The Creature of Joshua Tree

Just barely a week ago, a creature walked out of the mojave desert. It sluggishly dragged its body that, at first glance, appeared to be made from sand granules. With each heavy step a smoky wisp of dust curled off its form. A slight limp exposed the creature as weak, but it was difficult to get a read on any one emotion, as its face was covered in hair. Scars of unique sizes snaked up and down its arms and legs, as if created by a number of different predators. It was worn, and seeking refuge. Heading West, it eventually wandered into the city of Los Angeles. The creature chose a rather old looking building in which to hide out in. Inside one of the apartments it found a shower. The water blasted away at the poor beasts skin, turning the bottom of the tub into a small sand bar and revealing a splotchy pattern of pale to light brown flesh.  When clean, the farmer-tanned creature found a couch that was just his size when extended fully. For two straight days it laid there, feeding itself with both delicious meats and cheeses as well as entertainment from the flicker box before him. At the end of the two days, the creature rose from his cushiony dream world and was ready to become a man again. A man named Travis.

So who missed me? I double locked your cages, so I know you’re all still here. It’s been a full month since I vanished, but if you read my blog you’ll know that I was off doing some acting in the desert. This entry will be all about the production of the Ward Roberts action/comedy/western DUST UP!

If you know me then you know I enjoy performing. I have always been involved in theater as well as comedy, but acting (like actual career style acting) was never something I was pursing in a serious manner. This is because I am a filmmaker and very much adore writing, directing and editing. With those three mistresses licking my ears and twisting my nipples, I have very little time to add another threat to that list. When Ward asked me to play the part of Herman, the lovable but douchey meth addict, in his new feature film, it had come at the perfect time. I had recently wrapped production on my latest flick and was ready for something different without all the stress of being in charge. ACTING! PERFECT! Spending an entire month in the desert with all my friends. Yes, I was in. The following is a condensed account of that dizzying adventure.

DP stands for "Deadly Predator"

Shannon Hourigan was the cinematographer on the film, so once again we’d be working creatively together but in a much different way. We packed up our car and headed out, daisy fresh, to the high desert valley of Joshua Tree. We arrived a day early and madness was in the air…the good kind mostly. The crew was arriving, shoots were getting organized and paper work was feverishly getting signed and stamped. We were staying in a spare room of Ward’s mom’s house which was dubbed, “production central”. Other cast and crew members were sprinkled in the surrounding area. Some at the Joshua Tree Inn, and others at rented desert cabins. That night we had a meeting/welcome gathering by the pool at the Inn. Afterwards we retired to our respected beds to which we would, from that point on, see very little of.

Amber Benson and Aaron Gaffey on set

The first day of production was a breeze for me. I wasn’t in any scenes

, but I rode out to set in the A.M. to help get the ball rolling. I played the part of the grip and gaffer for the first half of the day while my fellow actors, Aaron Gaffey and Amber Benson, flirted on screen in the blazing desert sun. That first day made me realize that there would only be one certainty on this set: water would need to inhabit my insides at all times. The location was

cute little house in the middle of nowheresville. If you were to read the directions on how to get to it you would scan phrases like, “You’ll go a ways on the dirt road”, and “Take a left at the abandon car” and finally, “Follow the rusty bike around to the right”. We would be at this location for the next week, and in that time we would spill a good amount of the red stuff…and most of it would end up on me.

Herman, a.k.a., Herm-Dawg

The second day of shooting and I found myself staring in the mirror at a man I did not at first recognize, but a man who would soon steal my name and replace it with his own. Cargo shorts, sleevless t-shirt, sleeveless jean jacket, cowboy hat and a broken nose gave birth to the man who would kick the shit out of my body for four weeks. Fucking Herman.

The very first scene I shot was a brutal one. I was leaping off a porch and tackling Aaron, all while trying to stab him with a knife. It was a chaotic dance and one I literally threw myself into. Take after take I leapt off the porch, hitting the actor and the hard desert ground. When Ward finally got what he wanted I took inventory of my cuts and bruises. Generous but nothing impressive. it wasn’t until a few hours later my chest started to bother me. It hurt to bend, it hurt to breathe and worst of all it killed to sneeze. I was convinced I had broken a rib. As the days wore on I believe it was bruised pretty bad. I was able to work with it, but it sure did hurt.

Mike Nelson guards the fort

The rest of the week was more of the same. I arrived on set, got into costume and make-up and then got the shit kicked out of me. There was one night in which I was thrown in the middle of a drug-riddled crowd and a chain-link fence is wrapped around me. While they were un-curling the (NON)prop fence, I made a character choice and tried to escape, only to have my body yanked back by one of the goons (The always sweet smelling Mike Nelson). I tripped a little and fell backwards. At the same time the goons lost grip of the fence. Together we fell, towards each other. The sharp top ends of the fence landed first and my body second. My shoulder embedded itself in one of the pointy parts, creating a lovely little hole in my skin. The hand that was connected to the shoulder, scraped its way under the razor fence, tearing up my knuckle and leaving Freddy Kruger-like gashes down the back of my hand. Hurt but filled with adreniline, I sprung up shouting that I was fine. The scene continued and I started to jump around and scream. I was required to do many escape attempts that would all end up one place, on the desert floor. It is a hard and rocky terrain. One I do not recommend slamming your tender body against. Aside from adding more bruises and scrapes to my fleshy canvas of pain, I also came down a tad hard on my left leg. At first I swore I broke it, but after a moment I realized it must have been something else. That being said, I would not be able to use that leg to fall on the rest of the shoot (believe me, I tried…and almost cried).

