Nightscape Rock n' Roll

The short story that serves as a prequel to Nightscape, “Auto-da-Fe, American-style,” is set in the late-60s. As part of establishing the proper counterculture tone, it sports a series of (made up) song lyrics. The process of writing these lyrics led ineluctably to co-writing and recording a full-length song, “Save Yourself (Cuz No One Else Will).” I co-wrote the song with the film’s lead actress Emily Galash and her band Monster-Sized Monsters. (Well, I had the easy part of suggesting the song structure, providing some initial feedback and writing the lyrics; Emily and her cohorts did all the heavy lifting.) Needless to say, the group has crafted a supremely catchy tune that evokes songs like The Byrds’ “Eight Miles High” and The Beatles’ “She’s So Heavy.” I plan to make it available as part of the digital version of the tie-in book as well as feature it over the film’s end credits.

Monster-Sized Monsters recording "Save Yourself (Cuz No One Else Will)"

We recorded the foundational parts of the track last Friday in a marathon nine-hour session. The film’s composer, John Askew, served as our able guide and recording engineer. A veteran musician and producer,  he provided invaluable feedback throughout the recording process. And because his studio boasts a number of vintage instruments, band members we’re able to perform with era-appropriate gear. We’ll be adding some instrumentation and mixing the song over the next few weeks (in-between various post-production tasks). The initial plan is to debut the song this spring in conjunction with the tie-in book and hopefully, our first major film festival screening. But I doubt I’ll be able to contain my enthusiasm for the track that long and will likely post a special preview sometime before year’s end. Maybe as a holiday present for those who enter our Facebook sweepstakes. So, if you haven’t entered yet, get to it. The sweepstakes ends October 21^st.

Preview of Tie-In Book & Sweepstakes

In previous posts, I’ve mentioned that I’m writing a tie-in book that further explores the Nightscapeuniverse. I didn’t have any interest in re-hashing the film in prose form, so I’ve opted to pen a standalone short novel, along with five companion stories. Collectively, these stories describe the earthly history of a reality-shattering supernatural threat. The short novel that opens the book, The Dreams of Devils, is an adaptation of the original script for the film—a script that proved to have a prohibitively high price-tag. It’s about three high school seniors in a small Oregon town who discover an ancient supernatural weapon that gifts them with unwanted powers. While coping with their new talents, they must learn to put aside their differences in order to prevent the breakdown of reality. You can read the opening scene below...

Dreams of Devils_Online Preview

I’m pleased to present a special preview of this short novel and at the same time, announce a related Facebook sweepstakes. We’d like to garner as many Facebook friends as possible. By becoming a friend of Nightscape on Facebook and/or persuading your friends to do so, you’ll be entered into a contest in which you could win your name (or alternately, the name of a friend or family member) in the tie-in book, plus a host of other cool Nightscape merch. Check out the details of the sweepstakes at

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nightscape-Movie/194911663155.

The contest ends on October 21^st, so be sure to enter soon!

Tales of the Unexpected Part 2

As HAL 9000 fondly points out at a crucial moment in 2001, most problems can be “attributable to human error.” That wasn’t the case with our production, but that’s not to say we didn’t experience our fair share of miscues and mistakes. One of the most significant human errors occurred about halfway through the shoot. An actor in a prominent supporting role as a pastor became gravely ill. At first, her illness was characterized as dehydration; later, it was rumored she had Crohn’s disease, which compromises the immune system and is associated with a painful inflammation of the gastrointestinal tract.

Whatever the cause, the actor neglected to inform me or anyone else in the production department that she was seriously ill. So I was shocked and dismayed when she showed for a planned 12-hour night shoot so weak she couldn’t stand for more than three consecutive minutes. This was a big scene involving a specially-designed set that took weeks to construct; a cast of over two-dozen extras, including a small choir; about a dozen vintage cars; our three-person stunt team; and substantial fire and makeup effects. The actor apparently thought willpower alone would take her through the scene. Unfortunately, that theory didn’t prove out. The scene required her to deliver a sermon that timed out at over four uninterrupted minutes. Frail and unfocused, she could scarcely recite more than two lines at a time, much less perform the blocking I’d envisioned. As much as she wanted to play the part, it just wasn’t happening. Watching her (non-) performance on the monitor, I started to shrink into myself. The footage was completely useless.

While I felt badly for her condition, I couldn’t help being angry at her for putting me in an untenable position. She hadn’t given me any warning. There was no immediate recourse. The scene was pivotal to the rest of the film. My heart sank as I realized the only option was to recast the part and reshoot the scene another night—at considerable expense. Thankfully, we’d shot only one other, much shorter scene with her. (She’d appeared shaky then, but plausibly attributed her condition to the unusually hot weather.) To keep on schedule, we had to reshoot that short scene the next day (well, technically, later the same day as it was after midnight when I came to that decision). With no time to find a replacement through the usual casting channels, I made the bold (some would say foolhardy) decision to play the role myself.

Although I hadn’t done any acting since college, I was comfortable with delivering the lengthy sermon because: 1) I’d written it and accordingly, knew how I wanted it to come across; and 2) as a former elected official, I’m accustomed to speech-making. I figured I could bluff my way through the quieter moments, in part, by affecting a soft Louisiana accent. (One of my college roommates was Karey Kirkpatrick, the screenwriter for Chicken Run and a variety of other Hollywood successes. He hails from Louisiana and—at least at the time—talked with a slight regional twang. I just kept his vocal inflections in mind as best I could.) Besides, I knew for certain I’d always be on time and ready to perform.

I have to say, the experience increased my respect for Clint Eastwood and other actor-directors who routinely star in their own films. It was awfully challenging to act and direct at the same time. I had to cede a lot of the decision-making to the first assistant director and the director of photography. Sure, I could view the shots on the monitor, but in order to stay on schedule, it became impractical for me to do so every time. At one point, choked by bloody tentacles, I just had to trust my team had nailed the shots as we’d discussed them. Once I worked up the courage to watch the dailies, I confirmed that they had. (Not that I ever doubted it.) The scene cut together nicely and we even salvaged a few shots from the previous attempt. Though the circumstances around the scene weren’t ideal, what matters is what’s onscreen. And as we've made adjustments in post, it’s gone from merely good to potentially great.

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