This is a story about a coca-cola cooler.
There was once a show, set in 1949, that needed a soda cooler. The designer told the props master that 1930's soda cooler was needed. The props master than found, out of thin air in storage, a 1940's Dr. Pepper cooler. While attempting to rescue this cooler from the black hole of storage in order to show the designer our valiant props master received a concussion as a chair fell off the wall onto her head. But luckily our hero had a hard head, and the cooler was removed from storage and placed in rehearsal. Upon viewing this excellent find our designer decided that it wasn't 'right', and through talking decided that it should be a nice rounded coke cooler, but tiny, because real coke coolers were too large. So the props master found a glorious reproduction, but, alas and alack, it was too expensive. So our hero turned to the last option, making one.
Figuring out the construction drawings hurt her brain, and the carpenter she hired built the frame out of square. But the industrious props master perservered, and worked on building the little coke cooler that could, while teching three other shows. As the day approaches that the coke cooler needs to be done overtime is scheduled, foam is cut, and less than a day from completion the scene shop burns down. Tempers are frayed, minds are more than distracted, and bodies start to wear down. But our prop master continues, and the coke cooler is built and painted and put on stage less than an hour before actors arrive.
It's brilliant, it's beautiful, it's only missing two stencils. The prop master curses, as she's tired and stressed, because the damn thing's too bright, too new, and too shiny. Then lo and behold the designer appears, and looks at the coke cooler, and says it's too red. And maybe, it shouldn't be coca-cola at all.
The props master winces, and askes the designer if she's sure. 'Why yes, I am, coke is just too modern. A nice orange ne-hi cooler would be best. And I never told you to make it coke, besides.' At this our hero has to stand up for herself, and she, perhaps unwisely, says, why no, no you didn't, At the begining of our discussions you may have, perhaps, but four weeks later you never said anything more.' Common sense prevails and our props master says, 'Sure, we'll paint it orange, we'll find a new logo, but the structure won't change.'
At this point our designer walks away in a huff, and a production meeting is called. And our props master is saved, as the director adamantly refuses to have it be anything other than coke. Because no self-respecting business outside of Atlanta would own anything other than coke in 1940's Georgia.Our hero sent up a prayer of thanksgiving, and the coke cooler was saved. By the end of the day the cooler was perfect, nice and dull and old.
But if I didn't know that the damn thing is too invaluable as a prop I'd torch the fucker as soon as the damn show closes.
There was once a show, set in 1949, that needed a soda cooler. The designer told the props master that 1930's soda cooler was needed. The props master than found, out of thin air in storage, a 1940's Dr. Pepper cooler. While attempting to rescue this cooler from the black hole of storage in order to show the designer our valiant props master received a concussion as a chair fell off the wall onto her head. But luckily our hero had a hard head, and the cooler was removed from storage and placed in rehearsal. Upon viewing this excellent find our designer decided that it wasn't 'right', and through talking decided that it should be a nice rounded coke cooler, but tiny, because real coke coolers were too large. So the props master found a glorious reproduction, but, alas and alack, it was too expensive. So our hero turned to the last option, making one.
Figuring out the construction drawings hurt her brain, and the carpenter she hired built the frame out of square. But the industrious props master perservered, and worked on building the little coke cooler that could, while teching three other shows. As the day approaches that the coke cooler needs to be done overtime is scheduled, foam is cut, and less than a day from completion the scene shop burns down. Tempers are frayed, minds are more than distracted, and bodies start to wear down. But our prop master continues, and the coke cooler is built and painted and put on stage less than an hour before actors arrive.
It's brilliant, it's beautiful, it's only missing two stencils. The prop master curses, as she's tired and stressed, because the damn thing's too bright, too new, and too shiny. Then lo and behold the designer appears, and looks at the coke cooler, and says it's too red. And maybe, it shouldn't be coca-cola at all.
The props master winces, and askes the designer if she's sure. 'Why yes, I am, coke is just too modern. A nice orange ne-hi cooler would be best. And I never told you to make it coke, besides.' At this our hero has to stand up for herself, and she, perhaps unwisely, says, why no, no you didn't, At the begining of our discussions you may have, perhaps, but four weeks later you never said anything more.' Common sense prevails and our props master says, 'Sure, we'll paint it orange, we'll find a new logo, but the structure won't change.'
At this point our designer walks away in a huff, and a production meeting is called. And our props master is saved, as the director adamantly refuses to have it be anything other than coke. Because no self-respecting business outside of Atlanta would own anything other than coke in 1940's Georgia.Our hero sent up a prayer of thanksgiving, and the coke cooler was saved. By the end of the day the cooler was perfect, nice and dull and old.
But if I didn't know that the damn thing is too invaluable as a prop I'd torch the fucker as soon as the damn show closes.
I saw Brokeback Mountain today finally. I'm sad about it. I probably would have cried if I wasn't with people. I'm too effected my that kind of stuff-- makes me feel embarrased and dorky.