I now have:

* 4,000 feet of 250ASA daylight Fuji stock in my fridge in 10x400ft rolls (cost £658 including tax). This means I’m official over the top. They threw in a grey scale and colour swatch card (at my request) which will get photographed in every shot (on the clapperboard) and should make the lab result better.

* Forty percent discount in a deal with a lab (Colour Film Services) for developing and transferring to video including a technical grade (25p/foot, giving a total of £1,175 including tax to finish on Digital Betacam). A Deal With The Lab sounds like a title all on its own. Kind of shady.

* Six extra crew members (if I want them all) including a runner with his own car, a runner with no car and two sound recordists (one of whom can’t do the Friday). I’m now turning people away.

* No police station exterior–Herts Film Link (now part of Screen East) didn’t have anything suitable and emailed me a picture of what looks suspiciously like a town house.

* No food in the house. I finished the second tub of ice cream five minutes ago.

The irrelevance of answering machines

Keep phoning the actor playing the Police Sergeant–a character with fifty percent of the dialogue–to check he is coming to rehearsal at 2.30pm on Sunday–a time he has requested to fit in with another production he’s appearing in. Make calls on Saturday evening, Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon. Keep getting answering machine. No messages returned. Drink low-stress peppermint tea, eat half packet of chocolate biscuits, go to rehearsal anyway and keep fingers crossed.

Do this after returning the sixth and seventh messages from guilt-tripping producer wannabe. Returned calls reveal that this person does not accept calls where the caller’s number is withheld–which eliminates calling from BBC and incidentally explains why she hasn’t worked for nearly a year. Eventually leave (relieved) message on her answer machine.

Method meets madness

Despite previous indications to the contrary, all four actors *do* turn up for the rehearsal. And on time too. However, the school caretaker where we’re rehearsing doesn’t and I have to go to his house where I catch him.

“Oh, you’re not in The Book,” he says, referring to some quasi-mystical tome which absolves him of guilt. Okay, he means the bookings diary but I’m making a drama remember. “I was here the other week. I spoke to you,” I say. “We arranged the use of a classroom. You showed me where to go.” “Yes,” he says, “Yes, I remember but if it’s not in The Book, I don’t think of it.” Sigh. For some caretaking is clearly a religion. He comes and unlocks the door anyway.

Okay, so we’re in. We move undersized school furniture out of the way and sit in a circle on small chairs to read through the script. Then we discuss the characters and how they develop, or not as the case may be, before I start blocking out the action. This turns into a slow process as people without lines are wont to improvise and I have to keep going through correcting them. Also, they don’t know the script by heart so everyone is carrying these sheets of paper around with them.

Nevertheless, after about two hours, we’ve developed the police sargeant as a jolly pervert called Arthur Cobbett and the lost woman as Emma, a confused marketing executive with a heaving cleavage which Arthur can’t take his eyes off. Charlie is still Charlie but an old granny winds up stealing his car and flipping him the bird. Ace. I’ve got something I can work with and after another hour, we’re done.

“Can you come back again during the week to do it without the script?” I ask. “Oh, we’re fine.” “We don’t need to do it until the day,” say the actors confidently. Then we find none of them can do the same day next week for another rehearsal anyway so I shrug and we head for home. In all, it’s been an extremely useful afternoon as I now have a feel for the flow of the main two scenes and we’ve saved hours of timewasting on location.

Madness meets method

Back home, the main thing on my mind is the lack of a clapper loader for the shoot. Joyce, my assistant director, was telling me the other day she’d love to learn to be a clapper loader. “I’m going to do some work experience with Panavision soon,” she happened to mention in passing. For re-al! Yes, it looks like the problem is solving itself, doesn’t it, dear reader?

Sandhya (my original clapper person) calls me and tells me she can only help out on Friday. “I’ll have to leave by three,” she says. I am unperturbed as my mood is upbeat and positive thanks to today’s rehearsal. “Could you teach Joyce to load the camera?” I ask. “Yes, I should think so,” she says. Haha! Bingo. Problem solved.