Me getting gored. Wet, sticky, hot and cold!

Then came the two days  in which deserve sort of name…hmm…let’s call them THE 2 DAY SATAN LAP DANCE. Yeah, that works. The details are this: On one of our overnight shoots (10P.M. – 10A.M.) I had the pleasure of sitting outside in the cold-ass desert night, stuck in a chair for six hours and COVERED in blood and sticky gore. I was unable to move, so instead I decided to drink. With a bottle of Jack Daniels under my chair I quietly nipped the night away. People tried to bring me jackets and blankets but the blood was everywhere so I couldn’t really cover up. Our costume designer, Molly O’Haver, had these crazy mini-bean bag type things that you shake and then they get warm. So I ended up sitting on a bunch of them and putting them down my back. It actually helped so I wasn’t shivering so bad…well that and the half-bottle of whiskey doing side-strokes in my blood. By morning I was drunk as a desert skunk and happy as a desert clam to get the fuck out of that costume and blood. I was hosed down with…a hose, and sent home sticky and underwearless. A few days later we were working a day shoot (7A.M. – 7P.M.). I was instructed to sit back in the same chair while Tom Devlin re-applied the red and squishy to me. This was going to be a full twelve hour day of me, on this porch, in the desert sun. The lovely DP/Best Girlfriend Ever, Shannon Hourigan, built me a little shade contraption out of an umbrella and a c-stand. When I was in the shot, the shade was removed and I learned quickly that the blood acted as a conductor of heat. When the sun hit those spots on my body I felt like I was cooking in an oven. I’m still not speaking to the sun, although we have exchanged eye contact, so I think things are on the mend. Anyway. After about seven some hours in the sun, I then actually moved to the wooden floor of the porch for the rest of the five hours. Amber was also on the floor for the duration, so at least I had someone to talk to. Those two days, the two days that Satan grinded his sulfur burning ass on my crotch, were the worst of it for me. All else felt like a cake walk.

Devin Barry as Mo

Overnights were never fun and there were plenty of them. They always started out great though. We were out of the hot sun and into the cool desert night under millions of pin holes in the sky. Eventually it got cold and the hours dragged on. Our internal clocks would start to bash us over the heads with sleeping sand granules it stole from the Sandman…even HE wasn’t up at these ungodly hours. So the second half of the overnights were always a struggle, however, there was a silver lining to to them. The local desert watering hole (The Joshua Tree Saloon) had a 8A.M. to 10A.M. happy hour. $2 drinks. After a long night and morning we would head there for copius amounts of bloody mary’s and PBR’s. When happy hour ended, we retreated to whatever blanket we were calling bed and slept until our evening call time.

Gaffey and I in-between takes

The next location we shot at was a bar plopped down in the middle of nowhere. Now close your eyes and think about a bar. Now put that bar in the desert surrounded by nothing. Did the bar change in any way? Did it turn from a bar you could see yourself drinking in to a bar you could see yourself dying in? That was this bar. The place was a treasure trove of obscurity. A sunglasses case, selling glasses for $3, a rack of odd t-shirts, shelves of VHS tapes, a framed barbed-wire collection…etc. The place was filthy. The walls, the bar, the ceiling…the pool table. I’m not kidding! I have never seen a more disgusting pool table. There were dead bugs all over the slate and the balls had an unremovable layer of film. The kitchen (yes, this place served FOOD) was something out of ______________ (insert favorite apocalypse movie). One of the actors, Jeremiah Birkett, even had his own run in with a cat-sized rat. Devin Barry had a wind scorpion crawl up his pant leg. Shannon Hourigan: “Should we kill it?” Mike Nelson: “Does anyone have a gun?” I haven’t even told you about the flies yet! To say that they were everywhere is underselling it. These bastards were the Agent Smith’s of the sky. You’d swat one and forty would rise up to take its place. It was perfectly gross…and perfect for the villains lair! It was my first ever bar fight scene and it was pretty damn fun. Al Burke, ex-pro WWF wrestler and stunt man, tossed me around that place like a rag doll. I even got to do the classic “bar slide”!

Gaffey and Shannon on the last day of shooting

After that things relaxed a bit. One note-worthy place we shot was a square mile piece of land owned by a man named Garth. He had build a concrete tee pee in which he lived that was deep in the desert mountains. The area was strikingly beautiful, and after so much hard work it was good on our souls to be out there. Garth had even built a small swimming pool in the side of a mountain along with a sauna. If you’re into nature and meditation and stuff like that, then this is the place to visit. There was even a little amphitheater built in the rocks. We also met Don. Don was a man who lived under a rock. That’s who Don was. He was super great and even helped us out by holding reflectors from time to time.

Dust Up was a great experience not only because I got to work with so many of my favorite people, but I also got to work with some shiny new people as well, and they turned out to be swell. Indie film is an ever-growing family unit, and the more talented and down-to-earth people you bring into it, the more fantastic movies and experiences you’ll make in the future. As for the acting, well, it’s not my career path, but damn it if I don’t want to do it again. I miss it. Maybe there will be other opportunities down the line. For now, though, I shall focus on storytelling. Thanks for reading all about my adventures. I hope it was damn thrilling. Right now I have to go finish post on my own film, The Dead Inside. Stick around for more updates.

Much love

Travis

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