"It's cazh." As in "casual." This would be the phrase that would haunt us.

As the alarm sounded at 7:30, we had no inkling of this, though. We were up, showered, dressed, and at 8:30, I said, "We need to be on the road."

Pard'ner looked at me, stunned. We were SUPPOSED to meet Camera-Man at the Studio at 10. It was only 8:30.

"Come on," I said, with urgency. We grabbed the purple comforter off of my bed and stuffed it into one of the black trash bags we'd originally used for waterproofing our bags. With any luck, they wouldn't clean up our room TODAY, either.

We got into La Bomba and there was Bad News. At some point yesterday, the muffler tape had given out.

Pard'ner looked under La Bomba. There was now a fist-sized hole in it. "Awww shit," he said. "We could get another one, but it's WELDED on!" We were now stuck with the blat, blat, blat.

As we pulled onto the Hollywood Freeway, my worst fears were confirmed. It was a parking lot. "Stay in this lane," I said. We got off at Riverside, and cut west to catch Laurel Canyon. Even if IT was a parking lot, too, at least we'd come out right on top of the studio. And, having lived at Santa Monica and Crescent Heights, I remembered that there USED to be a donut shop there.

Laurel Canyon WAS a parking lot. By the time we were over the hill, it was 9:32, and Pard'ner understood WHY we needed to be on the road at 8:30. As we neared Santa Monica, I pointed out a building to him: "That used to be the Starwood. Supposedly, the owner of the Starwood was the coke dealer John Holmes was muling for when the Laurel Canyon Murders took place."

"Wow!"

"I don't know if it's true, but I remember seeing Van Halen there when they were just a local band without a contract."

"Wow!"

"And there's the donut shop."

"Wow!"

I was not entirely convinced of Pard'ner's enthusiasm.

We got a dozen donuts and four cups of coffee. Then, we went to the studio. It was now 9:50.

[An aside: Pard'ner and I both smoke cigarettes. For the entirety of our stay in LA, we won't be able to smoke in restaurants, or in the Studio -- Camera-Man is an adamant non-smoker. BUT ever since last night, we've been HACKING OUR LUNGS OUT from trying to breathe the LA air. "You should give up smoking," we hear, often. Yeah. We don't cough when we smoke. We only cough when we're breathing THIS RANCID, POISONED AIR!!!!! Oy. Onward, as Mort Sahl used to say.]

Nobody showed up until 10:10. The Agent didn't show up until 11. We finally got a call telling us that the Makeup Lady was coming, from the VALLEY. OK.

In the meantime, we had time to realize that we didn't have any film for stills. We went and picked that up. We came back. Still no actors. We didn't have any sodas, ice, or douche for the ladies. We went out and picked THAT up. We came back. STILL no actors.

When we got back, it was after 11:30.

"Who're we shooting first?" Camera-Man asked.

"I thought you knew," I said.

"You're the director," he said.

"You work here ALL THE TIME," I said.

"They never tell me anything," he said.

"Sweet Jesus," I said.

The Agent wasn't sure, either. He asked the Office Manager, who told him she didn't know: she thought HE knew. Nobody knew who the hell we were going to be shooting.

An auspicious beginning, as the Chinese say.

Had I not witnessed this with my own eyes, I'd have never believed it.

Pard'ner was, by now, well into Tom Clancy's EXECUTIVE ORDERS, which he'd bought for just such an occasion. I tried to read the latest issue of AVN, but just ended up looking at the pictures.

After Pard'ner and I went downstairs to help the Makeup Lady drag up a completely loaded hand-truck full of makeup supplies, the sweet little girl who'd been guarding her gear near the little grocery store around the corner turned out to be our actress. Oh. She had ridden in with the Makeup Lady.

And she couldn't hardly speak a WORD of English.

Oh. This must be the Hungarian. It was now 12 noon. We'd been up since 7:30, and waiting since 10. She was going to be at LEAST 45 minutes in makeup. How did this happen?

Camera-Man came back and told me the Agent had told everybody (Makeup Lady included) "It's cazh."

I told the Agent: "You don't mind if I pay you in Monopoly money, then, right?"

I got the feeling that he might have actually felt a twinge of remorse, but then, he IS an agent, after all. Whatever.

Now, our actor shows up. He's a German Arab. I`m not making this up. The Makeup Lady finishes with our Hungarian, and we get them into the studio. We put tape in the camera.

Meantime, Makeup Lady, to be helpful, gives me their AIDS tests, and photocopies their IDs. Passports, naturally.

Suddenly, we're on the Ellis Island Porno Shoot. Fortunately, he -- let's call him "Zenza" -- speaks English, though no Hungarian. The Hungarian -- let's call her "Krisz" -- speaks ONLY Hungarian. Thankfully, we've already practiced communicating in pantomime.

