By Mike Thomas

After a 66-year career in the film industry, one might be excused for thinking that Robert Wise had pretty much met his career goals. His achievements include editing Citizen Kane, directing films in almost every conceivable genre including such classics as The Set-Up, The Day the Earth Stood Still, Executive Suite, I Want to Live, West Side Story, The Haunting (1963), The Sound of Music, The Sand Pebbles, The Andromeda Strain and Star Trek: The Motion Picture. He's won four Academy Awards; two as director and two for best picture for West Side Story and The Sound of Music.

He's been honored with the Irving Thalberg Award for excellence in production, served two terms as president of the Directors Guild, was honored with the DGA's prestigious D.W. Griffith Award (recently renamed the DGA Lifetime Achievement Award) and the Robert Aldrich Award and has chaired the Guild's Special Projects Committee since its inception. He served as president of the Motion Picture Academy and had been recently given the American Film Institute's Lifetime Achievement Award. Yet, for many years, one elusive goal has remained outside his grasp - directing his 40th film.

I first met Bob Wise in 1981 when he visited San Diego for a lecture. I had just graduated from the UCSD film department and was in the early stages of creating the San Diego Film Society. I asked Bob for an interview and he invited me up to his office, then located at the Sunset Gower studios. We struck up a friendship that has remained strong throughout the intervening decades.

I receive a call from Bob asking me if I wanted to be his assistant on his latest project. He was in negotiation to direct a movie for Showtime, an old Rod Serling script entitled A Storm in Summer. He asked me to take a look at the script and offer my reactions.

The thing that struck me upon first reading was the elegance and timelessness of Serling's writing. The second impression was how perfect it was for Bob. The script is the story of an elderly embittered Jewish deli owner whose life is transformed by an angry young black boy from the slums of Harlem. Although they both have enormous chips on their shoulders, the friendship that develops between the characters reaffirms the sentiments that have permeated many of Bob's best films, from Odds Against Tomorrow to The Sand Pebbles, an appeal for tolerance and understanding between people of different cultures and races. But, as he has mentioned to me many times, messages must to be told through the characters, something this script did very effectively.

Talk is that Peter Falk is going to play the part of the deli owner. Bob tells me the production has been postponed until spring since a rainy Vancouver winter couldn't hope to pass for upstate New York during a summer heat wave.

On an overcast Sunday afternoon we are picked up by a limo and driven to LAX for the three-hour flight to British Columbia. We land to discover the Vancouver sun welcoming us. Unfortunately, the Canadian bureaucracy isn't as accommodating as the weather. Bob is detained by immigration for several hours as his wife Millicent and I try, with no success, to locate him. Finally, after a stressful two hours, he appears. Some weeks later I find out the cause for the delay. Apparently, there is a Canadian film director by the name of Bob Wise, so when an American Robert Wise applies for a work permit as an alien, it sets off an alarm in the Canadian immigration system.

We arrive at our offices Tuesday morning ready to make a movie. At this point the entire Storm in Summer production team consists of Robert Wise, executive producer Renee Valente, and myself holed up in two offices in the suburb of Burnaby. We begin interviewing potential crew members.

"Personality is so important when choosing a crew," Bob observed when we were interviewing. I like a relaxed set and it all starts with the director setting the tone. I've worked with crews around the world and they're all pretty much the same - hard-working and good-natured. Treat your crews with respect and you'll get the best out of them. Anticipation and communication are the keys. If you anticipate any problems before they come up and communicate effectively with your DP and your AD and your department heads, you can avoid a lot of headaches later on."

The casting sessions begin. At this point, we have only the two lead parts cast - that of Shaddick, the Jewish deli owner and Herman, the African-American boy [Aaron Meeks]. We are trying to get some other established names for the cast but to protect ourselves, we are looking at the impressive array of acting talent that casting executive Sid Kozak has assembled. Some of the best of the local acting community has come to audition for the supporting roles. It is a fascinating experience for me to be watching Bob work and to be involved in a casting session for the first time. Invariably there is one actor who is just so good for each part that you know no one else need even bother. One such performer was Lillian Carlson, a local character actress. As we watched her become Mrs. Gold, a sarcastic deli customer, she immediately claimed the role as her own. "She delights me," said Bob. He selects her because of her ability to take a small, stock character, and transformed it into a memorable piece of business that will become one of the film's many treasures.

Bob, his wife Millicent and I attend a screening of Notting Hill. One thing I soon discover about Bob is that he is a rabid movie buff. In the next few weeks we will either attend or rent dozens of films, among them such varied fare as Run, Lola, Run, An Ideal Husband, Brief Encounter, The Red Violin, Gods and Monsters, Tea With Mussolini, L'Atalante, You've Got Mail, Ice Storm, Pleasantvllle, City of Angels, His Girl Friday, Anatomy of a Murder, North by Northwest, Mikey & Nicky, as well as some Robert Wise films, including a few Bob hasn't seen since making them - The Andromeda Strain, Captive City, Two for the Seesaw, The Desert Rats, The Sand Pebbles and West Side Story. We also watch several pictures he cut at RKO - The Hunchback of Notre Dame, My Favorite Wife and a little thing called Citizen Kane. I kid Bob about the opening scene of Kane. "If Kane died alone," I wonder, "How could anyone know he uttered ‘Rosebud' on his deathbed?"

