Thanks to the miracle of the internet, plus some trial and error, I now when: the camera is running ‘at speed’; how much footage is left in the magazine; when the battery needs changing; that the camera has a built in light meter; how to switch it on!; what the markings in the ground glass screen (viewfinder) are actually telling me.
Okay. Time to hit the road.
When you first rang me about this film (1) you told me there was no money, not even exs. Fair enough. You’ve now sent me a crew list long enough for Ben Hur, and if you’re not paying at least some of them I’ll be very surprised. (2) You said I’d be required for one day’s filming, with possibly an extra morning. This is now obviously going to be two full days. (3) You said filming would be local. I don’t regard Pinner as ‘local’. Finally, you didn’t mention that the calls (unlike F & F) would be at unreasonable times: 8.00am in St Albans on a Saturday and 8.00am in Pinner on Sunday are not reasonable – especially for nothing! I’ll behave like a professional if I’m paid like one, but on this deal I feel I’m being used. Well, the goodwill just ran out; I’m no longer available, sorry.
So, no police sergeant, then.
Forty five minutes drafting an email to my missing police sergeant. Who knows, maybe he’ll come back?
Other options: call Jason, comedian friend, at midnight. He’s going to a wedding. If he wasn’t, I suspect he would do it. He’s planning to make a feature in the States next year about an Englishman moonwalking (Michael Jackson) style from coast to coast and cheating by travelling on a minibus.
Next option: call Ashley, actor friend and sports presenter (weird combo) tomorrow morning. Ashley is the perfect Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You see him and grin. Ideal for comedy, although younger than I first envisaged this character. Still, policemen *are* looking younger as I get older. Bonus: Ashley can put a lighted match in his mouth and do this huge rictus grin which makes him look like a Jack O’Lantern. We’ll have a larf.
More options: call Fiona at Acting Associates. Call the new crew member who just happens to be production secretary on Casualty, a BBC soap opera. Call Whatever Pictures and ask them for help. Call Sarah, actress friend, and see if she knows anyone. Call everyone and then call some more.
And do that while picking up the camera kit, checking it’s all there, finding a DAT machine and purchasing some DAT tape stock.
Film making’s not like this Stateside, is it? I mean, people make commitments and then keep them, surely/Shirley? Now you know *exactly* why film makers always hire people they’ve worked with before and their relations. It’s not just about who does the best job. It’s about who you can trust to actually *do* their job.
Tomorrow is when I need to pick up camera gear. Today is when I start the day without any. This will require a magic wand and a phone.
Step one: phone the hire company so they can apologise some more. “We’re very sorry but everyone seems to have gone mental,” they say, more or less. “Nobody when filming in September because there were so many memorials for September 11th, so now they’re all catching up.” “Thanks anyway,” I say, “At least you tried. Thanks…” “For nothing,” they interject. So not a completely wasted phone call.
Of course, I have a fall back position. Four Corners film workshop. My double booking. Bwahahaha. I call them at their specified opening hour, 10am. Answerphone. I call them at 10.15. Answerphone again. 10.30, 11 o’clock, 11.30. Answerphone, answerphone and answerphone. I leave a message for them to ignore (standard practice). Meanwhile, I go through my contacts book and try other leads. “Hi, how are you doing?” and similar faux bonhomie follows.
At 11.10, I happen to phone Screen East, the regional development body for film in this part of England. I explain my problem succinctly. “I’m filming this weekend and I don’t have a camera.” I say this without a hint of irony, as if it’s something I actually do all the time. “Can you help?” “Give me your details and I’ll get back to you in ten minutes,” says the voice. I do it but don’t hold out much hope. Maybe Four Corners will call back.
11.20am: Screen East calls back and I speak to my Fairy Godmother. “Yes, we can help you. We have a camera kit based in London. We can let you have it for £300 for the weekend provided you have insurance.” Well bibbidy bobbidy boo, whaddaya know? The slipper fits! Give me a pumpkin and four white mice and I shall go to the ball.
There now follows a frantic scene of calling up the people who actually have the camera to find out what they’ve got (an Aaton XTR) and what it can do (speeds up 54fps and no speed changes in shot). I rethink my opening shots, which is okay because I’ve done my research by watching MI2 remember, which means I know that slo-mo with judicious dolly work is this week’s trick to try.
There’s my pumpkin. An extra £40 to get it set up to shoot standard 16mm and probably some more chances to pay out down the line. Now to get some white mice from the insurance company. Unbelievably straightforward, thanks to the modern miracle of the fax machine built into the PC (although it crashes a couple of times, naturally). I even manage to get the printer working again by cunningly replacing the black ink cartridge (I am a systems specialist, ho yes).
