Goldslinger

(2006) Rated R 88 min. In the little seen fourth Austin Powers movie, even the International Man of Mystery is skeeved out by his lenslinging nemesis, Pervy White-Balance. Decked out in a bushy Van Dyke and thick Russian accent, Mike Myers tried to invigorate the once thriving franchise with his Communist cameraman character, a leering swinger slash spy known for his swanky threads and inappropriate save-tapes. Despite elaborate dance sequences, buxom co-stars and laser shooting robo-cams, the - ahem - film, failed to win over critics or crowds. Its dismal box office is thought to have led Myers to the even more disastrous ‘The Love Guru’. No Stars.

Six Degrees of Sharpton

For every celebrity you meet in this business, you buzz a dozen more. Just ask Kyle DuBreuil. The Burlington, Vermont news shooter recently swooped in on Al Sharpton, a semi-intimate encounter that didn’t happen by accident.

When I saw he was exiting I ran up the aisle on the right side of the church to get a close up of him shaking hands with the hosts of the event. This photo was taken maybe only a second after I had shouldered my camera.

Now, I’ve never side-stepped around the good Rev’rend, but I’ve danced with his partner a time or ten. It’s that tenuous connection that, I’m convinced, holds the universe together. It certainly makes the world feel a lot smaller. Then again, maybe I’ve just been locked in the scrum too long, racing crosstown rivals to fleeting sweet spots, all for a lasting glance at the dignitary of the day. At times, it can feel quite silly. But when you’re poorly paid to waltz alongside the rich and infamous, you rarely stop to name-drop. Sure, you work phrases like “Hey, remember that time I chased Nikki Sixx through an underground parking garage!” into polite conservation, or blurt out “Bill Clinton smells of elderberries!” during fast-food orders, but eventually you learn to look past the marquee.

By treating the fleeting encounters with VIP’s as just another day-shift, you’ll not only become easier to be around, but you’ll grow exponentially as a PHO-tog. That windbag who shows up at every school board meeting to rail against segregation in the lunch room’s chocolate milk cooler? He deserves every bit of focus you’d lay on Miss Hawaiian Tropic, should you choose to point a camera his way. And the homeless man you’re about to turn into an internet sensation - isn’t he entitled to the same crisp, clean audio you’d insist upon should Bono bum-rush through the local orphanage?

No, it’s not as much fun to brag about the backlight you laid on some jittery tax accountant as it to dissect ever inch of your forty second slow-dance with Janet Reno. But by approaching every assignment with the same cockpit concentration, you’ll elevate your rep, spread information across the land and not look like an utter putz just because some C-Lister entered the room. Hey that reminds me - did I ever tell you about the time I fought to the death for a clearer shot of Clay Aiken? It was a mosh-pit of galactic consequence, my friend...

Grace Under Fire

What's worse than witnessing a deadly explosion? Having a fancycam by your side and NOT capturing the blast. It's easier than you might think - missing the shot, that is. Lenses don't affix themselves to the action; they're schlepped, aimed and activated by folks who do a lot more than loiter under glass. Just ask Geoff Nichols. The NBC10 photojournalist was on the scene of a damaged gas main in the Tacony Section of Philadelphia Tuesday Night when the sky turned to fire.

"I had my hand on the camera and it almost threw me back."

But Geoff managed to hold on and using instincts honed by experience, he reflexively zoomed OUT. It may not sound like much, but when a giant plume of exploding gas appears before you, the right finger-twitch is a monumental movement. I know next to nothing about Geoff Nichols, but judging from his performance, I can tell you this wasn't his first gas leak. Tragically, it WAS a 19 year old PGW employee's last such encounter. His body was found after the fire was brought under control. Four other employees and a firefighter were also hospitalized.

"Those guys are really unsung heroes ... they deal with a lot of dangerous stuff all the time."

That's Geoff Nichols again, describing victims of the blast during his obligatory live shot. Those of us lift lenses for a living do so because we like it there. Stepping in front of the camera to talk about the last moment of another person's life isn't something we volunteer for - if only because we know how badly it can go. But Geoff did his beleaguered breed proud, adopting just the right tone to depict the blast recorded in an instant without further wounding those who will forever suffer its aftermath. That's more than jabbing at a button. It's retaining your humanity.

We should all be so nimble.

Smells like ... Freedom!

In the latest Darren Bailey print, The Artist explores the desperation felt when an individual takes on the media elite. Bailey's use of light and mechanized depth sets the stage for an eery encounter, as the nameless citizen shimmers into existence with ethereal splendor. Note the canyonesque wall of cameras Bailey uses to build the barrier represented by the formidable Fourth Estate, a chasm accentuated by the laissez-faire posture of the vultures at bay. Why, one can almost smell the dread washing over the lone interloper as the carnivorous cameras begin to whir-- What? That's just gas?

Never mind.

