I went back home today. No not to the mythical land of Michigan or to the Alabama boondocks where my parents have chosen to raise their homestead these days. No, today I returned to a place comparable to the one where I held one of my first real jobs. That's right, I traveled to the all too recognizable realm of the suburban supermarket. Going back as a sound guy and not a bag boy, cart wrangler, or deli server I felt the feeling that a well-to-do oldtimer must feel when he revisits his old paper route or the soda pop stand where he worked as a soda jerk or the barber shop where he swept up hair on the weekends or the drug store/ice cream parlor where he made deliveries for old man Gower and once prevented him from putting poison in pills. A feeling of having risen above. I almost broke out into the show tune "Memory" from Cats.
Not really.
I hated my days at the Farmer Jack in Bloomfield Hills. Still, so much of the spectacular Shop Rite in North Bergen, New Jersey reminded me of the wretched place. I have to say though, shooting in a supermarket is probably one of the most annoying things imaginable. Not only are there always unwanted people in the frame and in the audio talking and yacking it up, they always have to look right into the camera if they happen to pass by.
Come on guys.
Maybe that's one thing we take for granted when we shoot in New York. People here are used to this craziness. Sure you'll get the occasional conversationally enterprising would be film fanatic of a pedestrian who wants to know all of the details of what you're doing, but you almost never have to wave people out of the frame. If anything they're the ones cursing US out for being in THEIR way. It's just the way it is. Take the tunnel to Jersey though, and wham, you'll spend a good hour waving folks out of the way or retaking a shot because the sound guy heard someone somewhere yell "Whadya shooting? A commericial?" in that great New Jersey accent that's music to the ears.
Jersey. You have to love the place.
Ryan the Sound Guy
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