A Good Day
The gray rain wall dropped out of the sky. Lightning. Then thunder.
We, the already-tired crew on the feature film Yellow Day, were stuck. We quickly covered the large cameras in heavy plastic and donned rain gear while Bob, our Dutch production manager, called it for the day.
Not good.
Forty employees sitting idle is not cheap. And I’m the executive producer/writer of Yellow Day. I’m looking at every rain drop and thinking each one costs us a dollar.
I look out onto the set, which is anything but a set.
This is the Pavilion. The Pavilion at Camp Grace.
Camp Grace is normally covered in sun and green with kids running across its plains. Camp Grace, the beautiful and sweeping land nestled on the edge of Mobile, Alabama. Camp Grace, which hosts special needs camps, retreats, and other various outreach programs throughout the year at no cost to participants. Camp Grace, owned by the generous Pilot family.
We were shooting a movie at Camp Grace, and now the wind, rain, and lightning said, “Stop.”
Rain was bound to happen, but for two weeks we’d been in the clear. It now seemed God saved all the rain for one day and was cashing out. Angry rain. Slamming the Pavilion roof.
I really haven’t talked about the Pavilion yet.
The Pavilion at Camp Grace was the best place to be when the rain came. Had the rain come when we were at the ropes course, I’m not sure what we’d have done. But the rain came on the Pavilion shoot day. The Pavilion. Spacious and open with a thick, metal roof. A full, industrial kitchen. A large stage and walking area, seating hundreds of people. The Pavilion, which rests on the edge of a majestic lake stocked with fish for kids’ rod and reels. The Pavilion, made of beautiful wood and black iron. Looks kind of like a docked ship. I’d often thought it seemed a pirate ship with the tough film crew. A film crew now capsized, with jaded faces, far different from the bright campers around us.
Yep. I said campers. They were all around us, about a
We, the already-tired crew on the feature film Yellow Day, were stuck. We quickly covered the large cameras in heavy plastic and donned rain gear while Bob, our Dutch production manager, called it for the day.
Not good.
Forty employees sitting idle is not cheap. And I’m the executive producer/writer of Yellow Day. I’m looking at every rain drop and thinking each one costs us a dollar.
I look out onto the set, which is anything but a set.
This is the Pavilion. The Pavilion at Camp Grace.
Camp Grace is normally covered in sun and green with kids running across its plains. Camp Grace, the beautiful and sweeping land nestled on the edge of Mobile, Alabama. Camp Grace, which hosts special needs camps, retreats, and other various outreach programs throughout the year at no cost to participants. Camp Grace, owned by the generous Pilot family.
We were shooting a movie at Camp Grace, and now the wind, rain, and lightning said, “Stop.”
Rain was bound to happen, but for two weeks we’d been in the clear. It now seemed God saved all the rain for one day and was cashing out. Angry rain. Slamming the Pavilion roof.
I really haven’t talked about the Pavilion yet.
The Pavilion at Camp Grace was the best place to be when the rain came. Had the rain come when we were at the ropes course, I’m not sure what we’d have done. But the rain came on the Pavilion shoot day. The Pavilion. Spacious and open with a thick, metal roof. A full, industrial kitchen. A large stage and walking area, seating hundreds of people. The Pavilion, which rests on the edge of a majestic lake stocked with fish for kids’ rod and reels. The Pavilion, made of beautiful wood and black iron. Looks kind of like a docked ship. I’d often thought it seemed a pirate ship with the tough film crew. A film crew now capsized, with jaded faces, far different from the bright campers around us.
Yep. I said campers. They were all around us, about a