How Keanu Reeves, Colin Farrell, Sandra Bullock, Pam Grier, Diane Lane and Peter Falk make life on set worth living. By RACHEL ABRAMOWITZ Photographs by DAN WINTERS

This corner, says Keanu Reeves, is his favorite spot. It has all he needs: a surface on which to put things and a window to the outside.
"I spend most of my time right here when I'm in the trailer," he says, staring at the blank walls and floral-pattern chairs on the set of "Hardball." "These things are really quite pathetic and sad."
And yet, expensive. According to a representative from Movie Movers, which rents deluxe trailers, a top-of-the-line 40-foot star trailer (triple pop-out, meaning expandable; TV; CD player; VCR; and bathroom with skylight) runs about $1,800 a week. Most productions adhere to strict clauses stating that what one star receives, the others also receive, thereby lessening, but not wholly eradicating, the potential for celebrity trailer envy. Stars can still jockey over trailer placement. As one top producer notes, "The higher paid the star, the closer to location is their trailer."

When he's not riding horses and twirling his pistol as a young Jesse James in his big-budget debut, "American Outlaws," Colin Farrell, 24, is flitting around the set in Austin, Tex., gabbing with the crew. He doesn't even really need his new, star-size digs except to "put me head down to go to sleep," as he says in his natural Irish brogue. The only amenities strewn around are beer cans, cigarettes, scripts, magazines and a bottle of Crown Royal. He keeps a copy of the book he's reading (Charles Bukowski's "Tales of Ordinary Madness") and a copy of a favorite, Richard Bach's "Jonathan Livingston Seagull." Explains Farrell: "I read it for the first time two years ago. It's amazing."

"I can imagine what it's like to be on LSD," says Sandra Bullock about her experiences with Amy Lafayette (left) and Lisa Sutton, better known in the movie industry as "the Chinese doctor ladies." A pair of traveling acupunturists, they specialize not only in the correct placement of pins but also in such procedures as "Four Hands," a two-hour megamassage in which "they literally have four hands on you at all times," as Bullock explains. She is one of many in Hollywood who rely on these services, which can cost $2,000 a day. Bullock hired them for the cast and crew of her film "Miss Congeniality" and installed them in their own trailer. "It's selfish and decadent, but while the money lasts," she says laughing, "I'll spend it on them."

On screen, Pam Grier might be famous for the snappy way she wields a pistol, but off screen, in her trailer, all she's looking for are the comforts of home. "I get homesick," says Grier, who spends nine months a year on various sets. Right now, she's in Los Angeles for "John Carpenter's Ghosts of Mars." "The third week I start getting depressed, so I need my blankey. It's whatever reminds you of home." Grier itemizes: "I have to have a computer. I have to have my pager, my picture frames, Tylenol. Got to have a telephone. Got to have a hair dryer, otherwise I have a 'fro all the time. Weights, workout clothes, PlayStation, lemon bars. I'm really a gypsy. When I lose my bags at the airport, I buy airport clothing." Her worst experience in airport fashion? "A tie-dyed tank top and shorts that ran all over the sheets."

Diane Lane doesn't make her trailer homey. "I already have a personal life," says the 35-year-old actress, on the set of "Hardball" in Chicago. "I come to work." When she travels, she brings only "current-event stuff" neatly packed in her "mobile command unit," a roll-on suitcase "like a stewardess would use." Right now, the neccessities include vitamin supplements in Baggies and publicity slides that she has carried several times between Chicago and her home in Los Angeles because she hasn't vetted them yet. The trailer's only anomaly is a 64-ounce bottle of ketchup borrowed from craft services. "I got hungry one night and I sent my driver to the Golden Arches," admits Lane. "There was a thunderstorm and lightning, and I had to eat for comfort, immediately. I had to have McDonald's."

"I'll tell you what would make this place a sanctuary," Peter Falk says, on the set of the feature film "Corky." "An ashtray." Indeed, that's pretty much all he has ever needed to bring a little bit of home to whichever trailer he has happened to inhabit in his 50-year acting career. Well, that, and a TV to watch golf. "I got lucky on this show," he rasps between puffs on his cigarette. "I had a call for 7; I was on time. They didn't get to use me until 3 p.m. You know what a mechaieh is? You walk down the street and a pot of gold falls out of a palm tree, that's a mechaieh. It's an unexpected blessing. That day they didn't use me was the last day of the P.G.A., so I got to see May and Woods in overtime. That's a mechaieh. That was beautiful."