Now, what was the story about again?
On this day…
2.23pm: The art director calls to say he can’t meet up this week because there’s a rail strike later and he has no car. This is the same person who wasn’t going to work this week and yet, oh look! He’s working. But he has made lots of props and stuff, so you have to forgive and forget.
The assistant director emails to say he can’t organise catering and “has no money” for sandwich materials. You write back saying that it’s his problem to solve and he must solve it. Jees, an AD who falls at the first feeble hurdle? What is this? But he has organised a van full of lighting, grip equipment and sound gear so is it right to raise an eyebrow?
The lab don’t actually have any neg reports left until you hassle them. A lot. And then some appear. And then you ask if they’ve put any T-cores (film spools) in the box with the cans they’re supplying and, oops, they forgot that too, and you think, “What if I’d never made a film before? These people would all stuff me completely!”
You phone up the insurance company and say the deal might be at the last minute for equipment cover and they say, no problemo. You phone up the hire company who were going to supply a camera for free and they say, we don’t know yet, email us the details and we’ll call you back later. And they don’t.
You finish the call sheets and…
Your printer dies.
Really.
So you email them to your self at work and print everything out there and you use the photocopier at the studios where you’re working and it keeps spitting out the sticky labels you put in for addresses. It’s like those labels are giving it indigestion and it’s barfing your labels.
Eventually you get these envelopes filled and get to the Post Office about twenty minutes before closing time. The Post Office has queue coming out of the door and it’s not even pension day. Eventually you make it to the counter but the guy behind the counter gives you stamps for your 15 envelopes in small denominations to slow you up.
At last you get these things sent.
Nearly there.
====
A bit later…
4.33pm: You ring around, including the person who emailed to ask if you need help with catering. “Yes,” you say, “Yes, I need help with catering.” “Well, I can help serve it up,” he says. You flip a coin. Heads you laugh, tails you cry. It disappears down a gap in the furniture and rolls under a monitor stack.
Light bulb over head goes on. Call the wannabe producer who made all those phone calls to you last week. Yes, they’re still interested. Yes, they can organise your catering. In fact, they are incredibly businesslike and efficient and the problem is solved in about ten minutes.
And part of that is also thanks to Fiona, your other art director, who has spent so little budget that you can afford to throw some money (£40-50) at providing sandwiches. And also thanks to the writer/AD, Simon, who has managed to get a large water boiler (tea urn) and a generator.
And now an email has appeared from Simon saying his girlfriend, Sue, will happily make up sandwiches for everyone too.
Free your miiiiiiiinnndd.
====
And even later still…
8.10pm: You get home after a looooong evening of sheite and find a message on your answermachine telling you, very sorry but no, hire place doesn’t have a camera this weekend and please call them so they can apologise some more but suddenly the world has gone mental and everyone wants to go out and shoot 16mm at the beginning of October.
Now I feel less guilty about booking camera kit at two separate places. Tomorrow I’ll try the other one. Now it’s time to play loud music and drink wine, which will help my blood pressure you think? No, it probably won’t. Ah, feck. And it’s 1am so playing loud music is out. Or is it?
It’s official. My brain is now full. There’s no room for any more stuff. Sorry.
Today, take back crappy Weston light meter and trade for a more expensive Gossan light meter which works. Visit school which will be police station interior and sketch office area which has gym socks laying on counter and urchins milling around. Finish doing very badly drawn storyboards which will convey impression to cast and crew of what I’m trying to film.
Then work. Incredibly busy two hours followed by… nothing. Zen moment. Quiet. Peace. But brain too full to appreciate it. Resolve to slack off as much as possible later. Try to access internet and the whole system is cuffed up. Pause and reflect on the Zen.
Outside a grey tower block looms concrete and glass skywards. A summation of aspiration which neither dignifies nor inspires. Great views from the inside maybe but from outside, nothing but square-cornered stretched-cube ugly. And the views will all be of a sprawling urban jungle, jostling and bustling, choking a little on its exhalations, yet somehow vibrant and creative.
Full brain can’t even contemplate those things right now. Can’t measure the distinction between needs and wants either, as Zen brain had pondered doing yesterday. Can only pour words out from the top of the head through the overflow valve. Far less appealing than some kind of distilled knowledge flowing, yet maybe tappity-tap something here will give me pause for thought later.
