IMAGINE THIS

You’re sitting on a couch with a heavy duty strap twisted across your lap like a seatbelt. You, the couch, and your entire living room are anchored to a 2,500 pound platform made of welded steel, and you’re in free fall over the desert.  Five thousand feet above ground and approximately 20 seconds before impact, you release the strap, but it doesn’t move. You look down to see the twisted webbing in your lap and begin to untangle it. A few years ago, I put a good friend into this exact predicament.

How To Make A Living Room Fly

In college, I studied business management and Spanish intending to build a career in South America, so naturally I became a skydiving cameraman in Southern California, a job I didn’t even know existed, and today, almost thirty years later, I’ve jumped more than 14,000 times to film over every continent on the planet (except the antarctic, haven’t done that yet).

Joe Jennings exiting airplane – Photo By Bruno Brokken

1995 XGames, Rob Harris and Joe Jennings

The success we experienced in competition quickly opened doors in Hollywood with projects like Bay Watch, Mountain Dew, MTV Sports, action movies, and any product branded “extreme” which was just about everything at the time.  Rob quickly became an accomplished stuntman, and I came to the mind-blowing realization that I could make a decent living as a camera flyer.  It was a rare and exciting opportunity and the decision was easy.  I walked away from a promising career in commercial production and didn’t look back.

When I’m asked what I love most about my job, hands down, it’s teaming up with friends to design, build, or modify an “object”, to then drop it from an airplane or helicopter to film in free fall.  It’s a combination of geeking out on fluid dynamics, and the pure rush of crashing things into the ground from two miles up.  To date, We’ve filmed close to 1,000 different falling objects of all shapes and sizes including more than a hundred cars and trucks.  I like to brag that we can make a car stay upright in free fall.  No other team has accomplished this without special effects or parachutes, and we’ve done it dozens of times!

In 2015, NVIDIA asked if we could make an entire living room fly.  The campaign to promote the NVIDIA “Shield” streaming device, was called “Rule The Living Room”; heroic stories of average people in precarious situations taking command of their living rooms.  In our story, a guy is watching TV with his cat when a huge door opens behind them and the entire room falls into the sky.  He casually dons a helmet and settles in for the ride.  The director felt, if possible, the story should be told without special effects.

I remember my mind racing through a hundred details, many of them unknowns.  Ultimately, we designed a 2500 pound rectangular platform of welded steel beams, with a floor made of steel mesh and sheet metal, and four large fairings, disguised as shelves, to keep everything upright.  The furniture and every part of the room was locked in place and reinforced to tolerate hurricane strength winds from any direction.

The people I team up with on projects like this remind me of characters in the movie, The Right Stuff.  They’re smart, gritty, accomplished, and a big part of why I love doing these things.  My go to guy for all things complex is Steve Curtis, a world champion skydiver from Arizona who reminds me of the desert itself, and who never ever stops moving.  As much as I love hard work, next to Steve, I feel like a slug.  The guy we selected to ride the living room is Jeff Provenzano, a living legend, known worldwide as one of today’s great skydivers, and one of the nicest guys I know.

JEFF PROVENZANO

2,500 pound platform before mounting furniture

All things going well, Jeff’s job was pretty easy, no fancy flying, just show up, be cool, and kick back on the couch.  To stay in place, he wore two straps tight across his lap twisted together in one hand.  It’s a simple restraint that works every time, just let go and you’re free.  His parachute system had an automatic activation device to open his reserve parachute if he wasn’t able to open it himself, and bright minds had pondered every imaginable problem he might encounter, so what could possibly go wrong?  That’s the thing, you have to do the stunt to find out, and if something does go wrong it will happen fast and require a fast response.  Jeff’s real job was to manage the unknowns and to stay alive.

ONE MINUTE TO DROP

2.5 miles above ground the tail of the C130, a military airplane big enough to carry three tanks, opens wide and we take our positions.  The loadmaster, who is on intercom with the pilot and crew, begins to give hand signals.  One minute, 30 seconds, 20 seconds, then a countdown from 10.  I can hardly describe the rush of adrenalin I feel standing on the tailgate of a giant airplane, cameras ready, all systems go.  A month of building, welding, meetings, all nighters, beer, coffee, and junk food, all boils down to one minute of free fall.  The intensity is almost overwhelming, but a few seconds before exit, it all transforms into a kind of focus that feels silent and calm.  It’s a familiar feeling I describe as being on “autopilot”.  Five seconds before exit, nothing moves and all eyes are on the loadmaster as he counts down.  The airplane is flying nose up, and the living room is held in place on rollers by a single quick release strap controlled by Steve.  At zero, the loadmaster signals go and Steve releases the platform.  It rolls fast and literally pushes me off the tailgate and into the air.

