A ‘Dream’ Project

A band of Orange County folks has just wrapped the final scene of “Dream Parlor,” a futuristic movie they hope will make the big time. But even if stardom eludes them--even if Miramax doesn’t call, even if they keep their jobs in real estate, education and hotel hospitality--they went for it.

They produced a feature-length science fiction film with only their talent--no financing, no salaries and only borrowed equipment.

“This is called a shoestring budget. This has actually cost me money to be in this movie--$6 for the parking,” extra Barbara Ebli said with a smile, arriving for the climactic shoot Sunday afternoon on the sands of Newport Beach’s Little Corona.

Through the beach parking lot, Ebli tugged a trash bag stuffed with ratty clothes she had taken upon herself to provide for fellow extras portraying homeless people. She also carried some campfire snacks, including a few bags of marshmallows.

Costuming, catering and cheap labor, all in one free package. This is the lot of the very, very independent film crew.

“Uh, there won’t be marshmallows in the future,” producer Mike Dahl remarked as extras piled into the production’s shuttle van, which is to say his Honda Civic. One onlooker remarked theatrically: “I don’t want to live in a world without marshmallows.”

A sense of levity and the desire for a caper have propelled the three dozen mostly Orange County residents to pitch in on “Dream Parlor” over the past 18 months.

Marty Capune, film liaison for the city of Newport Beach, calls that a rarity.

“Most all feature films are coming from L.A., not here,” said a barefoot Capune, on location to ensure compliance with city safety rules at the shooting, the city’s 97th this year. Newport Beach is a popular backdrop for videos and commercials, he said, and Little Corona’s rocky coastline is among its most popular spots.

Of the 14 feature films that had scenes shot in Orange County this year, only “Dream Parlor” was produced largely by county residents, said a spokeswoman for the Orange County Film Commission. The commission is funded by the Orange County Business Council, which aggressively woos Hollywood and the dollars it brings when productions come to town.

In seeking publicity for the fledgling film, Dahl’s first pitch--of his sci-fi film’s finale being shot at the shoreline--called to mind “Planet of the Apes.”

Both movies use the power of the underdog to battle government conspiracies, and both have beach scenes, though this picture could only dream of the budget enjoyed by “Apes.” As it turned out, the pictures are nothing alike. But could “Dream Parlor”--in which “a one-world government” uses “mind-altering technology designed to keep the multitudes docile through addictive dreams”--be a more longshot sell than a futuristic simian love story?

Said director Jonathan Lawrence: “All of these people are pulling together to make their dreams happen. . . . We all want to work with the big boys.”

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Lawrence’s Fullerton-based Timeless Entertainment may be wrapping its first feature film, but the crew on “Dream Parlor” has its share of skilled professionals. Lawrence does freelance work for the Orange County Department of Education, making videos that aid classroom teachers. He also worked on a children’s video with “Dream Parlor” lead actor Christopher Andrews.

Dahl, the movie’s producer-accountant-chauffeur-marketer, is a video production manager for a Fountain Valley computer company. Scott York, a video producer for the county Department of Education, is the movie’s director of photography. Executive producer Norman R. Dewmer, whose Yorba Linda production company specializes in industrial videos, donated much of the equipment as well as a stage and warehouse.

Every weekend since March 1997 has been devoted to making the film, whose sets were built in unconventional spots, including a four-car garage. But in August, co-writer and star Andrews decided to buckle down and work six-day weeks to wrap the drama, whose plot he characterized as “1984” meets “Total Recall,” the $65-million, 1990 Arnold Schwarzenegger sci-fi movie about a guy obsessed with Martian dreams.

So Andrews, 28, took a month off from his job at the front desk of the Holiday Inn--Irvine. He enlisted colleague Ebli, a concierge, to come along for the ride. He persuaded Oklahoma University drama school classmates, and others, to perform. Other connections were more serendipitous.

Helene Rabbitt of Yorba Linda had gone to see a vacant Yorba Linda house that had just gone on the market. In the garage, she found a team of people working on “Dream Parlor” props. Her sons are aspiring performers. One son, Sean, has been in a variety of videos including one for rapper Heavy D.

“I asked them if they needed kids,” Rabbitt, 41, recalled as she waited for cameras to begin rolling last weekend. She wore a grubby fur-lined coat in her role as one of the “invisibles” who have fled the Dream-machine scheme.

It’s her fifth time out as an extra for this movie. “We’re doing it just for the fun of it, just to help them out, and I hope they are a success,” she said.

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Dahl is shooting for a January release. A few local theaters, including Cinemapolis in Anaheim Hills, whose exterior serves as the dream parlor, have committed to screening the movie, Andrews said. Speaking for many in the ragtag crew, he said they are all chasing that elusive dream that drives so many performers to California, land of the movies.

“Of course we’d eventually like to get distribution,” Andrews said, feeling confident that their film would probably secure video release. “But if it doesn’t fly, I got to have the lead role in a screenplay I co-wrote--a lot of people would love to be able to say that. I would love this to launch my career. . . .

“If it doesn’t, I will always have ‘Dream Parlor.’ I can say 20 years from now, ‘I starred in a movie.’ ”