David R. Busse
Well-known member
Normally, the passing of a Hollywood notable rates little or no mention on this board.
That’s why I want to tell you a little story about a morning I spent 14 years ago with film director Robert Altman. He died this week at age 81.
I was assigned to meet our entertainment reporter at a West Hollywood hotel, and the story slug simply said “Robert Altman SOT.â€
Normally such interviews are done in production-line style. You arrive at the hotel, are assigned a suite, do set-up and lighting, get pampered by numerous PR flacks and movie hangers-on, and wait. Finally, the interview subject arrives, sits down, does the interview, says a curt “thank you…†and rushes out the door to adjacent rooms, where other crews are set up and the same process happen—over and over—until all interview requests are satisfied.
And most of this, for whatever reason, happens at the same hotel—the Four Seasons Beverly Hills.
So I was a little suspicious when I pulled up to the address on the assignment sheet, which happened to be s small, 12-room hotel a block off the Sunset Strip. I’d never heard of the place before, I saw no other crew vehicles, and I found a parking spot at a meter right next to the front door. And I was 20 minutes early. The stars were aligning for an interesting shoot.
I carefully unloaded tools of the trade—camera, light-kit, tripod, audio bag—and put them on a cart, and wheeled them into the small lobby. I strolled up to the front desk and asked the clerk for directions to “…the Robert Altman event…â€
He looked at me, puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…†he said.
I showed him the computer-generated assignment sheet with the hotel’s name and address. I also noticed there was no contact name or phone number on the sheet—unusual on such assignments.
“Well, I do know Robert Altman is staying here,†the clerk said. “Let me call his room.â€
He made a phone call, spoke in hushed tones, the hung up and said “…go upstairs to room 201.â€
I went upstairs, expecting to be met by a PR person, or at least to see some kind of hubbub around Room 201. Nothing. I knocked on the door.
Altman opened the door almost immediately, holding the room telephone in his hand, shouldering the handset against his ear. “Come on in and have a seat…I’m about to be on NPR with Bob Edwards!†The exclamation point was mine, but it’s added to emphasize that he spoke like a teenager who just found out he won $100 from the local top-40 radio station.
So I left my gear at the door, sat in a comfortable chair and participated in one of the most interesting pre-interview interviews I had ever done…only this time I never asked a question or saw the questioner, but knew it was “The Colonel†himself, Bob Edwards, a master of the trade.
Thus, I learned everything I needed to know about Altman’s latest movie, “The Player.â€
Then, my beeper went off, and I learned the reporter was going to be 20 minutes late—at least. The radio interview ended. Altman turned to me.
“Wow—he sure is a great interviewer,†he said. The he leaned across the room and offered his hand. “Sorry about the confusion, but I didn’t get your name, I’m Robert Altman…â€
I introduced myself, then quickly noticed a trait only seen among seasoned politicians, professional salesmen and the very best reporters. He repeated my name—twice. And he asked how to spell my last name. And, as we chitchatted, he repeated my name three or four-more times. My salesman-father does that whenever he meets a stranger and his memory of names and faces is legendary. This time a famous Hollywood moviemaker was doing it to me…a news photographer, perhaps the lowest rung on the creativity food chain in Hollywood.
“How long you been in the business…,†he asked. “16 years, “ I said.
“LA born and raised?†he asked.
“Nope…midwestern transplant. Missouri.†I said.
His eyes lit up. “Good. I’m not from here, either.â€
“You’re gonna love my new film. It’s called ‘The Player’ and it’s all about the bull**** in Hollywood that you and I see every day. How about this, Dave…an opening shot, a dolly shot, walking across a studio lot, where the dialog is just two guys talking about how they hate long dolly shots…the whole film is stuff like that.â€
I tried to do my best Bob Edwards imitation. “And you used your own money…â€
“Dave, I financed it myself,†he said. Now as a cameraman, you’ll see all the short cuts we took, and there are a lot of shots where we should have done a half dozen takes, but did just one or two when we knew we had it in the can. But wait’ll you see what happened on this project…once word got out around town what I was doing, people called me every day saying they wanted a cameo role without pay. There are more cameos by celebrities than any other film I know of…â€
“You must see this film. You’ll love it, “ he said.
There was a knock at the door, and a room service guy appeared with a modest but welcome sandwich tray.
“Have lunch, Dave…†Altman said.
We had an all-encompassing lunch conversation about the state of the entertainment industry, our favorite places in the Midwest (his was Michigan, for reasons I can’t recall), and the reasons I liked my job. Altman seemed to “get it†the minute I described a typical day. “No two days alike and you get to be producer, director and DP all in one, making little movies for the news…†he said.
Yep.
And the interesting part of this whole conversation was that Altman never told war stories about “MASH†or his other big films, never centered the conversation around himself, and didn’t do a lot of name-dropping….rare in Hollywood.
We just finished our lunch when there was another knock at the door and my reporter appeared, apologizing for her lateness. Altman introduced himself, repeated the reporter’s name a few times, and offered he lunch.
“…Dave and I have had a terrific morning discussing the state of the world in general…,†he said.
“Oh, you two are old friends,†she said.
Robert Altman sure seemed like he was an old friend. I never encountered him after that interview shoot, but I did see “The Player†and loved it, and I enjoyed his last film, “Prairie Home Companion.†But my best memories of the man are my “lunch with Robert Altman†and the knowledge that he was about as “un-Hollywood†as they get. I think anyone on this board would have gotten the same treatment and come away with the same good feelings about this interesting man.
