“I try not to be one of those asshole directors who screams all day, but,” he paused,“but one day I’m on set, we’re just coming back from lunch and, and we shot the morning with Ben and he doesn’t play in the afternoon but James does and I see the P.A. knocking at James’ trailer to tell him he’s needed in ten and his assistant comes to the door and points toward Ben’s trailer. So this kid, who’s about Ben’s age and a real go-getter but sweet as can be and really naïve, goes up and knocks on Ben’s door. Ben opens the door a crack and then closes it. About twenty seconds later—too long, the pacing’s all wrong, something’s obviously up—the door swings open and out stumbles James right into the P.A., and then they both kinda bounce down the steps. Okay, by that point, I admit, I’m getting pretty steamed. It’s obvious that James is drunk or stoned out of his mind so I wait for him to walk onto set, which he does kind of draped over the P.A., who’s got a cut on his chin. And I’m thinking, I can’t fire him, James. He’s my friend. I’ve never seen him like this before, and besides, his doctor will just tell the studio he’s suffering from exhaustion and they’ll can me instead. So we’ve already set up the shot and we take our places and it turns out he’s got his lines down pat, but he literally can’t stand up. He keeps tipping over, or his knees buckle and then he pops back up shouting,‘I got this!’Well, he didn’t have it, and I decide I’m going to fire him, him and that little pill-dispensing man-whore, and Tessa, who’s been watching all this from video village, walks over and hands me her phone and says, ‘Call Cliff instead.’ ”