Episode 502 "The Enemy of Good"POSTED BY: Adam E. Fierro JANUARY 10, 2006 
*The comments and opinions expressed below are solely those of their respective writers, and not those of FX Networks, LLC, Twentieth Century Fox, or their related and affiliated entities.*
Wednesday was explosion day. The scene called for the Strike Team to use C4 to blow a hole through the interior wall of a duplex, allowing them to run from one unit into the adjacent unit to take down a suspect. Strike Team take-downs are nothing new. But blowing holes in walls to get there is, and I was concerned about it looking good.
Hundreds of decisions are discussed and made during an episode, and most things that occur on the set are controllable. But explosions don't take notes. Dean White was the director. He's talented, and had done a great job on a previous episode of mine. But Dean was nervous about the explosion, and so was I.
Our production staff needed to find the right location. Could we find a building that was tagged for demolition? Could we control the damage inside an existing structure? Blowing through an exterior wall was suggested, but didn't serve the story well enough and was ultimately rejected. Finally we found a guy who had a house and didn't care what we did to it. I'm not sure why. I'd like to believe he saw his home as a living canvas, and therefore welcomed us, as artists, to destroy it. He probably just needed the money.
What I was hoping for in this episode; what I was desperate for from this scene, was a water cooler moment. That thing that people talk about. That thing they remember. Sometimes that thing is the difference between a good Shield episode, and a great one. Or, it can become the permanent stain of a good idea gone bad. I was pulling for great episode over permanent stain.
The morning had gone smoothly. The whole episode had. Five good days out of seven, but the explosion was still looming. I was in my chair, the one with my name on the back, when I noticed people moving toward the street. I walked out to see the entire crew congregated around the explosion guy. I dont know what else to call him. He was explaining to everyone, in very even tones, that what we were about to do was dangerous. Flying debris, damage to hearing, etc. I was fine with it initially. It wasnt until I went into the room and saw the device that scene quality gave way to outright fear.
He said it was an air cannon, but it looked like a giant funnel attached to an air-conditioner. Explosion Guy, the same one who gave us the safety talk a few minutes before, was attending to last minute details. He looked at ease. Relaxed, even. He stood with the cannon like you or I would stand with a Labrador puppy. A man at perfect peace with his powers of destruction. I watched with envy until I decided the right place for me was away from the canon. Far away. I put a courageous face on and walked outside to face the crew.
The crew and the actors were milling around, waiting for the moment. The explosion. They looked professional and unconcerned enough, but inside I knew they were terrified. How often in a day does your work involve an activity that could kill you? But if they chose to deal with their fear by feigning indifference, great. And since I was the only one on the set with a title, Supervising Producer, I decided to join in their subterfuge.
Minutes ticked by like hours. Finally the 1st A.D. told everybody to stand back. He encouraged people to go all the way to the end of the block. Sound advice. Can you be too safe around an explosion? Probably not. So I waited for a few of the women to start away from the house then I quickly stepped in line. I took a position, a full block away. I noticed a spot near a woman who happened to be the show's medic, and sat. The 1st A.D. came by again to say we were seconds away. We had been handed earplugs, and he told us to put them in. He said if we wanted to be extra careful we could also cup our hands over our ears. I decided to do it in an effort to encourage safety to the crew by example. For a moment I considered moving even farther away. In the event of a catastrophic accident, I, as a writer on the Shield, would need some of my limbs to produce more material for the show. But remembering my position as the only titled person on the set, I bravely stayed behind with the others. I cupped my ears, glared at the crew people around me who went recklessly without protection, and waited.
Minutes now ticked by like days. It was agony. I wanted it to be over. I wanted to live.
It sounded like a pop. Like someone had blown into a plastic bag and slammed it between their palms. It was nothing, and I was embarrassed. I did a quick inventory of my appendages, then began to worry. Was the explosion big enough? Would it look real enough? Would people be talking at the water cooler about that explosion on The Shield, or would the episode, and the writer, be forever considered a stain on the otherwise great accomplishments of the show. I haven't seen Dean's director's cut yet. But once again, I'm nervous.
Edited by vic.mackey - 18/1/2006, 23:02
tu poi mettere chi vuoi in firma...ci mancherebbe..
