piece of paper. We followed its instructions religiously, and to
the letter.
Mike lectures
the Bunch.
(Courtesy Sherwood Schwartz)
Throughout the day, we Brady kids spent most of our time
either in the studio schoolroom or on the set. Whenever one of
our scenes was being readied, an assistant director would find us
and herd us over to the set for rehearsal. This began the creative
part of the "Brady Bunch" process.
For each scene, the participating actors would get together with
the episode's director and give it a workout. We'd experiment, try
things out, play with blocking, line readings, camera angles, and
also work through the logistics of the scene. This was the niche in
the creative process wherein we'd answer questions like "Where
should I enter from?" and "How perky should I be?" and "How do
we smack Marcia in the nose with a football and not bust it in the
process?" It was fun, and we'd work on the scene until it had
shaped up to the point where everyone was satisfied that it was
ready to shoot.
At this point, we actors would dash off the set, and into
wardrobe (we didn't generally don our bell-bottoms until the very
last minute). Simultaneously, the crew would be lugging lights,
loading cameras, and making sure every last prop detail had been
readied.
Once the lights and camera were set, all that was missing was the
action, and that's where we came in. We'd assemble on the set, lines
firmly implanted in our cerebellums, and we'd shoot each scene.
First, we'd knock off a wide-angle master shot, with all of the
actors in the scene pretty much visible throughout. It serves as a
sort of overview for the scene and is used as the starting point later
on in the editing process. Once we'd knocked off a decent take,
the director would move in for closer coverage. On most shows
this would entail shooting a couple of close-ups, but when you're
producing a sitcom overflowing with main characters, you'd sometimes have to combine actors and shoot tight two-shots, threeshots, or even our most unique creation, the very intimate "tight
nine." You've really gotta love your fellow actors to squish up to
them that tightly.
Look closely at almost any "Brady" episode and you'll notice
that whenever you happen across one of those tight nines, I'm
generally pressed quite tightly up against Maureen McCormick. I
was no dope.
Anyway, between each camera angle, the lights have to be
changed, the camera has to be moved, cables have to be pulled, and chaos reigns supreme. Consequently, we kids would be
expected to stay out of the way and inside the schoolroom. Fun,
huh? Once, however, you had built up the daily school-time minimum of three hours, it was okay to hang out on the "Brady" set, or
sneak into the sets of other shows (I used to love watching Jack
Klugman and Tony Randall tape "The Odd Couple"). Sometimes,
we'd just find a way to cause trouble. That's because Lloyd
Schwartz went out of his way to guarantee that at any given time,
any one of us Brady kids could break an arm.
That sounds like a joke, but it's not. I1oyd explains it: "One time
the kids were running around like lunatics, as kids do, and I was
ordered to put a stop to it. I was ordered to keep 'em off the overhead catwalks and off the backyard swings on the set, and basically
to put 'em in glass cases and pull 'em out for their close-ups. So I
went to the president of the studio and said, `I'm not gonna do
that, because what's coming across on-screen is that these are real
kids, and the minute we start imposing these restrictions on them,
we'll remove them from being real kids, and on-screen, they won't
react as real kids. I hope it never happens, but every one of those
kids needs a chance to break an arm.' And they said okay."
So thanks to Lloyd Schwartz, we Brady kids spent a blissful five
years running amok throughout the Paramount lot, having fun,
driving people crazy, and generally, just being
Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Martin A. Lee, Bruce Shlain