"Oh, that's my fault," he replied. "I should have changed it by cutting to the nurse coming in the room sooner." Spoken like a true editor, I smile at the thought that Robert Wise is still mentally re-cutting Citizen Kane.

We begin scouting locations around the Vancouver area for our mythical small town of Fairview in upstate New York We quickly settle on Cloverdale, a small hamlet about 45 miles away, near the border. We have no trouble finding a lake for the fishing scene or a pool for the country club scene, but finding an area in downtown Vancouver that can realistically double for Harlem is a different matter. While scouting locations in the afternoons, we have production meetings in the morning and Bob is concerned if the 20 days allotted for the shooting schedule is enough. "Let's get a schedule that's feasible, reasonable, attainable," he says. "Let's not kid ourselves." He is determined to have enough time to give this show the right production values it deserves. We are given 20 days, we will wind up getting rained out twice on location and end up shooting for 22 days.

While having dinner at Goodfellas, an Italian restaurant across from our residence, an effusive young waiter overhears Bob talking about movies. The waiter approaches and nervously asks if he's in show business. Bob replies that he's a film director. When the waiter asks if he's won any Oscars. Bob tells him that he's won four, and has an honorary one, as well. The waiter gushes with excitement, "Wow, you are seriously the man!" I mention the anecdote to Renee and she has a director's chair canvas printed that reads ROBERT WISE on one side and SERIOUSLY THE MAN on the other. He gets a big kick out of it.

Rehearsals begin. We do two read-throughs with Peter Falk and Aaron Meeks and there isn't a dry eye at the end of either session. Bob does some preliminary blocking but decides to wait until we get to the set. Still, it's been an invaluable tool for Bob to have the luxury of a few days rehearsal, especially with Aaron. He explains, "As good as any script is, you never really know what you've got until you get it up on its feet with the actors, and see how it plays. And I think we've got ourselves a fine film here."

Today is Billy Wilder's 93rd birthday. After work, Bob gives Billy a call to wish him all the best and then we celebrate by renting his classic film noir Double Indemnity.

First day of shooting. Bob welcomes the crew and then begins blocking the first shot of Herman entering the deli with Peter Falk and cinematographer Burt Dunk.

"Ordinarily, I don't like to start shooting on a Monday," he confides to me during a break. "I prefer to begin in the middle of the week, if I can. On the first day, everyone's a little nervous and anxious, so you have a couple of days' shooting and then the weekend to get re-grouped and catch your breath. Then when you come back to the set on Monday, you already know the cast and crew.

"You know, people always think if you start out as a film editor, you shoot less footage," he adds. "Actually, just the opposite is true. I tend to grab as much coverage as I can because as a former editor I know how important it is to have those few frames. I also know the value of having that cutaway, that insert, so I always try to cover myself and have plenty to choose from. Nothing worse than being in a cutting room and not having the shot you need.

"But the most important thing any editor has to do is to make the scene work. My mentor at RKO was a fine editor named Billy Hamilton and the best advice he ever gave me was, ‘Make it play!' I think that's the key thing, not does the continuity match perfectly from shot to shot, or is the actor holding the glass in the same position. Does the scene work? Does it play? Because if it does work, the audience won't care if the continuity's not perfect and if the scene doesn't play, then all the continuity in the world doesn't matter. And I never print the first take, I always hold one, just in case. I don't always shoot a master for coverage, either. Sometimes I'll just shoot a few lines at the beginning and ending of a scene, knowing I'll be cutting in closer for the rest of it. Sometime you don't even need to shoot a master.

"Speaking of editing, one of my most famous shots is the opening of The Sound of Music. I was concerned that it might be too similar to the opening of West Side Story, you know, the aerial opening shot. But we couldn't come up with anything better so we went with it and it worked brilliantly. I told Julie [Andrews] that when the helicopter got too close to her to turn and that was the signal for it to back off. She did, and I matched the turn in a close-up, because I knew you could cut on the action. It worked so well, that to this day many people remember it as being a single shot!"

Bob insists upon seeing the first day's dailies on a big screen. He is adamant about this and finally prevails. We get to see the first dailies on a full screen in a theatre. Munching bags of popcorn, the crew watches, many of them seeing for the first time the dailies on a cinema screen. They look great and everybody comes out on a high.

I mentioned to Bob my surprise at the freedom he gives his actors, particularly Peter Falk. He seems to be directing with a very light touch. "That's because I trust Peter's instincts. He knows what he's doing. I've always believed that preproduction is where so much of the film is determined and if you choose your cast and crew with care, your shooting schedule should flow smoothly. Of course," he adds with a smile, "it doesn't always turn out that way. But that's the idea, you get everybody on board, communicate the idea, and then let all the wonderful, talented people on your crew do their jobs. The director guides them, makes the final decisions, but they know their jobs. You don't need to micromanage them.

