Rich “RJ” Rappaport barely remembers the days when he wasn’t busy renting out truckloads of sham guns and fake cocaine. His vast prop warehouse on the outskirts of Atlanta used to see a trickle of local filmmakers, maybe a dozen a month. Now, he sees more than that every day, many of them rushing to equip the massively complicated, big-budget shoots of television’s new golden age.
Read Full Article »