Jingle All The Way

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24th December 1996 (Tuesday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"So what you are saying is, you want me to initiate handheld camera movements?" Todd Ramsey asked.

Oh, he is the cinematographer by the way. A really great guy, who has worked on amazing projects to date, and handpicked by daddy dearest.

"Essentially yes. But, only in the highlighted scenes. See in the end, this is a character driven movie, the plot is at best predictable. So I want you to use handheld techniques when we're filming intimate or emotional moments… to add a sense of personal connection you know? And accompanied with close-ups on facial expressions, I think it'll work just fine. Then again, it's not really my field so, I confer to your judgment. It's your call in the end." I concede slightly, knowing he won't reject my suggestions.

He thought it over for a few seconds before nodding slowly, "You know what? I think you are onto something here. I'll just- I'll need a few days to study the script a little more… but yeah, I'll add handheld cameras to our growing list of expenses."

Thanks a lot Todd. Really… It's great to have you on board here with us, and I know we're gonna do some magic with what we have." I smiled, a hint of wonder reflecting in my eyes.

Todd just shook his head and laughed, "I like your optimism boy. And your ambition at that. In all my career, I have never seen anyone below the age of 20 already helming their 2nd production… I expect great things from you boy." He said, his eyes turning soft for a second, "We all do."

Damn. Seems like I really made an impression on him… Go CHA I guess.

After a few more exchanges, I steered the conversation away from the topic at hand, solely to quench my curiosity. "Hey Todd, you're tight with the ones at the top right? The execs, I mean."

"Huh… Guess I am. I mean, I have known most of them for over 20 years. What of it?" He enquired, his eyebrows creasing slightly.

"Well, it's just… Higgs told me, they'll inform me who the executive producer is in a day or two, you wouldn't happen to know about that right?"

He looked up, stroking his chin slowly with his hand before responding, "Not really. I have no idea Ricky. But relax! Whoever it is, I assure you, you will be in good hands." He finished, patting my shoulder lightly, before suddenly rising from his chair. "Okay! It's about time I take my leave! I promised my wife I would be back home in time to help with the lights! Spread a little christmas cheer and all that. Goodbye Ricky! I'll see you next week."

And with that hasty goodbye, he left his office promptly.

Yep, that's right. He left his own office, leaving me all alone, after hastily making up an excuse on the spot… now what the hell was he trying to hide?

Well, it's almost christmas, and I'm not paranoid enough to pursue that line of thought right now… might revisit it down the road though.

…

…

25th December 1996 (Wednesday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

~Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer~

~Had a very shiny nose!~

~And if you ever saw it~

~You would even say it glo-

"RICKY!"

My father's voice broke my trance, as I abruptly stopped humming the classic christmas carol.

"RICKY!"

"I'M HERE!" I yell back, as my voice travels from my study to the hallway, undoubtedly reaching his ears.

Damn it, I love him a lot, but he really has to stop shouting my name every single time he wants to talk to me. Maybe next time, just give me a call or something?

My door bursts open just then, and in comes daddy dearest with 2 mugs of what I can only assume is eggnog, and a Santa hat on his head.

Sigh. He does it every year. I don't know why, but he's really big on Christmas.

He's the reason Wyatt and his legion of staff don't get Christmas eve off, only the day itself. On eve, they're too busy setting up the decorations, the 10 ft tree, and the outer lightings.

Then again, I can't really complain, the house looks pretty dope with all the hanging lights just flashing and shining into the night.

"HOHOHO RICKY! Here, have some eggnog. Wyatt's special recipe… or well, his grandma's really." He cheerfully barreled on, clearly not giving a single fuck as to whether or not I was busy.

Not that I can blame him. In fact, that was most probably his intention, what with the number of times I had sneaked up on him while he was working, only to startle him badly.

In hindsight… it wasn't one of my better ideas, but hey, I was just a kid grinding my stealth skill back then. Who knew years later, my ill-thought actions would reap ramifications… I certainly never did.

"Merry Christmas dad! And yeah, why the hell not? Bring it on." I said, as I beckoned him to pass me my mug.

He handed me the mug with another 'hohoho', before taking a seat opposite me.

Right before I take my first sip, a rather… interesting smell makes its way to my nose.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Why do I smell bourbon?" I ask inquisitively.

My father just shrugged, "Hey now, that's a real man's drink right there. As much as I don't like it, you're no longer a little kid! So from here-on, I'm treating you like a man. Now, bottoms up!"

And with that drunken proclamation, he finished his mug in a matter of seconds.

Which he followed up by a light cough, no doubt caused by the throat burn of downing something as strong as bourbon, even if diluted.

"Hey! You didn't bottoms up! What gives eh?"

With a sigh, I bottoms up as well, as a warm feeling courses through my body.

"All right," I start, placing my empty mug on the table, "You're not here to just spread a little Christmas cheer I'm sure. So lay it on me, please."

He suddenly gains a faux-startled expression, "Whaaaa? How did you know that? Are you a wizard Ricky? Huh? Are you aaaa…, Wizzie?" He somehow managed to enunciate as his words slurred heavily.

