Horse Post Number 2
December 15, 2014.
They say if you fall off a horse, you should get right back on.
This of course is great advice unless, that is, in the course of actually falling off the horse you broke your pelvis. The saying would then need to be amended to "If you fall off a horse and break your pelvis, let the EMT's do all the heavy lifting."
Don't worry dear reader, I haven't fallen off a horse recently and my pelvis is intact.
I did shoot an episode of an upcoming docu-series for The FOX Network about legends and myths of the American West and was required to ride a horse.
Let me state for the record that besides those coin-operated horses outside of grocery stores, I have been in the saddle many times. It's just been a long time. Let me state, once more, I'm talking about horseback riding here, people. Get your minds out of the gutter.
When I arrived on set the other morning, I was handed my script and immediately did what every actor does: I looked to see how much dialogue I had and in how many scenes.
What I didn't see right away were the words above my dialogue. As I walked to set, script in hand, I glanced at the words that weren't my words to speak. There, in italicized print, very clearly, if only I had read them were the words:
McCandles races up to barn...
Races.
I read it several times.
Races. Races. Races. Races.
Yep! No matter how I looked at it, the word was the same.
Races. Me. There it was in black and white! Apparently I was expected to race up to the barn...on...a...oh shit.
I was not only going to have to ride, I was going to have to race. Well, to be honest, the horse was going to have to race. I just needed to hang on to my pelvis and pray for the best.
Seeing my script in hand, the director asked if I had any questions.
Yes. Yes I do. I do have some questions.
First off, is there any chance there is a robot horse on set for me to ride?
Secondly, will the entire set be blanketed with mattresses?
Thirdly, is there a paramedic standing by?
And here, in no particular order, is just a sampling of some of the other 500 questions running through my mind:
~Do I have a stunt double?
~How close is the nearest hospital?
~Can't we CGI this whole thing? They're doing some pretty advanced things with facial mapping these days.
~Can I have a month to practice?
~Can I be glued to the saddle?
The answer, as you probably guessed, was no. To all those questions.
Shit.
The trainer, a guy who has been probably been riding since before he could walked towards me, leading a horse along with him. We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. We walked to my starting mark, about 80 yards down a snow-covered gravel road. I was on one side of the horse. He was on the other.
Let me just say that as soon as the horse and I looked into each other's eyes, he knew. Not the trainer. The horse! The horse knew right away!
Double shit.
He stared into my eyes, and my soul, and he knew instantly I hadn't been on a horse in a while. He snorted once and shook his head. As GOD is my witness, that horse shook it's head as if to say "Great! Another schmuck novice!"
I smiled at him, but it was no use.
He was in for a long morning and he knew it. Nothing I said or did, no amount of sugar cubes in my outstretched hand, would change the fact he was going to have to put up with me. I knew the look all too well.
The trainer, I'll just call him Clint, looked at me from the other side of the horse. I'll just call him Goliath. With a smile he asked, 'Been a while or never?'
Great! Awesome! He could tell too. I quickly made a note to myself to never play poker with Clint or Goliath.
"A while," I said, my voice cracking a little.
"Don't worry. You'll be fine. Just let the horse do all the work and you'll be fine."
Well. Okay then! That sounded like a plan. I'll let the horse do all the work. I'll sit back and just enjoy the ride. Or not, as it turned out. I would have to do some work, like steering and braking.
Clint went over some basics with me. I mean basics, but they were important basics. We discussed where to grab the horse and where not to grab the horse. Really important tips. This was after all a dance lesson, and I needed to learn where it was okay to touch my partner because the wrong touch could result in words like thrown and trampling and crushed like a grape. I listened intently and made ten pages of mental notes. All the while Goliath turned his head to me as if to say "You better be paying attention."
I was. I really was paying close attention.
All the while this was going through my mind:
HORSEandMEgoneWRONG
First thing, when you're getting onto a horse, grab the mane not the saddle horn. Then there was something about the position of my toes and heels. Clint mentioned gripping the horse with my groin muscles and not my ankles and things suddenly got a little intimate. I was told to sit up straight and relax my feet. There was a note about how to hold the reins.
After less than ten minutes I was ready to go. I was needed on set...on the horse. Both of us. Together.
Let me just say that despite what the script said, I didn't exactly race up to the barn to confront Wild Bill Hickcock. No. I didn't. I looked more like a five year old riding a pony at a birthday. There I was, with my six shooter and big cowboy mustache clip-clopping along up the road looking about as menacing as a on lady on a hover-round.
"CUT!"
Big surprise there.
The director's notes on my first take were to be expected. Words like speed and more drama were used. I was just happy to be alive.
I turned Goliath around and headed back down the gravel road.
Take Two would go a little better. Goliath and I were starting to understand each other. We were starting to dance. Not exactly like Fred and Ginger, more like Fred and Barney, but at least we were dancing.
There would be more takes and with each I got better and surprisingly, faster. I was starting to understand the subtleties of turning and stopping. Goliath realized I was a total numbskull and breathed a little easier.
By Take Ten, Goliath and I were trotting quickly up to the barn. I shot my scenes and it was time for a new deal. I dismounted as gracefully as I could and handed the reins back over to Clint.
Goliath and I gave each other one more look and both breathed a sigh of relief. Then he raised his tail and proceeded to drop a huge pile of hot, steamy goodness onto the road.
Gee. I thought I did better that.
Just keeping it reel.