Tap tap. Where do the random socks come from that end up on office desks? Tap tap. Why does everyone try to do a whole days work between three o’clock and five? Tap tap. Life is for living not for working towards a retirement. Tip tap.
Economic axiom: ‘Needs, taken as a whole, can never be satisfied.’ Which inevitably means economics is about treating resources as something scarce. Which inevitably leads to conflict because of that perception. Which is why all modern societies wind up with the same problems–because they’re looking at scarcity rather than opportunity and abundance. Missing the beauty which is real and around. Hmm, tap.
Between the taps.
…it’s Mission Impossible.
Yeah, right. I’ve spent the evening watching MI2 hoping to get some shots from John Woo that I could rip off. Okay, copy. Okay. Get some kind of inspiration. Thing is, I can’t rip those shots off. John Woo’s style is more than individual shots. It’s about pacing, it’s about action, it’s about the way he puts things together.
Honestly, I urge you, if you haven’t seen it for a while, do watch Mission Impossible 2 again. It really is a great film. The script is by Robert Towne, for gawd’s sake. And the stunts are absolutely superb. I also have a lot of respect for Tom Cruise. Don’t underestimate him. He’s is one of America’s great exports and how we (in the rest of the world) view you guys, image wise. Plus the way he shows women is verrrry sexy. Is it wrong to say that?
There’s actually a great scene where Ethan Hunt (Cruise) is trying to convince this woman he needs her help. It takes place on a balcony with a great view over Seville. He says this. She says that. Then he turns his back on her, because he’s so frustrated. And what Woo does, is he lets the silence linger. He keeps varying the camera angles, but the scene unfolds, emotionally, without words. That’s what good moving images are about.
That aside, what I’ve concluded is that John Woo’s main style relies heavily on two things: fantastic dolly grip work and judicious use of slow motion. There are also a few scenes where the actors are composited onto a background which they obviously weren’t part of during shooting. How can I tell this? Only one way–depth of field. The things which are in focus shouldn’t all be in focus in one photographic image–eg. the flamenco sequence.
So, hats off to Mark Meyers, the dolly grip, because he *makes* this film, even though his credit is buried. And I’ve been inspired to use slow motion wherever possible. Which will no doubt hack off my cameraman, Andy, who is coming out at the last minute to work with me again. And I also got some inspiration to use a dutch tilt at the beginning of The Car. Which Woo doesn’t use, but I kind of like it.
There you go.
The F-minus story of the day involves speaking to the audio post production guru regarding mono sound versus DTS, which is apparently an either/or choice, thinking about percussion as the music track (if any is included) and revisiting Sarratt, my village location, to find a place to do reverse angles from the police station (shots) in Pinner. Can do.
Also, I discover my light meter doesn’t work, so have to replace it, talking to the art director, losing my continuity person, almost (but not) getting another camera assistant with tons of experience and thinking about all kinds of things.
One of the things I was thinking about is that we are going to hack off the good people of Sarratt inevitable. As a caring kind of new agey guy, I worry about that. I don’t want people to be upset because of something I’m doing. Then, on the other hand, you’ve got the Andy (cameraman/DP) philosophy which is that the only thing which matters is the image you get on the celluloid. I need to adopt that. Toughen up.
As part of my get tough on me policy, I’ve decided that my director self needs to divorce my producer self. I hope this works out okay and we get joint custody of the film, our baby. Otherwise I’ll have to kick my butt. But I’m not sure if it will be about my career or my caring for the community. As long as it’s not for compromising too early in that negotiation, the film should grow up healthy and strong. What more can you ask?
Art Department
Major Credits: Production Designer, Art Director(s)
Responsible for: props, wardrobe, graphics.
Provision to date: props and wardrobe.
Discovery: Fiona has turned up with a good selection of what’s needed. She’s today’s star.
Reaction: profound thanks for Fiona. Irritation at the half of the art dept looking after the graphics because they’ve yet to be seen.
Banging head on wall exercise: phoning four days in a row and leaving messages which aren’t returned. And this is to Lionel, one of the writers. Does he want this made or not? Maybe, though, maybe his phone’s not working.
Director’s comment: It’s good here, isn’t it?
Film Lab
Major Credits: Processing by, Grading by
Responsible for: processing raw stock, telecine transfer to video, grading and printing final print for theatrical distribution.
Provision to date: quote. And a few film cans and report sheets.
