Italy – Page 4 – Pickpocket Bob Arno

Criminal scavengers, and poets as well

Bob city view — Bob contemplates the upcoming test.

Bob gets cold feet. Overnight, reality began to percolate and bubble over the exhilaration of yesterday’s thieves’ challenge. By morning it was clear to Bob that stealing from the innocent public requires a set of attributes he lacked. Pickpockets in the U.S. call it heart, but they are referring to a lower part of the anatomy. They mean balls. I call it a criminal core.

Bob will not disappoint our gang of thieves in the park, assuming they show up. We will go to the park to thank them for the good time last evening and for participating in our film, and concede defeat in the great steal-off that never was.

Our director is fine with this decision. Crew and cameras are packed into the van; Bob and I are put in a taxi. We meet in the park. Bob paces, still somewhat conflicted. He wrongly accepted this dare in a feverish party atmosphere; but he is not a man to go back on his word, either. Not even to a band of crooks.

Maybe they won’t show up. Then Bob will be off the hook. Of course they’ll show up. Just like they did for the demo in this same park weeks ago, and yesterday’s dinner party. Bob paces in the shadow of the kiddie rides.

Frank zooms up on his motorcycle, grinning. He doesn’t know if the others will come; Andy’s not too reliable, he says. After a few minutes of chat, Bob swings his leg over the bike, wanting to putt around the park. Frank first pushes his helmet on Bob, and ensures that it’s safely fastened.

By the time Bob returns, Ed, Marc, and Andy have arrived. The regrouping of the party gang revs up the mood a few notches and distorts reality once again. The thieves are eager to pit themselves against the stage professional, and their enthusiasm is contagious. The laughter and excitement rise. Then talk turns to location.

“On the buses, of course,” they say in unison, “that’s where we work!”

“How about the market,” Bob suggests. He’s hoping for an environment in which he’d feel a little more control. A place with a large number of potential victims so he can pick just the right one, in just the right situation.

“No, another group is working there today. We don’t want to ruin their day. The bus!”

Somehow it was agreed. It was also agreed that all items would be returned to their owners. Certainly we could not be involved in stealing things for real; not even in accompanying known thieves while they commit criminal acts. All pickpockets, Bob included, would take, display, and return or replace ill-begotten gains.

Again we are a large group. Four thieves, Bob and I, and a crew of five. The eleven of us cross the park and board the next bus.

What happens next is—is—well, I’m very sorry but I can’t say. I will tell you that it is the climax of the film. It is beyond the dinner with thieves in excitement, fascination, and entertainment value. The added element of danger looms large. The speed in which events occur, the drama, and the revelations to us all combine to create lifetime impressions for all of us. Perhaps for you, too, when you see the film.

I know it’s mean to leave a cliffhanger. I admitted in part one of this narrative that I’d be compelled to leave out much good stuff. I’m sorry. But let’s go on.

Two hours later we regroup in the park. There’s been a little one-upmanship between Frank and Andy, a kind of battle using warmth-charisma-speed-guts-and-raw-skill. No hard feelings—it was all in fun. But which of them will be the pickpocket face of this city?

We’re debriefing now. Interviews in the park with the big Red camera back on its tripod and Michele translating while responsible for impeccable sound.

These men are thieves—criminal scavengers—but they are also poets. On camera Andy says:

“Bob, what we do is the same, but we are different. You make people laugh. I make people cry.”

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 20 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.
Right. There’s no part 19. The original Part 19 is here.

—Originally posted 10/410 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

A seafood orgy with thieves

Dinner with thieves, continued. Carafes of white wine land on the table. I join Andy and Lou and have beer. Among much laughter, the feast begins, family style. Plates of bruschetta arrive, and large rounds of mozzarella draped in prosciutto. Andy stands, carves the cheese, and serves everyone. Before he finishes, platters of fried items are placed on the table. Fried cheese, fried mashed potatoes, fried fishballs on sticks, fried squid, fried octopus. Before anyone begins, all glasses must clink all other glasses. Then men stretch across the table, serving themselves and each other with their hands. Ed puts handfuls of crisp-fried squid on my plate, and squeezes a lemon over it all.