Now I’m down one assistant director. I call Craig who helped as 2nd AD on Last Train. “Good to hear from you,” he says. “Thanks for thinking of me,” he says. “Shouldn’t be a problem,” he says. “I’ll confirm tomorrow.” Maybe *this* is the week to buy a lottery ticket?

Finally, The Car needs a car. The Westfield has been promised but I’m nervous that the owner might suddenly change his mind. I call him to arrange stills next Sunday because Charlie needs to pull out a wallet full of these for the police station scene. Nope, he can’t do next Sunday although the filming dates are no problemo–even when I mention a 7am start. During the week should be fine for stills, though, he says, and I pass his number on to Pete, the photographer.

Phew. Game over, man. Game freaking over. Not quite. Tomorrow: call Herts Film Link–the wannabe location service for this fair county–and get *them* to solve the problem of finding a police station.

Sarratt

Location recces are among the most creative parts of the film making process. You go out to visit the location with a member/members of the crew and start deciding what the actual shots will be. Today I went to visit the village green in Sarratt with Joyce, one of my assistant directors.

First stop, the village shop. I know the shot I want to open the film–car winds up the road, parks outside the shop, driver goes in, pan/jib down to reveal title written on poster, pan/jib up as driver exits shop, pan to reveal car has vanished. Then there’s two or three more close ups to get.

We go into the shop and I ask if they have any objections to us filming the front of the shop while an actor walks in and out. No, they haven’t. But they warn us that it gets extremely busy outside because there is a school at the end of the lane and also a toddlers group so parents block the road with cars for much of the day. This means the optimal time for getting the sequence is 9am-12noon. Once again, talking to people pays dividends.

Having achieved this small piece of research, the shopkeeper also mentions that a film crew was there recently and closed off the road, disrupting the whole place. We won’t be disruptive will we? Hmm. Well, we don’t plan on it. But film crews are *always* disruptive. It’s how it is. I tell the nice lady we don’t plan on doing anything complex and won’t be closing roads or blocking access ways, so it should be very straightforward. It probably won’t be though. It never is.

Discovering problems

Also in the village, I need four other locations. The first one we find by walking up the road to a nearby phone box, an old red one. Perfect. Behind it is the church. I can start a shot on the church, have the actor walk into shot, pull focus to him as he approaches the phone box, stops and looks around. At that point his stolen car will pass behind him, unseen except by the audience.

Problems–once the car has passed, the actor swears in frustration apropos of nothing and an old lady appears. My problems are: why does he swear? How do I make this appear reasonable? And why didn’t he see the old lady who is suddenly shocked by his swearing? I need to block this through with the actors in rehearsal to figure out a way to make the shots and script work.

I make a few sketches then Joyce and I move on to discover a lovely photogenic wooden bus shelter and an even more photogenic petrol station. These are perfect for the scenes where the actor is asking people in the village if they’ve seen his car. The garage owner doesn’t have any objections as I don’t plan to be on his forecourt but will film from across the road.

Then there’s a nice village hall where we can film Charlie finding his lost car and we go through the shots we should get there. Jib up from shiny headlamp to Charlie approaching from behind hall, then dolly/jib to side as he approaches car. It all looks very very good. Sarratt is great. We head for Bushey.

Bushey

Bushey is where we have permission to film the outside of the local police station. We arrive to discover it’s on a busy road with no parking except opposite in a pub car park. There’s nowhere to put an equipment van or crew cars and barely anywhere to leave the star car overnight for my timelapse sequence. I snap some shots on my webcam but can’t see any way to make this location work, so we leave.

London Colney

This is another small village, not to be confused with London, which is a big city and metropolitan area. London Colney has an ideally located police station, set back from the road, with parking outside where we could leave the car for a night and plenty of angles to shoot from. The trouble is, London Colney Police Station is criminally ugly. A seventies pre-fab throwback, it is not an attractive building in any way shape or form.

