Life On Mars, a Distant Location
By Butler Stephens
The Red Planet is a foreboding place. Howling winds in excess of a hundred miles per hour are common. The red dust is so thick and persistent, even a common dust mask can’t cut it. We’re securely into the next century and a lot of myths have been dispelled. First and foremost, there is water on mars and plenty of it. There is life on Mars, wild life, and plenty of that! I witnessed it with my own dust scratched corneas. The water is crystal pure. In fact, it’s Crystal Geyser and it exists by the caseload.
The “wild life” takes the form of human-like figures in macabre make-up and wardrobe, complete with body piercings in every visible orifice. Some say they’re ghosts reflecting their past lives as fierce warriors. But the real cast of characters, or shall I say crew of characters is the crew of JOHN CARPENTER’S GHOSTS OF MARS, a Sony Pictures release for the summer of 2001, “a Spacey Oddity”.
Hailing from all corners of the U.S., they descended on Mars, AKA the Zia Pueblo, northern New Mexico, in early August, 2000. The elaborate sets designed by Bill Elliott were erected over a period of months in the center of a gypsum mine on the Zia Pueblo. To add to the illusion of the Red Planet, the entire mine site used for production was spray painted a rust red. Combining that with gypsum dust and raging windstorms makes for an arduous location experience. Due to frequent monsoon season showers, Gabrielle McKenna, stand-by painter and her paint crew were constantly doing “touch-ups” with Hudson sprayers as well as motorized paint sprayers. John Carpenter himself noted a tout-framed McKenna was undoubtedly the hardest working crewmember on the Red Planet. She drove daily an hour each way from Santa Fe, to the Martian location. No mean feat considering the working hours were from 5pm to 5am! In order to complete the illusion of life on Mars, one had to shoot the entire production as night exteriors. Six weeks of nights can definitely take its toll on one’s physical and mental state. McKenna and her commuting partner, George Stephenson SOC, camera operator had to keep each other awake with long stories and bad jokes as the rosy fingered dawn accompanied them home to Santa Fe each day. Memories of Brent Hershman might be appropriate here.
The second half of production was continued in a similarly bizarre location – an electrical sub-station in Eagle Rock, California. More about that later.
Since the location “night life” consisted of work, one had to substitute it for “day life.” This primarily consisted of frequent visits to the local pueblo casinos and other hot spots. For those not inclined to risk their per diem there were several fine golf courses in the vicinity providing adequate recreation for golf fanatics such as Steve Smith, camera operator; Gary Kibbe, director of photography; and Charlie Saldana, key grip.
Harley-Davidson buffs Rick Drapkin 1st AC, and Bob Krattiger, chief lighting technician (gaffer) were in their element in New Mexico – no helmet requirement! They took a wonderful ride on their Fat Boys and Sportsters to an annual Harley meet in Durango, Colorado on Labor Day weekend. Thanks to a great transpo department they were able to bring their “toys” on location. The machines arrived in New Mexico without a scratch but sadly the return trip to Los Angeles, was a different story. Rick’s pristine machine had some serious dings. The crew was housed in various hotels in Rio Rancho, a bedroom community adjacent to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Rio Rancho was placed on the map a few years ago by Intel Corporation of computer chip fame. Located near the crew hotels, it just so happened Intel had a high priority job in progress which required a 24/7 work schedule. Consequently, the local watering hole altered its hours to accommodate the employees’ after hours R&R. Opening at 6 AM couldn’t have been more perfect for the crew of GHOSTS OF MARS which was headed for the hotels about that time. Chugging a few brewskies at that hour of the morning was another mind twister for grip and electric, but they handled it admirably.
By the end of August, the monsoon season was in full bloom. Days were fairly predictable. First a strong gusty wind would blow through the Martian set of bunker-like stucco buildings shaped like pyramids with their peaks lopped off. Ominous dark cumulus clouds would form over the set and then as if special effects had turned on the rain birds, the downpour ensued. Camera assistants scurried madly covering their carts with blue plastic tarps. Video village was the first priority of course as Carpenter, a striking figure with his Einstein-like shock of white hair, headed for the bunkers. This proved ineffective after a while as the set buildings were not waterproof. The roofs were structurally sound but tarpaper had not been used, resulting in leaks between every sheet of plywood. Most of the crew would huddle in the craft service pavilion which doubled as a set building. They soon learned where to stand on the dirt floor to avoid the steady drips from the ceiling.
Caroline Kramer, craft service person extraordinaire, tirelessly provided refreshments to the wet and weary crew. Her wonderfully thick French accent calmed even the most frustrated crew member. Her craft service trailer, refuge from the rain and windswept set, was a remarkable center of efficiency complete with a self-serve cappuccino bar. Gracing the walls were some of her exquisite charcoal pencil portraits exhibiting another of her many talents.
Just as suddenly as the torrential downpour had begun, it stopped. The crew looked up to the soaked plywood ceiling trying to hear if there were any more drops pelting the roof. There were none. They began to filter out of the pavilion, hot coffee in hand. “Back to work!” came the unnecessary cry from a neophyte production assistant.
Now McKenna really had her work cut out for her. The rain had dispersed much of the red dye from the ground and thus a redo was necessary. This would become de rigeur for the duration of production. She gathered her crew and fired up the paint generator. Her Reeboks took on the rust red hue of the Martian soil though she managed to keep her clothing relatively stain free. This was not the case with her motley crew which appeared to be covered from head to toe with the water-based dye.