That’s why I want to tell you a little story about a morning I spent 14 years ago with film director Robert Altman. He died this week at age 81.
I was assigned to meet our entertainment reporter at a West Hollywood hotel, and the story slug simply said “Robert Altman SOT.â€
Normally such interviews are done in production-line style. You arrive at the hotel, are assigned a suite, do set-up and lighting, get pampered by numerous PR flacks and movie hangers-on, and wait. Finally, the interview subject arrives, sits down, does the interview, says a curt “thank you…†and rushes out the door to adjacent rooms, where other crews are set up and the same process happen—over and over—until all interview requests are satisfied.
And most of this, for whatever reason, happens at the same hotel—the Four Seasons Beverly Hills.
So I was a little suspicious when I pulled up to the address on the assignment sheet, which happened to be s small, 12-room hotel a block off the Sunset Strip. I’d never heard of the place before, I saw no other crew vehicles, and I found a parking spot at a meter right next to the front door. And I was 20 minutes early. The stars were aligning for an interesting shoot.
I carefully unloaded tools of the trade—camera, light-kit, tripod, audio bag—and put them on a cart, and wheeled them into the small lobby. I strolled up to the front desk and asked the clerk for directions to “…the Robert Altman event…â€
He looked at me, puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…†he said.
I showed him the computer-generated assignment sheet with the hotel’s name and address. I also noticed there was no contact name or phone number on the sheet—unusual on such assignments.
“Well, I do know Robert Altman is staying here,†the clerk said. “Let me call his room.â€
He made a phone call, spoke in hushed tones, the hung up and said “…go upstairs to room 201.â€
I went upstairs, expecting to be met by a PR person, or at least to see some kind of hubbub around Room 201. Nothing. I knocked on the door.
Altman opened the door almost immediately, holding the room telephone in his hand, shouldering the handset against his ear. “Come on in and have a seat…I’m about to be on NPR with Bob Edwards!†The exclamation point was mine, but it’s added to emphasize that he spoke like a teenager who just found out he won $100 from the local top-40 radio station.
So I left my gear at the door, sat in a comfortable chair and participated in one of the most interesting pre-interview interviews I had ever done…only this time I never asked a question or saw the questioner, but knew it was “The Colonel†himself, Bob Edwards, a master of the trade.
Thus, I learned everything I needed to know about Altman’s latest movie, “The Player.â€
Then, my beeper went off, and I learned the reporter was going to be 20 minutes late—at least. The radio interview ended. Altman turned to me.
“Wow—he sure is a great interviewer,†he said. The he leaned across the room and offered his hand. “Sorry about the confusion, but I didn’t get your name, I’m Robert Altman…â€
I introduced myself, then quickly noticed a trait only seen among seasoned politicians, professional salesmen and the very best reporters. He repeated my name—twice. And he asked how to spell my last name. And, as we chitchatted, he repeated my name three or four-more times. My salesman-father does that whenever he meets a stranger and his memory of names and faces is legendary. This time a famous Hollywood moviemaker was doing it to me…a news photographer, perhaps the lowest rung on the creativity food chain in Hollywood.
“How long you been in the business…,†he asked. “16 years, “ I said.
“LA born and raised?†he asked.
“Nope…midwestern transplant. Missouri.†I said.
His eyes lit up. “Good. I’m not from here, either.â€
“You’re gonna love my new film. It’s called ‘The Player’ and it’s all about the bull**** in Hollywood that you and I see every day. How about this, Dave…an opening shot, a dolly shot, walking across a studio lot, where the dialog is just two guys talking about how they hate long dolly shots…the whole film is stuff like that.â€
I tried to do my best Bob Edwards imitation. “And you used your own money…â€
“Dave, I financed it myself,†he said. Now as a cameraman, you’ll see all the short cuts we took, and there are a lot of shots where we should have done a half dozen takes, but did just one or two when we knew we had it in the can. But wait’ll you see what happened on this project…once word got out around town what I was doing, people called me every day saying they wanted a cameo role without pay. There are more cameos by celebrities than any other film I know of…â€
“You must see this film. You’ll love it, “ he said.
There was a knock at the door, and a room service guy appeared with a modest but welcome sandwich tray.
“Have lunch, Dave…†Altman said.
We had an all-encompassing lunch conversation about the state of the entertainment industry, our favorite places in the Midwest (his was Michigan, for reasons I can’t recall), and the reasons I liked my job. Altman seemed to “get it†the minute I described a typical day. “No two days alike and you get to be producer, director and DP all in one, making little movies for the news…†he said.
Yep.
And the interesting part of this whole conversation was that Altman never told war stories about “MASH†or his other big films, never centered the conversation around himself, and didn’t do a lot of name-dropping….rare in Hollywood.
We just finished our lunch when there was another knock at the door and my reporter appeared, apologizing for her lateness. Altman introduced himself, repeated the reporter’s name a few times, and offered he lunch.
“…Dave and I have had a terrific morning discussing the state of the world in general…,†he said.
“Oh, you two are old friends,†she said.
Robert Altman sure seemed like he was an old friend. I never encountered him after that interview shoot, but I did see “The Player†and loved it, and I enjoyed his last film, “Prairie Home Companion.†But my best memories of the man are my “lunch with Robert Altman†and the knowledge that he was about as “un-Hollywood†as they get. I think anyone on this board would have gotten the same treatment and come away with the same good feelings about this interesting man.
