Huddled halfway up a staircase in the central concourse of Grand Central Terminal, writer/director Christopher Smith, cinematographer Steve Doyle, and assistant camera Mike Mayer prepped the first shot of the shoot. “Camera?” Smith asked. “Speed,” Doyle replied. “Action!”One hundred feet away, Gene Gallerano as Malcolm Holt walked across the floor toward the Metro North timetable. The first shot was in the can. “Looks good, guys,” Smith said, signaling Gallerano to get ready for a second take.For the young filmmakers involved with SUICIDE KIDS, they recall the first day of production with a mixture of excitement and disbelief, particularly that their low-budget indie was commencing at Grand Central Terminal. Smith recalled he didn’t expect to get permission to shoot at the venerable Manhattan landmark, but a quick email to the transit authority found a government agency eager to help the fledgling film.

From such auspicious beginnings, a crew of five–including Smith, Doyle, Mayer, production manager Mary Monigold, and sound mixer Sam Stone–and a cast of sixteen doubled down on each encounter of good fortune, cashing in on yet another improbable stroke of luck to shoot Smith’s 107-page script in a marathon two weeks.

 

“We were working minimum twelve-hour days, usually longer,” said Monigold, who flew from Texas for the production and, like most of the crew, spent the two weeks living out of Smith’s house.

 

“Having the crew at my place was great,” Smith explained. “I’d get up just before everyone to get coffee started or run out to buy donuts. We’d start every morning talking about how the day before went, how we needed to do better. And with everyone right there, it was an easy way to start the day.”

 

“Of course, as soon as we left my house, the calm vanished and organized chaos took over,” Smith added.

 

For Monigold, the most memorable chaos occurred outside a Yorktown pharmacy when the sky began spitting golf-ball and larger hail, prompting everyone to take over under a narrow awning.

 

“All of us pressed ourselves against a brick wall, standing in front of the equipment, trying to keep it all dry,” she said, laughing as she recalled getting hit by a few errant hail strikes.

 

Weather influenced Doyle’s favorite memory: shooting the cemetery scene. With a dark thunderstorm approaching rapidly, Doyle and Mayer rushed to set up the camera. “It was already drizzling when we got there, but the light was too perfect to pass up,” Doyle explained. “We only had time for three takes, but everyone put so much energy into getting the scene, we still got it in the can.”

 

For Smith, his favorite instance took place during the scene outside Dante’s III deli in Yorktown, NY. A simple scene – Malcolm (Gallerano) and the Holy Hustler (Tom Slot) leave the deli with sandwiches – when the crew arrived, there was a 1940s Ford pickup truck parked out front in pristine condition. While Doyle and Mayer set up the camera, and with Gallerano and Slot running lines, Smith and Monigold poked their heads in the deli to see if the truck’s owner was around. He greeted them warmly, and when Smith asked if they could use his truck in the scene, he agreed instantly, even moving the truck to an adjacent parking space to balance the shot better. “We shot a couple takes, and Mole [Robert Molina, the truck's owner] starts telling me how it’s a film car, it’s been in other films. I ask him what the last film was and casual as can be he says ‘Indiana Jones 4.’ I almost died,” Smith laughed.

 

Good fortune followed the production beyond happy coincidences. Gallerano’s favorite memory occurred when he and Smith were shooting Malcolm’s suicide attempt scene. With Gallerano behind the wheel of Smith’s Buick and Smith operating the camera, the two drove for about 45 minutes as Malcolm becomes increasingly unhinged.

 

“After a half-hour or so, lights start flashing behind us. I pull the car over, thinking about the fake blood dripping down my arm, the box cutter on the dash, and I see Chris frantically taking the P2 card from the camera and shoving it in his pocket,” Gallerano recalled with a laugh.

 

But the men got off easy, without even a warning. After explaining to the police that they were shooting a film, the officer advised them to turn off the 60-watt bulb Doyle had rigged to the front ash tray to light the scene.

 

“He wished us well and told he wanted to see it when we were done,” Smith said.

 

Everyone on the cast and crew spoke uniformly about the warm reception they received from the residents in Yorktown. SUICIDE KIDS is the first film ever shot in the town, and most people were excited to watch the production – and the crew was careful not to obstruct traffic or impede local businesses.

 

“We had a few gawkers who’d ruin a few takes when they’d look in the camera, but most everyone walked by and asked us what we were doing after the camera stopped rolling,” Monigold said.

 

Added Smith, “We tried to keep a small footprint. On the one hand, it meant certain scenes like the diner or at the bowling alley had completely unusable production audio, since the only way we could shoot on location for free was to keep the businesses open. But that’s why post-production and ADR exist, right?”

 

The crew said, in hindsight, they see the story of SUICIDE KIDS reflected in the production itself. The film is about a struggling photographer trying to develop the means and self-confidence to achieve his vision. So, too, did the crew.

 

“I read the script and liked it immediately. Great story, ambitious, something every suburban kid could relate to,” Doyle said.

 

“It was the second day, when we were shooting the gazebo scene. We were probably around hour 9 that day, and Gene and Freya nailed a take, and it’s when I realized this film was legit, that we were really making it happen,” Mayer said.

 

Even Smith, who likened the experience to a “garage band of filmmakers coming to jam for a couple weeks,” admitted he was nervous at the start if he’d be able to get all the shots he’d need; but a few days in, he knew they’d do it.

 

“By the time we hit the martini shot, it was really a testament to positive thinking. That was my one real rule on set: no negativity,” Smith said. “And everyone was great about it–problems arose and everyone put 110% to find a solution. They gave it their best, and the film’s success is directly attributable to the talents of all these amazing people. Like Malcolm, we were all trying to find the strength of will to create something alive.”