike, but her self-loathing cry “What am I doing with my life?” captures so many painful moments of my own.

The scene takes place in the front hallway of Carol’s house. Tina is trying to leave quietly but can’t figure out the front door latch. When Carol finds her, Tina all but admits to having just taken Carol’s son to bed. She berates herself, apologizes and collapses to the floor in anguish. While Yasha and Natalie performed the scene Roger and Jared the DP stood in the narrow corridor. The sound department and ACs and PAs hid out of sight in the front living room. Other members of the crew hung out in the second living room. Meanwhile I stood stock still on the main stairway to the floor above. I couldn’t see any of the action at all but at least I could listen on my headset. Yasha brought tears to my eyes. I wouldn’t normally be embarrassed by such a thing after a dramatic monologue, but I’d written the words myself so I really didn’t want anyone to notice. Thanks to Yasha for going there. And thanks to Roger for making her feel safe enough to do so.

Further thanks to Roger for how he handled another scene at Carol’s house the following morning. When I arrived I found him, a man in his mid-seventies, sitting on the floor of the living room discussing the dialogue with the four actors, two on chairs and two together on a couch. Once again his gentle humility put the actors at ease, this time ahead of a complicated and wordy scene full of awkward subtext. It was all the more remarkable given all the stresses of the day before.

But there was still plenty of unwanted drama to come. The penultimate night of the shoot took us to Times Square for the big Kamal-getting-lost sequence. It also happened to be that early November night when winter truly kicked in. Before a shot had been taken, the same crewmember who had walked a few days before decided to walk again. A few hours later I was sure the sound department was going to walk as well - something completely reasonable about sub-zero temperatures and no mini-breaks for several hours. But there was Roger, our septuagenarian Captain Ahab, determined to complete his mission.

Tamara the script supervisor, and Roger our director hiding out in the back of the picture cab.

And then the last night: I arrive at the holding area at the swanky Public Hotel on the Lower East Side and find out that one of the PAs has been arrested. It’s a long story involving a car crash and a lack of a valid driver’s license. I really liked the PA and felt awful for him. I also wish that the car in question hadn’t been the taxicab we’d been using for the shoot and which we still needed for the last night. Continuity depended on it. In the end a working cab driver with a similar-ish cab had to be paid by the hour but he still couldn’t give us as much time as we needed.

The last shots of the night were a reshoot of a scene I’d missed while playing with my Enemies: A drunk man picks a fight with Daniel, pushes him into Phedon’s stopped SUV before Niki steps out and intervenes. It was the first time I’d ever watched a fight I’d written get choreographed. I found it particularly strange and encouraging to witness. If you write something, no matter how crazy, there’s a chance that it just might one day come to life.

And that was a wrap. I walked back in the early hours of the morning to my Tribeca crashpad. The next morning I was on a plane back to London.

There was a whole lot more to those four weeks: new friends, old friends, music and movie epiphanies, the endless inner whirl of a 21st century artsy-fartsy liberal far away from his daughter and passing his middle years on a polarized planet. But I’ve gone on too long already.

Outside the Raj Mahal, week 3 of the shoot (Photo by Sandi Bachom)

SPOTTISWOODE

4 WEEKS IN NEW YORK /December 23, 2019 by SPOTTISWOODE