The Baltimore Film Office was created in 1979, and in the ensuing years, the city has been the backdrop for many cinematic classics—Barry Levinson’s Diner, the Al Pacino-starring …And Justice For All, and innumerable John Waters movies, just to name a few. But for the last several years, there has been a dearth of film and TV productions in Baltimore and Maryland as a whole. A resolution introduced in late December by Councilman Leon Pinkett of Baltimore’s 7th District hopes to change that.

“In a state like Maryland, where we’ve had a rich tradition of filmmaking, I believe it’s a tremendous opportunity to continue that tradition and grow it,” Pinkett says. “When you think about the diversity of locations in the state of Maryland, there’s not many films that can’t be filmed here.”

In the current system, the credits and incentives available to film and television productions under the Maryland’s Film Production Activity Tax Credit, which was established in 2011, are much lower compared to other states. There’s a reason the Georgia peach keeps showing up in movie credits—the state doesn’t have a cap when it comes to the amount of productions it allows to film, creating a revenue driver that has garnered bipartisan support and drawn in big name studios such as Marvel.

Pinkett’s resolution argues for a raise in the amount of credits allotted to film productions in an effort to stimulate the economy—in effect increasing the amount of money coming into the state, creating jobs, and highlighting all that Baltimore and the state of Maryland has to offer the film industry.

Currently, because of a limited cap—meaning the amount of money allocated to give tax credits—it’s hard for the state to support more than one large production at a time. Debbie Dorsey, president of the Baltimore Film Office, sees room for growth. “We’d much rather see a Maryland or Baltimore logo at the end of film credits,” Dorsey says.

This is in line with what Pinkett is advocating for. Essentially, there is more business for the taking. Adds Pinkett: “We’ve had to say no to films that would’ve chosen Baltimore or Maryland as a place to film.”

As it currently stands, the cap is $11 million for the upcoming fiscal year, and will raise to $14 million in 2021. Compare that to New Jersey’s $75 million annually and Pennsylvania’s $70 million, and it’s understandable why productions might look elsewhere. In Maryland, productions only receive tax credits once they have committed to spending on local vendors and documenting their in-state expenses, which means money coming back in. For its part, the Maryland Film Office says that it monitors incentives in other states and appreciates the support that the city is showing.

While Pinkett’s resolution can’t approve additional funds—that’s up to the state government—it can serve as a signifier to lawmakers in Annapolis exactly where Baltimore stands on this issue. As Pinkett sees it, increasing incentives is a win-win scenario.

“There are many other residual impacts that happen with a thriving film industry that speak to tourism and the perception that individuals have of a state and city,” Pinkett says. “They are a reflection of the vibrancy that arts and culture bring to an environment.”

Pinkett notes that film productions create a butterfly effect when it comes to jobs—there are sets to build, meals to be catered, transport to be handled, and that’s just the beginning. Productions like The Wire, House of Cards, and Veep, which all filmed in Baltimore for several years, provided sustainable long-term jobs for Baltimoreans in many different fields. Pinkett remembers speaking with an owner of an upholstery business whose revenue took off when House of Cards commissioned his work.

Economic experts back this assertion, too. Anirban Basu, an economist and the President and CEO of local economic consulting firm Sage Policy Group, sees tangible benefits of pursuing greater tax credits.

“The state of Maryland’s film tax credit program and its rates of return are quite significant to public finances,” says Basu, who has worked with the state to conduct research on the issue. “It’s not immediate, but once you take into account the impact on income taxes and property taxes [should workers decide to stay and live in Maryland long term], we find that impact can be significant economically and fiscally.”

Dr. Daraius Irani, the vice president of strategic partnerships and applied research at Towson University, supports the idea of increasing tax credits, too. He reiterates that productions must submit an audited list of expenses that prove that they’ll be using state businesses.

“Maryland businesses benefit from that spending,” says Irani, who also has also conducted studies that support the increase. “That is a net positive. Even businesses that might have down periods in certain seasons might be able to keep afloat during slower months.”

It’s within this framework that Pinkett moves forward with the resolution, which received support from four members of the city’s Taxation, Finance and Economic Development Committee, and will be discussed in a second reading by the full council January 13.