Bottom line: we need a new police station, somewhere photogenic with parking outside and nearby which can feature our actors going in and out of the door. We have less than two weeks to find it.

====

Sisyphus’ snowball

So far, so good, I think. Return home and call the actors to confirm tomorrow’s rehearsal then call some of the crew.

Dave should be Best Boy and it’s weeks since I spoke to him. The best boy is first assistant to the chief electrician (the gaffer). Dave tells me a tale of woe and marital strife. It doesn’t sound like he’s the best boy at home which means he doesn’t think he can be best boy on set. Swear word. I remain calm and jolly and say if he can make the Sunday, that’s when I really could use him, so he says okay, he’ll try. He’ll let me know.

Then I call Sandhya, my clapper loader who’s worked on the other two Ascalon Films productions. Her role is crucial as she loads the film magazines, effectively blindfold using a changing bag to stop the film becoming exposed. She marks each shot with the clapperboard (“Slate one, take one!”) providing a sync point for sound during editing and she fills in the lab reports to make sure the film is processed correctly. Sandhya (pronounced ‘Sandy’) is sweet and hardworking and good to have around.

“I was going to call you,” says Sandhya. Uh oh, I think. “I might actually be working on those dates you gave me…” Uh oh! “…I definitely can’t do the Friday.” That’s not so good. Uh oh uh oh uh… well, you get the idea. So Sandhya will call me back tomorrow evening when she’ll be able to confirm if she can make it for the Saturday and Sunday. I figure if she can do that, Jon could load up three magazines for Friday on Thursday evening and we’ll be ahead.

Finally, I call the stills photographer, Pete, who was also supposed to be working elsewhere on the shooting dates. Good news: he’s got all three days off as leave. So it’s not all bad. I do a quick trip to the supermarket and buy some staples–ice cream, chocolate biscuits and merlot. On the way back it hits me that I’m actually going to make another film and I’m completely crazy given the number of obstacles which crop up. It’s insane. I laugh out loud.

To round off the day, I join the shootingpeople list and advertise for a sound recordist. Another day, another set of problems and solutions. I keep pushing the snowball up the hill and the sun keeps blasting away at it. Bits drop off but then I roll it through some fresh snow and we’re away again. The point of no return may already have passed but the crest of the hill will really be when I spend hard cash on film stock. That will be next week.

This is where you realise you can’t count; there are only two weeks until the first day’s shooting and not 15 days. This is where you try phoning more people to find a sound recordist until some bright spark suggests you put an advert on Shooting People. Okay, they charge a fee to use the list but it’s a good idea.

Filming minus 14 is the day you also think through that (a) you don’t really need a production manager/line producer because you can delegate all that to your assistant director–and you’ve got two assistant directors–and also (b) you don’t need an art director because you’ve already got two. Fiona is resourcing props and wardrobe, Lionel is doing graphics and will be available on set. Problem solved.

So today’s longest phone call is to a guy with a DAT machine who talks for ages and tells you all about microphones and sound and, well he talked. He also talked about all the trains he’s filmed on his clockwork 16mm camera and… woah, back-up. He’s got a clockwork 16mm camera. There’s the fallback position right there.

So you let this chatty person talk about his trains and you remember the soundman you rang last night who is now producing and presenting a series about railways for the Discovery Channel. And you think, Aha! I should put these two in touch with each other. Because they have this train thing going on and this movie thing too. So you give them each other’s phone numbers and they’re happy and you file away in the back of your mind that there is a 16mm camera out there.

Recce and talk to art dept tomorrow. Rehearsal Sunday.

Note #1 to self: remember to write down expectations and responsibilities clearly for 1st AD’s.

Note #2: regardless of all the above, think about the pictures.