Gunning for Rubbish

When's the last time YOU chased a garbage truck? It had been many months for me, which meant I was falling behind on my QPR's. That's Quarterly Photog Requirements for the uninitiated - a strict regimen of unsavory assignments I must complete if I'm to retain the title of Cameramanthropologist, let alone find business cards long enough to accommodate that imaginary appellation. Why, it's right here in the handbook:

QPR Sec.4/Para.3/Line 1 - Each and every licensed lenslinger must within ninety days of last such assignment follow but not accost a mobile-based lower level public works employee for the purpose of education, enlightenment and any all possible promo material. Said pursuance should serve to realistically portray working conditions and never interrupt the subject's flow.

Ah, but there's the rub, for any schlub can stop a road crew in its tracks as he fumbles with his fish-eye in the middle of the road. That's inherently uncool and a waste of taxpayer cabbage to boot. More importantly, it's an inefficient time-suck that left to rest could very well delay the most important part of the news-gatherer's day: Lunch. Besides, gumming up the public works sucks whatever sliver of soul a story like this could hope to have. Let's face it: this ain't exactly Watergate. Rather, it's a scintillating glimpse of planetary conditions and their effect on sanitation engineering, or to put it in TV news parlance, it's a buck-fifteen of fluff that should keep a few commercials from bangin' together.

Of course, where and why my half-mangled masterpiece will hang in the newscast is the least of my concerns. I only know that my day won't end until I've tagged and bagged enough refuse to pile up neatly between Weather and Sports. But I'm not just making slot. I'm making friends! Namely, one Darryl Poole, who dropped none of what he was doing long enough to cart me around the 'burbs. Sure, I could have driven myself, but when the guy who knows where ALL the trash trucks are at any particular moment offers you a ride, you wipe your feet as you crawl into his cab. Which is exactly how I rounded up every bit of footage I needed without once leaving any tell-tale news unit tire tracks on Shadow Ridge Meadow Bluffs or wherever the hell the scent of rotting food and dirty diapers took us.

But enough about MY trademark scent, let's meet the players! Er, trouble is I'm not really sure who's who. The one homeowner who made it through Final Cut wouldn't give his name. Even more tragically, I never even identified the star of the show! That's him, about thirty seconds in. Yeah, the guy who sounds like James Brown choking on a pair of nylons. Though I only caught every third syllable, I enjoyed every word he said - even the ones consisting of only two letters! In fact, some of the fellow's best stuff came as simple punctuation. Here a 'Heh!', there a Hmph!' Yes, I dug this working man's verve long before I managed to lay a lens on him. When I did I made sure to feature him one last time toward the end, lest I not find a better example of the bold and noble proletariat.

And you thought I was just chasin' flies...

But That Trick Never Works...

Hey, remember when the game warden popped that moose with the tranquilizer dart and we all took turns taking pictures with it? Yeah, neither do I - but when you run around with a camera in tow, vamping with some animal just goes with the territory. Don't believe me? You've never watched a volunteer fireman try to corral a runaway steer using nothing but a garden rake and his own beer gut. I have and I can tell you it is the kind of thing that sticks in your craw. In fact, the memory of that afternoon is something I plan to chew on long after I've traded in my own teeth for a pair of dentures, some high-waisted slacks and one of those fancy new iLid implants. While I'm at it, I'll probably cue up the time I dropped gallons of sweat over a 300 pound lion named 'Pacino' Did that really happen? By then I'll probably wonder but for now I can tell you the experience ranks right up there with feeding ostriches from the back of a pickup truck. For some forgotten reason, it seemed like news that day... And the moose? He wandered into Salt Lake City recently where officials promptly drugged him, called our friend Darren Bailey and put it all on the news...

Wait 'til Squirrel finds out...

Schmuck Alert: Pole Dancer

Sigh. You know, just because took a solemn vow to to spotlight camerabuse everywhere doesn't mean I enjoy it. Not when such bad reactions are reaching epidemic levels. Okay, it's still a little early to use the "E-Word", but at this rate 2011 may very well go down as The Year of the Schmuck. Case in point: the latest crime against innocent recording equipment, this time on the streets of San Francisco. Stanley Roberts was the operator in question. Since 2006 the burly journalist has earned the admiration and ire of viewers by turning his lens on people behaving badly in a series he calls People Behaving Badly. With the entire Bay Area at his disposal, Stanley's rarely ever at a loss for victims, er viewers, er violators. Such was the case just the other day when a gentleman took exception with the KRON-TV lens pointing his way. Soooo, 25 year old Israel Marron Castro did what any lucid bystander would do to escape notice. He shoved two ski poles into the rolling camera and babbled something about being high - 'cause Hey, that's how you lay low in San Francisco! Or not. Soon, however, a cameo on the news was the least of Castro's problem as cops moved in and determined he had outstanding warrants - not to mention fresh new charges of assault with a deadly weapon, vandalism, battery, and resisting arrest. As for Stanley, he's fine - though like one Chris "Call the Law" Weaver, he's still scratching his head a bit.

"I really thought the guy would back off but he just kept coming ... had I gotten hold of one of those ski poles I would probably have been put in jail!"

Why bother, Stanley, when such esteemed organizations as the Lenslinger Institute are around to watch your back. Now if you'll excuse us we have an important message for Mr. Israel Marron Castro.... "SCHMUCK!"