"As I've always said, preproduction is so important. When you cast the actors, you've done much of the work. Now, you may need to guide them a little, take it up or down, have them go faster or slower, but the casting process is crucial. I recall when I was first starting out, a director named Richard Wallace told me, ‘Remember, Bobby, if it plays slow on the set, it will play twice as slow on the screen.' He was so right. If I do need to talk to the actors, I'll always take them aside and quietly whisper any direction I have. I never do it front of the crew. You've got to respect their feelings, after all, they're the ones up there in front of the camera."

Unfortunately, Aaron, who was so good in the rehearsal, is now a little stiff. Bob takes him aside for a quiet talk. He tells me later that he told Aaron, "Don't pick up your lines automatically. Think about what you're saying, as if it's the first time you've ever said it. It's too automatic as if you're reading the lines." The result was that Aaron gets over his nerves and loosens up, getting better with each take, finally nailing it on the ninth take.

Andrew McCarthy arrives for two days' work. He is on his way to take over the lead on Broadway in the Tony Award-winner Side Men, but while he is here he is totally focused on his part. He is a real pro, nailing every take. He has come up with some wonderfully inventive hand gestures that completely illuminate the character of Stanley the would-be hipster. Peter Falk comes up to Bob at one point and whispers, "This kid is good!"

We are getting near the deadline to cast an actress to play Gloria Ross, the socialite. After Lisa Kudrow passes, we get Rebecca DeMornay but she falls through over billing disputes. I'm asked to come up with a list of possible actresses for the role. I turn in a list of 30 potential actresses when word comes back that we're getting Nastassia Kinski for the part.

Ms. Kinski arrives. She seems distracted and is having difficulty with her lines. Renee is very concerned about her but Bob takes it all in stride. He's been watching her performance, piecing it together in his head and isn't worried. "She'll cut together," he says and sure enough, back in the editing room, she turns out just fine.

For two days we get out of the deli and shoot the swimming pool scene at a local recreation center. The weather is gorgeous and during the lunch break, crew members hop in the pool; one of them has even brought a canoe that he paddles around in. Spirits are high and it's a good time for the crew photo.

Tim Robbins, in Vancouver shooting a Brian DePalma film, invites Bob to a screening of his terrific new film about Orson Welles' Mercury Theatre production of The Cradle Will Rock. After the screening, Susan Sarandon, Nick Nolte, Emily Watson, Brian DePalma and Robert Townsend mingle in the theatre lobby as the lanky Robbins ambles over to Bob and asks, "You worked with Orson - did we get him?" Bob assures him he did.

After getting rained out twice before, we finally get sunshine at Rice Lake; third time's the charm. We have our "Ready when you are, C.B." moment when we hear a loud splash during a slate. It seems the stunt double for Peter Falk was a little too anxious and jumped in the lake when he heard "Rolling!" instead of "Action!"

We need some dialogue for the fishing scene and Peter Falk writes a couple of pages for Aaron and he to speak while they're fishing. It beautifully illuminates the growing sense of friendship and this brief dialogue, born out of the fear that we might be short on time, turns out to be one of the best scenes in the picture.

Back to Cloverdale for the last day of shooting. I go up to get Bob for the last time, and as we wait for the elevator to arrive he puts it all in perspective. "Well, this is it. The last day of shooting in my 56 years as a director." Chills go up my spine. Unfortunately, because we have crammed everything into this last day, we run late and are unable to hold the wrap party. The champagne bought for Bob's last day of his directing career will go unopened.

A rough cut of the film is screened for Bob at Lantana Studios. Editor Jack Hofstra introduces Bob to his first nonlinear editing session. "I'm a film person," says Bob, "I like to have the film in my hands. Still, these machines are amazing. The choices they give you." By the end of the day he is converted.

Throughout the next six weeks there will be a flurry of faxes between Showtime executives in New York, producer Renee Valente and Bob over the shape of the finished film. This collaborative give and take is surprisingly harmonious and the film emerges the richer for all the input and contributions.

The picture is now officially locked.

Composer Cynthia Millar scores the film with the great Elmer Bernstein conducting.

We are at the first production company to do our mix at the newly christened Robert Wise Building at 20th Century Fox, which is only fair since it was Bob's picture, The Sound of Music, that saved Fox. I have lunch with Bob and he remarks how well the film has turned out. "I'm very pleased with it. It's a good picture to go out on."

During the AFI tribute to Robert Wise, Richard Crenna remarked upon his first day of shooting The Sand Pebbles that he turned to fellow actor Richard Attenborough and said, "I can't believe it, Dickie. I can't believe I'm working on a Robert Wise film." I think every member of A Storm in Summer felt the same way, and on behalf of the entire cast and crew, thanks Bob, we wouldn't have missed it for anything.

A Storm in Summer airs on Showtime.

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