Bob and several of the pickpockets are standing again, clowning around and swiping stuff. Watch me! No, wait—try it this way! Our plates are cleared and fresh ones laid down. The room is thick with smoke and loud with laughter. Ed is taking pictures with his mobile phone, or maybe he’s taking video. Bowls of stewed octopus come, and others heaped with steamed mussels. Bob borrows someone’s lit cigarette and pushes it though a handkerchief—no hole!—no burn! The men love it. More beer, more wine, more bread… Bob calls for dessert—”maybe some fruit.” The thieves laugh. Not yet! We have more courses coming!

Michele is translating for six pickpockets and Bob, as fast as he can. In such demand, he sometimes forgets he’s also sound recordist for a big-time film and someone has to remind him: “Michele, the boom!” I make a little conversation with Ed, on my left, but since I don’t have a translator, I mostly just observe.

A huge platter of pasta comes, covered with buttery mussels and a variety of clams. Its fragrant steam masks the cigarette smoke for a few minutes. It’s a work of art. The pasta is thick and chewy, the clams sweet, garlicky, divine. This dish, served in the den of thieves, is my favorite of all the spectacular meals enjoyed in our host city. It pains me to withhold credit where credit is due. I want to shout the name of the restaurant, and the city we’re in. I will… later. [Naples!]

There’s serious eating for a while. This is food to pay attention to, and these men are no strangers to fine cuisine. Another platter is added to the table, this one heaped with shell fish, crustaceans, and fish. Really, it is too much. Yet Ed is popping baby squids into my mouth with his fingers, and I’m enjoying them. There is some metaphor here—something about the fingers of a thief being exempt from all rules.

The men rise for more demonstrations. Bob swipes the restaurant owner’s wallet, then Andy shows how he can take cash without removing the wallet. Finally, they get to that special front pocket technique, unique to this city. Andy crushes against Bob, as if on a lurching bus. Frank holds Bob in place from the other side. Andy removes bill after bill from Bob’s front pocket, handing them off to Marc. Then Andy turns and skulks away. Playing along, Bob shouts “who took my money!” Marc passes the cash back to Andy, who presents it to Bob with a half bow and hand up in apology. Bob accepts the cash and Andy departs.

Left: Andy takes cash from Bob's front pocket. Right: After Bob's accusation, Andy returns the cash—but his left hand palms half of it in a practiced short-change move. — Left: Andy takes cash from Bob’s front pocket. Right: After Bob’s accusation, Andy returns the cash—but his left hand palms half of it in a practiced short-change move.

“We return the money when we have to,” he explains, “but it’s never the same amount.” Exactly like a magician, he has palmed half the cash before returning it. The victim never counts it on the spot. Andy grins hugely, full of pride.

Lou, now retired, sits out most of the demonstrations, but can’t help getting into the action to show his own wallet extractions. He rocks the wallet—zig-zags it out. The demonstrations and raucous laughter extend through dessert and beyond; through coffee, through liqueur. Then it’s time for picture-taking. All the thieves want to get between Bob and me for a photo.

There’s a surprise: everyone signs full releases agreeing to be in our film, faces shown. We are ecstatic. The thought of blurring these expressive, lively faces was distressing. Now these men, the true stars of our pickpocket documentary, will be laid bare; not only their identities, but their emotions, their humanity.

And there’s a challenge. The pickpockets have admired Bob’s steals, but insist their work is different. Can he perform in their world? Has he got the heart? By that they mean the guts—the nerve. They summons Bob to a test. We’ll meet in the park. Tomorrow.

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 18 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

—Originally posted 10/210 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno documentary film filming thieves Food Italy Naples National Geographic pickpocket Pickpocket King

A pickpocket party begins

Dinner with thieves. It’s 3:00. The film crew’s still perfecting camera angles, lighting, and table arrangements. I’ve taken my seat as requested, so cameras can be adjusted behind me.

