How to Meet Good Ideas

Coming across a good idea ought to be the most likely part of the uncertain and especially unlikely process of getting a film projected onto a theater screen; but before the Cinderella story; before an audience walks into that theater, or the marketing campaign was successfully devised to bring that audience in, or the film somehow made it into Sundance or Toronto -- whereby the right people screened it and the right things were said and the right buzz grew into that distribution deal -- before a cast and crew serendipitously came together and really made something great enough to be noticed; before that first unlikely investor came along and took a risk, or a producer saw some fleeting potential in a script and decided to put their contacts and connections on the line... there was a writer and an idea, and it probably wasn't pretty.

They had to meet.  And goddamn it, they had to get along.

Yeah, there are people out there that will say "I knew this was a great idea from the beginning!"  They'll lean back and fawn over how easy it all came to them once they "found" the idea; conveniently overlooking all the strife it took to turn that idea into a good script.

Jealously you ask them: "But how did you get that idea?"

The edge of their lips turn into a coy smile; they don't even do you the courtesy of thinking about the question: "No idea, just came to me."

The words are true, but I still want to punch this fictional person in the face.  I digress, but as writer of this blog, I'll take the liberty.

(A can of Mountain Dew flies across the room, hitting the pretentious man squarely in the face.  His nose seeps blood, mixing with spilled drink as it spots his expensive white shirt.  The dry cleaner won't be able to get that stain out...).

Finding a good idea is hard.  What's more, you don't come upon ideas, ideas come to you.  You can put yourself around the right people, in the right setting and situation where ideas might hang around, but that's about as much as they'll allow.  No, they come to you, and they'll do so whenever they damn well please.  Then when they come, well, you have to like them.  Just because an idea approaches you doesn't mean you're attracted to it.  We go through ideas all the time, politely smiling at them before we go back to talking with our friends.

Some ideas are more interesting than others.  All you can do is think about how cool that idea is; you can't believe they tapped your shoulder or decided to dance with you.  Other ideas seem engrossing on the evening you meet them, but its very hard to spend any time with them after that; all looks and no substance.  They're secretly boring.

Can you sit down and have a conversation with your idea?  Will it be one of those conversations that go on and on, spilling with great tangents and material?  Can you put up with them?

The best ideas get in your head man, and they change the way you see things.  At the same time they're possessive.  Everything you see, hear and smell -- every other thought -- gets interrogated by the idea first.  Trees, highway, car wreck -- Could you work in the story?  It doesn't matter where you are -- supermarket or meeting, your idea is there vying for all your attention.  Sometimes it takes a while for that possession to take hold.

No one wants to admit they have trouble romancing a good idea, but then again, how many ideas are truly "good," before a writer took a chance and decided to make that long, hard commitment?

The days go on and doubts inevitably ensue.  You don't really know this is a great idea, do you?  In fact, you're still thinking about that smarmy guy who said it all came so easy.

Thinking about the long journey ahead, and just how improbable the script you're writing will end up on the big screen, you sit down for a heart to heart with your idea: "Hey.  Listen, I think you're really interesting.  We've been spending some time together and that's no small thing for me -- I don't just spend time with any idea, you know.  The problem I'm having is..."  (You hesitate you don't want to tell them the truth)  "Why aren't you brilliant?  Why aren't you behaving symphonically, idea?  Why aren't you bursting with inspiration?  Why aren't you feeling like a great idea every single day?"

Meanwhile you wonder, is this idea truly destined for great things, if I have to put in all this work? 

But is it really the ideas fault?  You start questioning yourself: "What's wrong with me?  Is this my fault?  Am I any good?  Am I even cut out for writing?  If I have to put in all this work, am I truly inspired -- A good idea like this comes along and this is all I can do with it?!..."

"Confidence," you tell yourself.  Ideas respect confidence, but personally I suspect it's not a cure all adage.  Sometimes you just have to make a clean break.  Tell an idea it's not working out creatively.  It's not really bringing much to the table after all, and you need to move on to the next idea.  Or maybe it's just too difficult, and that is a good sign.

Maybe you just decide to take a break from your idea.  You know... temporarily.  "Maybe we'll meet each other again when you... when I'M... More mature."

-- Next thing you know that piece of shit idea is in bed with Steven Spielberg, and Spielberg's pulling all the stops.  He's wooing the idea with his studio, with his financial resources.  And that's the one that got away...

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, take a moment to be thankful for your good ideas.  Also be thankful Steven Spielberg hasn't had your idea first.  He's a tough act to follow.

Charles Rhoads

Joy Lies Within The Low Budget

There is often a void left behind after a production has completed its stages of pre, production, and post.  For me, it's right after we've wrapped that seems to be the hardest.  I spend days and days round the clock preparing for a shoot - running around, planning, strategizing, stressing out, anticipating, problem solving, and thinking fast.  It abruptly comes to a close and I'm left the next day nursing my body aches and wondering, "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"  I long for a back to back barrage of productions so often simply because I manage to work on very enjoyable sets.

