Bicycles, Cars, Trailers, and Movie Magic
Right now, here in New Orleans, Hollywood South, movie magic is happening. Yes, we could all be gushing about Brangelina, or we could debate the finer points of what the film industry could do to/for our city, or we could all ignore it as yet another wave of change rolls in. Instead, I just like to roll around in the movie magic.
Today, on my daily bike ride home, I reveled in the self-righteousness of crusing past several blocks of cars down St. Charles where there is always a jam at the broken light at Jefferson. At the next block, a pair of policemen had stopped a few cars and I looked around for an accident. The cop in the street motions to me to ride up to him. “I don’t see why you can’t go through, no reason to hold you up. They’re filming this College movie at the library, just don’t stop.” I rode on, past the usual fleet of shiny, huge trailers, trucks full of filming equipment, and people scurrying about. (The people who scurry are obviously not local. We don’t scurry here.)
For several blocks there was no traffic at all. I swerved my bike, enjoying the full breadth of St. Charles. The oaks and their speckled shadows were all for me. This was a scene in my movie.
A week ago, I rode through the filming of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I didn’t realize that they were actually shooting until I happened upon a very friendly couple. They were excellently dressed for a Wednesday afternoon, her in a peach wool suit and him in in crisp brown with a sharp hat. Surrounding us was a array of the finest 50’s and 60’s cars New Orleans has to offer. The white girl with the beehive across the street ultimately tipped me off and I asked the couple if I should keep biking. “Go on. They’ll yell when we’re supposed to start walking up this side walk, again.” I rode on. The doors to all of the crew/cast trailers were open. Inside there were people lounging on comfortable couches, pacing in circles, even scurrying, with the room to do it! These huge trailers lined at least seven blocks of Napoleon Avenue in Broadmoor, dwarfing the FEMA trailers that sat behind them on every other lawn.
I told Maitri about my fantastic bike ride home today as we sat in her car outside of a parking lot full of trailers. I excitedly pointed at the lot. “Look, movie trailers! (Ignore the pun if you dare.) I can tell they’re movie trailers because they’re nice and so much bigger than FEMA trailers!” Momentarily proud of my discernment in trailers, soon the disgusting nature of the comparison sucked the movie magic right out of me. Instead of talking about Brangelina, or the film industry, we just ignored them. Instead we ranted about the toxicity of FEMA trailers, their depressing, confining size, and the criminal amounts of money that were paid for them. FEMA spends about $60,000 for each of these plain white trailers over their estimated life span of 18 months. For that cost they could have got a bulk rate on luxury or at least human sized trailers. A lot of these trailers are camper sized, and intended only for a few nights stay.
So, Hollywood, many of us are glad for the business and jobs that you have brought to our city. I enjoy the magical way you make cars dissapear. But you better look out. What we really like are your trailers.
March 16th, 2007 at 11:46 am
Great post, Lex! Thanks for the research on the cost of each of those toxic sardine cans that our humans are expected to live in. To go from your home to temporary exile to one of these death traps is a small death many times over, and FEMA ought to be put out of its misery like the useless mule it is.
March 17th, 2007 at 12:50 am
That is a great point, about the contrast between the FEMA trailers and the Hollywood Trailers. It makes me want to vomit at the way the world is, but it’s a great point.
March 17th, 2007 at 11:55 am
Thanks for the relaxing, pleasant thoughts, as I mentally rode along with you on your bike ride, then followed by a feeling of frustration, and knots in my stomach. The norm lately when thinking about New Orleans.
It’s sunny and crisp out today, and cruising along St Charles with it’s
huge old trees and the amazing houses - their architecture, and all the views along the way.
What a sad but notable contrast and comparison of the tin can, the flimsy FEMA matchboxes that are supposed to pass as a ‘home’, to the extravagant or just plain comfortable trailers used by the movie industry.
My son was an extra on a film here in south La, and each star actually had one of these big trailers for themself! One person.
Unbelievable.
If you write about this any more, maybe you can tell us why on earth each trailer cost FEMA $60,000? A friend of mine had to pull a few of these from here to Florida, and said he had to go very slow, and they would ‘blow’ off the highway, they were so light.
March 17th, 2007 at 3:17 pm
Nice post, Alexis. I think the whole movie thing is cool. Maitri, “useless mule” has a nice ring to it.
March 17th, 2007 at 6:46 pm
Great kicker to the end paragraph. But I have to nitpick on the Broadmoor; that was a mile down from: Broadmoor starts at Claiborne. While I certainly don’t mind the thought of Brad Pitt represented in the expanded and expanding blogosphere as having been only blocks away from my personal residence - I crushed on his “wife” long before he met her, I’d just be looking over his shoulder - the point follows that George W. was in that very same vicinity the very same week just off Napoleon there. And HIM I definitely do not want rumoured to have come nigh my abode, for anyone who does that sort of (sloppy) mental detective work. Agent! Agent! There was no “w” in Broadmoor…
March 18th, 2007 at 8:27 pm
Ain’t it sad when NO ONE wants to admit that the President came anywhere near their home? I don’t think New Orleanians are unique in thinking this way, either…
March 19th, 2007 at 12:41 am
I don’t want him near my home either, and I’m in California ;)
March 19th, 2007 at 10:51 am
I think he should not have been allowed in the city limits. After all, he has proven through his treatment of us that we are NOT Americans or part of the US. I guess the Louisiana Purchase must have been voided or refunded somehow. If I were France watcing this I woud really want my money (and a dozen states) back….
March 20th, 2007 at 8:03 am
Ohhh, yeah!
“Gimme My Money Back”, indeed…