Copyright 2014
All Rights Reserved
They say if you fall off a horse, you should get right back on.
This of course is great advice unless, that is, in the course of actually falling off the horse you broke your pelvis. The saying would then need to be amended to "If you fall off a horse and break your pelvis, let the EMT's do all the heavy lifting."
Don't worry dear reader, I haven't fallen off a horse recently and my pelvis is intact.
I did shoot an episode of an upcoming docu-series for The FOX Network about legends and myths of the American West and was required to ride a horse.
Let me state for the record that besides those coin-operated horses outside of grocery stores, I have been in the saddle many times. It's just been a long time. Let me state, once more, I'm talking about horseback riding here, people. Get your minds out of the gutter.
When I arrived on set the other morning, I was handed my script and immediately did what every actor does: I looked to see how much dialogue I had and in how many scenes.
What I didn't see right away were the words above my dialogue. As I walked to set, script in hand, I glanced at the words that weren't my words to speak. There, in italicized print, very clearly, if only I had read them were the words:
McCandles races up to barn...
Races.
I read it several times.
Races. Races. Races. Races.
Yep! No matter how I looked at it, the word was the same.
Races. Me. There it was in black and white! Apparently I was expected to race up to the barn...on...a...oh shit.
I was not only going to have to ride, I was going to have to race. Well, to be honest, the horse was going to have to race. I just needed to hang on to my pelvis and pray for the best.
Seeing my script in hand, the director asked if I had any questions.
Yes. Yes I do. I do have some questions.
First off, is there any chance there is a robot horse on set for me to ride?
Secondly, will the entire set be blanketed with mattresses?
Thirdly, is there a paramedic standing by?
And here, in no particular order, is just a sampling of some of the other 500 questions running through my mind:
~Do I have a stunt double?
~How close is the nearest hospital?
~Can't we CGI this whole thing? They're doing some pretty advanced things with facial mapping these days.
~Can I have a month to practice?
~Can I be glued to the saddle?
The answer, as you probably guessed, was no. To all those questions.
Shit.
The trainer, a guy who has been probably been riding since before he could walked towards me, leading a horse along with him. We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. We walked to my starting mark, about 80 yards down a snow-covered gravel road. I was on one side of the horse. He was on the other.
Let me just say that as soon as the horse and I looked into each other's eyes, he knew. Not the trainer. The horse! The horse knew right away!
Double shit.
He stared into my eyes, and my soul, and he knew instantly I hadn't been on a horse in a while. He snorted once and shook his head. As GOD is my witness, that horse shook it's head as if to say "Great! Another schmuck novice!"
I smiled at him, but it was no use.
He was in for a long morning and he knew it. Nothing I said or did, no amount of sugar cubes in my outstretched hand, would change the fact he was going to have to put up with me. I knew the look all too well.
The trainer, I'll just call him Clint, looked at me from the other side of the horse. I'll just call him Goliath. With a smile he asked, 'Been a while or never?'
Great! Awesome! He could tell too. I quickly made a note to myself to never play poker with Clint or Goliath.
"A while," I said, my voice cracking a little.
"Don't worry. You'll be fine. Just let the horse do all the work and you'll be fine."
Well. Okay then! That sounded like a plan. I'll let the horse do all the work. I'll sit back and just enjoy the ride. Or not, as it turned out. I would have to do some work, like steering and braking.
Clint went over some basics with me. I mean basics, but they were important basics. We discussed where to grab the horse and where not to grab the horse. Really important tips. This was after all a dance lesson, and I needed to learn where it was okay to touch my partner because the wrong touch could result in words like thrown and trampling and crushed like a grape. I listened intently and made ten pages of mental notes. All the while Goliath turned his head to me as if to say "You better be paying attention."
I was. I really was paying close attention.
All the while this was going through my mind:
HORSEandMEgoneWRONG
First thing, when you're getting onto a horse, grab the mane not the saddle horn. Then there was something about the position of my toes and heels. Clint mentioned gripping the horse with my groin muscles and not my ankles and things suddenly got a little intimate. I was told to sit up straight and relax my feet. There was a note about how to hold the reins.
After less than ten minutes I was ready to go. I was needed on set...on the horse. Both of us. Together.
Let me just say that despite what the script said, I didn't exactly race up to the barn to confront Wild Bill Hickcock. No. I didn't. I looked more like a five year old riding a pony at a birthday. There I was, with my six shooter and big cowboy mustache clip-clopping along up the road looking about as menacing as a on lady on a hover-round.
"CUT!"
Big surprise there.
The director's notes on my first take were to be expected. Words like speed and more drama were used. I was just happy to be alive.
I turned Goliath around and headed back down the gravel road.
Take Two would go a little better. Goliath and I were starting to understand each other. We were starting to dance. Not exactly like Fred and Ginger, more like Fred and Barney, but at least we were dancing.
There would be more takes and with each I got better and surprisingly, faster. I was starting to understand the subtleties of turning and stopping. Goliath realized I was a total numbskull and breathed a little easier.
By Take Ten, Goliath and I were trotting quickly up to the barn. I shot my scenes and it was time for a new deal. I dismounted as gracefully as I could and handed the reins back over to Clint.
Goliath and I gave each other one more look and both breathed a sigh of relief. Then he raised his tail and proceeded to drop a huge pile of hot, steamy goodness onto the road.
Gee. I thought I did better that.
Just keeping it reel.
Copyright 2014
All Rights Reserved
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