Issue link: https://digital.copcomm.com/i/1490686
prowl the internet (helpful hint: always position your computer screens facing away from the mixing console). In 2013, I was working on a film called Into the Storm. It was Twister with a smaller budget and more advanced visual effects. On this film, I was set up on Stage 5 at Warner Bros. Studios Burbank. Per Hallberg was the supervising sound editor, Brad Sherman was mixing FX and Steve Pederson was mixing dialogue and music. All pros at the top of their game. I had known Brad for years and have deep, lasting affection for him. In his youth, he had been a roadie for Jerry Garcia, so we had the deadhead connection and we later discovered we both listened to Alan Watts for relaxation which deepened our bond. I don't think I had shared a stage with Steve in a decade or more but I knew him to be a talented mixer and good guy. We had coincidentally both gone to Justice Street Elementary School in the L.A. suburb of Canoga Park, a few years apart back in the middle of the last century. I had worked with Per steadily for a couple of decades and over the years, we had developed a shorthand where he could tell me with just a nod when something needed to be done. We worked well together. For a number of reasons, Warner Bros. Studios Burbank was always my favorite lot. Of all the studio lots, its history resonated deepest with me. From The Big Sleep to Blade Runner to I'm sure something much more recent, so many films I love were shot there. It managed to be historic and modern at the same time. In addition, the commute was the easiest, there is a great record store nearby (shout out to Atomic Records) and it also had my favorite commissary. Having a decent studio commissary is a big thing but being the best one is a low bar. If you've been working only at Warner Bros. for years, you're probably sick of it and have a different opinion. That's fine, this whole food thing is totally subjective, but hell, they had Poquito Más on the lot. How cool was that? Harry Bosch loves it! In 2013, my dad was a surprisingly spry 90-year-old. He had more hair on his head than I had on mine and still had all of his own teeth (just don't look too closely at them). He always looked well rested and had the calm of a man who didn't owe anybody money. He was never wealthy, not even small town well- off but with his engineer's planning and common sense, he was always financially okay. He did The New York Times crossword puzzle in ink and drove a 2006 T-Bird convertible but never took the top down. He could name every member of every version of Benny Goodman's or Artie Shaw's Big Bands but still hadn't forgiven Elvis Presley and The Beatles for ruining music. He had recently rejoined us here in Southern California and lived alone in a two-story townhouse he rented cheaply from my sister Maria. He said the stairs kept him healthy. No housekeeper because it would be wrong to pay someone to clean up your mess. He was age-appropriate forgetful but thankfully there was no sign of that ugly fear we all live with, dementia. I had tried to explain to him on more than one occasion how we do what we do creating soundtracks but I was as successful at that as I was at trying to explain the DVR remote to him. In other words, not very. I had a thought—these are all cool, confident people on this mix with no weird fragile egos. What if I invited my dad to the stage to see what we do? Would they be open to it? Surely they would, but what about the director? Directors have traditionally been the rulers of all they surveyed. This director was Steven Quale. I think this was his second time "I had tried to explain to him on more than one occasion how we do what we do creating soundtracks but I was as successful at that as I was at trying to explain the DVR remote to him. In other words, not very." Into the Storm cue sheets