I clear my throat. We pause for dramatic effect, which succeeds only in giving Weiner a chance to check his watch. One day, into this melange of vice rolls a student teacher who has virtually raised himself on these films. But in so doing, he discovers that those he comes to call his mentors and friends are actually rogues, scoundrels, and weirdos. Weiner and his associates at Hypnotic read a lesbian-enhanced version of our screenplay.
Talks are tense.
The back lot of Universal Studios is the lost twin of downtown Petaluma. The cadre of Petalumans I have assembled to aid and abet my foray into studio filmmaking feels eerily at home and frolics in the vacant streets as if playing a game of stick ball. Our star, Petaluma actor Zachary Kahler, arrives at the set fresh-faced and spritzing us with a squirt gun he found in a hole cut into the pages of his hotel room Bible. His watery assaults are combated by Levy, who tosses a brick at Kahler to watch him flinch. Luckily, the brick is a prop made of foam.