The next day, the Second Unit camera was requisitioned by the Main Unit to film the climax of the movie: the explosion.
Why does a teen rock comedy end with a massive explosion? Because it's a Roger Corman picture.
The plot was simple: Rebellious rocker Riff Randell and straight-A student Kate Rambeau take over the school with the help of the Ramones, renaming it Rock 'n' Roll High School. In a final confrontation with the totalitarian Principal Togar, Kate uses her A+ chemistry skills to mix a volatile compound, which Riff uses to literally blow the roof off the school.
They only had one chance to film the explosion. Corman had actually paid for a demolition permit from the city of Los Angeles, a rare expenditure.
Director Allen Arkush arranged a multi-camera shoot, utilizing every available piece of equipment to capture the blast from multiple angles for the editor.
Ronald, relieved of his directing duties, grabbed his Nikon F2. He had officially transitioned into the Unit Still Photographer. He took dozens of behind-the-scenes photos of the cast, the crew, and the elaborate pyrotechnic setup.
These photos would eventually hang in his studio, undeniable proof to his headshot clients that he was a working Hollywood professional.
P.J. Soles, buzzing with energy, came over to chat. She had heard through the grapevine (Gale) that Ronald's dailies looked fantastic. She knew Ronald had lit her perfectly, and she was grateful.
She gossiped about the concert scenes they had shot earlier at The Roxy Theatre on the Sunset Strip.
The venue rental was $600 a day. True to form, Roger Corman hated spending that much money, so he took out an ad in the local papers, selling tickets to the "Ramones Concert." He divided the tickets into morning, afternoon, and evening shifts.
Not only did ticket sales subsidize the venue cost, but the fans effectively paid Corman for the privilege of working as unpaid extras.
The fans thought they were getting a full concert.
Instead, they watched the Ramones play the same six songs on loop, constantly interrupted by Allen yelling "Cut!" Just as one batch of fans was ready to riot from boredom, their shift ended, and the next batch was ushered in.
Ronald could only shake his head in awe. Corman's penny-pinching bordered on high art.
The explosion scene had its own "Corman trick." The script called for a chaotic press conference outside the burning school. Instead of paying extras to play reporters, Roger tipped off actual gossip reporters and paparazzi from the Hollywood trade papers, telling them the Ramones were giving a free interview. The real reporters looked more authentic than extras, and better yet, they were free.
Night fell, the Ramones and the crowd of extras were staged near the front entrance of Mount Carmel High School.
"Action!" Allen yelled.
P.J. Soles pushed down on the plunger of a modified dynamite detonator.
BOOM!
The blast was exponentially louder than Ronald expected. A massive fireball erupted from the roof of the building, sending a shockwave that made Ronald's ears ring. The heat singed the American flag flying on the flagpole. The extras didn't have to act, they screamed and scattered in genuine terror.
Lights clicked on in the surrounding neighborhood. Windows flew open. Sirens began to wail in the distance.
The pyrotechnic team had severely miscalculated the charge. Ronald covered his face with a bitter smile, thankful that no one had been killed.
"Wrap it up! Move!" the ADs screamed. The crew scrambled, throwing gear into the trucks and peeling out of the lot just as the LAPD cruisers turned the corner.
December 22nd, the final day of principal photography.
The crew was shooting interiors in the gymnasium. It was the quintessential teen exploitation scene: Gym Class.
A few years prior, the Soviet gymnasts Olga Korbut and Nadia Comăneci had dominated the Olympics, introducing acrobatic, high-flying routines that mesmerized the world. Suddenly, every parent in America was enrolling their daughters in gymnastics.
Rock 'n' Roll High School capitalized on the trend. The scene featured the female leads and a recruited team of actual high school gymnasts performing on the vault, balance beam, and uneven bars, all set to blasting rock music.
P.J. Soles grabbed a prop microphone and lip-synced to the title track. Dancing behind her were the bombshells, Kris and Marla, who had managed to secure prime background placement thanks to Scilla the choreographer.
As the gymnasts flipped through the air, Ronald watched through his camera lens. Round-off, back handspring, layout... one girl landed with a foot off the mat. That's a half-point deduction, Ronald thought to himself, his old athletic eye catching the flaw.
Between setups, there was a minor crisis. P.J. was playing an 18-year-old, but she was actually 28. In the harsh gym lighting, wearing only a leotard and gym shorts, some faint spider veins were visible on her legs.
