L.A. Times reporters move into the spotlight for 'The Soloist'

WHEN film producer Gary Foster walked across the frayed green carpet into the Los Angeles Times newsroom for the first time, he encountered an expanse of cluttered desks walled off by journalistic kitsch: notebooks stacked against Mao statues and Elvis paintings, Mexican piñatas hanging above mounds of legal briefs, old photographs of Richard Nixon and Saddam Hussein.

The deeper he penetrated the reporters' sanctum, the weirder it got. There was the Lego Statue of Liberty over by the Web desk, half a surfboard in Foreign. But where others might see squalor, Foster saw inspiration. "I thought, 'This organized chaos is gorgeous,' " he said.

The artistic directors Foster brought in with him agreed, which is how the paper's newsroom last month became the set for "The Soloist," a film about the formerly homeless violinist Nathaniel Ayers, whose life on skid row has been chronicled in the Times by columnist Steve Lopez since 2005 and who will be the subject of a soon-to-be-published book.

For The Times' staff, the scrutiny was unsettling. Reporters are observers, looking outward and telling the world what they see. We rarely look inward, perhaps because we know it's a mess in there. But suddenly, in the glare of hot lights, we confronted set and costume designers, actors and extras, all dedicated to making a movie that mirrored our lives.

Set designers showed up with a truckload of props but chose only a few items of their own, instead relying on the real stuff. That was the call of production designer Sarah Greenwood, who was responsible for the look of the scenes set at the paper as well as those on the streets where Ayers lived. No offense, she said, but the two worlds were not dissimilar.

"Looking at the way everyone personalizes their desks, the way everyone lives in his own space, it's a lot like what the homeless do with their shopping carts. It's what Nathaniel does," she said.

Oh, terrific.

"Mental illness is a socially defined reality. It's not conforming. Where is that line of acceptable and unacceptable? Obviously, the L.A. Times is on the acceptable side of the line," she said.

Obviously.

A newsroom is a collection of slouchy, wisecracking individualists who dress for comfort. Reporters suck up information to produce newspaper stories and, in the course of doing so, also collect memorabilia for the tableaux that adorn their desks. You don't even want to think about what's underneath.

Of course, being cranky reporters, we happily focused on what the designers got wrong. They managed to reveal their own "liberal media bias" by hanging posters from environmental groups and Amnesty International -- causes that are too loaded for the real reporters, who avoid public political expression.

Rather than tidying the newsroom clutter, the set dressers added to it, bringing in more paper, more books, more junk. "It just slays me that they looked at our newsroom and decided it didn't look crappy enough to be an authentic newsroom," said copy editor John Kissell.

Reporters use their stacks of kitsch, in part, to build walls around themselves so that they can hold semiprivate conversations as they report the news. The set dressers exposed them to bright lights and put up multicolored Christmas bulbs to add color and depth, working to capture the feel of an entire newsroom in a camera's-eye view of fewer than 10 desks.

Reality and film overlapped time and again. The actors and extras mixed it up with Times reporters and editors working at their desks. This led to frequent confusion. "Are you real? You're real, right?" the filmmakers asked as they tried to distinguish reporters from extras.

We could tell, of course, since no real reporter wears a three-piece suit or carries a briefcase. But they weren't always sure. Design chief Michael Whitley was at his desk when an assistant director swung by to say, "You know, you really need to look busier."