Definitive: The Departed

I just got back from my trip to New York City, it was a great weekend with some great times with New York's newest resident, Michael Conti. I wanted to take this opportunity to post an essay/journal entry on the last five months. With full intention, I avoided talking about any details regarding my work on The Departed, any day-to-day report would have cheapened such a special experience. I took the time to write essentially a summary of my last five months on the film.

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There is a time in everyone’s life where a series of events brings them to an epiphany. This realization soon causes an individual to set their life course, to decide on a final goal with no apprehension and move forth, until it is realized.

I spent the last five months on an internship I’d dreamt about for quite some time. I was introduced to Martin Scorsese’s films initially by 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead” with Nicholas Cage, not the best way to introduce a legend, but a start. The reason I hadn’t seen any other films by Scorsese prior to this first viewing was unlike the other “brand-name” filmmakers such as Steven Spielberg and Alfred Hitchcock, Scorsese was much more real, much more violent, content appropriately censored for my young and impressionable eyes. Arriving at Fitchburg State College, I was urged by Ben Swicker to view more films by Scorsese, and screened “Goodfellas,” this was prior to Scorsese’s 2002 release of “Gangs of New York.” If Marty and his films were a disease, it was the latter that gave it to me.

Within “Gangs,” I found a filmmaker I could relate to on a completely different level. “Gangs of New York” was a labor of love for Martin Scorsese, having first announced the film in 1979, it wasn’t until the late 90s, the film would find its money. I had a few scripts at that point, one of them I knew would be on its way to that similar labor of love, the dream project, “Gangs” despite its alleged flaws (I however do not agree with supposed “flaws”) was a personal achievement for Scorsese, and officially began my obsession. From then on, it was an occasional daydream, to be working for his production company, to meet him, perhaps speak with him.

Fast forward to December 2004, I learn of the announcement that Martin Scorsese will be shooting his next film, “The Departed,” in Boston, starring Leonardo DiCaprio. There was something peculiar at work here. My favorite director was going to be coming to my hometown to shoot his next film, just when I needed to go on my internship to complete my degree requirements.

The next few months were spent pursuing this internship. Beginning with the hire of Boston’s production office coordinator in March, I was emailing Meg Jarrett every two weeks until April. May arrived, and I had run out of non-intrusive opportunities to “touch-base.” With no other options, I flew to Los Angeles to run down a few prospects.

In Los Angeles, if you are nobody, you really are nobody. In fact, an intern is even less then a nobody, you’re not even a stain on a wall. They don’t care about your background, you’re free expendable labor, especially in the positions I was seeking employment. In one last attempt, I gave Meg one last try. I heard back instantly, “Come on in next week.” It was as simple as that. I attended three meetings while out in Los Angeles, and was hired at all three. I was hired right after my interview with Meg, I couldn’t believe it. I called back my sites in California, and told them an opportunity had risen in Boston like no other.

I began the job prepared to never get an inch close to set, to never interact or talk to any of the folks that I’d admired now for so long. This changed quickly.

I became responsible for coordinating all things related to the editing space and screening room. I greeted and introduced Thelma Schoonmaker (Marty’s editor on every film since 1980) to the city surrounding her. I worked over at the editing space assisting Joel and Dan, the assistant editors, from things as trivial as running down to get coffee, to organizing script notes. All the while interacting and learning from Thelma. Thelma introduced me to her late-husbands work, Michael Powell, a tremendous influence to many filmmakers, especially Scorsese.

During all of this, I also became responsible in greeting and escorting Marty as he came to watch his dailies with Thelma. Though I never talked to Marty, I didn’t need to. There is nothing Martin Scorsese could tell me that I didn’t already know, he lays the pieces of the puzzle in his work. Who am I to stop his process so that he can trivially respond to a budding filmmaker like myself? Dan Hoffman, one of the assistant editors gave me one of the best pieces of advice on the job, “You don’t need to meet the man, just look at his work.” He’s absolutely right. From day one, I approached Marty as an equal. I was one less person he needed to take the time to politely listen. My job was to keep him happy and get him from point-a, to point-b.

I helped Joel out in changing the tapes in the projection booth, which also exposed me to what they were shooting on a day to day basis. There were three major things I learned in the screening room. I learned of the type of coverage Marty gets, how precise and technically masterful his cinematography is, and I learned how he covers everything he’s shot with a fine-toothed comb.

After going over-budget, and ten days past its finishing schedule, the wrap party took place in New York, a fancy Italian restaurant in SoHo. It had been at times a hellish shoot and the general consensus at this party was anywhere between happy and very happy (Marty looking the latter, I’d never seen him so calm). I looked around the room trying to think back and what and who I had learned from: Thelma, Joel, and Dan, Patty Willett the Boston production manager, and Martin Scorsese.

The night following the wrap party was the premiere of Martin Scorsese’s documentary on Bob Dylan, “No Direction Home.” I attended the premiere with Joel and Dan, and found myself again, looking around the room at the after-party. I saw Jim Jarmusch, standing by the bar. I worked my way over, not entirely sure what I was going to say to him, knowing it would have to do with another inspiration of mine, Samuel Fuller. I gathered the courage, and introduced myself, I shall now attempt to recreate our conversation.

“Hello there, my name is Vatche Arabian, I just wanted to introduce myself”
“Hello!”
“I wanted to thank you for all the work you did with Samuel Fuller, the man is tremendous inspiration to me.”
“He was a wonderful man.”
“I just finished school in Massachusetts.”
“A new filmmaker?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good man, we need new blood.”
“Everyone moves to New York or Los Angeles, I don’t think that’s right for me though, I’m going to stay in Boston.”
“Remember in the film? Everyone was asking Dylan what and why, none of that shit matters, just make sure you do it for you. Fuck everyone else, and just do it.”
“Thank you. It was nice to meet you Jim.”
“What was your name again?”
“Vatche Arabian.”
“Good luck Vatche.”

The conversation with Jim Jarmusch essentially was a fitting end to a summer that had given me so much, his statement, affirmed a mantra I’d been using for years. To hear it from him though, strengthened it that much more.

With this momentum I’ve earned, I now move forward, to the next chapter of my life, I’ve got a scary few months ahead of me, but a pocketful of advice and inspiration to fuel me.