I’m antsy. Bob’s irritated. All invitees arrived on time at 2. They’ve been asked to wait in a nearby café. But for how long? They’re our guests and I’m feeling rude.

The restaurant has closed to the public. Its owners and staff stand in the back, arms crossed, unsmiling. Its lighting has been draped with black or white fabric and our own lights have been arranged on large stands. My eyes bounce from the frenzied crew to my watch to the prominent tanks of live seafood bubbling noisily. Sound man Michele frowns at the hum but, as a homeboy, he knows he can’t ask the restaurant owner to turn off the vital air supply to the pricey perishables.

Bob and I were skeptical as the taxi cruised along the unfamiliar streets of this neighborhood. This small restaurant, chosen by Andy, is the best-looking address on the street. Inside, its homey atmosphere is comforting. We can’t help wondering: are the owners relatives?; if not, do they know who today’s guests are?

We thought this gathering would just be a dinner, maybe a party, but it’s more—it’s an ad hoc film set. The crew are now trying to rig a camera to fly over the table. Our producer and official whip-cracker, Kath, is putting on the pressure to open the doors; but sound must be perfect. Lighting and cameras must be just so. I’m wondering if we’ll have any guests at all by the time they’re ready. Finally, at 4:00, the thieves are called in.

The pickpockets arrive, smiling: Frank, and his brother Ed; Andy, and his brother Lou; Lou’s son-in-law Marc; and Clay. Handshakes and hugs all around, as at any dinner party. Then Andy goes straight for Bob’s pockets, feeling him up. With a flourish and a spin, he whips out a wallet from Bob’s breast pocket, laughing. To complete the charade, he hands it off to Marc, who skulks away. The room cracks up. Applause.

Frank has dressed for the occasion, in a purple silk shirt. When we first met him on the bus he was clean-shaven. The next day in the park he signed a release agreeing to be in our film. Now he has a mustache. Has he grown it as a disguise? For a debonaire film-star look? I forget to ask him.

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 17 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

—Originally posted 10/1/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno documentary film filming thieves Italy Naples National Geographic pickpocket Pickpocket King

Overly careless behavior repels thieves—but don’t try it!

Anticipation. Frank has RSVPed by email, with enthusiasm. But what about the others? Will they come to our dinner? I wonder about the restaurant chosen by Andy. Is it owned by a relative? Is it a regular thieves’ den? Will the food be appetizing and safe to eat? Is it a dive, or has he taken advantage of our offer to select an outrageously expensive place?

It’s in a rough neighborhood, is all we are told. Later, our crew go there to scout the lighting needs and see how they’ll set up cameras, but the place is closed.

At the dinner, we hope to exchange pickpocketing techniques. Bob is particularly interested in learning the moves involved in a slow, steady extraction from the front pants pocket. To be on the safe side, we decide to buy a pair of pants with the kind of pocket we know will work.

We go shopping, camera crew in tow. And given the neighborhood, given the mass of equipment that surrounds us on this excursion, we have police protection. Not one, but two cops escort us into the alley of cheap clothing, where we find what we think are the perfect pants. Michele shouts as a man runs toward Van, who has the Red on his shoulder; Van can only see what’s in his frame. One of our cops steers the man away.

Waiting for the dinner, we feel we must stay off the buses. We don’t want our pickpocket friends to think we’re looking for their competitors. Neither do we want to infringe on their work—we’re not law enforcement, we remind ourselves. This city could put a dent in thievery if it wanted to, but criminal activity is an innate and intrinsic part of society here; our values are outsiders’ ethics.

We feel it’s safe, so-to-speak, to research another territory. We make a morning trip to a huge outdoor market where we’re told a few female pickpockets work plucking wallets out of women’s purses. Bob and I wander the aisles of clothing, shoes, hardware, luggage, housewares, and electronics. I’m totally, naturally, distracted by the shoes—of top quality and bottom price. A fabulous pair of tall, lace-up boots costs €25, about $30—10% of regular retail! I want to try them on but I’m supposed to be thiefhunting. Our crew is following us with their hidden cameras. Kun is using an exposed Canon D5 for stills, but it also shoots gorgeous video. We have undercover police guards tailing us at the ends of each aisle. Nothing happens. I try on shoes, I set down my purse, I turn my back on it. Nothing. No takers.

