Venice Magazine - Save Your Delusion

Venice Magazine - November 1991
Save Your Delusion
by John Markovich

John Markovich goes behind the scenes on Guns N' Roses Don't Cry

     I dunno. If I see one more Guns N' Roses article, I think I'm gonna puke. I know you will, too, so that's why I had to write this one. It's not "Axl Rose is the modern mythological hero…" or "Axl's behavior stems from deep-seated Freudian suppression…" or "Guns N' Roses are like, rilly, rilly bitchin' man." No, none of that.
     This is just a day to day account of a music video. A really long, involved, traumatic music video that just happened to be for Guns N' Roses.
     I was a Production Assistant of this wonderful job. Which means I was low man on the video totem, which means I did all the work nobody else wanted to do. I drove around and picked up all the equipment needed to shoot the video cameras, dollys, director's chairs and all the important coolers full of drinks. And when the video Don't Cry was over and the director was out celebrating a successful shoot, I - and my diligent co-workers - packed up all the garbage and equipment and took it all back. Glamorous job, huh?
     I've left out loads of cool stuff (like meeting Slash's monster pythons) and a lot of juicy gossip (like Dave Navarro from Jane's Addiction joining the band) but I gotta save some stories for Boardner's if I wanna get laid, right?
     In the meantime, enjoy the adventure. I've got millions of 'em. I'll tell ya a few sometime. Over drinks perhaps? I'll buy. Until then, stay tuned!

Day 1
     The shoot starts in the Inglewood Cemetery where we'll film a funeral procession passing through the graves: Axl's procession one it's way to Axl's final resting place. While setting up for this shot, I have my first encounter with the conceptualist for the video, one of Axl's best friends, Josh Richman.
     Josh is the ultimate rock-n-roll circus freak: whacked-out clothes with stars all over 'em, enough jewelry to melt down and make a Hyundai, silver boots and a cane with an eight ball on the end. He's got a big mouth with an attitude to match and if he wasn't so arrogant and comical, you'd wanna knock his fuckin' teeth out - just the kind of person I like.
     Anyway, Josh is dancing around saying, "Killer shot, dude." As Andy Morahan, the video's director who also helmed Van Halen's Finish What You Started and Poundcake among others, just smiles and nods his head.
     Meanwhile, everybody else is anxiously awaiting Axl's arrival. When he does show, he's almost two hours late and he immediately throws a tantrum. Then it's Josh to the rescue, calming Axl's nerves and convincing him to go in front of the cameras. When he does, it's with his girlfriend, Stephanie Seymore, and they're suppose to be having a picnic in the graveyard. "Hmmm, think I'll stick around for this part. Especially since Steph's wearing a particularly flimsy dress and if I stand in the right place, when she crosses her legs, I get a fantastic peek up her dress… ah yes, forever the voyeur!"
     We shoot this segment till sundown, then head to Hollywood Center Studios where the art department is putting the finishing touches on the next set, which is a huge, frozen wasteland that takes up all of Stage 5.
     "Hmmm, helpin' the art dogs looks like more fun that luggin' these damn coolers around," I think to myself, so I grab a big box of fake snow and start pouring it in front of the massive fans cranked up to "High," blowing it all over the set, creating these tremendous shredded plastic snowdrifts.
     By the time Axl is out of make-up and wardrobe, he looks like some kind of ancient ice pirate wielding a bottle and a gun. Then the animal wrangler walks up with this monstrous raven named Edgar who's supposed to sit on a branch in the foreground while we shoot this scene.
     So the fans start blowing, we're dumping tons of fake snow, Axl's trekking through the tundra, Josh is jumping around like a madman and Edgar's sitting there thinking, "Fuck this." and he flies off.
       "Cut!" Andy yells.
       Take two. Roll camera! …fans, snow, Axl, Josh…
       Edgar thinks, "Fuck this." He flies away again.
       Take three. And so it goes.
     We eventually get the shot and all the rest we need, finishing at 5 a.m. the next day. I go home and shake a pile of flakes out of my hair that's so big, it would scare the hell out of Head & Shoulders. Then I promptly pass out.

Day 2
     Today we're at another huge stage at KTLA shooting all kinds of bizarre shit that's supposed to represent Axl's twisted visions. Now I don't know about the rest of the crew, but I've had about six hours of sleep, I'm still spitting out plastic snow and I'm starting to cop an attitude, but hey, this is rock-n-roll, so I dive headfirst into the madness.
     First up is a baby on an altar surrounded by candles in a very gothic looking room. "Great. Babies don't act, they cry… and they have absolutely no bladder control." Well, after a dozen takes and much foolish behavior by the crew to hold the babies attention, we get the shot. Then we break down the altar, fly in a bathtub and bring in Aquatot the stunt baby. "Two kids in a row, Jeez, this is brutal." Actually, it wouldn't be so bad if this little munchkin didn't like a splash. But he does… and as often as possible. Me, the prop master, and the camera wind up soaked as Junior does his aquatic aerobics.
     Meanwhile, I'm looking over my shoulder and I see this green demon lurking around the set, leering at everyone. "No Lord! Not a flashback, not here." As it turns out, it's Axl in full body makeup for the next shot.
     That's right, Axl bare ass nekkid, covered in green makeup from head to toe. I gotta give the guy credit, he's got balls (no pun intended) to go full on nude in front of a whole film crew and put it on video. And of course, the moment he drops his robe, his photographers swoop in, drawing a bead on his butt with their lenses, like vultures waiting for the kill. But the National Enquirer won't get the goods today, because Axl immediately chases them off. Hey man, this is a video, not a peepshow! If only his screaming, psychotic girlie fans could see him now.

