Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, July 28, 1994 TAG: 9408180013
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: ALEC KLEIN STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Thousands of dollars are riding on his wizardry. He is a state climatologist who finds himself on the phone every day around 3 p.m., telling movie producers whether the weather will ruin the next day of shooting in Virginia.
``Thank goodness,'' Stenger said, ``it's not my money that's riding on the weather.''
More and more, Hollywood is looking for blue skies in the Old Dominion. Virginia's film industry is coming into its own, with the state poised to open a film office in Norfolk to capture even more business.
Local and foreign investors are quietly exploring sites to create what would be the Old Dominion's only major studio complex where out-of-state filmmakers could set up shop.
``There is a mindset that things can only be done in California. That's simply not true,'' said Susan Rohrer, a filmmaker for NorthStar Entertainment Group, a subsidiary of the Christian Broadcasting Network in Virginia Beach.
There are more obvious signs of Virginia's growing presence in movie making. Namely, a dog, a fish of sorts and a Major Payne.
To wit, the eighth-generation descendant of the original ``Lassie" romped before the cameras on the rolling hills of Tazewell last year and headlined the remake of the canine classic that premiered last week.
John Goodman, Rosanne Arnold's television foil, heaved himself intensely through the halls of Richmond's Capitol in June, readying for a scene in ``Kingfish,'' a movie in which he plays Huey Long, Louisiana's legendary former governor and senator.
And, earlier this week, a stuntman in army fatigues dashed to the finish line flanked by fist-pumping extras in ``Major Payne,'' a film with Daymon Wayans now being shot in Charles City County.
``Virginia has come on strong of late,'' said Leigh von der Esch, president of the Association of Film Commissioners International. ``It has tremendous promise.''
Last year alone, Virginia locales served as the backdrop for Clint Eastwood's ``In the Line of Fire`` and Julia Roberts' ``The Pelican Brief.'' Other celebrities have cast their celluloid images across the Virginia landscape in recent years: Richard Gere in ``Sommersby;`` Kevin Kline in ``Dave;`` Jodie Foster in ``The Silence of the Lambs.''
More impressive, at least to state officials, is the bottom line: Last year, the Virginia Film Office spent $290,000 to lure and assist film production companies that pumped $16.1 million in direct spending into the state economy.
Still, Virginia is no threat to the movie mill entrenched in California, or New York - or even North Carolina. State rankings vary, depending on how the numbers are crunched, but Virginia is ``somewhere in the middle of the pack,'' said Todd P. Smith, an executive with Morgan Creek Productions of Los Angeles.
Which brings the storyline to Kirk T. Schroder.
``The real question is, `What's an entertainment lawyer doing in Virginia?'`` he playfully mocks himself. ``I just believe Virginia is ripe right now for the industry as a whole.''
Schroder took the traditional route out of law school, entering a corporate firm in Richmond. Two years later, he launched a career in entertainment law in his dining room.
The attorney graduated to an office, then hired a secretary. Two months ago, Schroder became the first entertainment lawyer at the Richmond firm of LeClair, Ryan, Joynes, Epps & Framme.
At 32, he has already represented Universal Studios and an Academy Award-winning producer. Among his clients now is what he describes as a ``foreign concern`` interested in investing in a central Virginia studio.
``Where it goes remains to be seen,'' Schroder said of his practice. ``I think of it as a grand experiment.''
He is not alone in this unlikely odyssey.
The road from Kansas to Hollywood now sometimes veers through Virginia. Some aspiring actors, looking for better roles in a smaller market, have even settled in Virginia.
``I have seen people come down here from New York,'' said McLean talent agent Tricia Erickson. ``There's all kinds of strategies to make it as an actor.''
Where thespians travel, crews follow, which has expanded Virginia's indigenous industry. There are pockets of free-lance labor - in Northern Virginia, Richmond and Hampton Roads. And an estimated 1,000 residents work full-time in the Virginia film industry.
``It's really taken root in the last two to three years,'' said Marcie Oberndorf Kelso, deputy director of Virginia's film office. ``Like any business, we had a 10-year startup.''
Virginia's calling card to out-of-state filmmakers is a youthful, four-member state agency that has effectively marketed the state's history, diverse geography and right-to-work laws that cut labor expenses. The cost of doing business will drop further if the General Assembly backs a state sales tax incentive during the January session.
But legislation cannot readily create a multimillion-dollar studio.
``Virginia is not Hollywood,'' said Rita D. McClenny, the film office director. ``I don't think we want to be.''
The closest thing to an entertainment factory in the state now is the CBN complex in Virginia Beach. But that is largely booked by televangelist Pat Robertson's ``700 Club`` programs; what limited space is available for rent is subject to the organization's Christian, family-value guidelines, a spokeswoman said.
Many filmmakers searching for a southeastern alternative have turned to Wilmington, N.C., where Carolco Studios resurrected Dino DeLaurentiis' failed venture - a four-block web of streets and buildings with eight sound stages.
``We were doing reasonably well before the studio was built,'' said Bill Arnold, director of the North Carolina Film Office. ``But it wasn't until [the] facility went up that we really began to gain any kind of steady growth.''
Last year, that translated into 33 features and 149 television segments filmed in North Carolina.
Without a studio, Virginia's figures do not compare. The commonwealth's last, great hope was a $2.35 million project on 2.11 acres in Suffolk that foreclosed two years ago.
In its heyday five years ago, Suffolk's 10,400-square-foot sound stage was used for the production of Charlie Sheen's ``Navy Seals.'' In one of its last incarnations, it was used by the Spin Doctors, a progressive rock band rehearsing for a world tour.
Now, the 27,530-square-foot building lies dormant in the hands of Windsor's Farmers Bank.
``We never had the opportunity to expand it to its potential,'' said entrepreneur Richard S. Marten, who developed the project with his father.
He wants another chance. Marten, executive producer of a yet-to-be released UFO docudrama, has talked with the bank about the Suffolk facility.
Meanwhile, he has opened negotiations with Portsmouth city officials about converting existing buildings into a film production complex.
``The studio actually worked,'' he said. ``We were making money.''
by CNB