There was a time when it was a cinematographer's sole discretion, or at the very least a collaborative discussion between Director and DP that yielded a final say on which film stock to shoot a motion picture.
With the advent of the digital revolution, this all seems to be changing. Nowadays it's almost as if before a movie is even conceived, the format on which it will be shot is decided.
"I want to shoot my film on the RED ONE!"
Oh the cry of the indie masses, we hear you, but do you know WHY you want to use that fancy looking pile of camera?
"It shoots 4K, it has 35mm depth of field... it's the newest derned shiniest thing that shoots pictures in these here parts see!"
That's generally where the list ends. Back in the day, you know, when people actually knew what they were doing and why... we made choices on camera/film stock based on narrative reasons. Each film stock has a very unique and distinctive treatment of color and latitude which lends its importance to very specific visual storytelling necessities.
You don't shoot "The Pianist" with the same stock you shoot "Transformers 2", there's method to this madness.
But these days everyone seems to have this delusion that there is one camera to rule them all. Before I begin to discuss exactly why the RED isn't the wunderkind-camera-of-the-millennium like almost every indie producer working today would have you believe, I will put it out there that the RED ONE is most definitely not a camera to be ignored.
However, what most people these days don't realize is in this new digital playground, choosing a camera is akin to choosing film stock. You don't shoot a RED project with a Panasonic, and you don't shoot a Panasonic project with a Sony. Just the same you don't shoot Kodak when you should be shooting Fuji...
Let's talk numbers for a moment, I'll try to keep it from getting too cryptic. 4K, the RED's biggest draw, is the super cool bigger brother of 720p and 1080p. He's got an electric blue 1987 Camaro drop top, the ladies love him, and all his friends treat 720 and 1080 like a couple of chumps when they tag along.
What importance does 4K resolution serve? Actually, on this one I would say quite an important role indeed, or at least on the surface it might seem that way. 4K means, much like 1080P (which is 1920x1080 pixels), your image is 4096×3072 pixels. Ideally, you'd think that more pixels equals better picture, but that's where numbers, science, and good old fashioned movie watching show that it's not as important as you might think.
First off, almost no theaters project digital in 4K, they project in 2K. Yes, even Hollywood's fanciest most techno-driven futuristic digital theater, The Arclight on Sunset Blvd, projects half the resolution at which Joe Filmmaker feels he needs to shoot his shitty ass web series, short films, and music videos.
It has been proven that the only people that gain anything from the extra detail of 4K are those who are sitting within 1.5 screen lengths from the screen (and by screen I mean theater screen... something most projects shot on the RED will never see). This means, If I were to tip the screen down over the audience and add half it's height, those people sitting in the seats it covered would be the only ones who might be able to perceive the increase in definition, and I stress MIGHT. Generally, those are the seats nobody wants to sit in.
I would also like to ask, for those of you who have seen any of the following films (Zodiac, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Slumdog Millionaire, Sin City, Collateral, Star Wars: Ep. I, II, and III, or Superman Returns) in the past years since digital cinema became a reality for big budget studio films, did those movies not feel like real movies to you? Did they lack something in their framing, depth, or overall detail that was so unnerving you thought you were watching your niece's ballet recital for 2-3 hours?
I know for myself, especially with Zodiac and Slumdog Millionaire, that I was so engrossed in their stories, acting, consistently high production value, and expert framing, that I never stopped to think they were less than ideal in quality... because they are not. They are just what they needed to be.
But this is what producers today seem to believe. Not because of some hidden agenda to discredit great cameras; more because they have no idea what really makes a good image, but they do know what's hot on the market. Now, the cameras that shot some of these films are being looked at as less capable, less desirable, and thus get their owners less work now because they aren't the newest kid on the block. For those of you putting together low budget productions, shouldn't that pique your interest?
I once listened to a producer ask a well recognized DP, whom I was sitting next to at a panel discussion, whether he should take his friend up on an offer to shoot for free on a Sony F900 (mind you this camera still goes for $50,000+ for body alone today), or spend money on a RED. He seemed almost depressed or disgusted by the idea of using this "lesser" camera. I jumped in because I just couldn't believe it... technology might advance, new cameras might be easier to work with, fancy solid state workflows might be replacing tape, but in the end the question is: does the camera put out a cinematic image? This idiot, who's shooting a crummy, low budget independent horror film with no distribution, has an opportunity to get for FREE the same camera that was good enough for George Lucas, Robert Rodriguez, and countless others who cut the path before him... "what sort of producer are you?" I asked, "did the image this camera put out 8 years ago suddenly become beneath your sensibilities? Work with what you can afford, and in that, what will afford you the best image for your story." The DP who was originally supposed to answer this question smiled, squashed his laughter, and patted my shoulder in agreement.
Slumdog Millionaire was shot on a camera with half the resolution of a RED ONE, and with an image sensor half as large, yet somehow this disgusting, lowly, piece of crap camera put out an image that WON AN ACADEMY AWARD... how ever did this happen?!
This brings me to a very important point that it's the eye BEHIND the camera that makes an image worthy of lighting up the silver screen. I'm more than certain that Anthony Dod Mantle could make a cell phone camera feel like more than it's meager parts if it were asked of him... which he pretty much did by filming "28 Days Later" on a pre 24P standard definition Canon XL1-S.
OF COURSE it didn't look like 35mm Kodak Vision 3 stock, it was grainy and soft, but the brilliance behind their decision was that in every possible way their choice benefited the production. The image itself lent a documentary feel to a situation that cried for you to feel like you were right there; the low cost of the camera meant they could have more cameras covering large events at no risk to production budget; and lastly the brunt of the budget was for once able to go into mis en scene. Makeup, locations, extras, props, effects... these are all major costs for a film. The camera didn't need to add another humongous cost and so what was being placed in front of the grainy, filthy image felt all the more real -- thus: here is an example of producers/director/DP who actually functionally reasoned their choice in digital acquisition.