Camera-Man has insisted on donuts and coffee. There are two donuts still left, and a cold fourth cup of coffee. Later, we will throw the two donuts away. Good thing I hadn't gotten the second dozen.

Krisz walks in in a skimpy pink robe (to let the elastic bands from clothes fade away) and grabs one of our bottles of Water & Vinegar douche. She disappears.

This had been a matter of some debate, since I don't know a damned thing about it (don't drink the stuff myself), and we finally asked the office manager what SHE thought best. "Keep it simple: water and vinegar." So, that's what we got, but only a two-pack until we knew how much "inventory" we'd need.

We make up the bed with the motel's purple comforter.

It begins.

***

Zenza removes clothing and rings, and gets on the bed. Krisz returns from the bathroom, and gets on the bed. We pull back the runners. Camera-Man runs color-bars.

He has lubricated himself from a small container with the "new" lube everyone uses -- a clear liquid, almost like water. In the old days, it was Albolene Cream, which was sometimes referred to as "penis butter" (which led to the occasional joke about a penis butter and petroleum jelly sandwich). Like everything else, technology has moved on. But LUBE is a vital necessity. We REMIND them to close the lid when they're done. We don't need another Exxon Valdez spill on our seamless.

We turn off the air-conditioning. Because there's no dialogue, and the soundtrack is NOT a primary concern here (for reasons that I've taken care of in pre-production) we can run a very silent fan we've got in the studio. Several actors will comment on what a Godsend this is. Without that fan, the Studio heats up ferociously.

Or I'm told that it does. Pre-production has eliminated THAT problem from this shoot. Score one for pre-production.

At first Camera-Man fights me on slating scenes: "We don't need to do that."

But I insist. There's a good reason for slating: If anything happens to the editor's notes, OR the tapes are mismarked, we always know what shot we're on if there's an actual marker on each scene. This also gives Pard'ner an Official and conspicuous duty, and that puts the actors' minds to rest that he isn't just some friend who's bribed us to be there. It also makes Pard'ner feel integral to the production -- as he most definitely IS.

There's another reason: It's Hollywood. The actors subconsciously will respond to being in a "real movie" as will Camera-Man. We slate in: Tape 1, Scene 1.

They are lying on the bed. Krisz is looking AWAY from us. Camera-Man calls to Krisz: "Turn your face to the camera." No response. "TURN YOUR FACE TO THE CAMERA." It's that old: If they don't respond to English, SAY IT LOUDER. But, for whatever reason, it works. She does.

"Make some noise." She stares at us blankly. "Moans and groans, no talking." (I don't want to have to synch dialogue to the action, AND I don't need to loop out TERRIBLE ad libbing. This will save us a lot of time in post-production. But, *try* getting the actors to do it ...)

No sound escapes her lips. (What is it about sex that makes everyone so DEADLY serious? Generally, in my experience, it's been FUN. But we'll be fighting this battle over the next two days with nearly everyone.)

Then, we have Zenza go down on Krisz, and we get the long, medium and close shots. The action is continuous.

What can I say about this? Your taste in what makes them attractive or NOT attractive is very much tied to your personal chemistry. No two people find the same people attractive or un-.

I've been doing this long enough, and Camera-Man has been doing this long enough that there is no more emotional charge to the scene than hospital workers feel in working with bodies.

A few days later, I ask Pard'ner what was the thing that MOST stood out in his mind about the shoot. This is what he said:

"I was surprised at how ... disconnected it was."

When he explained, it took me back to my first shoot, and I could explain that feeling: we are used to ONLY seeing sex with the heat, the passion, the emotional charge attached to it. In our own sex lives, the emotions and the sex are inseparable. But on a shoot, only the sex shows itself. The emotions are, by common consent, suppressed.

There is something disquietingly clinical about it all, the first time. It is a strange experience. It isn't bad -- it's just seeing sex filtered through an entirely different filter than we've seen before.

Camera-Man and I are very much concerned about light levels and about framing. For technical reasons, I can't use a lot of panning around, and we try to let the actors carry the action.

Pard'ner notices that we're running too hot on our exposure -- the actors are overexposing into the background, just a bit. We correct this by taking it down a couple of stops. Hereafter, we will ALL be utterly concerned with the saturation of forms on the monitor. From the actors' point of view, it must seem odd that the three men in the room -- Camera-Man, Pard'ner and I -- are looking at the monitor a lot more often than we're looking at them.

There's a good reason for this: if it doesn't get onto the "film" (and here I mean digital tape, but I fall into the old way of speaking), then it might as well have never happened.

I am watching them in my peripheral vision, of course, but I'm MUCH more concerned with the image on the monitor. THAT's the bottom line. After we've spent our money and built and torn down sets; after all the travel and meals and the rest of it, the ONLY thing we'll have will be several little tapes, smaller than a cassette, to represent our trouble. It is vitally important that we pay attention to what's being laid down by the camera.