The launch was clean and fast and the living room settled upright into free fall.  Just seconds out the door, by the way my body responded, I knew the room was going to fall faster than 120mph, in fact, it fell closer to 140mph, which is fast but manageable.  And it flew beautifully, rocking back and forth as the fairings controlled its pitch and roll to keep it upright.  Clearly Jeff was relaxed and in character, shifting occasionally, pointing the remote, and doing what a relaxed guy does while I buzzed around capturing a variety of angles.  We were ecstatic because, even if we didn’t get another jump, we’d given our clients everything they needed to tell their story and, if it wasn’t for the ground, we could have kept going!  We normally open our parachutes at 3,000 feet above ground level, but Jeff’s strict break-off altitude was 5,000 feet to give him extra time to deal with any issues.

SUDDENLY JEFF WAS SERIOUS TROUBLE
So, at 5,000 feet or 20 seconds until impact, Jeff released his seatbelt and came face to face with a very dangerous unknown, something we hadn’t considered.  The seatbelt didn’t budge and he couldn’t move.  The knot in his lap was the plastic covered heavy duty straps sticking together.  They’d flown apart on every test, but we hadn’t considered how long and how tightly Jeff was holding them inside the airplane and in the air.  Jeff figured it out and unpeeled the straps from each other then pulled them apart one twist at a time.  The onboard camera next to him captured everything and it became part of the story.  Altogether, it took Jeff about 7 seconds to free himself.  When we landed, I asked if he still thought we were paying him too much.

CLOSEUP – JEFFRO UNTANGLING HIS SEATBELT

The following day, we expected the second living room to perform like the first one.  This time, however, one of the roller wheels on the airplane seized up and scraped against the steel frame as it rolled by causing it to tip off of the tailgate into a steep and unbalanced dive.  The platform was designed to correct for some roll and pitch, but if it began to tumble, the weight and inertia would entirely overpower the fairings.  Jeff knew the exit was blown, but the room was built like a tank with everything locked down or encased in steel frames, so he decided to ride it out.  In free fall, staying with a tumbling object is like riding a bull on an extremely windy day.  Blasts of wind come from every direction as centrifugal forces work to pry you out of your seat.  So as the room began to tumble, Jeff braced himself and held tight to his seatbelt.

He intended to hang on until 5,000 feet but a tuba caught his attention as the cable holding it in place wiggled loose.  He thought the cable would hold, but the tuba whipped around violently and then broke off and flew away.  He could see other parts of the room beginning to come loose, so he released the grip on his seatbelt and the centrifugal force lifted him out of his seat and into the air.

I remember opening my parachute feeling disappointed that the room had tumbled out of control.  It hurts to design and build something only to watch it fail.  But when the director and agency writers saw the footage, they were thrilled.  The second room expanded the story with an urgency and intensity that they loved.  Sometimes, when a plan goes down the tubes, the world gives you something even better.

So that’s how to make a living room fly.  When you’re challenged with a big idea, bite off more than you can chew, then bring in good people and chew hard.  This is what I love about my job.  Every project is a new story that comes with its own challenges, and I figure with the right team, what could possibly go wrong?

Hello! My name is Joe Jennings and I coordinate and film skydiving stunts for movies and commercials. I was born in St. Louis Missouri into a loving family that moved to the east coast and six different cities by the time I graduated high school. At 19 years old, I bought a one way ticket to California and lived in Venice, Santa Cruz, Pomona, and Redondo beach before settling into Palos Verdes with my wife, Sissy. Sissy was born in Iran, but in 1979, at 12 years old, she was forced to flee the Iranian revolution when Ayatollah Khomeini came into power. Her family escaped on on an airplane the same day that Khomeini arrived and closed down every airport in the country. She was 17 when we met in Santa Cruz and by the time her family moved to Lomita a couple years later I was pretty much wrapped around her finger, so I moved to Los Angeles and have been here ever since. Today we live on Via La Selva dwarfed by our two giant sons, Joey and Sammy, who are now 22 and 24.

In college, I literally came just one class away from a bachelor’s degree in business management with a minor in Spanish. But my video production company in Redondo Beach was growing, and my partner and I were winning championship titles around the world in sky surfing, so I walked away from college, a decision I sometimes regret. Maybe one day when I’m in my 60s, I’ll finish up and graduate.

Overall though, I’m grateful for the path I chose. Today, my resume is filled with all kinds of shiny awards and I still love coordinating and making movies with my friends.

Links:

Website https://www.skydive.tv

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/skydivingstunts

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/_joejennings_/

Youtube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-JTfEziUHj1cBwSjOfnfIw