The other major component that people are going gaga over these days is RED's 35mm sized sensor (now being threatened by this DSLR revelation which is a blog unto itself). Now, as a DP myself, I will not sit here and tell you that it's not ideal to have that amount of control over depth of field, but here's why it's not as important as the camera nut whispering in your ear might tell you.
Last year I was talking with the reps from Band Pro, which are the retail face for Sony's major digital cinema cameras, and they were telling me the F23 (the 2/3" imager successor to the F900 and F950) was being almost completely ignored. Why? Why would a $200,000 camera that's the next in a line of cameras that defined digital cinema for decade not be finding work? The answer was Sony's more expensive F35, a similar camera that competes with Panavision's Genesis in specs that rocks a 35mm sized image sensor, was king of the roost.
Let's just make a note that we're talking a whole different ballpark of camera here. The image output of the RED can't compete with the F35 or the Panavision Genesis, these are cameras for the biggest budget digital pictures in production by the major players. However the concept is the same, image sensor size dictates depth of field so when you have 2/3" imagers going up against 35mm imagers, 35mm wins hands down when it comes to your ability to control depth and focus.
However, this is tied in with how wide you've set the iris of your lens (the wider the iris, the shallower the depth of field) so when we get back into balancing budget with the available tools in your cameras, you should understand that 2/3" cameras like the F23 (which shot Cloverfield and Public Enemies), The Viper (which shot Benjamin Button and Zodiac), or the Silicon Valley SI-2K (which shot Slumdog) are perfectly capable of shooting with what your audience would consider cinematic depth of field. Most DP's shooting 35mm, whether digital or film, are shooting with their lenses stopped down to a depth of field that matches what the 2/3" imagers put out with the iris wide open.
If this sounds like jargon to you, just understand that the RED is being chosen over competing cameras in its price range because of the depth of field. I'm telling you if you put any of those competing cameras in my hand, I will produce just as cinematic an image as I would with the RED. Your DP just needs to know what he's doing.
So now that we understand why people are going after the larger sensor, I can cover its drawbacks. Color suffers, plain and simple. The larger a sensor, the more heat it generates. On smaller imagers, you generally have 3 separate chips, which means for each and every pixel you are getting information for luminance (or brightness) and red, green, and blue color signals.
With the larger chip, because separate RGB sensors would produce so much heat (until of course the technology allows us to do so) it has to do all that the 3 chip sensor does with a single chip. There's no free lunch, and the answer is what is called a "Bayer pattern", the same tech that's in your mom and pop home video camcorder. This means that each pixel on the chip gets a single color, and luminance information. The colors are spread out across the imager like a checkerboard between red, green, and blue, rather than all three feeding into every pixel. This makes an image that's both washed out, and less true to real life.
The moral of the story here is not that the RED is a hack job camera. Far from it, the depth of field is a benefit, the 4K is nothing to sneeze at for effects and compositing in post, but really those things aren't the only factors that go into why we choose a camera or film stock. The RED has a specific "look", Panasonic's cameras have a specific "look", Sony's cameras have a specific "look". So stop hiring your DP's because of the camera they bring in tow, hire them because they are the kind of person that helps you choose the right tool for the job, and then knows how to use that tool.
-Nick Harris
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Finding Mr. Goodbar - Pre-Production!
It's been 363 days since the birth of our Mr. Goodbar. In that time we have gone through lots of turbulence flying the friendly skies of commercial production...
Birthday: Sunspot's brilliant creative duo happened upon a milk chocolaty, peanut candy bar called Mr. Goodbar one day and were reminded how delicious the Hershey's product was. Somehow this amazing taste sensation triggered an idea for a concept that just couldn't wait to burst forth. I, being the purveyor of all things gigantic, desperately tried to put it on a shelf and push for strides in feature filmmaking instead. But it just wouldn't be. We made a deal, spec commercial first to build our reel more, then the bigger picture. Ok. Fine. We were all itching to create something, anything so this was it.
After a couple months of squeezing in development of the project between day jobs and freelance gigs, networking and general business building, we had a campaign. The idea created a human version of the chocolate bar and a series of funny and twisted situations (something that's quickly becoming our company's brand) perfect for Superbowl caliber commercials.
Pre-production began slowly. I needed a co-producer to pick up slack when I couldn't be there to do it all. One of the handful of people interested in working and building with us at this foundational stage stepped up to the plate and got the ball rolling. I found myself constantly overseeing and checking in, desperately wanting to make things move faster than anyone had time for.
Speed and end results - the definition of me.
Senor co-producer started out strong. Researching, calling, setting up preliminary potentials. I worked on gathering core crew...one of which was a locations manager I'd wanted to work with for a couple years and had started to work with on someone elses failed project a couple years earlier. He seemed to know his shit and I loved how quick and focused he was. I called him up to see if he'd be interested in helping us out for a small salary. We're doing specs. I informed him, so no giant commercial budget behind us, what do you think? He was interested but dropped a bomb by saying he worked for no less than $600 a day. Giant number for a little production. I told him I just needed someone to find two locations all the rest would be taken care of by me. He didn't even have to be on set, I bargained. He agreed to do it. As we went along he started tacking on more hours and more money, wanting a large sum in advance based on the crappy production we had both been taken for a ride on last we worked together. He wanted his money and knew I would sympathize so conversation after conversation he brought it up. I explained over and over we weren't that production. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I had laid the numbers out on the table and been totally honest on that first call to him for the specs yet it wasn't enough and I was beginning to rip clumps of hair out of my head. I thanked him for considering and said it would be tough for us all to continue having repeat conversations on issues I had nothing to do with. Several calls later he finally accepted he wasn't going to work with us.
Best financial decision I made, I have to say.
Back to square one I went. Up to me to get those locations. One of them was an LA county elementary school. Senor came up with a list and the two of us spent a day wandering the communities looking for a delicious looking set at the request of our creators. Along for the ride was young wife and toddler daughter. No problem. These things happen on low budget shoots and I did my best to accomodate without losing my cool. We found a couple schools that seemed ornamental enough but never did get through the list as the day ended with a very sick and puking child in the back seat spitting up remnants of McDonald's french fries. Sigh. Back to square one again.
