All the Props You Cannot See

By Pola Shreiber

The life of a prop begins on a script’s page. In the hands of a Property Master, the word transforms into an object and becomes a silent actor itself. A carefully crafted prop speaks for the story’s time period, reflects the personality of the individual using it, and sometimes delivers critical information that drives the plot. We, the Property Masters, leave a part of ourselves in every item we make. Not all the props get a spotlight, but all carry meaning and influence, even if from behind the scenes.

A NOTE TO FATHER

Property Master Hope Parrish is on the Zodiac set. The scene takes place in the Riverside PD office. Mark Ruffalo, who plays the character of Dave Toschi, is reviewing a lead on the murder of Cheri Jo Bates. The rehearsal is about to begin. The detective’s desk is littered with files. Hope prepared each one carefully. The camera may never see what’s inside, but the actor will. He will be transported to that particular day and time and will no longer be himself, but the character he brought to life from the pages of the script. Hope knows what she is doing; she is an excellent Property Master, passionate about her craft, and very skilled. Mark opens one of the files mechanically as he silently runs through his lines. Something catches his attention. The file has pages of documents, real ones. The victim is Cheri Jo Bates. A note attached to the file reads, “Dad—went to RCC Library.” Mark Ruffalo puts the file down and turns to Hope. “Jesus, you almost drove me to tears!” The energy is tenable. The infusion of reality carries an extra charge, a spark of inspiration that helps him bring another layer of life to the imagined world.

THE SCRAPBOOK

It is 1991 and I just got my first job as a Property Master on a pilot for Columbia Pictures called Eddie Dodd. My colleagues look at me with suspicion as I pass them in the halls of the Ellis Mercantile prop house. All of them are men, most past their forties, tall, with substantial girth.I stand out. I am a young woman, not very robust, with a childlike face. They have every right to doubt me. I joined IATSE Local 44 only a couple of years ago, and now a Property Master … almost scandalous. I am both excited and overwhelmed. I can only think about the task before me: creating accurate documents and a scrapbook for the main character, Eddie Dodd. His story, his past, his love is in this scrapbook, marked by small visual elements.

I work in the common room with other Property Masters, who are part of the Columbia Pictures Prop Department, run by Audrey Blasdel- Goddard. I arrange pages and pages of memorabilia in the scrapbook.

“What are you doing?” someone way more experienced than myself asks me. “They will never see that.” I keep going. They may never see that, but the prop has to be real, if only for me. On the day of filming, I watch Treat Williams walk onto the set. He goes to his character’s desk, picks up the scrapbook, and leafs through it. I watch his face: a smile of recognition, puzzlement, sadness, a chuckle. The camera is about to roll. Treat puts the book down, but it is still open. He never picks it up again in the scene, never leafs through it, but after the day is over, Treat Williams comes up to me and says, “Pola, you know, I always look forward to coming to the set. Your props … they bring such life to the scene!” What a validation! I take it to every show I work on and every prop I make. Lesson learned: The energy you pour into any creation shines through.

THE VEGETABLE NECKLACE

I just received the newest episode’s script working on Gilmore Girls. I have a day and, of course, the night to come up with the prop. It’s a vegetable necklace that Jackson gives Sookie as a gift. I see it as a string of tiny porcelain vegetables, maybe with beads in between. Such jewelry doesn’t exist, but I must make one or two since we always need doubles. How? Well, I have to figure it out and fast.

The necklace is one of many props I must deliver for the next day, but I have a plan for the rest. The scripts come late, sometimes the day before we start shooting. Such is Amy’s process, and I respect it. Amy Sherman-Palladino is a brilliant writer. I understand her work. I am deeply attuned to her creative energy, and the opportunity to deliver the visual element that organically lives in her world is thrilling.

I call my friend, a ceramic artist, and we spend the night sculpting the tiny vegetables with the help of some Pinot Grigio and homemade cookies. The work gets done, but the pieces don’t have the porcelain shine.

At six in the morning, I am back at Warner Bros. Studio. Casey Kasemeier, our remarkable sign painter, is on the clock (thank God!). He is an alchemist and knows how to turn base metals into gold and clay into porcelain, and by 8 a.m., the magic is complete. I spend the next hour and a half putting the necklace together. The jewelry piece is done, worthy of being on camera, and worthy of being a gift.

“Oh, look at that!” Amy touches the tiny pieces. “The vegetable necklace! Beautiful.”

I feel triumphant. After a minute, she gives me back the prop. “Well, I hate to say this,” Amy says, “but the scene is out.”

I close the box. I am still triumphant, “Oh, well,” I say and move on.

Check out the rest of the Spring 2025 Issue of Prop Culture here.