Discovery: printing 35mm from digital video will cost more or less the same as getting a blow-up from a super16 negative–ie. £3,500 plus tax. Let’s call it £4,500, shall we? On the other hand, printing standard 16mm from a standard 16mm negative will cost around £500 plus tax. Let’s call it £600.
Reaction: guess what we choose? Abject poverty or commonsense?
Banging head on wall exercise: standard 16 will only give me a poor quality (reduced bass and treble) soundtrack while 35mm can give a full range Dolby SR surround soundtrack.
Director’s comment: £4k for decent sound?
Camera assistant/focus puller – check. Someone who knows what they’re doing and has some experience, knows what consumables they need (eg. compressed air for cleaning, various tapes for sticking things together) and comes equipped with Maglight and Leatherman (a multipurpose tool like a high-tech Swiss Army knife, nothing kinky, sorry). So, I have a new camera assistant.
I also seem to have nearly twenty crew. How the freak did that happen? A touch too mob-handed methinks. Moreover, what I don’t have is (a) equipment–except provisionally–or (b) a light meter (retail cost, approx £700, I’m told. Time to check ebay).
Meanwhile…
Fort Lauderdale finally confirm that they want the Fate & Fortune print on October 23rd and Los Angeles will be screening it on October 19th. That’s a Saturday, so assume shipping on Monday 21st means two days to get to Florida. Ack. LA don’t pay forward shipping, just to complicate that nice tight turnaround (suits you, sir). Sorry, that’s complicate, not complement. Confusion and work–the diametrically opposing forces of the universe–continue to rule.
Discovery of the day: CD-ROM business cards. Way cool.
Today I’m a location manager
We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen. Pinner. Pinner is a village masquerading as a town which is really a London suburb. Pinner has the perfect village police station, with photogenic flowers outside and baskets hanging around the door. This, with some cheated camera angles, will do perfectly.
Several minutes were spent drawing a detailed sketch of the building to decide exactly what can be shot there–the entrance and the front–and what can’t–anything across the road where there’s a pub on one side and a row of shops on the other with a line of bottle recycling bins in front of them.
Pinner police station is actually on the corner of a fairly busy junction so I need to get all the reverse angles, looking back at the parked car (the Westfield) and the old lady driving off in it while we’re in the village on Friday. Then when those are cut together with the police station exteriors from Sunday, it will all look like two views of the one small location. Ah, the magic of cinema.
Back home, I call the Metropolitan Police operations room in Harrow (another London suburb) and am told to fax through details of my plans to one Inspector Yoxall, head of operations. It’s done. I’ve actually gone one step further, anticipating their next question, and checked that my union (Bectu) membership gives me public liability insurance cover for filming on the streets. It does.
One problem solved. Now I’m just waiting to see if I can do a bit better on the calibre of candidates who’ve responded so far to my requests for a camera assistant/focus puller.
====
That all sounded too easy, didn’t it. Well, it was. I mean, it wouldn’t be the same if there wasn’t *something* to slow the whole production process down. Today it’s that I can’t get access to the school location–my police station interior–until next week because the school caretaker has gone sick. Of course, I’m working next week. So planning lighting and shots there is going to be, um… interesting.
Nothing could possibly go wrong could it? Unless you’re camera assistant suddenly finds he has to work on another project the weekend of the shoot. That’s the camera assistant who is providing (i) the essential help you need in order to DP and direct, and is also providing (ii) the contact with the facilities company who are loaning you equipment without a hire charge. He’ll know by the end of the week. Uh oh.
It would be sensible to give up wouldn’t it. Really. It would. Commonsense says knock it on the head. Walk away. Relax. Spend the money on something else. It’s not like you have the money anyway, after all.
Commonsense has nothing to do with film making.
Think laterally
This is what a producer really does. Problem solving.
Problem #1: no camera assistant.
Solution: place advert on Guild of Television Cameramen mailing list; place advert on Shooting People mailing list; phone Mike (lead actor) who has just appeared in low budget feature and see if he has any contacts; phone Ruth (person stills photographer met in pub) who has just appeared in low budget film and made a pop video and see if she has any contacts; phone Andy (a DoP) and see if he might be interested in getting involved/advising at this stage.
Sit back and wait for phone to ring/email to fill up.
Problem #2: no police station exterior.
Solution: phone local newspaper and see if news editor knows anywhere using their encyclopaedic knowledge; phone county police HQ and ask for press officer; mention to absolutely everyone you know or talk to that you are looking for this location.
Follow up any leads this throws up.
Come up with a dozen more possible solutions as the week progresses until problems are solved.