Back in the police office we dissect our failure to attract thieves. Kun’s camera was too obvious, the police say. Shouts were heard warning of cameras. The books containing hidden cameras were held unnaturally, raising suspicion. My purse was carried too carelessly, they say, no local woman would hold it like that.

While we’re debriefing in the police office, three separate victims come to report thefts from their purses. The thieves are there. They’re working. But they’re savvy, and they don’t like me as a victim.

The market is closing now; each vendor is packing up and loading boxes onto trucks. Our dinner with thieves is nearing.

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 16 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

—Originally posted 9/29/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno documentary film filming thieves Italy Naples National Geographic pickpocket Pickpocket King

A missing wallet, nakedness, email from a thief

Thieves find us, more. It was a big day for us, and for the whole documentary team. The lowlifers stealing Bob’s wallet, finding Marc and Andy on a bus, catching up on a few years with Andy at a café, then making plans for a big dinner.

I haven’t mentioned that somehow during the day, Bob’s wallet really did disappear, and it isn’t clear how that happened. Did Marc or Andy take it? Could it have been the third man with them, whom we didn’t recognize and lost track of in the excitement? Or was it our own film crew, who never replaced the wallet in Bob’s pocket after filming those pickup shots?

In any case, it’s gone. This upsets Bob, because he’s lost that very wallet hundreds of times in our thiefhunting exploits, and he’s always gotten it back. Now the wallet is gone.

Michele's on the floor with his sound equipment so as not to be seen in the mirrors. — Michele’s on the floor with his sound equipment so as not to be seen in the mirrors.

To relax and clear his head, Bob goes for a long shower. From the bathroom he calls me. “Go get the crew. I want to share my thoughts on the day. They can film in here if they want to, I don’t mind.”

They bring the big old Red into the steamy bathroom. Director of photography, film director, and sound man all in the bathroom, shifting angles to avoid seeing themselves in the mirrors. Bob’s in the clear glass shower, water pouring off him, explaining the meaning of that damn wallet, its loss, and how a shower calms him.

This is too good. Van gets one more shot with another camera.

After Bob’s shower, we sit on the bed talking a little more to the cameras. It’s late. I’ve got my computer and I check email for the last time before bed. And… there’s an email from Frank. Email from a pickpocket!

It was a long and heartfelt letter and, even with a rough google translation, we could sense the warmth and charm Frank was trying to express. I’m sure Frank won’t mind that I quote this short poetic bit:

I know perfectly well that to touch the soul you can impress both the astonishing perception that sharpens our satisfaction, even if our directions are very different. Yours can be a funny show, quite surreal. but you may feel sick from the fleeting moment of reality that is reflected in my ever infinite talent.

After a long, frustrated account of the city’s political and criminal problems, Frank writes: “I believe that here it is becoming worse. Who would not want to hold a secure job and live a life of tranquility?” Then suddenly, a sentence that had me on the floor laughing. “Dear Bob, I’m a bit pathetically away from our subject…” Frank’s main point was to confirm our restaurant plans. He was politely RSVPing.

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 15 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

—Originally posted 9/28/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno documentary film filming thieves Italy Naples National Geographic pickpocket Pickpocket King

The best pickpocket, self-proclaimed

Thieves find us, continued. We’re not looking for pickpockets; just busy filming pickup shots on the bus for the documentary, when known thieves Marc and Andy board the bus with a third man we don’t recognize. “Marc!” we all say, swiveling our cameras in his direction. “Andy!” I say, as the two push past me. Bob and I recognize Andy from past years, but the film crew don’t know him.

The men had boarded at the back of the now-crowded bus. They shimmy through the tightly packed aisle like river water through stones. Marc and Andy pretend they don’t know us, but we and our crew are in relentless pursuit, struggling through the aisle crowd to catch up, to make contact. From the beginning, Marc has been the shifty-eyed cautious one. Even now, he makes as if to jump ship at the first stop, eager to escape. But Bob catches up with him, all smiles, and when the bus lurches to its next stop, we all jump off together: two thieves, Bob and I, and our whole crew.

