Posted by sadomasokitten on January 7, 2007
For The Fantasy, read this first: http://www.sadomasokitten.com/blog/?p=669
Now onto the bitter Reality, that evil pill that scrapes all the way down your mental esophagus, alternately choking and releasing your breath in gasps and spurts.
The day started off promisingly, with fair weather and easy directions to the shooting site – a basement apartment (or “mother in law” if you will) soon to be renovated but still in it’s long-term, dark and grungy panelling state. I arrived first with all of my gear in tow, doing a preliminary sweep-up and an obligatory new-IKEA-sheet-covering of the twin sized bed sitting demurely in the corner, hoping NOT to be used if any way, shape, or form today (yes I’m sure that IKEA will be thrilled to know that they are used for this purpose but hey, you can’t beat three bucks for a brand new bedsheet in an array of solid colors to match the many dingy backgrounds that are de rigeur on porn shoots – and for that same three dollars I have absolutely no qualms about cleaning up the entire area with that sheet and then throwing it triumphantly into the garbage can at the end of the shoot).
Just the basics today – we are planning to shoot several scenes with Buck and an FTM boy that we’ve worked with before, and from what I understand this boy may also be bringing by several friends to also perform. Well, okay. The more the merrier (ok, I’m laughing as I write this), the more performers you have then the better chance of shooting something terrific, right?
Buck shows up on time, and fully loaded down with gear. He has his entire studio on his back, including cameras, tapes, a full lighting system, and of course the requisite snacks. The bags of dildos, condoms, and other assorted toys are opened and examined.
We get our first inkling of worry when the appointed time for our first talent to arrive comes and goes. But this is Los Angeles – everyone has a cell phone, right? – so we attempt to call. The call goes through… to his voicemail. Okay, apparently he’s a bit shy about answering every call that comes in so he prefers to let it go to voicemail and will then return it. All-righty. So while we’re waiting for him to get back to us we decide not to waste our valuable time in the studio and begin shooting some solo stuff of Buck. His blue underwear get mighty dusty rolling around on that floor and near that fireplace, but he’s a trooper. We actually shoot two complete galleries before the cell phone rings.
Yes, it’s our talent. No he’s not here. Supposedly he’s on his way. But he’s lost. Yes he printed out directions. Yes he’s too stupid to read them (I added this one for flavor). He’s gone way too far down Sunset and is now probably deep in the heart of East LA. His buddy is driving, and we give him directions over the phone (it’s literally one street off of Sunset, not difficult at all to find like so many addresses are here in LA) so we’re eagerly awaiting their arrival. It shouldn’t be long now…
We dig into the snacks. Arrange the dildos, condoms, and lube. Pace nervously. Bitch about past business partners and current so-called friends.
Almost an hour (yes you read that right, an HOUR) after the first phone call we hear a ruckus out front. Now the talent has been instructed that because this shoot will be taking place in a private residence that we have to be QUIET – low-key and not make a lot of fuss about our being there. Arrive with your bags, park your car, and quietly make your way to the back of the house. Well I can hear (and smell) them coming up the hill, way before they’re at the house. Because I’m the only one fully clothed, it’s my job to run outside to try to corral these beasts before they ruin things before they even get started. They’re easy to spot – our FTM boy has a hairdo of alternately bleached sections and black ones, and is in full goth-boy regalia. His buddy has baby blue hair (calling it hair is giving it too much credit – it’s basically strands of blue spiderweb hanging off of his head) and a black trenchcoat. As they exit their car (which barely made it up the hill) they announce loudly that they almost ran out of gas coming up the hill and so it will be great to get paid for fucking today so they can put some gas in the car…
My better nature kicks in and rather than kicking them I implore them to keep quite so we don’t upset the delicate natures of the neighbors. They grunt their understanding, continue to talk loudly, and I corral them into the studio.
Since we haven’t all met before this is where things kind of stop dead – everyone feels the need to chat a bit about themselves, the industry, what pisses them off, who they’ve worked with and can’t stand… it’s fine and all but eats up at least an hour of going back and forth before we even begin to talk about the scenes we hope to shoot today (and the snacks are wearing perilously thin).
The blue-haired “friend” has supposedly done porn before – both starring and directing/shooting – and then treats me to his treatise on “real” punk rock porn and how no one has done this before… I cannot keep from rolling my eyes almost to the back of my head but he doesn’t notice because he’s so busy trying to impress everyone and dropping names. It’s very hard to concentrate because he’s just really completely dirty – as in unclean, unwashed, and kind of stinky – and he’s got the worst teeth I’ve ever seen. Not just a little un-perfect, these were shooting in all directions and bright yellow with brown edgings (trust me, I look so you don’t have to).