My daytime hours were taken up working on promoting a feature via internet and grassroots touring and we were rounding the corner on our deadline to shoot the spec commercials. I pushed the date back and continued on my journey through the world of making it all work in the in between hours. At this time an amazing and wonderful, can't-be-praised-enough intern of ours by the name of Patrina stepped up to the plate and hit a home run. She found location two, a cafe, and pushed us in the direction of a tailor we needed for Mr. Goodbar's costume. I was ecstatic! At last. At last. A truly helping hand. A focused beauty. Awesome. I was able to exhale for a moment. But only for a moment.
Senor co-producer called me up to inform me that during our day together his dear wife had decided we were having an affair. She had sensed tension and seen some kind of chemistry I never personally knew was there...mainly because it wasn't. Sex was really the last thing on my mind in the midst of pre-production and certainly not with someone I had absolutely no attraction to.
I went back to holding my breath.
Ok. So that's that. I picked up the pieces and moved on. Patrina became my right hand and moved up to associate producer for the production. She handled props and calls and the cafe location, an awesome little restaurant called Vinoteque, like an absolute pro. Oh hallellujah. I worked on insurance, permits for the school, fees to the city of LA, the school itself, AND Film LA while checking on progress of the suit that had become an expensive venture, finding extras...child extras...setting up auditions, and finding core and random crew. I found a 1st AD one of our Sunspot friends suggested to us and left scheduling in his hands. In the meantime I went back and forth with Charles & Nick making sure we were on track and organized. We're going to need 60 child extras at least, Trina, they said. Haha. Funny. Uh, ok. I think that we can make 30 look like 60 if we trick the camera but I'll see what can be done, I managed to reply. We may have to hire paid child talent I think, said Charles. (So far all of our talent were graciously volunteering their time and skills) I scoffed. Then blew the guy off. We'll deal with it as we go. Should be fine, I said. Lord have mercy! Is money not sacred to anyone???
Now, let me just say, I am an organization freak. I want all bases covered, all loose ends tied, all plans secured as fast as possible. In production it's all collaboration so there are many hours, if not days, waiting on others to come through. Very nerve wracking at every turn for someone with my OCD. However, I dealt with it. By the final week before the shoot we had most everything in place. Nick was taking care of getting his camera crew together, Patrina was so extremely on top of her game, and all seemed to be running smoothly. Until one of the actresses we had picked and really liked became a bit of an issue at this time...not available for rehearsal, not willing to work on a Monday...which was the only day we had the location for. In the end she was paid for her day away from work and we had to do without her rehearsing. She seemed to have her role down but I'm sure her performance would have been much better had she been to both rehearsals. We just couldn't stop and audition for anyone else at that point so it was what it was.
So much for smooth.
A giant pet peeve of mine is lack of communication. I need to know what's going on and be responded to damn near immediately on every email, text and voicemail. This is not necessarily everyone's production creed. After a few days of no communique with the AD I finally got through. How are you doing on the call sheet, my friend? Oh, I don't do that until the day before, he said. Hmm...well, let's get that ready now, 3 days away from shooting, and if there are changes we'll make them. Ok! he said. I received the call sheet the day before the shoot. Got to be some grey hairs forming in my mane there somewhere about now...Oh, and how about the schedule? Oh, I don't do schedules, he said. I just make sure everyone is on set on time and move it forward. Hmmm...uh, ok. Well, if you can keep it moving then I'll trust your judgement. I looked at my rough schedule and was glad I'd at least had the time to do that.
We needed a bright yellow sports car and for some reason it just wasn't happening. It was the last piece of the puzzle yet no one could come up with one for less than something like $1000 a day or some ridiculous rate like that. Between insurance, permits, and the Mr. Goodbar suit my budget was creeping up. My suggestion? Call regular rental car places. Hertz, Enterprise, Avis. And a good suggestion it was. We ended up with a bright Yellow convertible Camaro for the budgeted rate from Hertz. I won't deny I did a small backflip of celebration.
I went off to pick up the car while Nick and Charles conducted their last rehearsal. Charles dropped me off and helped get the top down so I could drive in style. I started that engine and became a new fan of the quest for oil. Amazing. That rumbling engine was nothing but power. I cruised out to the 405 feeling like a bit of a douche. I'm never one to want extra attention on the road or be an outward big shot so it took a minute to get used to. Only a minute. People noticed for sure and as I passed the normally rude and inconsiderate woman behind the wheel of an SUV I was shocked to find her politely get my attention to ask for directions to the 405. I had forgotten the top was down and was shocked to hear an outside voice come at me. She followed me out and I of course immediately hit traffic. To my right, another voice. I slowly looked over...Charles. Laughing at my reaction to his calling out. He had no idea how much attention this bee colored car was getting. He drove on to rehearsal, traffic cleared, and the Ventura Blvd. exit came up. Meh, why not? Let's see what kind of attention I get driving down this road! As I cruised people looked. At a stoplight a group of 5 people, 2 dressed in what seemed like lederhosen, gawked as they walked passed. The lederhosen twins waved and smiled. This was too weird. What friendliness money can buy. Feeling great now I kept going. Up ahead was a pick-up truck pulling away from the curb. I slowly came up behind it. Reverse lights?! I honked and tried to reverse as quick as I could. Impossible. The front end was hit. Oh no. Really? Really? No. Not true. Yep. True. The lady's husband rushed over first. Then the lady, who said, "You're too low. I couldn't see you!" Of course. Nevermind that she was backing into a red zone to begin with. I refrained from exploding, looked at the front and saw no damage. Ok. Cool. I waved them away and went home as fast as possible. That car stayed parked in the driveway till the next morning of the shoot.
My phone rang as soon as I jumped out. Patrina with bad news. Her grandmother had passed away and she wasn't going to be available for the shoot. Dammit on all fronts. My right arm cut off and for a sad occasion. She was so apologetic I felt terrible. I reassured her all was well. We'd do great. She'd prepped everything amazingly well. I then hopped in my car and drove out to Beverly Hills to pick up the props she had. Patrina was fantastic with the props. She thought of everything and more. I couldn't thank her enough. How lucky I was to be working with her!