We land at a café and take a few tables. The big Red camera looks our way and the furry boom mic hovers over us. We order coffee, lemon ice, a few snacks. Andy reminisces over past meetings with Bob and me. Marc reverts to his friendlier self on Andy’s cue.

The best pickpocket

Bob pulls out his iPod and shows Andy our gallery of local thieves. Andy smiles, laughs, pointing to photos of his friends. He knows every face. He stops at Lou, his brother, and tells us that he’s retired now. At 57, Lou now has a cigarette kiosk and makes a decent living. Bob and I are glad to hear this. We’ve known Lou for 12 years now; he was the first pickpocket we met in this city. Or rather, the first one we spoke with at length.

Though we figure Andy’s already aware of it, Bob expresses his wish to find the most talented pickpocket in this city of talented pickpockets. Andy doesn’t hesitate. “I’m the best!” he brags. “Ask anyone.” Marc nods. Bob describes the technique he hopes to have demonstrated and Andy pops out of his chair, ready to show it. Andy’s talking a blue streak and sound man Michele, translating yet another thief, is listening with a broad grin. He can’t translate everything fast enough, but at one point he beams at me. “He’s incredibly charming. Full of character, like an actor!”

“You say you’re the best,” Bob says. “Then it’s you I’m looking for!” Bob proposes dinner—a big dinner with thieves. “We’ll have a contest and share techniques,” he says. He invites Marc and Andy, and tells them to invite Frank and Frank’s brother Ed. And Clay, because he was there at the demonstration party in the park. And Lou, of course, retired or not!

“We can’t do dinner,” Andy explains. Frank is on restriction; he’s not allowed out after 9 p.m. “Say 2:00 on Friday. Where?”

“Where would you like to go?” our producer chips in generously. Andy names a restaurant without hesitation, and volunteers to make reservations. He scribbles the name and address of the place for us and stands, eager to get back to work.

After Marc and Andy disappear on a bus, Bob and I need a walk to come down. We know the neighborhood and its risks, so we turn in our hidden cameras to the crew. Our van has come to meet us at the café and it will take all the equipment. Bob and I walk.

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 14 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

—Originally posted 9/27/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno documentary film filming thieves Italy Naples National Geographic pickpocket Pickpocket King

A lowlife, drug-addled pickpocket

Thieves find us. “Police, police! She took my wallet!” That’s Bob screaming at ear-splitting volume. Not his usual reaction to pickpocketing! Usually, he turns and simply asks for the wallet back. Or if he has the time, he’ll steal something else from the thief—his phone or sunglasses—and then propose a trade.

We’d noticed this thief, a lowlife drug-addled woman, at a bus stop, as she and her boyfriend lit cigarette butts plucked from the ground. The bus stop was thick with thieves, all more interesting than this desperado; Bob was hoping his wallet would attract one of the others. But the woman wormed her way through the boarding throng, cutting between Bob and me. I had the perfect view of her sloppy steal. So did our film crew.

We’re at the bus stop for “pickup shots” after the rush and excitement of the past few days. We’d found the pickpocket trio Frank, Marc, and Ed so quickly, and things progressed in such a rush, our film director realized that we needed some establishing shots and close-ups on the bus to set the scene for viewers of the documentary.

Director Kun Chang asks Bob to board the next bus, then hop off before it leaves. That’s when the junkie grabs his wallet. Bob makes a scene and the boyfriend shoves the wallet back in. Cute. Usually they just drop it on the ground. Bob gets off the bus and together, we marvel at the number of “suspects” around us. We don’t recognize any individuals from prior visits, but they all fit the pattern.

Today, though, we’re not thiefhunting, tempting as it is. We need those pickup shots, so we let the bus go without us, onboard thieves free to do their thing unwatched. Bob and I are to board the next red bus, because that’s the kind we rode two days ago with Frank, Marc, and Ed.