Oh Bloody hell.

"Dad?" I ask. "Yeees?" He answers, eyes widened.

"On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the lowest… How drunk are you?"

It took him a few seconds, before understanding dawned on him.

He opened his mouth, before closing it again, and then opened it again only to say, "Scale?" He asked, as if the answer was of paramount importance.

Thanks a lot dad. For getting piss drunk on Christmas morning, really it's just the present I was hoping for!

And just as I was about to head to the kitchen to get a slice of lemon, "Hey! I got you something!" He said, waving his right arm over his head, before slamming it on the table, dislodging a pile of paperwork in the process. "I got you a present!"

Having had enough of his antics, I nevertheless bravely put on a hopeful face as I ask with forced excitement, "Really?! Thanks a lot Dad! Now tell me, what is it?"

He nodded, self-satisfied at my reaction, before his visage took a somber turn all of a sudden, "Well… you're my kid you know? I've always been waiting for you to grow up, all so I could work with you one day. Work together, as a family… Anyways, you're now looking at the studio sponsored Producer of your current production!" He said, a proud smile adorning his face.

Holy Fuck.

"Dad you serious?" I asked, recognizing the irony of the situation, as he nodded erratically, still deep within his drunken haze.

He smiled before answering, "As serious as a heart attack."

Something you'll be getting soon enough if you don't cut back ASAP… is what I was really tempted to say.

I did not, for obvious reasons.

…

…

26th December 1996 (Thursday)

After hours of typing away at the desktop, I finally take a moment of respite.

No peace for the wicked, I guess.

I still wonder if it was worth it, taking such a heavy workload, and not delegating half of it, like anyone else would have done.

It is after all, the reason why I have been working so hard, even through this highly festive season.

And since the permission to shoot on campus has been attained but has a time period attached… I'll have to commence principal photography starting next week. For that, I would have had to plan +*through a series of factors, such as the cast members' schedule, the plane tickets, accommodations, equipment, etc.

Thank God, all of that is no longer my concern, well… nope, I'm not thanking god, not when it's my dad who took that burden off my shoulders, and told me to focus on the creative side of things, while he deals with the logistic issues.

Apparently, that's why directors seldom receive a producer credit. And to receive one, you either have to manage logistics, security, and other executive decisions or… you're responsible for funding and investing in the project, which was how I secured my credit.

By footing half of all bills, and taking a minimum salary for my considerable workload.

That's right, for a larger percent of the gross, I'm taking a substantial pay cut, and agreeing to a one time salary of $200k, for directing, scripting, starring, editing, composing, and singing.

It's one of the primary reasons as to why the estimated budget went from $12 million to a paltry $8 million. Well, $8.3 mill… But who's counting?

And with that cheery thought, I once again commenced my work, which was writing in-depth character essays and background information on the roles my cast were about to play.

I guess it's just one of the aspects I'm gonna normalize in all my productions as part of my directorial style.

Now, I'm aware some actors might disagree with portraying their characters in certain manners, and will no doubt wish to improvise…

Tough luck bitches! HAHAHAHAHA!!! Not on my watch!

This production is my circus, and I'm the goddamn ringmaster, whipping all the animals into shape.

The animals being the actors. And if I see a hint of disobedience, insubordination, or uncooperativeness… well we all know what ringmasters do to unwanted animals right?

I'm gonna fire them. Not in the literal sense, but… yeah.

Oh, I'll hear their inputs, I definitely won't ignore them by any means. But If I don't agree with their point, and they remain adamant on pursuing their misguided vision…

Let's just say they better hope they don't awaken the beast.

Plus, I want to make sure filming ends by late February, leaving at least a week to edit the raw footage and incorporate the score into the final draft.

I have set an immensely tight deadline for myself, because I want to make sure this film receives suitable exposure among the industry and has its premiere in one of the largest events of world cinema.

In this case? The Cannes Film Festival, one of the 5 largest film festivals in the world.

One of the oldest and arguably the most acclaimed of film festivals, its top prize, the Palme d'Or is considered to be one of the most prestigious awards in the film industry worldwide.

Now, I'm not delusional enough to have any confidence in winning it, but simply the exposure my movie will gain by participating in the ensuing race, and being screened for thousands of people… let's just say it'll provide a much needed boost of popularity, and decrease marketing costs by a large amount as a result.

But, a single problem haunts me still. The submission deadline for feature films for the 1997 festival is 12th March… and adhering to such a stringent timetable… it's next to impossible.

Plus, there's no telling what psychological effects it would have on the cast members, and on their performances, if they feel pressured by such an extreme deadline… It's partly the reason why I have not shared my ambition with anyone as of yet.

And so I came up with a plan of action, where after 3 weeks of filming, I'll step back and assess the situation, to see whether the deadline can be met… If yes, then I'll announce my ambitions with a rousing speech, that'll seek to vitalize my crew to work overtime if necessary.

If not… then I'll scrap my plans for Cannes, and instead focus on Venice, where the deadline is 11th June… giving me an ample amount of time to polish my finalized draft to its very best.

Either way, I'm entering in at least 'one' of the 5 largest festivals in the world.