We are shooting a sketch for Inside Amy Schumer in a garage, and the vibe is extremely loose. I try to find out what the scene is about before the camera begins rolling. I’m thinking dinosaurs, based on some elements in the minimal set design, but this hasn’t been made explicit. I ask if there’s a director. Amy laughs. “Relax, man. Action!” Nobody does anything differently, but Amy is pleased with the shoot.
I mention that I find it interesting how the same twenty songs have remained the most popular ones across the world for the last 40 years. We discuss the idea that lyricists give up a lot of control when their songs are translated into different languages, but conclude that there’s no way around this.
The garage morphs seamlessly into a barn, and I’m trying to get a decent view of Sarah Silverman, who is performing on the stage full of haystacks. I climb up to the loft, but a guy who wants the best seat for himself pushes me off and I hit the ground. As I land, I end up partially tied to a chair in a cabin.
My friend Ange, who is blind, is holding me hostage here. I manage to throw chairs at her and run a few feet away, but she starts shooting at me with her shotgun. Although she has decent aim, I avoid the bullets by hiding behind trees. I eventually escape, running all the way downtown. However, it occurs to me she might make up lies about me assaulting her, and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s her town, not mine.
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