Here comes one. We board, along with our film crew. It’s empty—I mean, no pickpockets, no suspects. Bob and I stand where we were when Frank & Co. found us, and the cameras get their shots. Until…
The bus stops and doors open and I glance out the window to see faces I recognize. It’s Marc, the younger of the pickpockets we’d met two days ago, and with him Andy, Marc’s uncle-by-marriage and a thief Bob and I have known for years.

We don’t expect them to board. We think they’ll see us and turn away. But no. Along with a third man we don’t recognize, they climb the stairs to work the bus.

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 13 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

Right. There’s no part 12. The original Part 12 is here.
—Originally posted 9/25/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno documentary film filming thieves Italy Naples pickpocket Pickpocket King Thieves

Getting used to cameras on me all day

On making a documentary. As I said, you’d think a documentary is just a camera following the action—but the action must be lit and wired for sound. And the cameras have to catch it from all the right angles.

It takes a long time to set up each scene, even if we’re just talking to the camera in our hotel room. Our team is shooting on a Red, the ultimate digital cinematography camera, the most expensive, the hardest to use. It records raw data without compression and therefore requires enormous hard drives. The Red is top on the list of our investor/distributor’s camera requirements; and our investor/distributor is a name in documentary films known and respected by all (even you). Their requirements are stringent.

Our days are long, starting very early and ending past midnight. But whatever time we get up, director of photography Van Royko has been up hours earlier, preparing the Red One. Director Kun Chang stays up hours later, transferring the day’s data. We’re all working non-stop, even on our scheduled day off. The payoff will be a phenomenal documentary film.

I quickly get used to the sound man tucking the tiny microphone between my breasts, running wires around my body, and cramming the battery-pack transmitter and excess cable down my pants. Repeating simple actions becomes routine: “can you get back in the car and get out again?” I learn to ignore the giant lens two inches from my face while I brush my teeth or change earrings. These small acts, while unimportant, will eventually help tie together the big events in our story. In the end, only a few seconds will be used—just a flash, a tiny fraction of the footage the filmmakers shoot.

At the beginning of the shoot, I’m determined to be conscious of my posture and to remember to smile. That works for about half a day. When you’re eating and packing and arguing in front of the cameras, you give up vanity and just be who you are. In fact, I’m later surprised to discover that I loathe the prospect of projecting myself unrealistically, which results in a scene in which I remove my shirt on camera because that is what I would have done had the camera not been there.

On the other hand, I want to be somewhat careful of what I say. Sound bites can be taken out of context. I can’t unsay something. So maybe I’m not totally myself after all.

I don’t keep track of what I’ve worn. Often, it’s ugly, neutral “thiefhunting” clothes, chosen to be forgotten, unnoticed by those we follow. Events happen fast and unpredictably, moving from location to location. Sometimes the filmmakers need “pickup shots:” closeups or establishing shots that help explain to the viewers where we are or how we got there. “Can you put on the clothes you wore three days ago?” Hmmm, what was that?

I guess I can divide the shooting into three categories.

Interviews. Bob and me, separately or together, looking into the camera and talking.
Bob and my thiefhunting activities. That would include hidden camera rigging, searching for thieves, and interacting with them.
Fly-on-the-wall. Bob and me going about our business with cameras watching. At breakfast, in restaurants, in our hotel room, and in the city.

The second two categories are easy and standard for documentaries. The first is extremely difficult, since we don’t know what we will do, what we will find, or what might happen. Yet, the crew must follow us, must remain invisible, and must be ready to turn on a dime. They must compromise sound and image quality in order to use equipment that keeps them maneuverable.

Rosie ferries Bob through streets one dares not walk alone.

We have a “fixer” whom I’ll call Rosie. A native of this city, she is a well-connected miracle-worker. She zips around town on her motorcycle in the aggressive local driving style, and claims the iPad changed her life. From it, she can do anything, anywhere.