The makeup artist frantically applied body powder, but as soon as P.J. started dancing and sweating, the powder streaked.
Allen considered shooting wider to hide it, but P.J. was upset.
Actresses live and die by their image on the silver screen.
Ronald had an idea. He pulled aside P.J.'s husband, who was visiting the set. "Can you run to a pharmacy and grab sheer pantyhose? She can wear them under the gym shorts. It will smooth out her legs on camera and won't sweat off."
Her husband rushed out and returned twenty minutes later with the pantyhose. P.J. put them on, and the shoot proceeded flawlessly.
During the lunch break, P.J. and her husband came over to thank Ronald. In Hollywood, looking old on screen was a death sentence for a leading lady.
Ronald's quick thinking had protected her brand.
"Ronnie, this is my husband, Dennis Quaid. He's an actor too," P.J. said, beaming.
"Nice to meet you, Dennis," Ronald said, shaking his hand.
"Thanks for the save, Ronald," Dennis grinned. "You know how much P.J. hates a bad lighting setup."
Dennis Quaid was broad-shouldered and rugged, a stark contrast to his slender, punk-rock wife. They had only been married a few weeks and were visibly in the honeymoon phase.
"So, should I call you Mrs. Pamela Jane Quaid now?" Ronald teased.
"No, she's keeping her name," Dennis said easily.
Ronald was surprised; in 1978, it was still relatively uncommon for a woman to keep her maiden name after marriage.
"It's business," P.J. explained. "The audience knows 'P.J. Soles.' If I change my name, casting directors might forget who I am."
Dennis nodded. "Plus, the residuals. She gets checks from the Screen Actors Guild every time Carrie or Halloween plays on television. If she changes her name, the IRS and SAG will get confused, and the checks will stop coming. Bureaucracy is a nightmare."
"Makes sense," Ronald said, checking his watch. "One last scene this afternoon, P.J. Don't forget."
The final scene of the shoot was an exterior pickup. Allen and Joe Dante had huddled together and decided on a surprise for Ronald.
The scene: Riff and Kate are driving when they hear a radio contest. The first caller wins tickets to the Ramones. They screech to a halt, pull a man out of a phone booth who is in the middle of a marriage proposal, and steal the phone.
Allen picked up his megaphone.
"Our entire crew is very grateful to a young man who stepped up when we needed him," Allen announced. "He saved our schedule. He is..."
"RONALD!" the crew shouted in unison.
"For this final shot, we need a guy to play the poor sap proposing in the phone booth. Who is the most qualified?"
"RONALD!" they cheered, bursting into laughter.
P.J. and Dey Young grabbed Ronald by the arms and dragged him onto the set, shoving him into the phone booth.
Dean Cundey walked over with a tape measure, grinning as he measured the focal distance from the lens to the tip of Ronald's nose.
Gigi the makeup artist slapped a ridiculous fake mustache on Ronald's upper lip. Wardrobe threw an oversized suit jacket over his shoulders.
Ronald took a deep breath. Let's see what it feels like on the other side of the lens.
"Action!" Allen yelled.
Ronald picked up the heavy receiver and leaned into the performance.
"Honey... this is a question I will only ask one woman in my life... please don't hang up, I'm so nervous... I am calling to ask you..."
SCREECH!
The stunt driver slammed on the brakes. P.J. Soles leapt out of the car, ripped the folding door of the booth open, and yanked Ronald out by his lapels.
Ronald staggered backward, executing a perfect comedic pratfall, tripping over his own feet as he yelled: "...TO BE MY WIFE!"
Dey Young caught him as he fell, deadpanning her line: "Sorry, you're not my type."
"Cut!" Allen roared. "That's a print!"
The crew erupted into deafening applause.
Allen raised the megaphone high in the air. "Ladies and gentlemen... THAT IS A WRAP ON ROCK 'N' ROLL HIGH SCHOOL!"
Ronald peeled the itchy fake mustache off his lip, laughing. He looked at the phone booth and suddenly remembered his real life.
"Wait," Ronald muttered. "This is the perfect time to call Demi Guynes and confirm the photoshoot for tomorrow."
"Ronnie! Come on!" Jim yelled, tossing him a beer. "Wrap party! We're drinking until we drop!"
"I'll be right there!" Ronald yelled back. "Just gotta make one quick call..."
Authors Note;-
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