My easy day had become crammed and the camaro needed a bath. Nick had a million loose ends to tie up and couldn't help at all. Charles was the lucky guy. He scrubbed and polished while I finalized paperwork, phone calls, and arrangements. I had planned an 8 hour rest period but for gods sake it just never happens that way! Midnight saw my head hit the pillow for a 4am call. So much for organization....- TKS
To be continued....
Birthday: Sunspot's brilliant creative duo happened upon a milk chocolaty, peanut candy bar called Mr. Goodbar one day and were reminded how delicious the Hershey's product was. Somehow this amazing taste sensation triggered an idea for a concept that just couldn't wait to burst forth. I, being the purveyor of all things gigantic, desperately tried to put it on a shelf and push for strides in feature filmmaking instead. But it just wouldn't be. We made a deal, spec commercial first to build our reel more, then the bigger picture. Ok. Fine. We were all itching to create something, anything so this was it.
After a couple months of squeezing in development of the project between day jobs and freelance gigs, networking and general business building, we had a campaign. The idea created a human version of the chocolate bar and a series of funny and twisted situations (something that's quickly becoming our company's brand) perfect for Superbowl caliber commercials.
Pre-production began slowly. I needed a co-producer to pick up slack when I couldn't be there to do it all. One of the handful of people interested in working and building with us at this foundational stage stepped up to the plate and got the ball rolling. I found myself constantly overseeing and checking in, desperately wanting to make things move faster than anyone had time for.
Speed and end results - the definition of me.
Senor co-producer started out strong. Researching, calling, setting up preliminary potentials. I worked on gathering core crew...one of which was a locations manager I'd wanted to work with for a couple years and had started to work with on someone elses failed project a couple years earlier. He seemed to know his shit and I loved how quick and focused he was. I called him up to see if he'd be interested in helping us out for a small salary. We're doing specs. I informed him, so no giant commercial budget behind us, what do you think? He was interested but dropped a bomb by saying he worked for no less than $600 a day. Giant number for a little production. I told him I just needed someone to find two locations all the rest would be taken care of by me. He didn't even have to be on set, I bargained. He agreed to do it. As we went along he started tacking on more hours and more money, wanting a large sum in advance based on the crappy production we had both been taken for a ride on last we worked together. He wanted his money and knew I would sympathize so conversation after conversation he brought it up. I explained over and over we weren't that production. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I had laid the numbers out on the table and been totally honest on that first call to him for the specs yet it wasn't enough and I was beginning to rip clumps of hair out of my head. I thanked him for considering and said it would be tough for us all to continue having repeat conversations on issues I had nothing to do with. Several calls later he finally accepted he wasn't going to work with us.
Best financial decision I made, I have to say.
Back to square one I went. Up to me to get those locations. One of them was an LA county elementary school. Senor came up with a list and the two of us spent a day wandering the communities looking for a delicious looking set at the request of our creators. Along for the ride was young wife and toddler daughter. No problem. These things happen on low budget shoots and I did my best to accomodate without losing my cool. We found a couple schools that seemed ornamental enough but never did get through the list as the day ended with a very sick and puking child in the back seat spitting up remnants of McDonald's french fries. Sigh. Back to square one again.
My daytime hours were taken up working on promoting a feature via internet and grassroots touring and we were rounding the corner on our deadline to shoot the spec commercials. I pushed the date back and continued on my journey through the world of making it all work in the in between hours. At this time an amazing and wonderful, can't-be-praised-enough intern of ours by the name of Patrina stepped up to the plate and hit a home run. She found location two, a cafe, and pushed us in the direction of a tailor we needed for Mr. Goodbar's costume. I was ecstatic! At last. At last. A truly helping hand. A focused beauty. Awesome. I was able to exhale for a moment. But only for a moment.
Senor co-producer called me up to inform me that during our day together his dear wife had decided we were having an affair. She had sensed tension and seen some kind of chemistry I never personally knew was there...mainly because it wasn't. Sex was really the last thing on my mind in the midst of pre-production and certainly not with someone I had absolutely no attraction to.
I went back to holding my breath.
Ok. So that's that. I picked up the pieces and moved on. Patrina became my right hand and moved up to associate producer for the production. She handled props and calls and the cafe location, an awesome little restaurant called Vinoteque, like an absolute pro. Oh hallellujah. I worked on insurance, permits for the school, fees to the city of LA, the school itself, AND Film LA while checking on progress of the suit that had become an expensive venture, finding extras...child extras...setting up auditions, and finding core and random crew. I found a 1st AD one of our Sunspot friends suggested to us and left scheduling in his hands. In the meantime I went back and forth with Charles & Nick making sure we were on track and organized. We're going to need 60 child extras at least, Trina, they said. Haha. Funny. Uh, ok. I think that we can make 30 look like 60 if we trick the camera but I'll see what can be done, I managed to reply. We may have to hire paid child talent I think, said Charles. (So far all of our talent were graciously volunteering their time and skills) I scoffed. Then blew the guy off. We'll deal with it as we go. Should be fine, I said. Lord have mercy! Is money not sacred to anyone???
Now, let me just say, I am an organization freak. I want all bases covered, all loose ends tied, all plans secured as fast as possible. In production it's all collaboration so there are many hours, if not days, waiting on others to come through. Very nerve wracking at every turn for someone with my OCD. However, I dealt with it. By the final week before the shoot we had most everything in place. Nick was taking care of getting his camera crew together, Patrina was so extremely on top of her game, and all seemed to be running smoothly. Until one of the actresses we had picked and really liked became a bit of an issue at this time...not available for rehearsal, not willing to work on a Monday...which was the only day we had the location for. In the end she was paid for her day away from work and we had to do without her rehearsing. She seemed to have her role down but I'm sure her performance would have been much better had she been to both rehearsals. We just couldn't stop and audition for anyone else at that point so it was what it was.
So much for smooth.
A giant pet peeve of mine is lack of communication. I need to know what's going on and be responded to damn near immediately on every email, text and voicemail. This is not necessarily everyone's production creed. After a few days of no communique with the AD I finally got through. How are you doing on the call sheet, my friend? Oh, I don't do that until the day before, he said. Hmm...well, let's get that ready now, 3 days away from shooting, and if there are changes we'll make them. Ok! he said. I received the call sheet the day before the shoot. Got to be some grey hairs forming in my mane there somewhere about now...Oh, and how about the schedule? Oh, I don't do schedules, he said. I just make sure everyone is on set on time and move it forward. Hmmm...uh, ok. Well, if you can keep it moving then I'll trust your judgement. I looked at my rough schedule and was glad I'd at least had the time to do that.
We needed a bright yellow sports car and for some reason it just wasn't happening. It was the last piece of the puzzle yet no one could come up with one for less than something like $1000 a day or some ridiculous rate like that. Between insurance, permits, and the Mr. Goodbar suit my budget was creeping up. My suggestion? Call regular rental car places. Hertz, Enterprise, Avis. And a good suggestion it was. We ended up with a bright Yellow convertible Camaro for the budgeted rate from Hertz. I won't deny I did a small backflip of celebration.
I went off to pick up the car while Nick and Charles conducted their last rehearsal. Charles dropped me off and helped get the top down so I could drive in style. I started that engine and became a new fan of the quest for oil. Amazing. That rumbling engine was nothing but power. I cruised out to the 405 feeling like a bit of a douche. I'm never one to want extra attention on the road or be an outward big shot so it took a minute to get used to. Only a minute. People noticed for sure and as I passed the normally rude and inconsiderate woman behind the wheel of an SUV I was shocked to find her politely get my attention to ask for directions to the 405. I had forgotten the top was down and was shocked to hear an outside voice come at me. She followed me out and I of course immediately hit traffic. To my right, another voice. I slowly looked over...Charles. Laughing at my reaction to his calling out. He had no idea how much attention this bee colored car was getting. He drove on to rehearsal, traffic cleared, and the Ventura Blvd. exit came up. Meh, why not? Let's see what kind of attention I get driving down this road! As I cruised people looked. At a stoplight a group of 5 people, 2 dressed in what seemed like lederhosen, gawked as they walked passed. The lederhosen twins waved and smiled. This was too weird. What friendliness money can buy. Feeling great now I kept going. Up ahead was a pick-up truck pulling away from the curb. I slowly came up behind it. Reverse lights?! I honked and tried to reverse as quick as I could. Impossible. The front end was hit. Oh no. Really? Really? No. Not true. Yep. True. The lady's husband rushed over first. Then the lady, who said, "You're too low. I couldn't see you!" Of course. Nevermind that she was backing into a red zone to begin with. I refrained from exploding, looked at the front and saw no damage. Ok. Cool. I waved them away and went home as fast as possible. That car stayed parked in the driveway till the next morning of the shoot.
My phone rang as soon as I jumped out. Patrina with bad news. Her grandmother had passed away and she wasn't going to be available for the shoot. Dammit on all fronts. My right arm cut off and for a sad occasion. She was so apologetic I felt terrible. I reassured her all was well. We'd do great. She'd prepped everything amazingly well. I then hopped in my car and drove out to Beverly Hills to pick up the props she had. Patrina was fantastic with the props. She thought of everything and more. I couldn't thank her enough. How lucky I was to be working with her!
My easy day had become crammed and the camaro needed a bath. Nick had a million loose ends to tie up and couldn't help at all. Charles was the lucky guy. He scrubbed and polished while I finalized paperwork, phone calls, and arrangements. I had planned an 8 hour rest period but for gods sake it just never happens that way! Midnight saw my head hit the pillow for a 4am call. So much for organization....- TKS
To be continued....
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Pitching to the Most Disinterested Person in the World
Your head is in the minutia, in the scenes, the characters, the dialogue, the setting, the visual charisma of the thing, and then someone asks you "So what's your movie about?"...
For a screenwriter (and just about anyone else hocking their Hollywood wares to People of Influence) the place where unbridled belief in one's self meets the wrecking ball is the pitch. Ask that ultra-confident filmmaker how he or she feels after that pitch. Either the listener was unfair and mean, or that filmmaker is at the onset of an existential crisis... maybe both.
"I know," you console them, "talent is what really matters."
Of course it does. But how does talent help when you're pitching to the most disinterested person in the world? (Who you will inevitably pitch to).
Me, and almost everyone seeking some fated place in the film industry will say talent trumps everything. It relieves the swelling, relieves the itching, and it relieves the pain. It brings a Cinderella element of fairness and order to the process. Here I toil and nobody sees that secretly, underneath it all, I am indeed a princess. The only problem is everyone who says this assumes they have that talent, so in spite of a limiting statement like "talent above everything," everyone must have talent.
We're not walking bags of haloed talent, we're storytellers. Screenwriters, producers, actors and directors alike. Regardless of the medium or the historic era, story-tellers tell stories to people, and fundamentally this takes guts and bravado; interrupting someone's attention and commanding their imagination with the power of your technique, your style and your personality, until hopefully they thank you for the experience. It's an illusion to think that you have the luxury of anonymity in the me-space of the darkened corner of your room behind your desk. You're a storyteller mate, act like one.
So your head is in the minutia, in the scenes, the dialogue, the setting, and then someone asks you "What is your movie about?"
Scenario #1:
Uhhhh... (You're using this time to remember some semblance of a pitch you've put together.). -- ok -- you've got something. And you begin sputtering, but their eyes are already dead. They no longer care. Most of all, you haven't lived up to your image. They see the truth of the thing, and they're wondering if she's such a story teller, why can't she tell a story? -- maybe that's what they're concentrating on while you're playing hopscotch with your plot.
Scenario #2:
You start reading some script you've developed in your head with pinpointed, monotonic accuracy. The listener senses an advertisement and they tune you out. They try to contort their face with half-hearted interest, busier thinking "Holy shit, this person is actually trying to pitch me right now... I can't believe this is happening. Are they embarrassed?" than they are actually hearing anything you say.