As an aside – It’s really funny to watch people pull out their own rope, begin to tie it into a hangman’s noose, and slowly slip it over their own heads just before jumping into the abyss of ignorance…
So after regaling us with his tales of his incredible film career I do the unthinkable and pop his balloon – I ask for his ID. As many of you know, it’s an absolute necessity in this world of 2257 laws to have a valid ID with you when you show up to shoot porn. There is no one (at least in the USA) who will shoot with you without this valuable piece of plastic. It would be a huge waste of time – and completely unusable. The photographer or videographer could not use, nor sell the images without your ID. No performer would even think about showing up without theirs. Well, Mr. Professional announces that “oh my god man, I totally lost my ID – it was stolen with a bunch of my other stuff”… he said more, but after that line all I could hear was “blah blah blah” (you know, like what dogs hear when humans talk to them – or like the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons). Basically it came down to me saying a version of this: WE CAN’T USE YOU YOU IDIOT AND IF YOU WERE A PROFESSIONAL YOU’D KNOW THAT. Insert smiley face here.
So blue-boy had to sit in the corner for the duration of the day’s shoot because he had no other way home… luckily once he was busted he was relatively quiet which helped things at least for awhile. Now back to our regularly scheduled program…
Time to start shooting with our FTM boy. Now we’ve worked with him before so no pleasantries are really necessary and Buck’s scenes are straightforward: Just get to the fucking. So we shoot one scene with Buck and the boy on the bed. I’m yawning as we’re shooting because it’s soooooooo boring – you see, porn performers really have to turn up the excitement level (whether it’s real or not – but generally it’s all fake anyway) so that it comes through on film. Lots of positions, some great facial expressions, hell even some movement would be good. But this boy – even though he is physically attractive and has the added bonus of being an FTM – is just boring to watch. He has presented himself to us as a hardcore top but he becomes a limp noodle when he’s around Buck in a scene. So it’s really tough to get a good performance out of him – and a lot of extra work for both Buck and myself.
Too much time is spent on comparing dildos and various types of lube. Everyone seems to not only have a preference but also something that they’re either wildly allergic to or that has given them some really nasty rash in the past. The advantages of one type of condom versus another. And is anything really ribbed for anyone’s pleasure?
As we’re about to begin round 2 of this “grumble in my jungle” Blue-boy announces that he’s going to call the third person – a girl – who has been invited to today’s bacchanal. Noticing the time she was supposed to be here about an hour ago – of course. He reaches her and she too is lost (when I got home that evening I did a check on Mapquest to see if it was at fault for leading so many of our circus folk astray but for once it was accurate) but supposedly will be here – magically! – soon. Ok, time to film a bit more.
It is almost physically painful to watch porn being shot when the performers are so obviously not into each other, when you can see them counting their day’s pay in pennies in their heads as they’re fucking. No amount of cheering them on or making suggestions can make that time go any faster for me as the videographer, and no one has yet invented the camera angle that can make this shit look good. But on we press for we are determined to shoot as much as possible in the hopes of cobbling it together into something saleable… and then it’s too much. I pull the plug under the guise of “not using up all of the energy” before our next performer arrives. Whew! I can walk outside for a few moments and remind myself why I never finished college…
And then she arrives. With a bang and a growl. I can hear her dragging her bag of crap all the way to the back of the house as it bangs loudly against the metal fence, every single bar on the way down. I look over and greet her with a simple, “Hi, I’m Katja” and she barks at me “Uh, hi” in a voice that I will kindly describe as gutteral.
Hm, can this day get much worse? First everyone is late, then they show up and one guy doesn’t have ID, then the performances are a bit limp… but no, purrhaps this girl showing up will change things, turn the tide, make the day into a great day in porn…
(choking up a hairball here)
She stomps into the studio area, drops her stuff and immediately begins complaining. Buck and I look around because there is something a little off about her, but neither one of us are completely sure of what it is. There is also something odd about the interpersonal relationships going on in the room now, which we are also not privy to. Technically it’s no matter, we’re here to shoot porn, and can we get onto it please it’s been a long day and did I mention that the snacks are now gone?
The girl mentions that she’s paranoid about her lipstick not smearing, that she’s very sensitive about her skin appearing perfect. Um, ok. She’s also in a sort of goth-girl uniform: heavy platform boots, striped stockings, black satin corsolette & panties, and black stretchy dress. Powdered white face, black hair, red lipstick. If you’ve seen any gothy girl you’ll know what I’m talking about, but as I said earlier, there was definitely something a little “off” about her. I notice that her ass is covered in pimples.
We get her ID (Aha! She’s actually brought hers) and she makes funny faces as we take pictures of it. We have to explain to her that this is a necessary thing and I ask if she’s done porn before – ahem, no, this would be her first official porn film but she’s done “lots of stuff” before. O-kay… We talk about what will happen today, explain what sex acts we’re expecting her to perform, and she agrees.
