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From Northport to Hollywood -- and back

BY DAVE MARCUS | dave.marcus@newsday.com

7:34 AM EDT, September 12, 2008

Members of the production crew members in the author's bedroom during filming. (Newsday Photo by Dave Marcus)

The deal sounded irresistible: A producer wanted to borrow my house in Northport to shoot a movie starring Edie Falco.

Although I wouldn't get paid, I'd be insured for damages. Plus, my son and daughter might appear in the film.

I said fine. I could envision Edie in the dining room, chortling with us about favorite lines from "The Sopranos" while my kids fielded calls from Hollywood execs. After a couple of roles in Adam Sandler movies, we'd have enough savings to pay for college.

Earlier this month, I walked into my three-bedroom house, which I'd casually decorated in late-20th century Divorced Dad style. I barely recognized it. Instead of the usual mounds of laundry topped with lacrosse sticks, I saw wooden tables covered with picture frames and medicines. Frilly drapes hid the windows, and watercolors were everywhere.

The centerpiece of my living room - a reconditioned pool table - was gone.

Several crew members puffed on cigarettes at the doorways of my nonsmoking house. Someone had moved my daughter's fish tank and disconnected the filter. I found a dead goldfish on a cabinet.

And that was before the filming started.

What the heck. The front of my house would be famous - a boost in a time of sinking real estate values. And Edie Falco would be shooting at our place! My kids were thrilled.

How it all started

All this began months ago with a note on several doors in my neighborhood. Eric Mendelsohn, a Columbia University film professor who grew up in Old Bethpage, was looking for sites to shoot his movie, titled "Four Backyards."

The film tells the story of four suburban families on one day. At my place, known in the script as "Christina's House," a girl goes to her parents' room and finds a sparkling gift in the closet. At one point, she runs down the stairs and out the door.

I wrote a story about Mendelsohn's house-scouting for Newsday. Dazzled by his energy, I volunteered to let him use my home. Because he was an independent filmmaker with a tight budget, I understood why he couldn't pay for locations.

Anyway, I could almost hear the critics' acclaim for my daughter's sensitive portrayal of Christina and my son's effervescent role as her brother. (Did I mention that we would be hosting Edie Falco, who grew up in Northport?)

A missed opportunity

During the summer, Mendelsohn stopped by and asked my 9-year-old daughter to run down the stairs and out the door. She turned shy and demurred. I didn't realize it at the time, but she'd just failed her audition to be Christina. Hasta luego, Adam Sandler.

At 5:40 a.m. on a Thursday in early September, the first day of filming, trucks, vans and cars surrounded the house. Set designers, costume designers, lighting people, sound people, prop people, electricians, assistant producers and a deputy producer buzzed up and down the stairs. A woman who was part of the crew - I assume - napped on my couch.

Techies showed up, scattering computers, printers and cell phones on my dining room table. I walked out my back door to find tents erected in the yard and lights on long poles shining into my bedroom windows.

By 9 a.m., as a dozen young men and women jabbered into walkie-talkies and a generator hummed on my front lawn, I could feel my neighbors' goodwill dissipating.

When I turned on the kitchen faucet to wash my breakfast dishes, two film people reprimanded me.

I walked upstairs to my room.