A House Always Ready for Its Close-up

I’ve lived in L.A. for almost two years now, but I’ve yet to take a Hollywood studio tour.

Then again, why would I? Hollywood comes to me.

Three times in the past year since my wife and I moved into our home on a quiet cul-de-sac here, film crews have set up immediately across the street from our house.

They’re supposedly shooting commercials and TV shows. But you’d think they were filming “Gone With the Wind” or “Titanic.”

Equipment trucks--there were eight of them at the most recent shoot--line the street like TV news crews at the scene of a disaster. There are cables and wires and cameras and, of course, caterers. Dozens of people scurry about. Those who aren’t carrying clipboards are responding to the orders of those who are.

And they actually say those things you hear them say in movies about the movies--and without a hint of irony. I bet I’ve heard every cliched line, all delivered with the same measured blend of impatience and contempt:

“People, People, Can we Pulleez have some quiet?” seems to be a favorite on the set.

Honestly, though, the Hollywood sorts have all been kind and accommodating.

Once, when I arrived home to find an industrial crane blocking my driveway, I was prepared to just find a spot on the street. But the location manager wouldn’t hear of it.

“Get that thing out of here,” he said to the crane operator, who started to move the metal beast before the location manager had even finished his sentence.

Guess who had the clipboard in that equation.

The funny thing is, this whole exchange strangely made me feel like a star. I mean after all, here I was pulling into the driveway of our fixer-upper and a film crew was having to make way for me.

OK, it’s not cocktails with Tom and Nicole. But it was cool nonetheless.

So, what’s the draw across the street from our place?

It’s Bill and Gail Dorfman’s place. To advertisers it represents the All-American home because it’s, well, perfect.

It would be easy to hate neighbors for such an offense, but not the Dorfmans.

Their house isn’t glitzy or glamorous. It’s not a quickie million-dollar remodel either. In fact, the equation that best puts a value on their place is: 14 X 52 = 728. That’s roughly the number of weekends--728--they’ve spent working on the place over the past decade and a half.

They started 14 years ago with a simple three-bedroom house on a lot so choked with brush that it had to be cleared with a tractor. Today, they have a showplace that is a tribute to sweat equity.

It’s nice to see that recognized. The fact that the Dorfmans are great neighbors and seem amused by all the fuss themselves makes it all the easier.

On a recent day, Bill stood off the set dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. He was covered in dirt. He’d been helping another neighbor install a sprinkler system. (He’s known for being as handy at his friends’ houses as he is at his own.)

“Do you believe all this?,” he said with a shrug. “Amazing.”

They get a nominal fee for the inconvenience of having their home invaded by the film crews. But there are other perks, too.

Like the time a crew filmed a show there this spring. One shot called for a scene in the pool. That meant that the pool had to be heated--and it wasn’t the Dorfmans who had to pay the bill. They got to go swimming a little early this year.

Their children, Justin, 14, and Erica, 12, benefit as well--they get to bring their friends over and show off the film crew.

And then there are the caterers. Gail remembers arriving home one afternoon and seeing the chaotic scene in the driveway and wondering whether it was worth all the trouble.

Then she got a whiff of the lobster tails broiling on the grill.

Eating along with the crew, she noted, is another perk.