The girl and the FTM boy obviously have something going on together more than just friends that invite each other to screw on camera. So I suggest they start the scene together, on the bed, he undressing her and then moving on to the fucking. Buck can join in later. So they start out with some kissing and odd touching (it’s like watching junior high schoolers “make out” under the bleachers) and he removes her clothing – except for the corsolette, which she insists on wearing. No one is playing anything close to the camera, so I try to make up for the complete absence of sexuality by moving the camera around a lot and focusing on genitals. But she insists on not moving at all, at laying literally as stiff as a board, and whenever she is touching in any sort of a sexual manner she would GRIMACE. Yes, not just look like “Oh my god your cock is sooooo big, I can barely take all of that in my tiny little pussy”, but grimace like she’d been force-fed lemons for days. And make little unpleasant noises. And turn her head away from the camera. Honestly it looked like she was being completely coerced into doing something that she really really really didn’t want to do, and I expressed my concern. They talked and said that everything was ok, so we continued.
This went on for about fifteen minutes when I just couldn’t watch anymore. I began to unnaturally focus the camera on her pimple-covered ass just for my own amusement. I started making faces at Buck who walked into the scene with a big dildo. He pushed off the boy, told him to sit on her face, and started to fuck her hard with the dildo. Ok, now things were finally getting interesting! There was some action – although she seemed really unhappy to have the boy’s pussy in her face she wasn’t resisting, in fact she definitely seemed to start to like it. When Buck was calling her a slut, spanking her on the ass, and fucking her with the dildo all of a sudden life wasn’t so bad. It was like she had gone into a dream-state.
But then as with all good dreams, you have to wake up. That position had gone on long enough and Buck decided to change things up – he handed the dildo to the boy to let him do the fucking and moved over to sit on the girls face. All of a sudden we weren’t in Kansas anymore…
She started to cry. Everything stopped. We all asked what was wrong. She didn’t want to tell us. The boy seemed to know what was wrong but wouldn’t tell us. He kept trying to convince her to continue. But then she said, “Ok, when I said yes this wasn’t what I signed on for”. Huh? We had fully explained to her what would be happening today, and she had said ok, and that she fully understood. Now the drama would truly begin: she started to heave and sob and left to go to the bathroom. The boy followed closely behind, apologizing to us. We waited (what else could we do?) and heard them yelling at each other, she accusing him of not telling her what would be involved, him trying to get her to shut up. This goes on for some time… Buck gets dressed and we start packing up because it’s pretty obvious that we’re not filming any more porn today. The room is thick with discomfort.
When they emerge, the boy is apologetic to the point of being pathetic. She’s just all bitchy and demanding her money. He insists that he should forfeit his day’s pay for all of the trouble “he” has caused. She insists that she should get paid NOW because she’s leaving. Um, ok. Buck remains professional and simply pays everyone what he promised, leaving them to divide up their booty however they please. I have already thrown their stuff into their bags because I just want them to leave, which they do rather quickly. There is no goodbye, no after-porno drink, no promises of future work. This is just really b-a-d, and Buck and I have no idea why.
But we were about to find out.
Exhausted, we head out to dinner. Both of us cannot fully understand or explain what has happened today. But we know that something just wasn’t right. We get a phone call – it’s from the boy.
Not to careful readers: This is the point where if you weren’t sitting down with a bottle of headache pills within easy reach you might want to do so because this is the big wrap-up.
After more profuse apologies, we finally get the full story: They are now at the hospital, more specifically the emergency room, where they had to go immediately after the shoot. The girl may be having a miscarriage – she was PREGNANT. The FTM boy used to be romantically involved with the girl who was also on her way to becoming an FTM but stopped (I know, exactly how and why do you stop a process like this??? When you decide to change from female to male??? But at least it explains her voice – still very, very male) so that she could HAVE A BABY. But now they’re not romantically involved anymore, just friends. And no one could actually completely say that she really was pregnant.
Ok, now there are so many things wrong with this that you would easily be expected to have your head spinning like a globe right now. She never disclosed to us that she was pregnant (or even thought she might be pregnant) and it’s unclear if the boy knew beforehand. She was obviously still full of hormones and most likely really, really confused about her sexual and gender identity. And now she’s at the emergency room – because of what, the dildo fucking? The anxiety at having made a porno? The realization that she might be having a baby or not having a baby?
Sheesh, I thought I had problems. These are the kind of things that basically I really, really don’t want to get involved with. Takes all of the fun out of shooting porn. I automatically assume that there is some greater reason that any actor or actress is here before me, wanting to fuck on film. But it’s not really my business, nor ultimately do I much care. I just need to know if everyone is going to be safe before we proceed, and care that they are safe when they leave.
There is not enough chocolate in the world to wash the bad taste out of my mouth that day. Such irresponsibility, such craziness. What a downer it was. Usually after a shoot we laugh about all of the nutty stuff that happened (and most things are pretty nutty, to be sure) but no laughing this time.
Ah Reality, what a harsh Mistress you truly are…