This summer was a slow one.  We had a couple of our own productions in the music video realm and some random interview and performance stuff but not enough to keep me moving as fast as I like.  So, I picked up a couple other odd jobs that had nothing to do with producing whatsoever but kept me around the camera. Then those jobs ended and it was back to twiddling the ol' thumbs.

Voids.

Too many days in a row of not being on set began to drive me a little nuts.  I noticed an ad for a PA on a 3 day shoot, in a remote location, staying in a resort, with not one red cent of pay.  "Sounds great!" I said to myself and off I went to work on the last days of a really bad sci-fi/horror feature.  It was fun.  The director had no real understanding of the words 'crew' or 'team' or 'group' so we, the crew, banded together and made it happen.  It was the best 3 days of free work I've done in a while mainly because connections were made and there was a set camaraderie that can only be found on a low budget film.

I busied myself with company stuff after that then dove head first into our latest music video.  As soon as that was done I came up for air and realized I just wanted to get back to swimming the depths of creative production.  Lucky for me a producer/director I work with on and off popped up again.  He put together a crew for a 3 day contest and I was to be his production supervisor.  I was only needed for one day since the writing had to be done in one day, the shoot the next day, and the editing the following day.  We were an eclectic San Diego group of varying age ranges and ethnicities and it was a blast.  The rain had been coming down all week but the skies dried up for our shoot day.  (Something that had awesomely enough happened on the music video shoot as well, come to think of it.)  The clouds offered a natural diffusion for most of the day then spread out to show off billowing patterns against patches of blue.  It was smooth and easy and quick. Yet another fine day of free work for me.  As we said our goodbyes the sound recordist reiterated my satisfaction by saying, "You spend so much time working on large, stressful sets you forget what it's like to enjoy your job.  Then you get a chance to work with a crew of people who make films for fun and you remember how great it can be."  No truer words have ever been spoken.

That was the end of summer.  Since then things have come to a screeching halt.  I've thrown myself into a winter office position teaching me the ins and outs of payroll for both union and non-union commercials.  Super informative.  Incredibly useful.  But oh so dull to be indoors battling paperwork instead of the elements, crew, locations, and budgets.  I love being in control of a shoot.  I love being in charge.  I love being a leader on a production.  But more than anything I love being on a set in any capacity. It's proving difficult for me to sit still and learn more of my trade via a 9-5.  I just keep telling myself it's winter.  It's the holidays. It's relatively slow out there until March again.  And who knows?  I may come to love the payroll aspect of producing.

What I do know for sure, though...my heart lies in the trenches with the struggling indie filmmakers.  Should someone invite me to participate in a low budget shoot, in the dead of winter, on a nearby mountain top, for an 18 hour day, I'd be hard-pressed to say no. - TKS

Respecting the Shoot Day

The shoot day.  We're talking about an ethereal thing here, a temporary window in time when ideas are channeled into the real world.  To be able to conjure those ideas through a lens as clean and true as imagination takes an immense amount of time, effort, stress and mental sharpness.  It takes a great producer, and a talented director, DP, and AD that understands how vital preparation truly is.

Treating a shoot day as anything other than a time where shots are set up and the director realizes his vision -- or conducting any activity that doesn't best support those things -- is missing the point.  Wasting time figuring out what you want; fumbling around unnecessary obstacles or any other lack of preparedness is not respecting the shoot day, and you've got to honor it as though it were a god.  Disrespect a shoot day and it will decimate your film or video like a Russian winter.

Anything, and I mean anything that can be done before that actual shoot, that doesn't have to be done during the shoot, should be thought about and taken care of well in advance.  And just like the actual filming is a team effort, so is the preparation.

For a producer, the word preparation is synonymous with the job.  The producer does nothing less than create those 12-14 hour per day playgrounds where the director and DP can make their vision come alive.  This means overseeing a project, securing financing, locations, cast, crew, and ensuring the availability and smooth function of all required resources and personnel (including equipment, props, wardrobe, and vehicles) that make up a shoot day.

For a director, respecting the shoot day means knowing precisely what you want, and how you're going to get it, not figuring it out as you go.

Meet with the DP, create the shot list together, and know it well -- down to the lens you think you'd like to use.  Storyboard if possible to really understand what it is you want and what it is you'll actually get.  Visit your locations and have actors and camera movement precisely choreographed (and rehearsed if that's your style).  At least discuss what you're looking for from your actors well in advance of the production.  Know what you want your set to look like, and have it arranged with the production designer well in advance.  The same goes for wardrobe.   Also know the edit as best as you can before you shoot a single frame to avoid over-shooting and so you know when you can cut a shot.

