Subject: Filming report for evening of Friday 9/20 From: xwidget@hardy.u.washington.edu (xwidget) Date: 1991-09-25, 10:34 Newsgroups: alt.tv.twin-peaks The Twin Peaks movie is being shot in the Seattle area now. I think shooting has been going on for a week or so and will continue until the first or second week of October. Yesterday I drove through North Bend (aka TP) and saw little activity, although there were a few studio trailers from Burbank and the "RR" sign was up at the Mar-T Cafe. Reliable sources indicated that shooting was happening at the Colonial Inn, in Fall City (neither a city nor near the falls, or course), so off I went. At the Colonial Inn (aka the Roadhouse) the Bang-Bang neon sign was up and a small group of people were setting up lights and reflectors for a night shoot. A group of bikers, hired locally as extras, were standing around fretting about the dust on their bikes kicked up from all the machine activity. The generator truck, and other utility vehicles all had placards which read, "Lynch-Frost Productions, Twin Peaks / Fire Walk with Me" on their dashboards. Local police agencies were all represented (North Bend, King County (Seattle), and the Washington State Patrol). Around 6, after an early dinner at the Colonial (which closed for the night because they needed to paper the windows), the Log Lady appeared. She wandered around the set briefly, in character and carrying her log, then disappeared into a trailer which was parked next to Big Ed's Gas truck. A few hours passed, with Lynch-Frost vans racing around but seeming to do nothing at all. The bikers took photos of each other spread-eagled against the cop cars. Around 8:30, a small group of people materialized from nowhere, and rushed from the road to the trailers. David Lynch, jauntily dressed in a blue blazer, chinos, and cap -- a 70s preppie hunting outfit -- followed by his minions, swept onto the set. Later, when his cap came off, his trademark Reaganesque hairdo was unmistakeable. More activity. Its amazing how frantic yet controlled a film shoot can be. By this time, a crowd had gathered. Snippets of conversation from hardcore fans reached us in the now-chilly night air. Someone had seen David Bowie a few days before. "Kyle finished shooting yesterday and left town", said a woman with a disappointed leer -- she missed him by minutes but did get to see his personal chair. (Yes, they all have personalized, director's style chairs -- Lynch has not only a chair but a frilly stool). I was glad to see everyone was on a first-name basis with the cast and crew. David had "almost" autographed someone's Twin Peaks t-shirt, but fled when asked to explain Eraserhead. Bobby has already left town. Someone thought they saw Major Briggs, maybe. Laura's stunt double was seen, deep in the woods, driving a vintage car fast over backcountry roads. A crew member tried to start a small portable generator. The engine sputtered and died, once, twice, three times. One of the bikers helpfully pointed out that "if it was a Harley it would have started by now." The bikers started to polish their bikes, just behind a cop car. One of the cops ambled over to them. "They want a few dents in your bikes, guys, so I'm gonna back my car up into them," he said. One of the bikers grabbed the cop by the scruff of the neck and made to spread-eagle him against the squad car. The cop grinned and twisted away, making a pretend grab for his holster. 9:30pm. The bikes are lined up in front of the Roadhouse. I flee for hot chocolate at the little market ("Fall City Convenience Mart, open 24 hours for all your shopping needs," says the woman behind the counter) and walk back around the corner to the roadhouse, making eye contact with a woman in hair curlers and a slightly frumpy housecoat. She's talking to the Log Lady and Lynch beneath a wooden awning at the roadhouse entrance. Yep, she's Laura Palmer. She practises striding up to the roadhouse, pantomimes a conversation with the Log Lady (who touches her face gently), and then walks up three steps into the building. They disappear for another half-hour or so, while the crew shoos the crowd around the set like a gaggle of unwanted Canada geese ("Sorry, guys, I need you all to move thirty feet to the left. Ooops, now move fifty feet back. To the right, please, thirty feet"). We can tell shooting will start soon when Lynch and crew settle into their chairs, surrounded by cast and crew. Laura appears, sans curlers, wearing high-heeled leather boots that reach most of the way up her legs and a short dark coat. She hops into her car (a Studebaker?) and starts the engine. Lynch decides the white Comet should switch places with the black Mustang, so two crew members play parking valets for a few minutes. Then everyone yells, "Quiet!" Laura starts the car again and backs it up 10 feet. Cameras roll. Sound rolls. She drives forward ten feet, cuts the engine and lights and steps out gracefully. She walks the twenty feet to the roadhouse with great aplomb, but the big tan labrador who has been sitting with us in the crowd decides the moment is perfect to lope across the frame right behind Laura. We all try not to giggle, but fail. "Cut," says Lynch. "Perfect." We all laugh. A few crew people chase the dog around. They set up the shot again. This time, a crew member holds the dog tight, lavishing it with attention. The set quiets, rolling begins, and Laura begins her brief walk to the roadhouse once again. The dog-tender, incredibly, releases the dog, and once again he crisscrosses her tracks in exactly the same place. We realize we've been duped, that the damned dog is actually in the cast, and the time he spent with us, in the crowd, he was just slumming. 11pm. Not prepared for the cold, I abandon the shooting. It will probably continue for another few hours. Next time, I'll find a day shoot. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Craig Horman xwidget@hardy.u.washington.edu