Biff to the Future

BIFF TO THE FUTURE

February 27:

Waking up this morning, just as David Letterman was signing off, I reported to my first day of work at 3:30 A.M. At that ridiculous hour of the morning, when wild coyotes roam the Universal back lot, I hopped into the makeup chair. After six hours of painstaking makeup application, 45 minutes of wig puttering, I climbed into Biff's fat suit and wardrobe and finally, utterly spent after a long night of pre-shoot insomnia and a seven hour baptism of fire, I was ready to begin the day's work. The first shot was a split screen shot in which I played both old Biff at 78 and young Biff, at 18, using the 'Tondreau' camera, a moving, black, cyclopsean monolith that memorizes its own movements in order to repeat them with computerized precision. I knew that these splits would be technically demanding and time consuming, but hoo boy, I had no idea.

The camera needs to 'burn in' its movements into the computer, so I had to walk down the street and act the scene as young Biff, in old Biff's makeup and wardrobe, doing a precise representation of what I planned to do later in the day as young Biff. After setting the program, I acted the scene as old Biff, standing behind a tree, listening to young Biff complain about his car. After that half of the shot was complete, I had to have the makeup removed quickly and return as young Biff. It was a one hour process whereby the latex pieces are peeled from my fact with the help of some toxic solvent that, inexplicably, works best when poured directly into my eyes. Ouch. Then they reapplied makeup to my red, throbbing skin and I stepped back onto the set as young Biff. A radio earpiece was placed in my ear so I could listen to old Biff's dialogue and some of Bob Z's direction. Due to the demand for utter vocal and physical precision by the Tondreau camera, by the end of the 16 hour day, I felt like a technological marionette that had just been beaten to a pulp. I was knocked off my moorings a bit today, but I've now steeled myself for the hardest work of my life and the biggest challenge to my capacity for concentration.

March 16:

Deja Biff. We're back at the original 'Enchantment Under the Sea Dance' and, for the first time, I'm back as the original Biff. The BTTF1 Biff wardrobe at the same location. I pulled on those clothes, put a fresh glop of butch wax in my hair and walked into the dance - an exact copy of the original. 'Wow!' I said, 'Now I really feel like Biff!' Michael and I did the Tondreau splits where Marty from BTTF1 blasts out the door, knocking out BTTF2 Marty as Biff watches. We're all getting faster at the Tondreau camera, though I guess it helps that Michael's change of character involves little more than changing jackets and putting on a hat. As a joke, the prop men have changed the back of Bob Z's chair. Underneath 'Robert Zemeckis', it now reads 'Guardian of the imagination'. Michael is having his chair changed to read 'Michael J. Fox, roller of the eyeballs'.

April 3

Bifferific. A psychopathic moron with money and guns. Owner of Biff's Pleasure Palace. Wearer of lots of gold jewelry and a Hefneresque bathrobe. Another five and a half hours of makeup and I entered the unbelievable set of Biff's penthouse, an incredible creation on a sound stage on the Universal lot. Nudes on black velvet and plaques honoring Biff all over the walls. My favorite was the man of the year award to Biff Tannen from the National Asbestos Foundation. My voice is a little blown out from the low growl that I've given this Biff, but compared to the mind-numbing makeup process, hey, who needs a larynx?

April 20

Old Biff again. I've got blisters on my neck, burns on my face, and red blotches under my eyes from the endless rigors of the makeup. They make me up now by covering the blisters and burns with band aids and painting glue on the band aids so the latex pieces will stick to them. The days and days of work in prosthetics has left my brain scattered on the ground around me. Shards of glistening grey matter on the wetted down streets of El Monte, California, the location of the future. We filmed Biff's death tonight. Doc and Marty run to the Delorean as Einstein, a.k.a. Freddy, the dog, barks at me from the middle of the street. They finally take off into the air as I go through the throes of a painful heart attack. Take one - I begin by grabbing the top of a futuristic car in a desperate gasp and roll from there to the ground. As I get into the real meat of this difficult scene, I hear the voice of the animal trainer from behind the camera 'Freddie! FREDDIE! COME, FREDDIE! STAY! STAY, FREDDIE! NOW SPEAK FREDDIE, SPEAK!' The trainer is three feet away from me, yelling at the dog as I'm trying to die! Unbelievable. During my dramatic death, they're yelling directions to the dog and, as I watch the Delorean take off, I have to keep my eyes open as a giant fan blows a hail storm of gravel into my teeth.

April 27

Young Biff on his way to pick up his car. I had to steal a ball from a group of kids a throw it onto a roof. Bob Z. wanted one of the kids to say 'What a butthead!' as I left. A six year old named Justin was selected. 'Now, Justin, when he leaves, you say 'what a butthead!' O.K.?' Little, freckle faced Justin didn't miss a beat. 'How much money am I gettin' for this?' he shot back. A new record. Completely jaded at six.

Michael and I have been paying close attention to Bob Z's directing style, trying to learn from one of the premiere directors in Hollywood. Bob, however, moves at such a technically advanced, eye popping, nerve jangling pace that, as Michael put it, 'It all ends up sounding like Ethiopian techno babble!' Watching Bob doesn't reveal the deep secrets of how a decision is made, or a scene comes together. All I see are crackling electrons around Bob's head as he bursts with huge glops of creative juice pulled out of some corner of his brain.

June 6

I've been Griff for the past number of days, hanging from wires connected to a crane, flying across the courthouse square pond on my hoverboard. It was a beautiful morning and I drove to the lot with a smile on my face. I hopped into my dressing room and began preparing when there was a knock on the door. It was Chuck, the men's costumer. "Mornin', Tom, uh... your pants are gonna be pretty wet this morning because of the flame retardant."

"...pardon me?"

"Yeah, the flame retardant is goopy and they haven't dried." And it had been such a promising morning.

The first shot up was a stunt that I had to perform involving my flying upside down, my head inches from a flight of cement stairs and my feet screwed into a hover board that is sparking, smoking and basically, aflame. I wore a wide harness, cinched very tightly around my waist and thighs, that cuts off circulation to the lower body and pools blood in the upper body. After a few minutes in the thing, the legs begin to become tingly and one is taken over by an incredible urge to pass out. After Walter Scott, the stunt coordinator, explained the stunt to me, and blocked me from running off the lot, they hooked me to the wires connected to the crane arm and drilled the board to my feet. Bob Z. came up and explained what he wanted in the shot. He pointed at the first of the cement stairs. "Tom, flip upside down and scream and just aim your head at this step." As blood pooled in my brain and I became eerily disoriented, they lit the hoverboard into its controlled explosion and I flew by the camera upside down, my feet raining hot, white sparks onto the cement below. Screaming was not a problem. Stopping screaming was a problem.

July 25

I am wrapped. Unbelievable as it may seem, BTTF2 is over. I finished the shoot today with my very favorite shot, the infamous Biff manure shot. I spent the afternoon covered in a mixture of cork, steer feed and a viscous goop made out of mystery food products. My ears were filled with it, my hair covered with it and my mouth full of it. I screamed and spat in the shot and before long, there was some back slapping and congratulations as I hit the showers. As we celebrated, I did my best to ignore the fact that I have wardrobe and makeup calls next week and that in a couple of weeks we'll be starting production on BTTF3. The roller coaster has stopped, but I can't pull that big, padded steel restraint from around my neck. Here we go again.