I know there are plenty of stories to go around about famous directors that fumble their way through a shoot and still create amazing work; I'd wager those guys either made Faustean deals or they've got amazing DP's, producers and crew backing them up to make up for the lack respect.

For a DP respecting the shoot means creating that shot list and knowing it well, along with lighting plots which are distributed to members of the G&E crew well in advance of the shoot.  It means adequately scouting the locations and identifying potential lighting problems with the gaffer, who should determine locations of the electrical outlets, breakers, and the current capacity of electrical circuits in the building.  It means being familiar with the schedule and taking into account the location of the sun. 

For an AD it means understanding your set in its entirety; scheduling realistically, including set-up times and shoot times, with time included for travel and wrap and lunch; knowing where to stage make-up and equipment, where everyone should be and what they should be doing as it relates to the schedule before you ever reach the set.

For talent it means knowing what the director wants, and understanding the script before you reach the set.

It's mind boggling how much effort and energy has to go into making that shoot day special in a way that 12-14 hours of any other day are not.  If any of member of the team neglects to adequately prepare, it distracts from the only things that you should be fundamentally doing on the shoot day: Building setups, making light/gel adjustments, making creative discoveries, coaxing moments out of hiding, and gathering shots.

The shoot day is fragile soil on which you plant a good script.  What comes up -- if anything -- comes out of a lot of hands and effort in the 12 or so hours between when the day begins and ends.  Footage doesn't materialize before or after, only during, and it's precious time.

Charles Rhoads

You Gotta Watch This Movie: Gone With The Wind (1939)

There really is nothing as spectacular as seeing a movie on the big screen.  All our new technological conveniences are just that, conveniences.  Being enveloped in that full screen cinematography, that dark, cavernous room filled with people who become non-existent once you become hooked on the story, that sound surrounding and booming with warmth and excitement...ahhh, yes.  It's the best.

And about two weeks ago I saw the best of the best on that gorgeous screen..."Gone With The Wind".  Yep.  American Cinematheque blew my mind yet again with a screening of "Gone With The Wind" at the Aero Theatre.  When that projector rolled and the opening credits came on, the classic '39 movie music played, and the theater went dark, it was all I could do to keep from crying tears of utter joy.

I spent many repeated days as a kid/teen watching and re-watching that epic film on TV.  I have no idea how it was introduced to me...I vaguely remember it as a two part special on ABC or something...but I do know that as soon as I saw it I was in love.  In love with the South, those massive hoop dresses, the Civil War, the romantic notion of plantations, Scarlett's brash nature, and Rhett Butler.  I L-O-V-E loved that character, that man, that idea of a man.  Virile, handsome, scoundrel and sensitive, a man of smarts and survival.  I became obsessed with Clark Gable. Obsessed.  I scoured the TV guide every week, reading page by page, section by section, piece by piece...searching for all the films between 1920 - 1960 looking for his name, underlining, circling and scheduling myself to watch.  There weren't a lot but there were a few.  At least one every couple weeks.  I was so disappointed when there was no Clark Gable for the week!  To this day and since that first day of GWTW, I look for the Rhett/Clark combo in every man I've ever been attracted to.  It's nuts, but it's true.  And I find bits and pieces of him in almost every guy I've dated but never the full package.  No wonder I'm single...!  Anyway, getting way off topic here.

Gone With the Wind has been such a pivotal movie in my life.  The crane shot over the wounded soldiers lying on the Atlanta train tracks was the first cinematographic moment that I was ever consciously aware of.

The massive flames behind Rhett and Scarlett as they ride past the ammunition set on fire and ready to blow was my first conscious journey into special effects.

Janet Leigh, Olivia de Havilland, Clark Gable, Hattie McDaniel, and Ona Munson gave me my first taste for acting, talent, celebrity.  They set me on a path to try it myself (needless to say, I failed drama class miserably) and turned me into a scrapbooking, picture clipping fool...another reason I scoured the TV guide...for pics of my favorite actors/actresses.

And how about epics?  I love epics thanks to this movie.  Sweeping grandeur, intermissions, endless amounts of flowing landscape filled with earthy tones, crane shots, aerial shots, long tracking shots.  Fantastic!  I devoured North & South, The Far Pavillions, Ghandi, The Jewel In The Crown, The Thorn Birds, Ben Hur, Lawrence of Arabia, Spartacus, Doctor Zhivago as if they were the last feast I would ever lay my eyes upon. 

Being an impressionable kid who questioned all those impressions I was never won over by the romantic ideal of the slave running South, though.  I did a lot of reading and researching from a very neutral place.  But I respected the story aspect of it all.  So many angles, so much meaning, so much division portrayed from the agrarian culture of the U.S.  Yet, while I respected the story I missed the main plot in this particular movie. 

