By Stephen Young
By Stephen Young
By Stephen Young
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
a.k.a. The Pack Rat
Sure, she looks innocent enough, but don't be fooled. This 88-year-old grandma's garage is packed to the rafters with every National Geographic magazine published since 1937, leading her to park her car in her East Dallas carport, where it's been broken into 37 times since 1991.
a.k.a. The Doofus
A C.P.A. with a downtown accounting firm, The Doofus' spindly girly arms, meek demeanor and aversion to exercise make him an irresistible target for muggers, who have homed in on this so-called "victim" seven times in the past eight months.
a.k.a. Hootchie Girl
Bad-girl Wallace's knee-length skirts and provocative short-sleeve blouses, along with her selfish insistence on venturing out after dark, led her to complain of an entirely avoidable sexual assault in 2002.
a.k.a. The Wuss
A low tolerance for pain combined with a sucking chest wound from random gunfire prompted Smith to phone 911 seven times in a single evening last fall, further boosting the city's crime statistics and wasting the valuable time of officers who finally responded to the calls, only to find him uselessly dead.
a.k.a. The Princess
An inveterate shopaholic, The Princess' flagrant possession of a Louis Vuitton handbag and Piaget watch needlessly inflamed the material lust of an innocent gunman, who unavoidably robbed her at gunpoint last spring.
a.k.a. The Health Nut
A tri-athlete, Snyder made the regrettable decision to sneak in a five-mile run at dawn, prompting the attention of a pack of teens returning from a successful night of wilding. Nine minutes and four assaults later, Dallas notched another uptick in its crime stats.
McGruff the Crime Dog says: "Take a bite out of crime statistics! Don't report any!"
From Funland to La-La Land
Clark Vogeler, ex of local bands Funland and the Toadies, went solo in 2001 and left Dallas for Los Angeles. Like most who move to Hollywood, Vogeler dreamed of working in the Dream Factory--though not as a maker of movies, but as an editor of them. His interest in slicing and dicing came about when he shot some short films for the Toadies' Web site. "I felt like my brain could do it," says the guitarist, who aspired to go to film school when he was 18 but instead "became a rock star."
Vogeler attended the Los Angeles Film School, then got a few gigs before getting hired as an assistant editor on the second installment of HBO's Project Greenlight, about the (un)making of a million-dollar feature called The Battle of Shaker Heights for Miramax, which wraps up its run a week from Sunday. The show, which awarded first-time directors Kyle Rankin and Efram Potelle the chance to direct novice screenwriter Erica Beeney's script, is classic train-wreck TV; the show, needless to say, is far better than the finished film. Vogeler can't tell you more than you've seen on television--he's bound to a confidentiality clause--but he is prepping the DVD, which will include some deleted scenes.
You went to L.A. to work in the movie business, then wind up working on a show about the movie business. Do you find that, well, odd?
I didn't think about that in meta terms.
You making fun of me?
No. [He laughs.]
When did you start?
I was brought on a few days before Sundance in January...There was tons of stuff to do. I was digitizing all the tapes of them [series producers Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and Chris Moore] watching submissions. I edited scenes of guys editing.
What were you thinking?
It made me realize how editing is kind of nebulous to people who don't know anything about it, how it must look like the most boring thing in the world. It's a guy at a computer with a couple of fingers moving.
How did you make it exciting?
I got an iPod.
Not for you. For us?
I don't think you do.
I assume you're as wrapped up in the show as the audience.
More so, because I get to see quite literally 500 more times stuff than you guys do, so I know all the little nuances and all the little twists.
All of which you're sworn to secrecy to never reveal.
Do the editors all sit around after hours, watch the stuff and giggle?
There's a lot of gossip. You'll get a call like, "Amy [Smart, one of the film's stars] is on set, and Kyle and Efram showed up with their own dialogue," and everybody's like, "Oh, my God, Erica ripped up a script!"