The Animators get their first look at The Big Board
The Rosetta Stone that is The Big Board
As best I could tell, the job had already been scheduled through 2025, which gave Ms. Tuolumne County an opportunity to point out my lack of experience (one minute) of working on The Big Board. She did this in her best Elaine Stritch imitation.
Me: “Looks like you’ve got all the shots lined up nicely through the next year . . . or century. I can’t tell.”
Ms. Tuolumne County: “Hah! Not even close.”
Me: “I was being complimentary. Looks very organized.”
Ms. Tuolumne County: “No you weren’t. You were making fun of all my hard work and effort, and the hard work and effort of everyone involved in this movie.”
Me: “Jackie.”
Ms. Tuolumne County: “You think this is easy? It takes a deep understanding of all the various departments involved in the process. You’re just being a jerk.”
Me: “Jackie.”
After several more admonishments, Ms. Tuolumne County fell into an exhausted sleep and Phil took me through The Big Board, but not before a heart to heart about the trials and tribulations of every pregnant woman everywhere.
Phil: “She thinks you’re going to steal her job.”
Me: “Are you joking? She does know I’ve been trying to get out of this Nickelodeon Nirvana for the past six weeks.”
Phil: “Doesn’t matter. It’s a foregone conclusion that you have more experience than she does which bothers her.”
Me: “This conversation has taken a turn towards Stupid. She’s been on this job for over a year. She’s scheduled it, if I’m now reading this flow chart—”
Phil: “Big Board.”
Me: “Okay, if I’m properly reading this Big Board, drawn up by the Sphinx from what I can tell, Nightmare is scheduled through four weeks after her delivery date. That tells me she’s got a pretty good handle on the methodologies of stop-motion.”
Phil folded his arms, and drummed his chin with his fingers. I hated when he did that, and he’d been doing it a lot.
Me: “She could probably waltz right back in here when her time is up and take over right where she left off. Wouldn’t miss a beat.”
Phil: “Hold that thought.”
Phil picked up the phone and hit the intercom.
Phil: “Eraser Head, Dash Riprock, Minnie Moose, and Beelzebug, please report to the Big Board.”
From everywhere but a doorway or hallway, four animators entered the room. They crowded around the wall that held all the pertinent information for every shot Ms. Tuolumne County had scheduled. A rough transcript of their measured commentary is below.
Dash Riprock: “F&%K a duck!”
Eraserhead: “Duck a F&%K”
Minnie Moose: “F&%KING PRODUCERS.”
Beelzebug: “I can’t F&%KING do this by then.”
Animator with Purple Hair: “I’ll quit this F&%KING sideshow!”
Eraserhead: “What the F&%K!”
Beelzebug: “F&%K all of you!”
Eraserhead: “What the F&%K?”
Animator with Purple Hair: “Dash already said that, you F&%KING dweeb.”
Eraserhead: “F&%K you, you F&%KING F&%K.”
That last line repeated about 30 times and then another fistfight broke out between five guys, and I’m relatively sure of the gender, who could not have even taken down the cameramen who played slap and tickle over a mini-Worrall head and World War II era camera. It lasted at least six seconds before they disappeared like the magic trick which had deposited them here on Earth thirty years ago.
Phil: “I think you can tell that The Big Board as it appears now
will not look anything like this in very short order.”
I did detect a little smugness in his comment.
Me: “Should I assume that scene will play itself out every day until Jackie’s maternity leave is over?”
Phil: “No. Sometimes they won’t speak to you.”
MONDAY (HAH!): MORE SCHEDULING FUN
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