Some days into the shoot, Bob surprises everyone by getting a haircut. The producer notices instantly and her head falls into her hands. Bad boy, Bob. Director Kun Chang explains that the haircut screws with his timeline, making it impossible to intercut scenes, especially interviews and those pickup shots. By sheer coincidence, sound recordist Michele also gets a haircut on the same evening off. This shouldn’t matter for a sound man, but Michele is an integral part of the film as on-camera translator, so it matters a lot.

There’s much more exciting stuff to tell about our interactions with thieves, but I’m having trouble keeping up with daily posts. The story continues!

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 11 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

—Originally posted 9/22/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno documentary film filming thieves Italy Naples National Geographic pickpocket Pickpocket King Thieves

Just listening flatters the thieves

View from a low hotel window: our hotel on left, mountain road, and the city.

Thiefhunting, Day One, still more. This is an old-fashioned town, lightly touched by the 21st century. Vendors ply the streets like the horse-and-buggy days my parents describe, only these peddlers drive rickety rusty trucks piled with everything from fruit to diapers to toys, and bark through muffled microphones: “come one, come all, I’ve got everything for you—cheap!” Several trucks may be wending their ways on the steep roads below our hotel, and they politely alternate their announcements.

It’s a noisy town, too. Church bells ring insistently all morning, to shake the lazy from their beds. The nightly neighborhood fireworks I’ve already mentioned (I’m watching a spectacular show just this moment from the terrace bar). Cars and motorcycles whiz by on the narrow mountain road, spewing fumes, deafening. There’s a lot of horn-honking, and frequent musical police sirens. The words “charming” and “quaint” only apply to certain aspects of the city: dining, for sure; the people, architecture, ancient culture and traditions.

The fact that the city is somewhat of an anachronism is important to this story. It explains a little bit of the pickpockets’ fascination with us, and their reaction to us. Theirs is a simple, predictable existence. Not simple as in easy; their chosen career has plenty of difficulties and complications. But simple as in routine, repetitive, and limited. There’s work, there’s family life, there’s celebration and I’m sure there’s joy and pride.

Slyly lifting a wallet from the pocket of an obvious tourist on a bus is one of the daily routines. Speaking with the victim—briefly—happens now and then. Coffee with the victim? Never. Hours of conversation? Unheard of. An outsider actually asking questions, listening, interested, non-judgmental? A total shock. And not unpleasant! Or…reason for suspicion. Is it a sting of some sort? A trap? “The system?”

The men start out fake-friendly. Then they are confused. They become curious and cagey, cautious and protective. But Bob and I are believable because we’re honest. We admit outright that we’re making a documentary. We say we’re looking for the top talent in the profession. We explain that we want to feature this job, and we need the best representatives to do it. Yes, the film will be international, and that means it will be shown here, too.

We’re listening, and the thieves are flattered. We do not fit the routine. We are a curiosity, and a surprisingly welcome intellectual stimulation. We trigger new thoughts, inspire them to say things they’ve never before put into words. We become their future dinner topic, a big thing in their day, maybe in their year. Possibly more.

We’re making a film, we tell the thieves. A film. A movie… This is a concept so remote to the people of this neighborhood, the people who live this simple-but complicated existence, they know it is impossible that the making of a film would touch them—yet it has.

Just the thought brightens their day. And they’re intrigued. Why not? Everyone in this town knows what they do. It’s no secret, they’ve been doing it their entire adult lives and even before. What’s to lose?

Bob and I prepare for the meeting in the park. Will the pickpocket gang show up? Will they really sign the required releases and demonstrate for our cameras? Fervent hope and suspense make it impossible to sleep.

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 9 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

—Originally posted 9/19/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno film filming thieves Italy Naples National Geographic pickpocket Thieves

The human side of cold, heartless criminals

Thiefhunting, Day One, continued. Bob and I were on a high, having found a talented pickpocket team on the first bus ride of our first day of thiefhunting—in front of our film crew. Okay—in reality, the pickpockets found us. But let us credit ourselves as talented pickpocket magnets. And let it also be noted that we do not make it easy for the thieves. There’s no wallet peeking out of Bob’s pocket. His shirt covers the pocket, too.