In order to heighten the effect of the Red Planet, Director of Photography Gary Kibbe ASC used red gels on scores of MaxiBrutes scattered throughout the Martian landscape. These were regularly monitored by electrician Tommy Cantrell who would mount his ATV “Mule” and go screaming along the ridges of the gypsum mine, dust flying in his wake, in pursuit of a fallen gel frame. It was Tommy and his hardworking crew who strung miles of four-ought cable around the gypsum mine connecting the MaxiBrutes and other lighting units. Each of a dozen or more Condors were continuously manned by electricians who remained at their posts like Roman sentinels in the night. With the onset of Fall weather they endured high winds and increased chill factor at 80 feet in the air. The only conditions that brought them down were the occasional lightning storm and a half hour lunch.
Lunch was a euphemism for a midnight feast. The catering tent, a red and white striped circus-like pavilion was atop the mine and thus an uphill trek on foot. Numerous vans were pressed into service in order to expedite troop movement, but hardier souls preferred to hike. Not unlike a thirteenth century crusade, the Martian warriors peppered amongst the film crew made their way up the quarter mile of rough terrain to the top of the hill. If it wasn’t raining one was covered in dust by the caravan of minivans that passed by. If it was raining, one was slipping and sliding in the ankle deep gypsum clay. By the time they reached the catering tent, the cast and crew were out of breath, tired and hungry. The location altitude was literally a mile high requiring a few days of even weeks for one to acclimate.
Mario’s Catering did a fine job of preparing an ample variety of entrees for the Martians, ghosts and crew. Their tastes were as varied as their planets of origin. Huge barbecue pits were set up almost every night to grill salmon steaks, lamp chops, London broil, and occasionally lobster tails! No one went hungry, not even the vegetarians who savored grilled bell peppers, zucchini squash and spinach soufflé. Haagen-Dazs ice cream was served every night along with a plethora of pies and cakes. About the only complaint ever muttered was “Oh, I ate too much!”
After six weeks on location in New Mexico, GHOSTS OF MARS had reached its halfway point and it was time to retreat to Los Angeles for the completion of production. Like Ringling Brothers Circus, they wrapped on a Friday at 3 AM, packed up the trucks and headed for L.A., a distance of approximately 850 miles. The call time for Monday was 3 PM and they made it! The only thing that didn’t fare too well was Rick Drapkin’s beloved Harley. A nasty ding in the gas tank and scratches in the highly polished exhaust pipe. No names please!
From the pristine starlit nights of Northern New Mexico to the hazy skies of LA, the crew resumed production at an electrical power sub-station in Eagle Rock. Although most the scenes were interior jail sequences, the shooting schedule continued to be split days and nights. Something to do with Mr. Carpenter not being an early riser, or so it was rumored. This turned out to be fortuitous as one never really had a traffic problem on the way to work.
The call time gradually receded to 10 AM and wrap time was a respectable 10 or 11 PM. As an added benefit, Gary Kibbe ASC, George Stephenson SOC, and Brett Peters, 1st AC were actually able to attend screened dailies at FotoKem lab almost every morning!
The power plant was situated in a canyon above Eagle Rock and access was primarily by crew minivans from a parking lot about a half mile below. As it was monitored by a full-time security guard, one would think one’s vehicle would be secure in the designated parking lot. Not so, as Tommy Cantrell, electrician would discover.
The call came on a walkie to an AD about 2:30 PM. Apparently the security guard noticed some suspicious activity as two unidentified individuals entered the parking lot. One got out of the car and the driver returned to the entrance. Within minutes a ’98 Honda Accord coupe drove up to the other car at the exit and they both sped off. The astute guard noted the license plate number of the Honda (the stolen vehicle!) but failed to note that of the getaway vehicle. Tommy’s beloved Honda was ‘gone in 60 seconds!’
Somewhat like closing the barn door after the cows have escaped, ID badges and windshield signs were issued to each crew member after this unfortunate incident to prevent unauthorized personnel from entering the parking lot. Though a valiant attempt was made to retrieve Tommy’s Honda, as of this writing it has not been recovered. The executive producer, Sandy King, God bless her, offered Tommy a new one but he really wanted his ’98 or one just like it. The incident garnered a lot of mileage from the AD department as every day thereafter the call sheet included a Xeroxed collage of Tommy and his Honda “found” in different parts of the world. From the Golden Gate to the great pyramids of Egypt, there was Tommy’s missing Honda in various stages of dismemberment. Milk carton photos were sure to be next.
Though the power station was without wind, dust and monsoons, it did have its annoyances: primarily the constant high voltage buzz that permeated one’s eardrums all day and night. Rumors of brain cancer ran rampant. Fortunately the loud drone could not be heard inside the massive concrete buttressed set. Willie Burton, Academy Award winning sound mixer, was able to “roll off” any extraneous noise eliminating the hackneyed “waiting on sound” phrase. Willie and his boom operator, Marvin Lewis were the most mellow members of the crew. They never became flustered regardless of the oftentimes trying conditions and consistently delivered superb sound.
The production continued without a hitch with one exception. The lead actress fell ill with walking pneumonia and the company had to shut down for nearly a week. Angie Athayde, production assistant, and her associates made daily crew calls updating them on the actress’ prognosis. The crew could hardly take advantage of the time off as they were on a 24 hour alert. At week’s end, the actress had recovered and the cameras resumed their role of capturing more exciting footage. Appropriately, the bizarre production of GHOSTS OF MARS wrapped on the eve of Halloween.