Day 3
     The entire day is spent lugging equipment up 33 stories to the top of the Transamerican building where we'll shoot the band's performance of Don't Cry. Cameras, cables, lights, and, of course, coolers are rolled, dragged, and pushed onto the roof to be piled haphazardly everywhere imaginable. But by sundown, everything is set and ready with two helicopters circling, cameras rolling, and … Axl's mike stand doesn't feel right. "Great." Axl climbs down from the stage, leaving the rest of the band hanging. It seems there's nothing left for them to do but… play Zepplin covers! That's right, with Axl gone, the rest of the band while away the time by jammin' some Zep. It was like a backyard party with Slash and the boys. Now that's entertainment! Eventually, Axl makes it back to the stage and things are off and rollin' again.
     Hours later, I'm down in the production truck, and boy, do those furniture pads look comfortable. Now, I've been conscious for about 14 hours and we'll probably be shooting for another four, so… while the lights are flashing, the cameras rolling and the helicopters circling, I pass out and sleep to the sound of thunder.

Day 4
     For the next two days, we're up in the San Gabriel Canyon, north of Azusa, doing lots of driving shots and car crashes. Today, we film Slash and some video bimbette winding their way up a canyon road. The bim is kickin' and screamin' while Slash tries to concentrate on driving. Since most of this involves cameras hangin' off a helicopter or mounted on a car, there's not much to do, so I seize the opportunity to snooze awhile and catch up with some sleep I've been missing.
     At the end of the day, the Art Director, Prop Master, a few others, and myself decide to stay overnight in the canyon. "Hell, we got two motor homes and plenty of food. All we need is… BEER." We locate the nearest Greasyspoon and, lo and behold, it's also got a bar! We all belly up and order a round. In no time, we're all feelin' good and Rex is cooking up a load of burgers for us. Rex, by the way, is the friendly proprietor of this fine establishment, who wanted to be a dancer, but his high hopes were dashed to pieces when he became a biker instead. With his Liberace hairpiece and his lilting voice, you'd never think otherwise. So we eat and drink our fill and head back to the motor homes where we proceed to do like the locals; crank up the country-western and howl with the coyotes until we pass out.

Day 5
     Bang! Bang! Bang! "Hey, wake up, we got ten minutes to be on set!" That's my wake up call this morning. I gather my frazzled wits; I recognize my strange surroundings. Today's the big day… the CAR CRASH.
     The circus starts early as the highway patrol begins blocking traffic and curious onlookers gather along the edge of the road. We've got two cameras across the chasm from the ramp, two at the bottom of the pit, and one inside the car for that "I was there" effect.
     Since the car can obviously have no drivers, the trick is to launch the car off the ramp and over the cliff as if someone were driving. This is accomplished with a drive car, a cable and a pulley system. One end of the cable is attached to the crash car. It goes up the ramp to a release mechanism and a pulley, then back to the another pulley attached to a large stationary truck and then to another car running parallel to the crash car that will ultimately pull it over the ramp.
     Long about noon, after everyone is sufficiently wound up to a feverish pitch, it looks as though we're ready to shoot. As the crew's making their final checks, Andy turns to me and says cynically, "I'll bet that bloody thing only lands in the third tree there." Ever one to aggravate the director, I smile and say, "You're on."
     Roll cameras. Action. A collective psychic breath is taken as the car lumbers towards the ramp. It smashes through the barricade, tips, falls, and… plop! Third tree, no more than 100 feet from the top of the ramp. Andy pulls his face from the video monitor and glares at me.
       "Shoulda put my money on that one," I say and burst into laughter.
       "Fock off," is the response I get.
     For the next half hour, accusatory glances and comments fly as everyone rationalizes their contribution to such a foul "practice" run.
     "I want that fuckin' car comin' off that ramp at 100 miles per," yells the D.P. and, of course, everyone agrees.
     So for the next few hours, the whole process - set-up, prep, and crash - goes on again. This time, when cameras roll, the car rockets off the ramp, blasts through the barrier and sails through the air with pure filmic finesse. Did you expect anything less?

Day 6
     Reality is definitely fraying around the edges at this point in the shoot. Everybody's exhausted and the shoot won't end. As we set up in a mansion at the top of LaBrea, the crew jokes that this is no longer a video, but "Guns-N-Roses - The Feature."
     Tonight, we stage and film a fight sequence between Axl and Stephanie. Fortunately, Axl is in good spirits tonight ("How couldn't he be? Hell, if I was doin' Stephanie Seymore, you couldn't chisel that glazed smile off my face.").
     This is the first time I've been able to interact with Axl with more than an occasional glance and "Hey, how's it goin'." At one point, we both spot a huge stuffed raven that's being used as a prop on a table in the scene.
       "Looks like Edgar's not doin' so good," jokes Axl.
       "Kids and animals," I say, "How else can you keep them still."
       "I wonder how the baby turned out," is Axl's response.
     There's a moment of silence and then we both burst into laughter.
     We continue shooting at a snail's pace for the rest of the night. As the sun comes up and we're not even halfway done shooting what we need, it's obvious that we'll be shooting here again. But when?

