There is a guy in New York City who dances with a life size doll in the subway. He draws large crowds and captivates his audience. The last time I saw the "doll dancer," I stood for over an hour watching him swing, flip and toss his partner. He interacted with her as if she had blood running through her veins. I started to think, "A guy who loves and treats his inanimate dancing partner as if she were alive. What a great idea for a story!" I went home and started writing the short film, Felt & Wire.

After three months of writing, readings and rewriting, I had a shootable draft. Having been a resident of New York City for seven years, I knew exactly what locations I wanted to use. I coaxed a few of my NYU film school friends into producing my project. I would play the dancer, Murray. A friend of mine from my acting class would play Murray's rival subway performer, Rod. And my wife, Clare Kramer, would play the doll in life form, Dolly. I decided to take my first stab at directing a film. Clare and I decided our wedding nest egg would help fund the film. My parents agreed to pitch in as well. Everything seemed in place. Then all hell broke loose.

Clare was flown to Los Angeles to screen test for a pilot. My project was put on hold until she got back. She got a different pilot and never got out of L.A. I joined her a few months later and resigned myself to the fact that if I was going to shoot the film, I was going to shoot it in L.A. I had never been to L.A. I knew three people in L.A. I didn't know how to produce the film! I got to work.

I first needed to decide on what format I would shoot. Film vs. Video. "Film is sexy but so damn expensive!" "The digital revolution! But, does video come off as amateurish?" "Film is sexy!" "If I tell the story and engage the audience, format doesn't matter!" "Film is so damn expensive!" I decided to join the digital revolution.

I read every book I could get on film production. I searched every film web site and talked to every friend who knew anything about producing. I convinced a film maker friend of mine from New York, Josh Wolf, that L.A. would be a wonderful place to relocate. "The weekend I'm shooting my film, June 4, 5 and 6, would be a perfect time for you to come and check out L.A." Josh agreed to direct the photography and help produce. He researched the equipment rental. I handled the insurance, film permits, more insurance, SAG and even more insurance. I hired Matt Nicolay to record sound. My actor friend from New York bought a ticket to L.A. in order to be in the film. One week before shooting, he got a paying job and backed out. I cast Eyol Podell sight unseen based on a recommendation from a friend. SAG lost my paper work. Backstage West printed my crew call. Starbucks Coffe was my "office" for the interviews. Meals, transportation and a copcy of the final cut would serve as recompense. Five people responded. Five people got the job. Three of them had never worked on a film before. Clare purchased all of the food and beverages for the shoot for under $60 at the 99¢ store on Wilshire Blvd. She shopped for costumes at the discount clothing store, Ross. The State Compensation Insurance Fund lost my paper work. I struggled to find somebody to make the doll. "I need a malleable life size doll... and, oh yeah... it needs to be the spitting image of my wife." I called doll stores, prop stores, sculptors and anybody in the phone book who might be willing to play dolls with me. No luck. On one of my many location scouts, my car broke down. While watching Jenny Jones and waiting for my car to be serviced, I overheard a lady talking about how she made dolls for her granddaughters. "Will you make me a doll", I asked. "Oh, honey, I don't have time to make no life size doll." "Why the hell did I write a story about a doll!" That same day, I returned to the studio apartment in the Mid-Wilshire area that Clare and I were stuffed into and found that the phone company had dropped off a new and updated phone book. I pessimistically searched under dolls and found a new listing, The Beverly Hills Doll Company. Myla Fahn answered the phone. I gave her my usual query and she replied, "Sure, No problem." The day before shooting, I picked up Dolly. She looked great. Clare called every prop store in L.A. looking for steel drums. She settled on barrels. Once again, The State Compensation Insurance Fund lost my paperwork.

Pre-production was a piece of cake compared to production. Murphy's law on crack. Another crew was allocated the same piece of Venice beach I was promised. We creatively shot around them. Eyol had to take off in the middle of shooting for a screen test. Clare had to take off for a screen test. We taped over some of our footage from the previous day's shoot. The cops inspected the permits and told me they were not valid. Luckily they took pity on the jerk witht he doll strapped to his sandals. A crew member got sick and had to leave. A crew member's dog died and she didn't feel she was up to shooting. Clare's CD player wouldn't work when we needed it for the big doll dancing scene. (It had worked every day for eight years.) Dolly fell apart from all the wear and tear. My sound engineer had to leave the set at one point. I ran the nagra machine. Camera batteriees died unexpectedly. I had to pay off a homeless man who had decided he wanted to make his acting debut. We ran out of time. The shoot was extendedd one day. We still didn't get everything done. The camera had to be back at 10:00am the followeing day. We shot until 10:45am. And the crowds! "Please, for God's sake, don't look at the lense!"

The work paid off. I had a film and I felt great. No, I didn't get every shot I wanted to get. Yes, I had to make a lot of sacrifices due to time and money restrictions. But, I had a film. (Or, more accurately, video.) My crew stuck by me and proved to be hard workers and quick learners. Josh Wolf's knowledge and skill were indispensable. Clare and a few of our friends were close by and saved the production on more than a few occasions. I was insistent on taking the time to rehearse with the actors in pre-production and sacrificed nothing in making sure I was satisfied that each moment was right in filming. The actors, despite the chaotic circumstances, were spontaneous and truthful in their acting. Matt Nicolay, in the spirit of the production, knocked a few hundred dollars off his fee. Thank you, Matt.

After calling just about every editor in the Los Angeles area, I found Kirk Demorest at Arthouse Films. Kirk was very busy but loved the idea of working on my raw independent production. Kirk's expertise, creativity and easy going attitude made editing a pleasant experience.

So seven months and one film later, what would I say to the New York City doll dancer who inspired Felt & Wire It's okay for a grown man to play with dolls!

FELT & WIRE SYNOPSIS

Jeremy Kruse's, Felt & Wire, is a fifteen minute comedic film about a street performer, Murray, who dances with a life size doll, Dolly. Murray's desire to overcome his abusive behavior is interrupted when a rival street performer, Rod, steals Dolly. Rod shows Dolly compassion and love she has not experienced before. All three characters soon learn that you can not change who you are.