“In Baltimore, we need to be creating an environment where jobs are being created and there’s investment in the city,” Pinkett says. “The arts and culture of the city—and the filmmaking potential of our city—is something that Baltimore has hung its hat on for years now.”

A pair of gold statues sits prominently on Pat Moran’s desk in her Canton office. Amidst the clutter of paperwork and stacks of DVDs, the figures of a winged woman holding a globe aloft are instantly recognizable as Emmys, the television industry’s most prestigious award. But look closely and you might notice that one of Moran’s Emmys—the one she received last year for casting HBO’sGame Change—has a busted wing with a Band-Aid affixed to it. And its globe is dented.

“It took a header on to the floor,” says Moran, her voice rising with each word.

Until recently, the Emmys sat atop pedestals in the upstairs living room of her Mt. Vernon home. That is until a strong wind gusted across Park Avenue, dislodging a painted screen that toppled the Emmy and nearly gave its recipient a coronary. “I almost had a heart attack,” says Moran. “But if it had happened 25 years ago, I would have flipped out and gone ballistic. I’m a lot better now than the lunatic I used to be.”

The wounded Emmy is indicative of how Moran, a longtime presence in the local film community, has changed. Around town, she has long been known for her flame-red hair, sharp demeanor that doesn’t suffer fools, and keen eye for talent. She has, of late, risen to the pinnacle of her profession and, dare it be said, mellowed somewhat in the process. Moran’s longtime friend and confidant John Waters, who’s known her for almost 50 years, says that “her rage level has gone down, and she seems happier than ever.”

Why shouldn’t she be? She’s cast nearly every film and television project that’s come through town, including Waters’s films, Barry Levinson’s Avalon and Liberty Heights, NBC’s Homicide: Life on the Street, The Wire (recently cited by Entertainment Weeklyas the best TV show of all time), and the HBO comedy series, Veep, starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus (who’s featured in this month’s Best Of story). She’s been nominated for seven Primetime Emmys, won twice, and earned respect throughout the industry.

David Rubin, casting director of blockbusters such as Men in Black and The English Patient, sponsored Moran for membership in the Casting Society of America. He marvels at her ability to “recognize talent on the fringes of the mainstream and understand the inner life of characters on a script’s page.”

Jane Love, associate executive director of the Screen Actors Guild’s Washington-Mid Atlantic local, calls Moran “a treasure”; The Wire creator David Simon says she’s “a mad genius”; and Veep producer Stephanie Laing floats the L-word—“Pat Moran is a legend,” she says.

But Moran will have none of it. “A legend is Cecil B. DeMille,” she says. “That’s what I think of as a legend, not me.”

She tips her head back, sniffs the air, and adopts a tone of privilege. “Oh, could you pass me that?” she says to some imagined minion, and then smiles demurely, blinks her eyes, and points to herself. “Legend.”

“Could I have that seat?” she asks, pointing to herself again. “Legend.” She quickly snaps out of it. “Are you kidding?” she asks. “My whole career has been one big accident. I’m just lucky to have gotten out of Catonsville.”

“My whole career has been one big accident.”

Moran grew up in Catonsville, in a Civil War-era house at the corner of Beechfield and Frederick avenues. Her grandparents had emigrated from Ireland and lived nearby, over a grocery/liquor store run by her parents. Moran’s father worked nights as a musician, leading the Johnny Moran Orchestra, a local big band known for playing midnight cruises on the S.S. Tolchester. The oldest of five children (she has four younger brothers), Pat learned to identify Benny Goodman songs but never learned to ride a bike; she knew of big band leader Si Zentner but didn’t know how to swim, which was fine by her. “I never wanted to be a child,” she says, “and I never cared about the things most kids did.”

Moran preferred hanging out with her mother, Grace. She admired her smarts and keen instincts, which her mother attributed to being born on Friday the 13th with a “veil” over her face. The veil—actually, a portion of the birth membrane called a caul—was surgically removed and sold to a local seaman who, like superstitious sailors for centuries, believed that possessing it would prevent his ship from sinking. “That always gave my mother a kind of spookiness,” says Moran, “and she felt she had sort of a sixth sense because of it. Fifteen people could be in a room, and she could immediately tell you who was good and who was bad.”