As I watched "Gone with The Wind" up on that big screen for the first time ever in my life I became attached to that main plot, that main character, that main reason for this film to exist, like never before.  Scarlett O'Hara, for the first time in dozens of watching times, stood out on that screen like I'd never seen her.  It hit me like bricks...this was a truly strong female lead role in a major motion picture that I had completely overlooked!

By now it's well known that I am a supporter of the strong woman to the utmost.  Not a feminist, but a supporter of that which is the pillar in life.  At the Aero that evening I realized how so many people, including myself, had "Gone With The Wind" totally wrong.  They called it a movie about the South, about gallantry, about loss and destruction, North and South, divisions, slavery, plantations, and about a love story.  While it is all that, it is so much more about the journey of a woman who's circumstances force her to be as strong and uncompromising as steel.  Those other elements were her supports, our subplots. 

We start off seeing Scarlett as a spoiled Southern Belle teen.  She wants only one man and that's Ashley Wilkes.  She is determined to get him.  How could he not love the belle of the ball?  How could she not possibly get everything she wants?  She learns he is marrying his cousin Melanie (Olivia De Havilland) and decides all she has to do is tell Ashley she loves him and he will be hers instead!  So, already we are seeing the strong will of our lead female character come to light.  It continues with an angry tantrum and her first meeting with Rhett Butler...her male equivalent.  It goes even further when she callously accepts Melanie's brother Charles' proposal at the start of the war, taking revenge on Ashley's passionate kiss goodbye to Melanie.  Charles dies of pneumonia and Scarlett is forced to be a mourning widow.  She sobs to her mother, "My life is over! Nothing will ever happen to me anymore!"  The solution is a trip to Atlanta to visit Melanie and we see Scarlett's wheels spin as she realizes that's where she'll be able to connect with Ashley again as well.  She immediately shocks Atlanta at a benefit bazaar when the mourning widow she is, accepts blockader Rhett Butler's invitation to dance. Later, as the city falls to the Yankees, Scarlett is faced with delivering Melanie's baby amidst explosions and gun fire then getting herself, Melanie, the baby and Prissy back to Tara.  She commandeers Rhett for a moment but is abandoned by him as he takes off to join the army for one last 11th hour stand against the Union.

Arriving at Tara, Scarlett is confronted by a county destroyed, Tara ravaged, her mother dead, her father gone insane, and her needy family looking to her to save them.  And save them she does...bedraggled and worn, a sobbing Scarlett falls upon the ground to pull up a lone carrot that she ravenously devours only to gag it back up again.  Right here is the turning point.  The spoiled child Scarlett O'Hara is gone.  She now becomes a woman who must beat all the odds.  "As God is my witness, as God is my witness, they're not going to lick me, " she declares. "I'm going to live through this.  And when it's all over I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat, or kill, as God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!"

Things progress at Tara...A stray soldier is shot and killed by Scarlett when he comes in to pillage and rape; beaten Confederate soldiers return; Scarlett and family till the fields, building a bit of income to feed the family and the soldiers; overseer Jonas Wilkerson comes back to buy out Tara after finding out the taxes are too high for Scarlett to pay; and Scarlett's father dies when he rides out after Wilkerson and gets thrown from his horse.  Ashley returns and Scarlett goes to Atlanta to charm money from Rhett only to find him locked up in a jail by the Yankees who are either going to hang him or take his money.  Rhett, of course, doesn't help and Scarlett is forced to find another solution.  She bumps into her sister's beau, Frank Kennedy, who is prospering with a lumber store in Atlanta and within days they are married.  Tara is saved by Scarlett's quick thinking and shrewd maneuvers and the family slowly begins building their wealth again.  Scarlett leaves her sisters behind and, after a puddle of crocodile tears used to convince Ashley and Melanie to head back to Atlanta with her, she gathers the remaining house servants and sets out on a path to become business woman extraordinaire.

Atlanta becomes a series of Scarlett strengths, mistakes, falls, and pick-herself-up-again scenarios.  She rides past the shanty town alone and is attacked; her husband dies (quite the story unto itself as this is where the rise of the KKK is mentioned); she expands the lumber store into a mill; she finally marries Rhett, obtaining loads of money and a massive house; she has a daughter;  she gets caught in a tender moment at the mill with Ashley, destroying her marriage to Rhett in the process; she falls down the stairs and loses her unborn baby; she loses her first born daughter to another horse riding accident; Melanie dies; and Rhett leaves her.

Yet Scarlett still manages to muster the strength needed to carry on. Throughout the film we constantly hear her say, "I won't think about that right now.  I'll think about it tomorrow."  It's her way of pushing any guilty conscience to the back of her mind but as Rhett disappears into the fog Scarlett knows there will be no tomorrow if she doesn't deal with today.

Ask anyone who's seen the movie once or twice what the last line is and they'll probably give you this (1:08):

Check again, friends. Start at about 03:35.  Just as strong but so glanced over as Scarlett once again pulls up her bootstraps and formulates another plan for survival.