The five of us—two pickpockets, our sound man-cum-translator Michele, Bob, and I—order coffee in a tiny bar. The thieves pay for it immediately. They’re smiling, laughing, and so are we. Michele translates with a huge grin, first nervously, then almost joyously, as he recognizes the human side of cold, heartless criminals. It’s a revelation to him, as it once was for us.

Gentlemen thieves

In these moments of close contact, of talk without judgment, of sharing insider talk with outsiders, we are like any strangers conversing. But no—we are more. We are intimates, because we speak of the unspeakable. We are confidantes, understanding what most do not.

As we enter the coffee bar, the gentlemen thieves step aside to let me, the only woman, enter. I’m terrified, hyper-aware of my hidden rigging: coils of wire, two boxes of electronics at my waist. These are just the sort of gallant gents who might place a hand softly on the small of my back. A move that would turn our encounter upside down. I rush past the men and their roving hands. Hands that are comfortable in other men’s pockets, in women’s purses, on the small of my back. I feel rude in the face of their chivalry.

Introductions over coffee—so civilized. Sorry, but I must now bastardize, anglicize, and fictionalize their names. For now. Frank is the clean-cut man who stole Bob’s wallet. He’s fiftyish, nicely dressed, good-looking. He’s muscular, confident, oozing testosterone; default emotion: jovial. As I said before, we’d not have suspected him for an instant were it not for his behavior on the bus.

His partner is Marc, thirtyish, short hair, light beard as dictated by fashion, big bright eyes. Marc is a bit cagey. Cautious and observant, his eyes dart around, land for an instant, keep moving. He can pick up some of our English. He can speak a little, too. But he’s nervous and confused in this unheard-of situation.

Bob is excited and wants to cement his new relationships. He tosses me his book-cam, which I now balance on my purse-cam, carefully holding the two at slightly different angles in hope of capturing the scene. And remembering not to block my button-cam with either.

Pickpocket friends

Bob pulls out his iPod Touch, on which he’s loaded a gallery of thieves: pictures of pickpockets we’ve met in this city over the years. There are twenty or so faces. Bob lets the thief take the iPod in his hand. I watch, pretty certain he doesn’t intend to dart out with it. Frank slides the photos around, showing Marc, enlarging them as he pleases. He’s dumbfounded to see all his pals on Bob’s iPod. He points, laughs, doubles over, and names each one. Then he looks up at Bob, smile gone. “Which model is this?” He raises the iPod. Old model, Bob admits. “Okay, okay. I have the new one,” Frank says, and lights up again.

As Frank flips through the photos, he comes to one of Lou, another pickpocket we know in this neighborhood whom we first met in 1998. We learn that Marc is married to Lou’s daughter. They flip to a photo of Lou’s brother, Andy—Marc’s uncle. It’s a thriving family business.

Frank chuckles: “We thought we were hunting you, but you were hunting us!”

“Twenty years ago we made a good living without the tourist,” Frank tells us. “Now because of the economy, we depend on them. For that, we are sorry.” He tells us they now use a new technique, only developed about 20 years ago, because the police complained about the thefts. “We now can steal only the money from the wallet, without taking the wallet. And we don’t take all the money—we try to leave a little.”

For the most part, they don’t use stolen credit cards, either. That would raise the crime to another level. When they do steal a wallet, they bundle credit cards, ID, even photos, and drop them into a mailbox. Lou told us the same thing in 1998. Now, the police here corroborated it.

Our film crew had gathered outside the bar and are trying to get footage however they can. Marc becomes suspicious. He calls Bob on his sunglass-cam. Bob fesses up. The mood doesn’t change in the least.

Bob explains our film project to Frank and Marc. He invites them to participate, saying they’ll be shown on big screens around the world. They’ll have to sign releases. We make an appointment: tomorrow in a park.

Part one of this story. — Next installment.

This is Part 7 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.

Originally posted 9/17/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.

Bambi Vincent Bob Arno film filming thieves Italy Naples National Geographic pickpocket Thieves