In memory of shoots past.
4 years ago
I was first taught to shotgun a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon at the wrap party of an arduous short film shoot. My brain instantly demanded, once the heady rush subsided, “How have we missed on this in our collegiate studies? Should this not be made mandatory schooling?”
The film wrap party shotgun quickly became a tradition. Making movies was no longer so much about producing art as it was enduring agony for days toward a tantalizing goal.
Now, I normally consider PBR a merely okay beer, nothing special, certainly not up to the strict standards of Pacific Northwest beer awesomeness. But cold frothy PBR screaming down my gullet is surely the gods’ own ambrosia.