Call up photographer and start arranging stills for use in film scene where car owner pulls out wallet to reveal dozens of pictures of beloved car. Okay, so that’s the director/producer makes that call. The distributor, with an eye on future marketing, suggests that same photographer gets a beautiful shot he can use as a publicity postcard while he’s doing the same.

Photographer makes helpful (not) suggestion that film maker comes to party at old office building on Friday to spend £5 on buffet (crabsticks and potato chips) and listen to mp3s while drinking beer (not supplied in ticket price). How can I say no? Please, I’m serious–I must say no. Mind you, I’ll be practising that word (no) later today when I return the (fifth) phone call from the guilt-tripping producer wannabe.

At the same time–rubbing tummy and patting head–our hero (me) gets a letter informing him that Fate & Fortune has been accepted for the Los Angeles International Short Film Festival, October 15-20.

Hooray!

Marvellous, I hear you say. And so it is. Of course. Yet the reality of this glamorous occasion is that our hero (still me) has to create a parcel to fit the film can using only limited materials.

In a mere twenty minutes, the aforementioned hero successfully cuts up a large cardboard crate to make a small one using only a penknife and a roll of parcel tape. Then he walks down to the Post Office. There, he fills in a big form (in quintuplicate) declaring that the print (cost=£200) has a replacement value of nil (£0) so that LA Shorts Fest doesn’t have to pay import tax.

Then our hero (let’s call him Muggins) discovers he doesn’t have enough cash to pay the postage (£36.40) so he has to take his parcel and walk to the ATM elsewhere, withdraw cash and return to join the suddenly busy Post Office queue again.

Eventually, lunch hour having disappeared in a giddy haze during this tour de force, Muggins manages to buy the stamps and the film print is on its way, uninsured for replacement as it seems to have be without any redeeming value (sic).

Fingers crossed, eh? Ah, what price stardom.

Forgot to eat. Proper food, anyways. Found some three week old potatoes and a ready meal. This can’t be good. What *is* good is that I found a continuity person. This is very good. It doesn’t quite offset the complete lack of a sound person but it’s getting somewhere.

For some reason it’s suddenly become the busiest time of year for professional TV and film people. I know this because I’ve now contacted four different soundmen and they are all fully booked until the end of the year. Yes, there will be more and I’ll find one but honestly, if you want to work in moving pictures, become either a gaffer (chief electrician) or a location sound recordist because they are *never* out of work. At least, I can never get hold of one.

What The Executive Producer Does

Thinks: “Hmm. There are various things need financing in the next couple of weeks. Now would be the ideal time to cash in those shares I had a punt on last month at 325.” Hooks thumb under stripey braces and stretches them while leaning back in large leather chair and calling up today’s prices online. Thinks: “Hmm. Now trading at 243. I seem to be learning an expensive lesson about setting stops.” Pours stiff drink, no ice. Ponders: “Wonder if that guy Max would pay to be in a movie?” Executive decision-maker toy says: ‘Don’t even think about it.’

Actress playing Old Lady leaves worried message on answermachine. Producer frets. Does this mean she can’t do the film? With two days to go before rehearsal. Director chills out. No worries.

Mutual friend of Jon calls to make producer feel guilty about not getting her involved in production. Tell her that art department could use some help. She responds with, “Well, my cars not really working… I’m really only able to do production.” Blah blah. Bleugh. It really is just a phone call to make producer feel guilty. It makes him annoyed instead. Especially after third call. He makes wax effigy and sticks pin in it.

Contact Simon to change lighting request from tungsten to HMI and “Can we have some Kinoflo’s please?” etc etc. Try to replace soundman who has suddenly become unavailable. Get hold of back up and find he’s probably busy, “But call me later and I’ll check.”

Call actress playing old lady and discover she is only worried about filming for ten days. Confirm it’s only a three day shoot and confirm dates with her. Director laughs at thought that she might not have appeared. Producer bops director on head. Psychiatrist rubs hands gleefully at thought of treating impending personality disorder.

