Film Work

Throughout most of the nineties I worked as a film electrician, running lights and power for a number of forgettable films, movies of the week, TV pilots and commercials. There was a small band of us, maybe 15 in all that would vie for the few positions available when a new movie would come to town. I was not on the A list. Not that I was a bad electrician. I could hold my own with most of them, even working as a Best Boy on a few low budget films, but I just never managed to get that one connection that would catapult me to the you’re-my-first-call-when-I-get-to-town kind of spot on the list.

In truth I didn’t mind so much. There was, for a while, plenty of work up here in the Northwest and I even managed to make a decent living at it for a time. But I think down deep I knew that my heart was not set on lugging 90 pound coils of 4/0 around a soccer field at two a.m. to establish a “ring of fire” because we had no real idea of what they were going to shoot, or where, or what sort of power they might need. In truth, I’m sure other people could see it in me as well, which no doubt helped to solidify my position closer to the middle of the pack then near the top.

When the oldest boy was born I knew that my days doing that kind of work were all but over. Seattle was no longer the darling of the LA set. Most of the major studios found that working up in Canada afforded them a similar look at a fraction of the price. The work was drying up and some of the electricians I knew were making the move down south to California. I also knew I could never do that. I had had my fill of the LA-cowboy-machostud-surfdude the few times the studios agreed to ship them up here to finish the film. I didn’t want to live in LA and they didn’t want to shoot in Washington and that was pretty much that.

In some ways, movies allow you the to put the post college what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life decisions in the back closet for a few years to hang like an old coat waiting for winter. I guess that’s the appeal really. A few more years to set aside the maxim, “everyday life always happens someplace else.”

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