“I’m the same way,” she continues, “if there’s a situation, I go with my gut feeling. John [Waters] says I have ‘a contempt prior to investigation,’ but why investigate? It usually turns out to be exactly what I thought at the very beginning.”

Moran graduated from Mount de Sales Academy, an all-girls Catholic school, “at a time when women weren’t supposed to have opinions or any bits of creativity,” she says. “If you could balance a teacup on your knee, that was great.”

Though she received an excellent education and developed a cultured confidence that dovetailed with the manners she learned at home, “it was dullsville,” says Moran, who longed to escape. She had read about beatniks and wanted to be one.

She happened to meet Barry Narlines while working as a clerk at the Social Security Administration in the early 1960s. He remembers it well. “Pat stood out, and she was a notch above everyone else,” says Narlines, who was a supervisor at the time. “She was sophisticated, had the most amazing sense of humor, and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. We just clicked.”

Narlines was gay, lived in Mt. Vernon, and was interested in opera, theater, movies, music, fashion, art, and current events—“everything I loved,” recalls Moran, who began hanging out with Narlines at Leon’s, a gay bar on the corner of Park Avenue and Tyson Street.

Her mother was appalled she was going downtown, but approved of the friendship with Narlines because Pat felt safe and comfortable around him and his friends. “They introduced me to a whole new world of style and taste,” says Moran. “Gay men liberated me from Middle America.”

“Gay men liberated me from Middle America.”

Moran eventually migrated to Martick’s, Baltimore’s premier bohemian hangout on W. Mulberry Street, where she befriended another tribe of colorful characters and, sometimes, worked as a cocktail waitress. One night, she ran into an aspiring filmmaker from Lutherville hanging out in the alley adjacent to the bar. In 1964, John Waters wasn’t old enough to get into Martick’s—in fact, he was still in high school—but some of the regulars snuck him drinks. Like Moran, he was a refugee from the county, and they became fast friends. “We had both ventured downtown and found the world we were looking for,” Waters says. “Pat may have worked at Social Security by day, but she was a beatnik goddess at night.”

They hitchhiked to New York together, discovered the underground films of Andy Warhol and Jonas Mekas, and hung out with similarly spirited misfits like Divine, David Lochary, and Mink Stole, who all contributed mightily to Waters’s early career. But no one did more than Moran. “She was so professional and set a really good example,” says Stole, before lauding Moran’s resourcefulness, determination, and fierce loyalty.

“At first, it was just me and her,” says Waters. “Pat did whatever was needed,” which meant everything from finding actors and securing locations (Divine’s steak-stealing scene in Pink Flamingos was shot inside her parents’ store) to playing Dr. Coathanger’s Secretary (in 1969’s Mondo Trasho).

Moran also left Social Security for a series of jobs downtown: selling tickets at Center Stage, briefly operating a hot dog stand on Read Street, opening a vintage clothing shop called Divine Trash, and, later, running The Charles Theatre. She exhibited a savvy resourcefulness in those jobs, as well, and Waters recalls the time a candle accidentally set a customer’s hair on fire at the shop. “Pat didn’t even apologize,” says Waters. “She just sold her a hat.”

But as Waters’s productions grew bigger, Moran focused exclusively on casting and found she had a knack for putting real, authentic-looking characters on screen. And as his reputation soared with films like Hairspray and Cry-Baby, her stock went up, too.

She accompanied Waters to film festivals—he calls her “the perfect fake wife”—and remembers walking the red carpet at Cannes, spotting heroes like actress Jean Moreau, and exchanging “Can you believe this?” looks. At one point, Moran leaned into Waters and quipped, “It’s a long way from Martick’s, isn’t it?”

Besides working with Waters, she worked on films like Her Alibi and Clara’s Heart, and when NBC and Barry Levinson brought the TV series Homicide to town in the early-1990s, they tapped Moran for casting the extras. “I’d worked with Barry before, but the network didn’t have any relationship with me,” says Moran. “At that time, I was just a maniac known for working with a tribe of lunatics.”

As the show progressed, Moran earned the network’s trust and was given the additional responsibility of casting day players and other speaking roles. By the time Homicide wrapped in 1999, she’d won her first Emmy and had a career in show business.