Note to self: don’t forget to eat.

Fuji come through with forty percent discount on stock. Decide on shooting around 4,000 feet (approx 100 minutes) of daylight stock rated 250 ASA. Cost around £560.

Camera kit decisions made with camera assistant, Jon. Decide on Arri SR2 or SR3 with Canon T2.4 zoom and a set of Zeiss T1.3 Distagon primes. Talking to another camera operator reveals that these actually have quite a shallow depth of focus so opt for not using any 64 ASA film. Too much light? Add ND filters and keep the aperture wide, methinks. Not that too much light is likely in October in the UK.

Other decisions: no dolly and track. This gives nice effects but it’s a heavy piece of kit to transport, takes time to carry and rig and could be improvised with alternatives. Better to concentrate on actors instead and keep kit light. Support will be from tall legs, baby legs, turtle plus gib arm.

Filters: set of Tiffen ND’s, black and white promists. Promists spread contrast which means more options during grading. No colour correction needed as I’ll be shooting on daylight stock and using HMI’s instead of tungsten lighting for keys. Tungsten fills can be gelled.

Various outrageous requests: video assist with miniDV, variable speed unit and intervalometer for doing time-lapse stuff at night. Tell Jon of plan to shoot 16 by 9 (approx 1:1.85) but with a 4:3 (open) gate. He is able to inform me this will mean a ground glass will have to be marked up by hand with the correct proportions on it.

Hire company says: should be okay. But insurance for up to £100k might not be enough. But I’m first in line for freebie (thanks to Jon) but to call back on October 2nd just in case they get a paid booking. That means I won’t know if I have the camera until just two days before filming. Music cue: David Bowie/Queen Under Pressure.

But me no buts.

Source of potential free stock located. Source on holiday
until next week. Naturally. Alternative Fuji contact out
of the office today. But of course.

First choice of soundman is not on holiday but is in
Singapore on assignment and therefore will no longer
be available on shooting dates. Back up soundman has
moved and has his mobile phone switched off today.

First AD has found two possible police station locations,
both free, thanks to Hertfordshire Constabulary, plus a
big stash of police uniforms in various sizes, thanks to
a.n. other film company. No charge for those either.
First AD has also sorted out catering. First AD promoted
to hero status.

Production designer has vanished. Art director promoted
to co-producer and takes over as design head. Contact
list sent to new co-producer to construct schedule.

No suitable DP available so producer/director decides to
take it on himself, under advisement.

And in other news…

A group of film makers wearing free police uniforms (in
various sizes) were seen rounding up the essentials of
movie making and taking them into custody. A spokesman
for the crew said, “It’s a fair cop, Guv. But society is
to blame.” To which an officer replied, “Never mind them
–we’ll be arresting them later.” Allegedly.

Just over two weeks to go…

Double bill

Bewildered by getting identical copies
of the same letter, St Albans leading
film maker (since Stanley Kubrick passed
on) looked again and discovered he had
two short films accepted for a festival
instead of just the one.

Both Last Train and Fate & Fortune
have been accepted for this month’s
Wilmington Independent Film Festival
in Delaware. “Delaware. That’s a type
of pie-dish isn’t it?” quipped a
passerby. Humour Police are still
searching for the author of that joke.

Producer prodded

Gremlins were blamed when it was
discovered that a film director
had completely misheard the email
address for the person he wanted
as co-producer. The problem came
to light when she called to ask
where her script was.

Our hero recovered by cutting and
pasting parts of a message on the
internet where he’d listed things
for her to do. Meanwhile someone
called ‘c_bop’ is thought to be busy
locating identical props and costumes
for a rival comedy being made by
Gremlin Productions.

Actor jilted

Charlie the actor was turned down
for the role of Charlie the driver
in a fairly short undramatic phone
call this afternoon. “That’s okay,”
he said, with the same casual lack
of emphasis which has left so many
film directors unmoved.