If a Film Crew Invades Your Town, Enjoy the Ride

Try not to beat yourselves up about it when we’re gone. After the last 40-footer hops the curb at the end of your main street on its way out of your fed-up little town, the dull meter of monotony creeps back in at the Dairy Queen, and the imprint of this consensual spanking begins to rise like a welt, don’t be too hard on yourselves. Because the truth is you never stood a chance. Because we come from beyond the cornfields . . . out past the interstate . . . we come from Hollywood.

We’re not uninvited, either. We’ve been wooed by your state commissions and embraced by your chambers of commerce. Our backs have been slapped by your good ol’ boys, and we’ve been told to make ourselves right at home.

And we have, haven’t we?

Well, no, not exactly. We’ll do things here that we could never get away with back home. There’ll be the requisite tomfoolery at the motel, and our honeybees will fan out across the countryside in an indefatigable quest for the native essence. These antics, fully expected of Hollywood types, will amuse your coffee-shop patrons.

If you want to find us--or avoid us--we’ll be easy to spot. Wherever we go, we bring our traveling circus of trucks and motor homes. Our big movie lights can be seen for miles around at night, illuminating your barns and farmhouses, mesmerizing potato bugs and rubberneckers.

We’re a cheerful bunch, and you’re going to love that about us. We won’t be here for long, and we want to see what you’ve got. Some of you will find ways to ingratiate yourselves to us (at least one of you will become the company’s unofficial concierge, our own Milo Minderbinder, who will bow to our whims and exploit our desires).

The bartender at whichever watering hole becomes our after-work headquarters will be updated daily on our estimated wrap times in order to accommodate our unusual hours. A few rules will get bent; you will make some nice quick cash; the movie will get made; almost everybody will be happy.

Unfortunately, we will prove irresistible to a scattering of your sweethearts, not because we ourselves are so desirable, but because we inhabit a world that’s intoxicating to outsiders. You have our apologies in advance.

The more rambunctious of our troupe might have, in years past, run rampant through your community, flouting local laws and proprieties. But that was before uber-connectivity reached the boondocks. Before legal liability became a national preoccupation. You’ve wised up considerably since then.

In truth, we’re a lot alike, you and us. Most of our crew grew up far from Hollywood. Some in little towns just like yours. Lots of us dream of leaving the city and settling into the quiet life you enjoy. But for now, we’re chasing these nomadic careers wherever they lead and bent on having some fun along the way.

We may be jaded, but we’re not without heart. As delighted as we are to gripe about the long hours and job insecurity, we love our profession. So we’ll revel in it while we still can, because the curtain has been pulled back on Hollywood so often that soon enough it won’t matter at all that we come from there.