Yes. That's right, "After all, tomorrow is another day!" And one I hope that will reveal a return to Hollywood's heyday of fine storytelling and strong roles for women and men alike. - TKS

You Gotta Watch This Movie: Clint Eastwood's Great Unsung Film...

Ok, now hear me out.  If the above photo didn't already alienate you, give me a few more sentences.  Please, promise you'll continue reading after the next sentence and allow me to explain... This blog is about "Every Which Way But Loose" and I'm going to argue it's artistic merits.

Yes, that movie; the Clint Eastwood/orangutan film.  You hear orangutan buddy comedy, and I understand how it might be easy to dismiss.  It's a goofball movie now as much as it was in the 70's, except if you watch it all the way through and allow yourself to look a little deeper -- it's daring, experimental, and surprisingly profound, even more so, since it was a 1978 pop-corn flick.  But in the 70's, Hollywood studio films had guts -- even the 70's human-orangutan buddy movies.

The title originates from Zora Neale Hurston's classic 1937 novel "Their Eye's Were Watching God." According to Wikipedia.com:

the main character Janie's husband Tea Cake tells her about a fight he had with a man who had a knife, where in the fight Tea Cake "turned him every way but loose", i.e. fought him but did not let the man stab him.

Clint Eastwood plays Philo Beddoe.  He's a blue collar auto-mechanic who's been unlucky with women his entire life, until he becomes smitten with Lynn Halsey-Taylor (Sandra Locke), a traveling, up-and-coming country music singer performing at the local honky-tonk.  Lynn leads him on then skips town.  Philo decides to chase her across the west, his best friends Clyde (the orangutan) and Orville (Geoffrey Lewis) tagging along for the ride.  Meanwhile, Philo crosses a pair of police officers and a motorcycle gang (the "Black Widows") who pursue him for revenge.  Actually, it sounds pretty epic once you summarize all of it like that...

The vintage 70's trailer describes the movie pretty well.  "Hey babe, what do you think of Clint Eastwood?..."




The film is experimental in many respects; unique in it's approach to comedy.  In the following scene Philo feeling lonesome without Lynn, takes Clyde out on the town.  The great Charlie Rich sings "I'll Wake You Up" over the montage.  Skip ahead to 0:43:



Both Philo and Clyde look at the stripper, share a few words, and take swigs of their beers at the same time.  What a moment.  Clint Eastwood hanging out with an orangutang... in a strip club... drinking beers.  It's played completely straight, with a wistful song in the background.  There are laughs, but it seems the director intended the scene to be more about the characters' relationship.  It's a clue that there's more here than the sole formulaic cheap gags and over-stuffed quick laughs indicative of many of today's comedies.

On top of everything else, Philo hustles as a bare-knuckle fighter -- it's how he won/rescued Clyde.  He earns money on the side, fighting throughout the film.  All the while he finds himself compared to the legendary, undefeated "Tank Murdock."  This is where the movie gets really interesting.

Philo finally catches up to Lynn, but instead of that cinematic love-prevails-moment we're conditioned to expect -- especially after this Hero's journey west -- the film goes in the other direction.

He finds her in a bar parking lot with another man she just met, setting him up just like she did Philo at the beginning of the movie.

She spots Philo, her eyes widen.  He approaches them.  (Abridged scene:)

Lynn: It's your own goddamn fault.  Who asked you to follow me?

Philo: I just thought --

Lynn: You thought?  [...] I've been trying to get rid of you practically ever since the first night we met!

Philo: You do this all the time?

Lynn: Yeah I do this all the time, and you and me had our time.  So how come you don't know when to disappear?

Philo: I'm just not too smart, that's all.  'Cause up till now, I'm the only one dumb enough to want to take you further than your bed...

Lynn slaps and punches Philo, who stands there and takes it.  She knocks off his hat, bloodies his nose and his lip, and collapses crying.  When it's over you can see it in his eyes; Philo is stunned, rejected, and heartbroken.  He walks off.

Face still bloody Philo shows up to fight none other than Tank Murdock in a stockyard packed with Tank's fans and admirers.

Once again, Tank Murdock isn't the unbeatable legend you visualize in your mind over the course of the film, nor the rival you'd expect for Clint Eastwood's final challenge.  Tank is fat and over the hill.  Another nice touch: the man wears his old letterman's jacket from high school.  He takes it off for the fight.

Tank Murdock (Walter Barnes)

Tank taunts Philo for his bloody nose and lip, "Looks like you've had a go at it already!  You sure that face won't hurt too much to fight?"

Again challenging our expectations as an audience, Tank proves to be no challenge for Philo, and the crowd starts turning against Tank.  Philo picks up on it and then does something extraordinary.  He drops his guard and lets Tank knock him down.  Instantly Tank's admirers return.  Philo stays down for the count.

This is supposed to be a popcorn movie.  A goofball comedy orangutan movie.  Yet our protagonist is humiliated and outright rejected by the woman he pursues, he loses the final fight, he even loses all his money betting on himself for the fight.  This film has the audacity to say you don't always walk away a winner.  In fact, winning is such a rare thing, it's nearly a crime to take it away from someone who's whole life revolves around being looked at as a winner.  Philo throws the fight and walks away a loser, because he didn't get the thing he wanted most in the world, and he didn't want to take the same away from "the great" Tank Murdock.

Show me a "serious" film that does as good a job of exploring this idea... how about any single other film that dares to lose, the way we lose in real life. 

Yet the movie STILL somehow ends on a happy note, when we cut to this scene -- no music until the credits role:



Life goes on.  If you've still got your friends and your best buddy, it can't all be that bad.

Every Which Way But Loose proves that even "stupid" goofball movies can be meaningful, which is a hell of a thing for a film to establish or achieve.  An orangutan movie, no less.

According to imdb.com:

None of the advisors to Clint Eastwood wanted him to do this film. They did not think it was funny or that audiences would get it

Well, the experiment worked.  "Every Which Way But Loose" was the second highest grossing film of 1978 and his biggest opening until "Gran Torino"was released in 2008.

If I could have a moment of Clint Eastwoods time, I'd ask him if he had any influence on how most of his movies have ended, even one's he hasn't directed, like "Every Which Way But Loose."  Eastwood has an uncanny ability to be in films that have profound/unexpected/offbeat endings.  You'll find them throughout his career, whether you're talking about "Mystic River," or "Thunderbolt and Lightfoot."

Every Which Way But Loose is unique.  "Any Which Way You Can," the sequel, has none of these admirable qualities (it's a funny movie at least).  In fact, it only flies in the face of everything I'm saying here.  For example, Sandra Locke shows up in the first 10 minutes begging Philo's to take her back -- yeah right.

More films should play with genre, the viewer's expectations, and dare to be smart.  These are virtues and we should give films that dare, the proper respect.  ...Maybe it's just easier to call something "stupid."

Ok then, "Right turn Clide!"

Charles Rhoads

Scoring Your Film


Last week I walked out of the theater having just watched Chris Nolan’s latest flick, “Inception”, which was an entertaining movie to be sure; a visual buffet, a thinking man’s blockbuster, and the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all summer...  But the thing that struck me most, which added that extra layer of boner-inducing awesomeness that kept my mind on the film days after i watched it, was the bombastic score.  I just couldn’t get enough of those loud brass aural assaults! 




For someone so ingrained in cinematography and the visual side of film, it’s odd to think that, more often than not, what I find most affects my perception of the events on the screen is the music.




If I’ve always stated that the script is for the actors, and subtext for the camera, then it must be the emotional core that’s left for the composer.  So my question is, with such a meaty chunk of the film experience balanced on score, why do so many aspiring directors overlook this irrefutably integral piece of the pie?
 


I’m talking about you, Joe Filmdude.  Most of you get excited about telling a story, you go all out to track down the newest hot shit camera and a DP that will make you look like you know what you’re doing, and it just about ends there.  Some of you will go the extra mile and have a little money for post effects, but most shorts out there are either illegally co-opting copy written material, or using a synth score that your brother in-law cooked up in his basement. 




How can you expect to have someone dump a boatload of money in your lap for that first feature film if you haven’t tested your mettle in every aspect of the job?  Oh, you think when you have the budget you’ll just hire a composer and wipe your hands of the thing? 




Score can be so many things, heroic, subtle, transformative... For his entire career Sergio Leone actually wanted to bring score into pre-production, a feat he was never able to accomplish until he did "Once Upon a Time in the West".  His concept was to have Ennio Morricone record all the major themes before filming began, and then play the music for the actors during the takes since they were going to be dubbing the audio in a studio later anyway.   This allowed for precisely timed line delivery and blocking, camera moves that sweep up just as the song crescendos... it was experimental and resulted in a very unique feeling film that is now considered the greatest western epic ever made. 




(for those of you who have never seen it and one day plan to, spoilers contained in the clip below)





In this particular clip, the final duel from Once Upon a Time in the West, you realize that this harmonica score that's been so cool the whole time, that's made Charles Bronson such a badass, it's got an origin that ties the whole thing together and you finally understand his motivation.  Score can be so much more than just music behind the story, it can be the story itself.  



Now this is something that I don’t have a ton of experience with, however what little experience I DO have was with high caliber engineers and composers, which changed the way I think about and prepare this side of my films.




Before you mentally cut me off and tell yourself you just don’t have the budget to do a score, I’d tell you the same thing I tell producers who try to sleight the crew, don’t pay respectable rates, and don’t feel they need to have craft services on set… if you can’t afford the essentials, you can’t afford to make your movie.  Clearly I’m only talking about people who are trying to put a serious foot forward and making an already sizeable investment in production, not those of you who are dabbling in shoestring seat of your pants sort of deals (which are of course a necessary step for all of us).  But many of you out there have managed to cobble together several thousand dollars for your short, maybe to the tune of $8,000.  I suggest, why not hold off a little longer and make it $10-11,000?  Why short change yourself the experience of directing an entire production?  How can you develop a style which will set you apart from everyone else, when you’ve only worked with half the tools in the box?  I assure you working with a proper score composer who knows what he’s doing can be more affordable than you'd think and is truly worth it.




Before co-directing Donut Shop Hero, I thought I knew what it meant to score a film.  I thought we could explain the cues we wanted to our composer and the rest would take care of itself.  Well fancy that, when you’ve never been involved with scoring a movie before, it doesn’t exactly come out like you think it will. 




Scoring our film involved creating ‘themes’ for our central character, the villains, dramatic moments and comedic beats…  How do you know when you need a full on song, and when you just need a drum hit?  How do you know when to lean back and not use a score?  I definitely didn’t want to be one of those guys who just lay down a blanket wall-to-wall score to cover poorly paced writing, acting, and editing.




We knew we wanted dirty 70’s funk, something reminiscent of Lalo Schifrin’s score in Dirty Harry or Curtis Mayfield’s work in Superfly.  Here it wasn’t just style over substance, we wanted the audience to feel at any moment our unlikely security guard hero might stand up and go all Dirty Harry on these cats holding up the donut shop. 




After going back to the drawing board several times, the composer finally brought us a theme for our central character that felt like it had always been there -- written, somehow buried in the script when it was conceived and just now unearthed.  With much excitement, Charles and I then went through and laid out our thoughts on where score was needed based on all the different points mentioned above.  “We should be scared here”, “this moment needs a sharp accent”, or “we need Pete’s theme to come in here, but it should sound ‘off’ because he’s unsure of whether he’s going to stand up to fight”, we even gave timecode points where cues should begin and end.  We thought we knew what we were doing.




What we were brought was a movie score laid out to the exact specifications we’d noted, and boy did it make absolutely no sense.  While some of it worked, several moments now fell flat, some of it just felt unfocused.  What followed was a month of intense tweaking, micro managing, and long, very late nights.  I loved every second of it.







What it boils down to is, like in every other aspect of directing, you must get the practice in if you’re ever to walk into a production office and confidently say you know what you’re doing.  So if you’re already out there putting in the work behind a camera, maybe it’s time you thought about extending that investment into post!


-Nick Harris

Developing A Thick Skin

Ok film students and rising stars listen up!  Books and lectures, panels and seminars, school and practice are all great.  They give you insight into so many aspects of the career you've chosen.  But certainly not everything.  I've discovered a couple interesting points never covered in class in this first year of the Hollywood shuffle that I find, well...disturbing.

The first point is this:  For all aspiring producers, wrap your head around the fact that no one ever seems to know what the hell it is you actually do yet without you a production does not exist.  If you're looking for some kind of Harvey Weinstein or Jerry Bruckheimer fame you will have to jump through a whole lot of hoops and be extremely resourceful.  Fair enough, sure, until you run into people who say things like, "Even the Producers Guild doesn't know what a producer does."  Uh oh.  That's a problem begging for conquering.  Then you hear things about producers being completely disrespected on a set/production and you find yourself wondering how in the hell that can be when the producers are the ones who win Best Picture awards due to the fact that they make the entire picture work.  Just keep that in mind as you go forth.  It's not only about the money brought to the table by a producer.  it's so much more and no one seems to really get that.

The second point...Now, here's a supreme piece of learning material you will probably never learn about in film school...Sucess in the entertainment industry has little to do with how talented you are, how skilled you are, how great your ideas are, or how unique your personality is.  No. It's all about being liked by the people who hold the keys to the gates.  You may learn all there is to know about the techniques of production but you'll never get such a lesson on what really goes on in this industry until you drown yourself in it.  And when you do you will discover that you're more apt to get somewhere by being as close to what everyone else is like than not.  Larry David, the genius behind "Seinfeld", faced a similar situation but he's a genius therefore he got through the gates.

See, the idea is to look as gorgeous as you possibly can at all times and be as sweet as possible at all times then you'll get an audience, assistance, a pass.  You may have bad ideas, empty scripts, partial knowledge but if you are liked then you will be given chances and shown the light.  So, for ladies, be as cute and feminine and flirty as possible.  It makes everyone feel good about themselves.  Distracts from the fact that there may be far better people out there than the ones that hold the keys.  Keeps the fear of you being an overriding, competing force at bay.  And guys, learn to be charming, fast talking, funny and a really big fan of male bonding.  Sexism.  It's what sells!  Oh, and, if you have any handicap or visible imperfection at all find a way to conceal it.  It will make them uncomfortable if not.  It's simply about relationships in this industry.  Forge a million good, shallow relationships and you'll be allowed to play.  Maybe not by your rules...ask Francis Ford Coppola about that...but you'll get to play.