“John Waters showed me how to make movies,” says Moran, “and Barry Levinson legitimized me.”

On a Wednesday afternoon in June, Moran’s office is packed with aspiring actors. She’s auditioning roles for an indie docudrama about British spies during World War II. Moran’s husband, Chuck Yeaton—they’ve been together since 1970 and have two grown children—summons them one-by-one to “the box.” Named after the interrogation room in Homicide, its walls are lined with memorabilia, signs (including one reading “Moran’s Wacko Ward”), and headshots of stars who’ve worked with her, including Johnny Depp, Ricki Lake, and Whoopi Goldberg.

A procession of actors sits in front of Moran and her assistant, Scott Goergens, who records each audition and reads dialogue as needed. Over the course of the two-hour session, Moran exhibits unflagging energy, giving the actors background information about the plot and offering spirited, no-nonsense direction about how a scene should be played. Her disarming suggestions seem to ease tension and calm actors’ nerves.

Veep’s Stephanie Laing, who’s been in “the box” with Moran, notes how she “takes more of a lead than most casting directors. Her casting sessions are a show in itself, because she’s so hands-on trying to bring out the best in an actor.”

Moran intently watches each audition on a flat-screen TV, giving feedback on practice takes and offering advice.

“Keep in mind that you’re not playing to the back row. The camera picks up everything.”

“Try not to punch the last word.”

“Pump your volume up and don’t make it so sinister.”

“Never start a scene that big, unless it’s one where you’re getting murdered.”

After the recorded take is complete, she’s all business. “Okay, that’s all we need,” she says in a clear, clipped voice. “Thank you. Bye bye.” There’s no opening for conversation, as she makes notes on a clipboard in her lap. Each audition lasts about five minutes.

Between actors, she whispers her impressions to Goergens, observations like “Great look, but I didn’t believe a word he said,” or “If we go wider [in our search], and I think we should, he gets a call back.”

It’s that confident, nearly instant, evaluation of talent (her mother would be proud) and ability to match someone with not only the role they’ll play, but the space they’ll occupy, that’s become Moran’s calling card. That’s why Baltimoreans recognize themselves inHomicide and The Wire, arguably her two greatest accomplishments.

“It’s not that she’s merely a good judge of talent, it’s that she’s an exceptional judge of Baltimore,” says David Simon. “There were times when people would walk into auditions with faces, bodies, demeanors, or accents that any other casting agent in America would say, ‘How do I put this [peculiar] fella in front of a camera?’ And Pat would think, ‘Now, this is Baltimore.’

“Invariably, she would be right. She’s not interested in making the world prettier, shapelier, cleaner, or less idiosyncratic than it is. She’s interested in replicating the world that we all know.”

She understands, as fellow casting director David Rubin will tell you, that when a character with only one line has their moment in the center of a movie screen, 30 feet tall, they are the star of the film.

“When I read a script, I see people in those roles, all the roles,” she says, during a break. “And when someone walks through that door, I want to give them a job. It makes my life easier.”

With that, the break is over.

“Next!” Moran hollers, and another actor makes his way to “the box.”

What can we expect from season four of Veep (premiering April 12)? We know Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s Selina Meyer is President now.
Yeah, the nation is in a bad place. The nation is about to experience serious trauma with her at the head. This is a woman who should never, ever be in this position. She should never have been Vice President so the chaos is going to get crazier and she’s not going to know how to handle it, and she’s got a bunch of Keystone Cops around her who also don’t know what they’re doing. So it is just a complete and utter madhouse, but that’s what makes it fun. It is craaazy. It goes in wacky directions.

What does this mean for your character, Gary?
Gary should be able to step up his game because he is now serving the President. However, he’s not a huge fan of change. He’s been with her for longer than he should have been, and he was pretty content with her being Vice President, second-in-command, helping her with her lipsticks, and whatever else she needs. The fact that now the stakes have gotten higher, his anxiety has gotten higher, if that’s even possible. I think he’s probably increased his therapy intake, however, that doesn’t seem to be helping. I don’t think he’s using any of the tools he’s learning.