It's kind of funny, really. We try to keep it light and breezy, of course, because Camera-Man and I know that if the actors are having a good time, it'll show. Conversely, if they're having a MISERABLE time, that'll show too, though we can use editing tricks to minimize it.

We're capturing TIME, and we pay very careful attention to the time we're capturing. We finish with him giving, her receiving, and reverse. She sucks, he reacts. In each case, we need footage of each part of the action: two-shot of them in position. Tight on what he's doing with his head (either moving or reacting) and tight on her head (either reacting or fellating).

We're creating a SIMULATION of reality -- it's NOT real. Unlike OUR experience, we can't simultaneously see and feel, hear and taste and smell. Most of what we've got to work with is sight and sound, and we have to capture them in a simulation of the way that sex is normally experienced, but it is very artificial on the set.

If her hair falls in front of the camera, we need to have it out of the way of her face -- totally unlike we'd do it in real life. The old porn cheat is to have him hold her hair back out of frame. And, in this shoot, the reverse: if his hair is in the frame, she's got to pull it back so we can SEE him.

In normal human sex, we FEEL cunnilingus and fellatio as a rule. Here, though, we've got to SHOW it, and that means we want the girl to "cheat" from a full profile to a three-quarters profile, exposing more of her face to the camera, hair out of the way. We can't have her hand blocking her face -- as often happens in real life.

These are our main concerns.

The great irony of porn is that those positions which are best for the camera are generally worst for the enjoyment by the participants. This is where acting comes in, and where KNOWING what porn acting is about is important for me, as the Director, and for Camera-Man. Mostly, I INDICATE what I'd like, but I leave the moment-by-moment direction to Camera-Man, so that there is a minimal amount of confusion.

Try screwing sometime under bright lights with TWO different people giving you conflicting instructions as to what to do, and you'll see what I mean.

Pard'ner is watching the scene, the time-code on the monitor, and making scene notes for editing, later. If there's something good about the scene, he writes it down. If there's a glitch, he writes that down, too. The more precise and detailed he can make his notes, the easier the editing, and, perhaps, the better the finished product will be.

Of course, in this case we keep going "Krisz! KRISZ!" and when she looks at us, we point to our arms, and say "Move your ARM, your ARM, dear. No! Not your leg, your ARM!"

And we say: "DON'T LOOK AT THE CAMERA!"

And: "Moan! MAKE NOISE!"

Krisz is very new at this, and not knowing English is a problem. Fortunately, Zenza is very professional, and PATIENT. Without his coolness, this scene wouldn't come off so smoothly. But that's part of the Biz, too. The experienced performers help the less so: here professional knowledge is transmitted, literally, by the laying on of hands.

As she gets into it, Krisz's English improves markedly, and we move through a litany, a Kama Sutra Drill Team: he goes down on her, she on him, she rides him, he rides her, "spoon" position, and, finally, he comes on her breasts.

Highlights of the raw footage (which we dump onto VHS and watch a few days later, back home) which is what they're hearing as they copulate artfully for us:

"Widen out to the breasts."

"Keep your face towards us."

"About thirty seconds more of that and then we go to the hard-core."

"Go for one breast or the other: pick a breast and stick with it."

"Go out of frame down towards her pussy."

"Move your hand to our side of his head, we can't see through his head. There you go."

"Keep your hand real low."

"Lick his balls -- don't look at me."

"Do it again from the balls up. OK: Action!"

"Keep looking at him -- No, look at HIM!"

"We're tight on your face. Give me lots of animation. Cheat your face towards the camera a little bit."

"A lot more tongue, Zenza."

"Your knee's in the way. Move it down."

"OK: Noise!"

"You're gonna need to move up a little `cause she can't move down any further."

"That's it. Perfect."

"Keep doing that."

"OK, now fall out of frame."

You get the idea.

About two hours after we went in, we emerge. We've shot about 3:1 (or three times the footage we'll need for the final cut). Krisz grabs the SECOND bottle of douche and disappears. Zenza gathers his clothes, but, not noticed at the time, he forgets his rings. We turn on the air-conditioning to cool off the studio.

Now, there are people STACKED UP in the halls, waiting to be shot. The Agent rushes up to me as I emerge from the sweatbox. "People are starting to back up," he says.

ExCUSE ME? I think. WE were there on time. Now *I'M* holding people UP? I look at the Agent.

"Don't worry," I tell him. "It's cazh."

(c) Hart Williams 1997

Hart Williams wrote and worked in the "Business" from 1977 to 1987. He wrote for, among others, HUSTLER, ADAM, FILM WORLD REPORTS, VIDEO X, OUI, VELVET and many others. His film credits include "Caught From Behind III." His video credits include "The Other Side of Lianna," which was, in 1985, the runner-up to "New Wave Hookers" for XRCO's "Video of the Year." After ten years "away" from the business, Williams suddenly found himself doing what he'd sworn he'd never do again: writing, producing and directing an XXX video.