The credits rolled around ten-forty-five. It was summer, after all, and it didn't start getting dark until almost eight-thirty. Previews of coming attractions rolled while there was still sunlight.
Movies in the 80s were blissfully shorter. It didn't have anything to do with attention spans. THE TERMINATOR clocked in at 107 minutes. FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH- 90 minutes. The original Indiana Jones- 115 minutes. BEVERLY HILLS COP 105 minutes. CAMP GROUND II- 93 minutes. Perfect for a drive-in.
One-Sheet for Camp Ground II
(Image courtesy of Griswold Studios Archives)
Alvi Trout and his friends chilled. They watched the cars start their migration out of the Galaxy. While they waited, the other four pumped Alvi for information about plot and character development and something Alvi was keen on spotting: continuity. Those moments when something is in the background in one take but missing in another then returns in a third take. Alvi told them he had noticed a glass of water sitting on the ranger's office countertop. First, it had lipstick prints on it, then it was clean, then the prints were back.
Chuck Phillips asked him how he noticed that and Alvi told him he watched the background of the movie as much as he watched the movie. Alvi explained when he started making movies he'd personally make sure there weren't errors as blatant as those.
The cars thinned. The friends packed up their picnic gear and headed down the hill. They had just gotten under the overpass when they heard the roaring of a motorcycle followed by the bellowing of a truck horn. Breaks squealed, horns blared. There was a horrific sound of metal striking metal. Vehicles heading east on Galaxy Drive stopped abruptly.
A riderless motorcycle crashed to the pavement from the overpass.
Alvi flipped the power switch on his Super Eight camera. There was just enough light from the streetlights to film the spinning front wheel of the bike.
This brush with death would haunt Alvi Trout for most of his career. Only moments before he and his friends had been standing in that general vicinity. If it had happened any sooner, one or more of them could have been injured or worse, killed. The image of the spinning wheel would go on to become the logo for True Cinema Studios.
In his memoir, Alan True would write, "There was just something metaphorical about it. Motorcycle. Cycle. Spinning. I felt it was the perfect symbol to build a studio around."
He wasn't wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment