Issue link: https://digital.copcomm.com/i/1535880
44 M PS E . O R G hear, and we hear what we are told it is. We pull the "monkey" back a little and lo and behold, it works. It lives, it's there. Bob called it the "Cambodian Street Dolphin." It's kinda wonderful. On the second Bourne, I think we put the dolphin in a tire squeal. It looks like this was going to be a thing and it looked like it might escalate. Time goes by, there's another Bourne and another dolphin. It was showing up as often as those mysterious "Additional Audio" credits. few years later. We're together again, this time on Ridley Scott's American Gangster. At this point in my career, I'm confident and comfortable. I'd been on more mixes than I could remember or count. I'd made small talk on the lot with Cher, at an afternoon spotting session connected with Steve Zaillian over music while he barbecued, sat with Anthony Hopkins showing him how we edit, a pre-scandal Kevin Spacey sat in with me in my editing room and was not attracted to me, I'd accidentally insulted Thomas Newman and briefly had what might have been a one-sided "work" friendship with the legendary Walter Murch (he did say I'd fit right in and would be welcome in his artistic bohemian seaside Bolinas community). Denzel showed up at a mix and questioned my siren choices, no problem, didn't faze me. I'm an adult, we were raising three sons, I'd lost friends and family, all of which puts these making movies stuff in perspective. Mixes now cause little anxiety. I was able to comfortably talk to and work with producers, picture editors, and directors … except for one and I'm still trying to figure out why. Why did Ridley Scott cause anxiety? Why did that uncontrollable part of my brain that controls emotion juke me with cortisol and adrenaline when meeting him? I think maybe it's because his films had made such a huge impact on me, and I mean HUGE. For me, meeting him was like meeting a Hitchcock, Hawks, Ford, or Kubrick. It didn't help that he dressed like a grownup, spoke with a dignified British accent, and had a kind of regal carriage. He also had a much larger entourage than I was used to seeing. They swept in like a classy version of that carnival that used to take over the Sears parking lot once a year. They'd set up like eminent domain was their middle name and then be gone almost as if they were never there. Just a scattering of half-used yellow pads, dried-out Sharpies, overflowing wastebaskets, empty champagne, and vodka bottles left behind. The lingering smell of cigars, sushi, and Indian food in their wake let you know that something special might have happened. During a mix when giving a sound note, Ridley would generally just address the picture editor, the sound supervisor, or the person he thought of as the head mixer. It's not that he was unapproachable or rude. He was always pleasant and polite. I remember him giving the dialogue/ music mixer, who he always seemed to think of as the one in charge, FX notes like, "Could you raise that explosion?" The dialogue mixer would then turn to the FX mixer who was sitting right next to him and say, "Could you raise that explosion?" British class system? Who knows? They still think having a King and Queen is a good idea. I know it was all in my head, but my impostor syndrome bloomed around him. I knew I didn't belong there. I never went to film school, I'd had just 20 weeks of Pierce Jr. College earning two incompletes A Ridley Scott and Mike Minkler at Todd-West.