A storyteller is a leader, and leaders lead with confidence. If guts and bravado are the traits of a storyteller, confidence is his mark. A lack of confidence distracts attention away from the story. Confidence leads the listener into thinking whatever this guy says must be great.
What do I mean by confidence? Take Scenario #3:
You're prepared and you're not reading a script. Now your listener is the problem, because your listener doesn't give a damn about movies and they really don't give a damn about your story.
Why pitch someone who clearly isn't interested?
--How is it any different than hitting line drives and loading up the bases when you're already down two outs? Or any different than trying or even doing well in the face of a hard or unlikely situation? It's Tiger Woods playing his greatest first round at the Masters when everyone wants him to fail, and everyone expects him to do poorly because he really ought to be playing distracted. But he's not distracted. He's MORE focused. Imagine if that's how you pitched?
That's where impressions are made, where Cinderella stories are born. Embrace the disinterested listener. Lead them. Don't let them lead you to soft spoken timidity, embarrassment, or shamed apologies. Lead with your confidence! They won't do the work for you, nor should they.
Know what movie your movie is. Don't hesitate to be a storyteller. Act like you're in control and they will follow. Leave the talent for everyone else.
Charles Rhoads
For a screenwriter (and just about anyone else hocking their Hollywood wares to People of Influence) the place where unbridled belief in one's self meets the wrecking ball is the pitch. Ask that ultra-confident filmmaker how he or she feels after that pitch. Either the listener was unfair and mean, or that filmmaker is at the onset of an existential crisis... maybe both.
"I know," you console them, "talent is what really matters."
Of course it does. But how does talent help when you're pitching to the most disinterested person in the world? (Who you will inevitably pitch to).
Me, and almost everyone seeking some fated place in the film industry will say talent trumps everything. It relieves the swelling, relieves the itching, and it relieves the pain. It brings a Cinderella element of fairness and order to the process. Here I toil and nobody sees that secretly, underneath it all, I am indeed a princess. The only problem is everyone who says this assumes they have that talent, so in spite of a limiting statement like "talent above everything," everyone must have talent.
We're not walking bags of haloed talent, we're storytellers. Screenwriters, producers, actors and directors alike. Regardless of the medium or the historic era, story-tellers tell stories to people, and fundamentally this takes guts and bravado; interrupting someone's attention and commanding their imagination with the power of your technique, your style and your personality, until hopefully they thank you for the experience. It's an illusion to think that you have the luxury of anonymity in the me-space of the darkened corner of your room behind your desk. You're a storyteller mate, act like one.
So your head is in the minutia, in the scenes, the dialogue, the setting, and then someone asks you "What is your movie about?"
Scenario #1:
Uhhhh... (You're using this time to remember some semblance of a pitch you've put together.). -- ok -- you've got something. And you begin sputtering, but their eyes are already dead. They no longer care. Most of all, you haven't lived up to your image. They see the truth of the thing, and they're wondering if she's such a story teller, why can't she tell a story? -- maybe that's what they're concentrating on while you're playing hopscotch with your plot.
Scenario #2:
You start reading some script you've developed in your head with pinpointed, monotonic accuracy. The listener senses an advertisement and they tune you out. They try to contort their face with half-hearted interest, busier thinking "Holy shit, this person is actually trying to pitch me right now... I can't believe this is happening. Are they embarrassed?" than they are actually hearing anything you say.
A storyteller is a leader, and leaders lead with confidence. If guts and bravado are the traits of a storyteller, confidence is his mark. A lack of confidence distracts attention away from the story. Confidence leads the listener into thinking whatever this guy says must be great.
What do I mean by confidence? Take Scenario #3:
You're prepared and you're not reading a script. Now your listener is the problem, because your listener doesn't give a damn about movies and they really don't give a damn about your story.
Why pitch someone who clearly isn't interested?
--How is it any different than hitting line drives and loading up the bases when you're already down two outs? Or any different than trying or even doing well in the face of a hard or unlikely situation? It's Tiger Woods playing his greatest first round at the Masters when everyone wants him to fail, and everyone expects him to do poorly because he really ought to be playing distracted. But he's not distracted. He's MORE focused. Imagine if that's how you pitched?
That's where impressions are made, where Cinderella stories are born. Embrace the disinterested listener. Lead them. Don't let them lead you to soft spoken timidity, embarrassment, or shamed apologies. Lead with your confidence! They won't do the work for you, nor should they.
Know what movie your movie is. Don't hesitate to be a storyteller. Act like you're in control and they will follow. Leave the talent for everyone else.
Charles Rhoads
Monday, April 5, 2010
Thoughts About Camera: Learning to Ask the Why's and How's of Your Film
A good movie can never be credited as anything but the sum of its equally important artistic contributions. For those of us making independent films; whether it be shorts, features, web series or scene studies, it's important to understand where and how our budgets and production value can be stretched for FREE by simply utilizing smart film making techniques. A scene filmed one way might feel cheap, but filmed another way feels dynamic and up on par with the best of Spielberg or Scorsese. Of course, this means all sorts of thought and planning must precede the actual production.
A saying I have found myself repeating when meeting with new Directors and DP's is, "the script is for the actors, the subtext is for the camera". What I mean by this is: the way a scene moves, the way the colors and exposure and geometry of the environment lead your eye is something of great importance when it comes to connecting with characters and emotion in any movie. It is beyond me how any director can forsake this and leave it all in the hands of the DP because, as much as having your actors nail their lines, it's all tied into the telling of the story.
Roger Corman, bless his heart, was able to develop a style of shooting that allowed a production team to make a movie faster than anyone else. Shoot your master, get your coverage in a couple over the shoulders and maybe a closeup or two, and get out.
And why not? The actors are saying their lines and hitting their marks, the props are being manipulated, the sets are full of texture and detail, and in the end -- one might say that everything printed in the script has come to life. It looks like we have ourselves a movie!
The problem is just that, every word of the script is here and nothing more. There's no importance, something lacks in Corman's movies, that's why they call 'em "B" movies.
