USD Magazine Spring 2006

for the nine-minute epic, “Jesus of Suburbia.” He’s produced the last four videos as well; all in col- laboration with acclaimed direc- tor Samuel Bayer, whose first foray into the medium was the iconic video for Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” But even with a budget of well over $400,000, even given Bayer’s apparently well-deserved reputa- tion of being, uh, somewhat volatile on the set, even with a crew of well over 70 people, even with the heat and the exhaust fumes and faint smell of smoke that wafts past from local brush fires, even with all that, Tim Lynch remains supremely cool. He radiates the sort of calm that Zen masters aspire to, and takes the time to make sure that all of the people in his command —which, in this case, means literally every- one within 100 yards — are taken care of. Of course, as producer, that’s his job. The location this morning (day two of a four-day shoot), is a gritty, graffiti-covered bridge surrounded on three sides by chain-link fence. Director Bayer bears more than a passing resemblance to an aging Spicoli from“Fast Times at Ridgemont High”with his tousled, long, professionally streaked hair. As he passes Lynch, Bayer pauses, turns and stops to request that a masseuse be ordered for a cam- eraman who’s having back trouble after reaching some awkward shots the day before.“No problem,” says Lynch, who hits a couple of buttons on his omnipresent BlackBerry to order one masseuse, over-easy, hold the toast. Actor Lou Pucci has been cast as the main character; though he looks about 15, word is that he’s actually 20. Pucci’s once light-brown hair has been dyed a harsh black and cut into spiky tufts, the carefully hand-drawn “tattoos” that a make-up artist applied earlier look indistin- guishable from the real thing. “We’ve totally transformed him,” confides Lynch. “He was

[ LOS ANGELES ] THE TEMPERATURE HOV E R S J U S T B E L OW 9 0 D E G R E E S I N T H E SULLEN SHADE . Unde r a conges ted f reeway ove rpas s , A CHUNK OF EXHAUST- CHOKED ASPHALT I S CORDONED OFF BY YELLOW C AUT ION TAPE. Beyond that ba r r i er, a footba l l - f i e l d s i zed zone i s spr i nk l ed wi th PARKED CARS; TWO TRAILERS SIT SIDE-BY-SIDE, PERPENDICULAR TO A LUXUR Y MOTOR HOME AND A CATERING WAGON. AN INCONGRUOUS SMELL OF BACON WAFTS BY, MINGL ING — NOT ALTOGETHER UNPLEASANTLY — with the smog. It turns out that home base for a BIG-BUDGET MUS I C VIDEO ISN’T NECESSARILY DRIPPING WITH CHAMPAGNE DREAMS AND CAV I AR WI SHE S . ruth is, the glamour factor is just about nil. Inside the trailer on the right, the energy level is permanently set to “amped.”Walkie-talkies crackle and the entire floor sways whenever someone moves, which is all the time. Laptops, fax machines, phones and printers buzz constantly, as a steady stream of problems flow in and solutions filter out. This is the place where dreams are made real. Not by magic, but by a smoothly functioning machine headed by producer Tim Lynch ’95. His right- hand, production manager Becky Brown, describes the tanned 33-year-old as “CEO of the set.” Lynch is unassum- ing in the extreme: He wears sneakers, khaki pants and a T-shirt covered by an unbuttoned long-sleeved olive green shirt with a frayed collar. “He doesn’t always wear sunglasses indoors,” Brown remarks. At the wardrobe trailer next door, extras emerge one by one, freshly adorned in tattered yet chic punk rock garb and corresponding attitude. They cluster together at one long table, waiting for their cue to hop in one of the air-conditioned vans and be transported to the day’s first location. Lynch and his crew are no-non- sense, dealing with one request after another, providing directions, water, power cords, apologetic notes, ETAs, stock film reels, updated lists, release forms, signatures and, most important, reassurance to just about anyone who opens the door. When it’s time to roll, everyone — but for a core group holding down the home fort — seems to vanish as if blown away by a gusting blast of Santa Ana wind. Time is, after all, money. And on this set, a video shoot for the latest single from one of the most popular bands in the world, there’s plenty of money. But even more abundant is the underlying serenity that emanates from Tim Lynch, who’s got the kind of calm presence that assures even the most hectic sort that all will indeed be well. THE POST-PUNK GROUP GREEN DAY HAS REACHED AN APEX IN ITS CAREER AS a band, having achieved the kind of crazy popularity that makes the songs on their latest album utterly ubiquitous. That 2004 release,“American Idiot,”has been at the top of the charts for over a year. The group has sold out stadiums across the country on a high-energy tour that showcases pyrotechnics and sheer energetic glee. A parade of singles from the album—“Boulevard of Broken Dreams,”“American Idiot,” “Holiday”and“Wake Me UpWhen September Ends”—have been in such heavy rotation on radio and television that they’ve become pop culture staples. It seems likely that every person under the age of 40 in the United States would find them familiar, especially given an entire year’s promotional juggernaut that’s reached a critical mass level of absolute cultural saturation. In a word, Green Day is huge. So it’s an enormously big deal that Lynch is producing the fifth of the band’s “American Idiot” videos, this time T

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