Mike, my friend. You are a legend. I will miss your handshake first thing in the morning and at wrap. Your quick wit and dark humor. Your passion for the process and eye for common sense and safety.
As a camera PA starting out, I once dropped a BNC cable in front of the dolly and busted a shot. You didn’t throw me under the bus as you reset the camera, but you did look at me sternly and said “you don’t want to do that.” So I didn’t do it again. I looked up to you on those early sets, and learned quickly that the fastest way to get a chuckle out of you was to quote Life Aquatic. “This is gonna hurt…”
When I made Pastime, your enthusiasm gave me so much confidence. For years you have quoted the dialogue from that movie, the manager calling the umpire a “blind bastard.” “I’m available for the sequel,” you’d say.
You know all the dad jokes I like to say to kids on set to get them to laugh (or groan). “Tell them your nosy pepper joke, Danny.” And I did, and then you would give a hearty, courtesy laugh while the kids rolled their eyes. Ever the team player.
In recent years, you always ask about my kids, and I am keen to share photos. In West Virginia one year while FaceTiming Ollie at lunch, we made funny faces at him in front of a green screen. Sometimes, when I FaceTime Ollie from work, he will ask, “Where is green screen guy?”
Your emotional intelligence on a film set is bar none. You see everything. I have always admired that. You prepare but don’t over-prepare. A coiled spring. I’m lucky to have worked with you on so many sets, and it’s an honor to call you a friend. It is so, so painful to lose you, Mike. I wish I knew you better, and I wish I could tell you what you meant to me, to all of us in this town. You will not be forgotten.
You were the best… available. :)
Love,
Danny