Day 7
     The Park Plaza, a few dozen rock bims and Guns N' Roses - sounds like a wicked party. Well, that's what's happening tonight as we shoot a bar fight between two women vying for Axl's attention. To pull this off, we've got stunt doubles, fight choreographers and plenty of breakaway glass.
     Meanwhile, a hundred or so busty bims have been hangin' out for hours, waiting to be pared down to 30 bims to be used in the video. "Just hangin' out… yes, how interesting. O.K., decisions have to be made." So, I bound in, looking as important as possible and in an instant I've got every one of those women on their feet, trying oh-so-hard to stand out and be nondescript at the same time (let me tell ya, in this moment - this one gloriously sexist, rock-n-roll, Hollywood moment - I could die a happy man). Fortunately, I live to be an even happier man as I pick each and every bim to appear in the scene. Ah, what a rush.
     Back at the bar, Axl's sitting quietly at a grand piano. As he begins to play, all eyes turn to him in amazement. Where does someone as over-the-top, out of control as Axl Rose learn to play such beautiful music?
     So, in come the bims, in come the stunt doubles and in comes the band and for the next fourteen smoke-filled hours, glasses are smashed, beer flows like water, miniskirts are perpetually pulled down and everyone screams and yells for the camera.
     As Slash, Dizzy and Duff happily hug and squeeze bims, Matt busies himself by pouring beer on the table, the floor, and everyone around him. Axl looks on with removed amusement.
     As the sun comes up, I find myself unconscious on one of the smelly, war-torn couches in the huge lobby of the Park Plaza. God only knows how many people have have puked, passed out and gotten laid (not necessarily at the same time or in that order) on this couch. In the misty distance I hear a voice yell, "That's a wrap!" I open my eyes and squint at my watch. 7 a.m. Another day bites the dust.

Day 8
     Once again, we're back at the mansion, so it feels like a big flashback/bad dream happening. The first grueling task is to reconstruct a table covered with bits and pieces of Axl's personal momentos (old photographs of the band, magazine covers featuring Guns N' Roses, and a Nirvana 45 that I just had to snag the day before so IU could make a copy of it for myself) so it matches the same shot we did two nights ago. Next, we finish the fight scene between Axl and Stephanie and then we're into the pool.
     In this scene, Axl's drowning in a tumultuous sea, but below the surface, Stephanie - in a real funky bathing suit with long tendrils hanging off it - is clinging to his legs (pulling him down or holding him up?). So as we're setting up the shot, Axl's hanging off this bar we've got suspended over the pool and as Steph's getting into the water, he says, "Wow, I feel like I'm in an Almay commercial." - referring to the Almay commercials that Stephanie has done in the past.
     The crowd chuckles and I smile. This scene goes on until the comes up and Axl and Stephanie are too damn cold to do it anymore.
     Then, as Axl is about to head to the motor home, he stops and does what we've all been aching to do. He gives our good buddy Josh a tremendous push into the pool. The whole crew erupts into fits of laughter as the soggy stardog climbs from the water, soaked to the bone. It was like a neon sign saying "shoot's over" because things got real loose after that.
     At one point, I'm dozin' on the therapist's couch in the last set-up of the day and I hear, BOING, SPLASH, "Wow, nice dive!" I sit up and look out the window and see a handful of crew frolicking in the pool and another bunch strewn about the lawn like dead people roasting in the sun… and we're not even close to finished.
     So, finally Axl does his last scene, the three greatest words in filmdom - "That's a wrap!" are called and we start to pack the circus. Axl kicks back for one last interview and well, what the hell, I crack a beer and listen in.
     Same old shit as usual. He's amazed at the band's success. He doesn't know what the future holds. Blah, blah, blah. The success thing doesn't ring true though… and it ties in with that poolside Almay comment earlier. Here's this punk kid from Bumfuck, Indiana with his girlfriend who's one of the most beautiful models in the world, makin' multimillion dollar videos and honestly being amazed with the whole thing. It does make ya wonder, doesn't it?
     Me? I go home, wipe my ass with my film degree and have nightmares about luggin' coolers around when I'm 100. How's that for illusion?
     Okay, okay, I'm not that cynical and despite all the torturously long hours, I did have a good time. Hell, I'm actually very lucky. How often do you get to hang out with Guns N' Roses for a week? And even though they're ultra mega superstars, they were all very approachable and willing to listen to any nonsense you wanted to talk about. Kinda like hangin' out with your brother's stoner, surfer-dude buddies - only these guys are in a killer band. No delusions here folks, just a bunch of cool guys makin' music and millions. Ain't rock 'n roll grand?