Well, realistically, when would he even have time to go to therapy?
Exactly. His entire identity and time is devoted to Selena. So he probably has shame for having therapy. He not only has shame for everything else in his life, he even has shame for even having therapy because he probably feels like . . . the thought of having to talk ill about her or behind her back is just his nightmare. So I think that therapy hour is probably not a fun time for him. However, he probably does phone therapy on his lunch break, if he ever has a lunch break.

On both Arrested Development and Veep, you play men who are under the thumbs of domineering women. What gives?
Well, unfortunately, there’s a codependent theme in my work. I think I do that very well. It is ironic that those are probably the two roles that I’m most known for. There are strong similarities. Buster, however, is a little more . . . I think he’s probably a little more in the severely mentally ill category. Gary potentially needs a 24/7 therapist , but he steps up, whereas, Buster, it takes a lot for him to probably get to the pharmacy. He’s probably rocking in a corner somewhere. I think if something happened to Selena, Gary would definitely take the bullet.

Tell me a little bit about the filming of Veep. It’s a mix of script and improv, right?
The way Armando Iannucci works is he shoots a lot of footage, and it’s a really fun process. We never have a clue how it’s going to be edited. It’s such a treat to see it on screen. It’s a process I’ve never experienced with television. Typically, you get a script, and then you show up that day, and you shoot the script and then you move on. Typically, in theater there’s a lot of rehearsal. This is a process where we have two or three weeks of rehearsal before we shoot, and it’s a time where we get the material. We see if it gels. We find those moments. We come up with bits. The writers create those moments. There’s such a strong, beautiful foundation to begin with, and, what’s so great about these writers is they’re not so precious with the material. They put it out there and allow it to morph and become whatever it’s going to become. It’s such a gift. It’s an environment, which is so open to ideas, everyone’s input. It’s a real gift.

How do you keep a straight face?
Let me tell you how: I don’t. Also, Julia has taught me the skill of digging your fingernails into your hand. I don’t have the nails she has. I’m closest in proximity to Julia, so I hear the little things she does. The fact of the matter, is I just don’t keep it together, and she wants to start a drinking game about the many times that I break. Like, I’ll turn my back to the camera. I’ll look in the bag. And it’s all because I’m laughing. It’s shameless laughing, and I have no self-control. So she taught me this thing that if you just cannot keep it together and you’re tired and it’s late, you just dig your nails into your hand. It’s just a sad, sad, unprofessional actor trick.

Both on this and
Arrested, you’re working across from these people who are incredibly gifted, and it’s not human to be able to give it a straight face because it’s just so frickin’ funny. Even if they do just a glance of the eye or something, it’s like, ‘Whelp, I’m out. I can’t.’ My favorite things to watch—I’m not a person who has watched the episodes over and over—are the gag reels. That’s what I remember. I remember the laughing. I remember not being able to keep it together. I remember messing up. That’s the community that I remember, everybody just cracking up, and that’s what I love to watch over and over.

Hugh Laurie is guest starring in season four. Who is he playing and how was working with him?
He’s got serious comedic chops. He knew all these guys coming into the show, like Armando Iannucci, because he had worked for years before in the comedy realm in the U.K. So it was really fun to see him come and do it. I can’t really give too much information as to what he’s going to be playing, but not only is he super funny, but he’s just a really nice guy. He just has this thing about him that is just—it’s hard to describe without giving too much away—but he’s really fun to watch. It’s just adding to the mix another person who I can’t keep it together with. I can’t keep a straight face. Great, just bring in the problems.

What’s the outlook for more Arrested Development?
Well, it’s one of those things. The whole cast, we’re all huge fans of the show and any time Mitch Hurwitz, who created the show, calls and tells us about any opportunity, we just jump at the chance. What’s so exciting about Arrested is you never know what direction it’s go to go. It was just a show that was built on surprises, like, ‘My hand’s eaten off by a seal!’ or ‘Liza Minelli is my girlfriend!’ So, for an actor, that’s an amazing dream because it doesn’t fit any formula. So I just want to do it again because I’m like, ‘What is this guy going to come up with? What is in his brain?’ We all would jump at the chance. Honestly, it’s just a matter of scheduling. Everyone is doing their own thing and it gets a little crazy.

