Issue link: https://digital.copcomm.com/i/1490686
36 I M PS E . O R G playback? I'd like to hear what they have to say." I thought, sure, what could go wrong? We settled in. Mixers and Per at the board, Steve, my dad, my sister Maria and the rest of us in chairs just behind. The lights went down, somebody pressed go and we were off. It should be noted that at 90 years old, my dad had grown up with a different kind of film. He liked to tell us how as a kid he hid behind the seat in front of him in The Grand Movie Theater in Wausau, Wisconsin, while watching Bela Lugosi in Dracula. He had never been on a mix stage where things are played at proper volume on state-of-the-art equipment. This was a LOUD reel. Lots of storm winds created by the brilliant Jon Title, things crashing around, debris banging, swirling tornadoes, big music, people yelling and the subwoofers pumping enough to make your pant legs flap in the sonic wind. This wasn't Wes Montgomery and Jimmy Smith smartly dancing around each other. This was Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page in their youthful prime with Marshall amps on 11 beating the shit out of each other. I thought it played beautifully. This was a brutal street fight, Queensberry Rules thrown out the window. It was frightening, threatening and violent. Notes were given by the director, the picture editor, the mixers and sound supervisor Per. All smart stuff that we would address. Then the director asked my dad what he thought. Oh, oh… My dad made wiggling motions with his hands around his ears and said, "It was all too loud. I couldn't understand what was going on and the music..." Me with rising panic, "Ummm, dad … I don't think they want to hear..." Director Steve Quale, "No, no, I want to hear this." I'm guessing he was thinking that my dad represented a middle American average viewer while I was thinking that my dad was not the demographic the film was targeting at all. Good god, he was a 90-year-old who refused to wear hearing aids. He was the Matlock and Murder, She Wrote with closed captions demographic. My dad explained that all of the big sounds were fighting each other making the dialogue hard to understand. Wait a second... a couple of hours on a dub stage and he's now using the word "dialogue"? Before he would have said, "The people talking." Crap, next he's going to ask for something to be "tucked" or use that awful breakfast/dinner move request. He went on, "All of the sound FX are making the music muddy." What? He's attacking the sound FX? That's me! Yeah, yeah, I know, we work together hand in hand with music to create a sonic soundscape that tells a story while little hearts pop over our heads, blah, blah, blah … whatever emotionless Mr. Spock. It's hard not to feel territorial and defensive about your stuff. I think I saw Pederson smile, bastard. You of course, know that traditionally on mixes dialogue is king, music is queen and FX are sitting with swords sheathed or unsheathed in service to the royal couple's sometimes capricious demands. My dad's notes were right in line with that traditional film mixing. I didn't yell and I didn't run out the door. The old man's notes were listened to and addressed. Let's sheath those swords kids. Wow, really dad? If you see this film, you will notice that one of the reels might be just a tad tamer than the others. Thank my dad. Pretty sure on the rest of the reels, we appropriately blew the roof off the joint. We were done. Hands were shook (shaken?), hugs were hugged, pleasantries exchanged and thanks were given. I owe those people on the stage for making me look more important and talented than I was, for making me look good in my father's eyes. Thanks gang, you're the best. I've worked on bigger films than this and smaller films than this. It's LOUD mix, Into the Storm. Photo by Daniel Saxlid.