Whether they realize it or not, people watch films to be placed in the center of the stories we tell; they want us to take them away, absorb them in our drama, excite them through our action, depress them in our failures, and uplift them with our triumphs.
It's up to us as directors and DP's to use every tool at our disposal in uncovering the core beneath the ink on the page, to illustrate the human pulse which courses through every scene and every moment of our films -- THAT which continually drives the audience to this emotional connection.
So what are we talking about here? We watch movies and mostly forget that the way they are presented -- the angles, colors, lighting, and motion of the camera are NOT set in the script, nor is the blocking. No two people read scripts the same way. A dolly push for one director or DP could be a smartly blocked wide shot for another. So how and why do we shoot the way we do?
I can recall the first movie I shot as a DP. Leading up to the production, all the "rules" and musts that I'd absorbed over the years from film professors and self proclaimed movie buffs suddenly began climbing out to the gooey surface of my brain. "Don't EVER use a zoom", "keep the camera moving", "stay on one side of the line"...
They spoke of motivation prompting movement, and I thought I knew what it meant... So I dollied the camera when characters walked, jibbed the camera when they stood or fell, and never once did I touch the zoom control on my lens. I even tried the always moving Michael Bay shots for one scene. What I ended up with was a very nice looking, but incredibly meaningless first film.
What nobody helped me to understand is that blocking is a huge key to this puzzle, not the only key mind you, but a big one. The more complex we block our characters, the more EVERYBODY has room to become creative. Nobody explained that while you do want to keep your camera on one side of the 180 degree line, it's fully possible for that line to move, to change with new characters entering the scene, to EVOLVE with your blocking and by design -- actually MEAN something.
Take this scene from Scorsese's Cape Fear for example. Here Nick Nolte explains the trauma and fear he's feeling as a result of ex-con Max Cady stalking his family; followed by the big reveal that he knows just why Cady is doing it -- and Nolte is to blame. (I'm speaking only about the first scene in the video below)
Now, the blocking is not complex per se, but it easily could have been two men sitting across from one another at a desk. And if it were, if we lost that amazing tracking shot that ends on Nick Nolte's face filling frame, would we feel the same as we do when we watch it as it is? Would we have the innate understanding of the weight of what Nolte is saying if it were just a couple of mediums, wides, and a closeup from across a desk?
There are many things going on in this scene. Scorsese uses dolly pushes on the senior lawyer to establish the scene and accentuate the solutions this man is trying to provide, giving us an "Ah! The answer cometh" feeling, and assuring us he is very much on Nolte's side. Note that the two characters are staged at far ends of the room in the first wide shot we see.
The conversation is casual, boiler plate, and the distance reflects this. Once Nolte begins to explain that things might not be so simple, Scorsese starts his first blocking move.
Here, the blocking serves to help us as the audience FEEL that the conversation is shifting. Whereas a moment ago we were accustomed to the straight shots and dolly pushes between two men talking shop, this shot and its brilliant blocking now moves the characters, the conversation, and the camera in a completely different direction -- subverting our comfort. This shot tracks with Nolte, closing the distance between the two men as the information his character reveals becomes more intimate and dangerous.
We tilt down to catch the lawyer's response, Nolte's chest intimidating the left side of the frame and giving us a very uneasy feeling as he closes in on the lawyer's space. We finally tilt back up to Nolte's face, now in an extreme closeup as he reveals the hearing for his restraining order is in ten days.
Take a look at this frame. What is happening here? First, Scorsese and his DP really know how to shoot a face! In this frame dominating shot, Nolte is larger than life. His creased, bespectacled mug gives us the impression of a man with decades of experience, a serious contender -- not someone who'll take his family being threatened lying down. We are well inside his personal space as he shares a very guarded and personal secret he's kept for 14 years. They've managed to choose just the right angle and just the right lighting to give us a portrait of a man both intimidating and intimidated at the same time.
How do they do this? In this final frame, we are still feeling the overpowering presence Nolte has over the lawyer, but the camera is at a high angle, generally used to weaken a character's perceived position. One man towers over another, but the man who's not even there towers over both. Here established, Max Cady's presence dominates the entirety of the film.
The look on his face tells us Nolte knows a restraining order won't do a damn thing, the shot has become a window into this subtext.
Again, think about this moment. If we were watching this from a wide, or a medium shot from any other angle, if the blocking had not allowed for the motion of the scene to help us "feel" that something was amiss... would this riveting performance have the same impact? My point here is that no matter how strong the acting, it's shooting these moments with the right subtext that gives them power, even ft it means using a zoom.
Now we find ourselves in a whole new world. "How can I move the camera to do for my scenes what Scorsese did for his?" This is dangerous territory, because once we start learning about moving our cameras, it sure is hard to stop. What works for one scene, or one film for that matter may not apply to another.
There is no easy answer for what visual fertilizer a scene requires to flourish. Martin Scorsese has a heavy touch, Clint Eastwood has a light one... David Fincher is somewhere in between . Each of these filmmakers are precise, effective, and completely different, but their success as filmmakers comes because they know their material and they fertilize the seeds of their films just right.
It helps to remember, sometimes when you water your own seeds, you end up with a tree -- other times you end up with a shrub. The point is, no matter the watering, the seeds will always grow to be whatever it is they were meant to be, so don't try to pile on the fertilizer -- you'll just end up killing your plant.
In summary, the most important "rule" I've learned as a filmmaker over the years is there are no rules, simply suggestions, all of which boil down to you -- the director -- giving the audience what they want.
The question becomes, how do you know what they want?...
-Nick Harris
A saying I have found myself repeating when meeting with new Directors and DP's is, "the script is for the actors, the subtext is for the camera". What I mean by this is: the way a scene moves, the way the colors and exposure and geometry of the environment lead your eye is something of great importance when it comes to connecting with characters and emotion in any movie. It is beyond me how any director can forsake this and leave it all in the hands of the DP because, as much as having your actors nail their lines, it's all tied into the telling of the story.