And what about season five of Veep?
I don’t know. It’s funny. I’ve been doing this for almost 25 years, and I get so used to never knowing. I think I got my first taste of it on Arrested because every year we were like, ‘Are we getting cancelled?’ So when I’m on a job I’m just like, ‘I’m here. I’m so thankful that I’m here.’ If it happens again, that’s great, but I never have any clue. I would hope and love if there was a season five, but I don’t know. I just have no clue what the bigwigs are thinking.

How has it been filming in Baltimore for four seasons?
Oh my god, I
love Baltimore. I’m crazy about Baltimore. It’s nice to come back. The first year you’re adapting, you’re trying to learn the area, and now it’s so fun to go back to the same places and just have the restaurants that I love. I’m still such a fan of Woodberry Kitchen, and there’s even a home store named Trohv in Hampden that I love going to where I get fun gifts. And Golden West, I would go grab lunch. I love Amuse toy store. They did a little book reading when my children’s book came out. It is really fun to create these relationships and friendships that I come back to each year. It feels a lot more like home, which is nice. All of us are away from our families. Most of us have kids, so it’s really tough to be away from them three months out of the year. The blessing of it is that we all really get along and you live this nomadic gypsy lifestyle. You create a community wherever you go. So it’s so nice to have people around like this cast, and, every now and then I’ll just walk into Whole Foods because it’s familiar. So I’ll just kind of walk around because it reminds me of the Whole Foods in LA.

Everyone has their own way of coping with homesickness.
I tend to medicate with grocery shopping.

A year ago, in this very space, we were already trumpeting the success of HBO’s VEEP, but were a little uncertain about this whole House of Cards thing.

Sure, the pedigree was unimpeachable: David Fincher as executive
producer, Kevin Spacey as lead. But Netflix? Is the world really going
to take Netflix seriously as a producer of original content?

Oh, what a difference a year makes. Because not only did House of Cards
become a much buzzed about hit (inspiring the popular debate: Is it
better to binge watch your favorite Netflix series or savor the viewing
over the course of a few weeks?), but it got nine Emmy nominations,
winning three (including Fincher for Best Director).

Meanwhile, VEEP continues to be a source of local pride,
garnering eight nominations and wins for Tony Hale (yay!) and Julia
Louis-Dreyfus, the VEEP herself (double yay!). Also, the
adorable moment where Hale (in character, mind you) assisted
Louis-Dreyfus with her speech was one of the agreed upon highlights of
the show.

“Me so happy!!!!!!”—Julia Louis-Dreyfus after the show’s big wins, on Twitter

Baltimore isn’t like New York City for a lot of reasons (we’re okay with that), like when we see movie trailers on the side of the road, we’re taken aback and we usually ask someone on set, “What’s going on?”

The answer to that question recently has been Veep, an HBO series starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus, who plays a Maryland Senator turned U.S. Vice President. The eight-episode season was shot locally and filming wrapped in December.

“Everyone who’s been working on this show said how great the set is, how nice the people are,” says casting director Pat Moran. “This can hopefully give Baltimore a chance to compete in the industry again.”

While Baltimore is acting as a stand in for D.C. (à la Live Free or Die Hard and Enemy of the State), natives will surely recognize Veep’s filming locations when it premieres on HBO in the spring.

A scene in the pilot episode was filmed outside of MICA’s main building. The grand, white-marble stairs were able to mimic D.C.’s architecture. The crew even put a fake metal detector in the entranceway to add to that government feel.

There was also a scene at The Ottobar with about 200 people. Moran couldn’t reveal much, though she said that Veep is a comedy and this was a “big, funny scene.”

Another filming location that got attention (especially as many thought Mad Men was in town) was the Belvedere, which was the backdrop for a law enforcement retirement party.

“The Belvedere is a grand dame,” Moran says. “I don’t care about any standards of any city. It was a perfect place for this over-the-top event. We used many local retired law-enforcement folks for that scene.”

Other locations included Donna’s in Charles Village, a Dillon Street row home in Canton, the offices of DLA Piper, and the show’s soundstage in Columbia.

But Moran stresses that this show means much more to Baltimore than just glitz and glamour.

“In a city like ours, we need the revenue,” she says. “We were once top five in the nation in the film industry. Now people move to New York, New Orleans. Hopefully, this will help bring our crew base back.”