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For a film with a tight schedule and an even tighter budget, Resurrection: the J.R. Richard Story is not off to a great start. Today's scene, the first to be shot, is supposed to show the former Houston Astro at his rock-bottom worst: strung out and begging his ex-wife, a tollbooth worker, for money. Filming was set to begin at 9 a.m. at the Sam Houston Tollway. The toll exit has been shut down, the caravan of rented RVs has arrived, and Kenya Moore, a former Miss USA who's playing the ex, is costumed in her tollbooth finest. But the start gets pushed back to noon, then 1 p.m. By 2:30, the sun has baked everyone to a disgruntled crisp. Still, the camera crews idle. Still, director Greg Carter paces a grassy berm, cell phone glued to his ear.
This is Carter's seventh feature-length film; his crew knows the drill. "On a low-budget movie, you expect this," says Tony Crochet, an assistant director. If anything, "low-budget" is an understatement. Carter intends to deliver Resurrection, a two-hour biopic spanning four tumultuous decades, for just $250,000. "The people I know in Los Angeles spend that much on a music video," admits Benjamin Jimerson, a co- producer. The strangers on the set -- college kids volunteering as production assistants, would-be actors eager to get a second of face time -- weren't expecting such chaos. Two extras are fresh from Friday Night Lights, the Billy Bob Thornton movie recently shot in Houston. "Now that one ran like clockwork," one says.
People begin to whisper that the actor playing J.R. Richard is running late. Someone says he's still en route from California. Screenwriter Keith Kjornes isn't fazed. "Just get a black guy and shoot over the back of his head," he suggests, cracking himself up.
At 3:30 p.m., Carter finally instructs everyone to turn off their cell phones and pagers. A big man in Timberlands, khaki shorts and braids, he couldn't seem more relaxed. "All right, kinfolk, let's kick ass," he says, grinning. Within minutes, the cameras are rolling.
Nine takes are spoiled by airplanes overhead, flubbed lines or over-the-top acting. It's almost 5 p.m. by the time Carter has his shot. Somehow, he's still grinning. It's only later...