"Jonny added more nachos," the art director proclaimed...

So naturally, a film about residents of a trailer park would be nothing without, uh, nachos? This is something I realized when I sat in on MDIA 419 (the class behind "Trailerpark") last Thursday, February 26, from 6-8 p.m.

I walked down the first floor hallway in Bentley craning my neck left and right in hot pursuit of room 129. I was late...as usual. I can't say this was the most inconvenient example of being late in my life (my mother likes to say I will be late for my own funeral), but rest assured that I felt sufficiently awkward walking into the PACKED classroom. Whoa, definitely not expecting there to be 70 students filling up every row except for the first several. Just sit in the first seat you spot. Just blend in and try not to be noticed. Yes, because that's possible in a room full of people who spend every weekend shooting a feature film together. I wrote in my official-looking leather reporter's notebook, "I am intimidated beyond belief." (I'm not supposed to admit stuff like this, am I? That's not like, part of the journalism game, is it? We're supposed to be totally confident and informed and never back down when we ask tough questions.)

I realized that as the meeting went on, I was just making myself feel more awkward than necessary. Crew members appeared so comfortable when addressing the sizable group of their peers that it was easy to feel at-home with the "Trailerpark" kids. First to address the group was coordinating producer Conor Hogan. He read portions of a letter sent to him by the crew's Michigan host family-of-sorts, which expressed how impressed the couple was with the group's professionalism the previous weekend during a shoot in Michigan. Prof Lewis seemed pleased but not terribly surprised; he knows what these amateurs are capable of.

Hogan also mentioned that "Trailerpark" will soon be acquiring press in the mobile home trade market. I chuckled, inexplicably. My first thought was, I'm sure mobile home manufacturers will enjoy seeing photos of the film's truly epic trailer-burning (sense the sarcasm, folks -- I know it's oft-lost in translation on the Web). I learned about the "Trailerpark" PR team's lofty press plans later in the meeting, which have more to do with contacting MTVu and every major Ohio newspaper than any trailer trade pub. Such is the nature of these things.

Next up was the post-production team. Editor Benn Draher presented the class with a rough cut of the trailer-burning scene, which starts out with the trailer park residents quibbling over a cigar box filled with money. I got to see the other side of the scenes that were filmed the day I visited set and I must say, I was impressed about how professional it looked even on a rough cut. The trailer-burning looked saturated and luminous, while the fire-light that reflected on the actors' faces reminded me of moonlight reflections on the water. After much excitement from the tight-knit group, Draher decided to show an alternate editor of the scene. This time instead of featuring the quiet guitar strumming of Iron & Wine as the film score, "The Final Countdown" played as the fire blazed. Just as Draher obviously intended, hearty laughs from the crew ensued, right on cue as if it were scripted.

The audio team, led by Jack Martin, was next to present. The next thing I knew I hear guitar lines that seemed quite familiar to my ears -- those of Tim Race of Russenorsk*, one of my favorite local bands. Martin informed the group that the tracks were rough cuts and that more layers will be added.

The art department, headed by Lauren Malizia, proved its randomness next by speaking of hair dye, nacho-making, nut-lovin' characters and cleaning supplies. College students who probably don't even clean their own hours and apartments on a regular basis are making plans to clean trailers this Friday. I feel like it would be easy for most film-viewers to forget about the importance of the art department, but I understand its importance in a film like "Trailerpark," which is focused on central location with a distinctive atmosphere. The team made plans to bring in snow from Bird Arena yet again for another shoot.

We hear briefly from craft services, which I thought was a joke for a hot second. But you know, these young filmmakers gotta eat, too.

Finally, the group heard from its directors. Assistant directors Jillian Jacobs and Nick Knittel were all business with talk of call sheets and schedules, while co-director Patrick Muhlberger got to discuss fun things, such as how many *unique* hits the "Trailerpark" site received so far in the month of February (1,127, as of roughly 6:45 p.m. on February 26, 2009). I mean, Muhlberger talked about serious stuff, too -- don't get me wrong.

And so with that, the class ended. The funny thing was, very few people left the room after it was officially over. All the departments huddled together in separate corners of the room, with producers up front sitting Indian-style with Conor, art department'ers to the middle left and cameramen and directors scattered up front. People filter in and out, and the whole room, to an outsider like myself at least, seems like organized chaos. Everyone seems to know exactly what's going on, where to go, who to talk with. I'm starting to think that this is how film productions are supposed to be, though. A frantic appearance (which I expected, after Conor's continual warnings of the project being crazy and ever-changing) that makes total sense to those in the know. We'll just have to wait until the "Trailerpark" premiere at the end of spring quarter to find out if cinematic magic can be born from chaos.

*Note my shameless self-promotion. It never hurt anyone, as far as I know. Don't quote me on that, though.