Roger Corman, bless his heart, was able to develop a style of shooting that allowed a production team to make a movie faster than anyone else. Shoot your master, get your coverage in a couple over the shoulders and maybe a closeup or two, and get out.
And why not? The actors are saying their lines and hitting their marks, the props are being manipulated, the sets are full of texture and detail, and in the end -- one might say that everything printed in the script has come to life. It looks like we have ourselves a movie!
The problem is just that, every word of the script is here and nothing more. There's no importance, something lacks in Corman's movies, that's why they call 'em "B" movies.
Whether they realize it or not, people watch films to be placed in the center of the stories we tell; they want us to take them away, absorb them in our drama, excite them through our action, depress them in our failures, and uplift them with our triumphs.
It's up to us as directors and DP's to use every tool at our disposal in uncovering the core beneath the ink on the page, to illustrate the human pulse which courses through every scene and every moment of our films -- THAT which continually drives the audience to this emotional connection.
So what are we talking about here? We watch movies and mostly forget that the way they are presented -- the angles, colors, lighting, and motion of the camera are NOT set in the script, nor is the blocking. No two people read scripts the same way. A dolly push for one director or DP could be a smartly blocked wide shot for another. So how and why do we shoot the way we do?
I can recall the first movie I shot as a DP. Leading up to the production, all the "rules" and musts that I'd absorbed over the years from film professors and self proclaimed movie buffs suddenly began climbing out to the gooey surface of my brain. "Don't EVER use a zoom", "keep the camera moving", "stay on one side of the line"...
They spoke of motivation prompting movement, and I thought I knew what it meant... So I dollied the camera when characters walked, jibbed the camera when they stood or fell, and never once did I touch the zoom control on my lens. I even tried the always moving Michael Bay shots for one scene. What I ended up with was a very nice looking, but incredibly meaningless first film.
What nobody helped me to understand is that blocking is a huge key to this puzzle, not the only key mind you, but a big one. The more complex we block our characters, the more EVERYBODY has room to become creative. Nobody explained that while you do want to keep your camera on one side of the 180 degree line, it's fully possible for that line to move, to change with new characters entering the scene, to EVOLVE with your blocking and by design -- actually MEAN something.
Take this scene from Scorsese's Cape Fear for example. Here Nick Nolte explains the trauma and fear he's feeling as a result of ex-con Max Cady stalking his family; followed by the big reveal that he knows just why Cady is doing it -- and Nolte is to blame. (I'm speaking only about the first scene in the video below)
Now, the blocking is not complex per se, but it easily could have been two men sitting across from one another at a desk. And if it were, if we lost that amazing tracking shot that ends on Nick Nolte's face filling frame, would we feel the same as we do when we watch it as it is? Would we have the innate understanding of the weight of what Nolte is saying if it were just a couple of mediums, wides, and a closeup from across a desk?
There are many things going on in this scene. Scorsese uses dolly pushes on the senior lawyer to establish the scene and accentuate the solutions this man is trying to provide, giving us an "Ah! The answer cometh" feeling, and assuring us he is very much on Nolte's side. Note that the two characters are staged at far ends of the room in the first wide shot we see.
The conversation is casual, boiler plate, and the distance reflects this. Once Nolte begins to explain that things might not be so simple, Scorsese starts his first blocking move.
Here, the blocking serves to help us as the audience FEEL that the conversation is shifting. Whereas a moment ago we were accustomed to the straight shots and dolly pushes between two men talking shop, this shot and its brilliant blocking now moves the characters, the conversation, and the camera in a completely different direction -- subverting our comfort. This shot tracks with Nolte, closing the distance between the two men as the information his character reveals becomes more intimate and dangerous.
We tilt down to catch the lawyer's response, Nolte's chest intimidating the left side of the frame and giving us a very uneasy feeling as he closes in on the lawyer's space. We finally tilt back up to Nolte's face, now in an extreme closeup as he reveals the hearing for his restraining order is in ten days.
Take a look at this frame. What is happening here? First, Scorsese and his DP really know how to shoot a face! In this frame dominating shot, Nolte is larger than life. His creased, bespectacled mug gives us the impression of a man with decades of experience, a serious contender -- not someone who'll take his family being threatened lying down. We are well inside his personal space as he shares a very guarded and personal secret he's kept for 14 years. They've managed to choose just the right angle and just the right lighting to give us a portrait of a man both intimidating and intimidated at the same time.
How do they do this? In this final frame, we are still feeling the overpowering presence Nolte has over the lawyer, but the camera is at a high angle, generally used to weaken a character's perceived position. One man towers over another, but the man who's not even there towers over both. Here established, Max Cady's presence dominates the entirety of the film.
The look on his face tells us Nolte knows a restraining order won't do a damn thing, the shot has become a window into this subtext.
Again, think about this moment. If we were watching this from a wide, or a medium shot from any other angle, if the blocking had not allowed for the motion of the scene to help us "feel" that something was amiss... would this riveting performance have the same impact? My point here is that no matter how strong the acting, it's shooting these moments with the right subtext that gives them power, even ft it means using a zoom.
Now we find ourselves in a whole new world. "How can I move the camera to do for my scenes what Scorsese did for his?" This is dangerous territory, because once we start learning about moving our cameras, it sure is hard to stop. What works for one scene, or one film for that matter may not apply to another.
There is no easy answer for what visual fertilizer a scene requires to flourish. Martin Scorsese has a heavy touch, Clint Eastwood has a light one... David Fincher is somewhere in between . Each of these filmmakers are precise, effective, and completely different, but their success as filmmakers comes because they know their material and they fertilize the seeds of their films just right.
It helps to remember, sometimes when you water your own seeds, you end up with a tree -- other times you end up with a shrub. The point is, no matter the watering, the seeds will always grow to be whatever it is they were meant to be, so don't try to pile on the fertilizer -- you'll just end up killing your plant.
In summary, the most important "rule" I've learned as a filmmaker over the years is there are no rules, simply suggestions, all of which boil down to you -- the director -- giving the audience what they want.
The question becomes, how do you know what they want?...
-Nick Harris
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