Do I agree with this school of thought?  Nope. No.  Not at all.  Not one bit.  It goes against my very grain.  It always has, it always will.  I imagine Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton turning over in their graves at the news.  Along with so many others who fought hard for equality of the sexes.  Who taught strength and character, talent and skill as being some of the pillars of success.  Wasn't Jesus Christ one of those such people?

I'm all for character myself.  I like unique personalities.  Every one of my friends is unique and intelligent.  People who make you think and appreciate things.  Every crew member on our sets is hired based on their skills and talents and their uniqueness, not their sameness.  I like a good conversation at lunch on a production.  Not empty talk.  Original people provide that.  And because they think outside of the box I know that in a pinch they will be innovative with whatever the problem at hand might be.

I'm finding more and more each day that this industry is stuck in the 1950's.  It refuses to progress.  It refuses to be bold.  Too risky.  Why screw up a working formula?  Well, if you've seen the movies lately that formula is becoming a failure.  However, it goes on until someone brave enough, well liked for their uniqueness enough, and focused enough decides to change it.  Until then, ya, I suppose I follow the archaic rules when I have to.  I try to be the person who doesn't make the big boys feel uncomfortable.  I don't stand up and flip the table over when some veteran producer sitting across from me tells me I need to girlie it up more or my irreparable lazy eye is a shortcoming that should be fixed.  I don't scream at them when they tell me "that's just the way it is, unfortunately", and remind them that it wouldn't be that way had they just had the backbone to stand up and be who they are, demand to be judged by merit and merit alone.  No.  I sit and smile, nod and say thanks at the end.  I fume as I drive home.  Wonder why the hell I didn't get some technical advice as to how to get my foot in the door at a studio or as a showrunner when that's all I was asking for.  I rage about the slow progression of equality in this life.  I shower a series of complaints on a friend willing to hear it.  Then I sit down and write.  I brandish the pen...well...these days, the keyboard.  Much more powerful than flipping the table over in the end.

I know me sitting here and even writing down my opinion on all of this is a risk.  I could get a reputation as being a whiner, difficult, not normal, a true discomfort.  I assure you that is something I certainly can be...just like everyone else...but when it comes to production, that is not me.  I focus on trying to make amazing visual pieces.  Improving on my skills rather than my smile.  No griping.  Just doing.  I am who I am.  Sometimes I can be a troubling conscience.  Sometimes I can be a warm comfort.  Either way I'm a person who just wants to create.  Why limit anyone to being the same person as everyone else?

And now, with that said, I leave you with the following words from a veteran LA entertainer of impeccable talent and outstanding success.  I'm just sayin'... - TKS

Aenima by Tool

Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this

Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of
Freaks

Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any fucking time. Any fucking day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona bay.

Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car.

It's a
Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of
Freaks

Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any fucking time. Any fucking day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona bay.

Some say a comet will fall from the sky.
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves.
Followed by faultlines that cannot sit still.
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits.

Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will cuz
I sure could use a vacation from this

Stupid shit, silly shit, stupid shit...

One great big festering neon distraction,
I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied.

Learn to swim.
Learn to swim.
Learn to swim.

Mom is going to fix it all soon,
Mom is coming round to put it back
The way it oughtta be...

Learn to swim.

Fuck L Ron Hubbard and
Fuck all his clones.
Fuck all these gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.

Learn to swim.

Fuck retro anything.
Fuck your tattoos.
Fuck all you junkies and
Fuck your short memory.

Learn to swim.

Fuck smiley glad-hands
With hidden agendas.
Fuck these dysfunctional,
Insecure actresses.

Learn to swim.

Cuz I'm praying for rain
And I'm praying for tidal waves
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom please flush it all away.
I wanna see it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in.
Watch you flush it all away.

Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.

I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.

I wanna see it all come down.
Suck it down.
Flush it down.

An Overlooked Aspect of The Writing Process

Some authors see writing as an exorcism.  They describe some nagging psychological haunt that won't go away until it's banished to a page.  The writing process can change you.  Think of all the discoveries you make in the process of completing a long piece of work, and all that you learn about yourself.  Ideas that drive and inspire you ripen in a script or a novel.  Inspirations can also get old and sterile -- or worse you can get sick of feeling, seeing, thinking, smelling and tasting them again, and again, and again... and again.

On top of that think of all the news, pain, happiness, and experience that transpired in your other, real life while you spent all that time traveling back and forth from your imagination...

When you complete your script, are you the same person you were when you started writing it?
 

Probably not, but it depends.  What are your writing habits?  Do you outline?  How many drafts do you write?  Do you write all the way through a first draft before you go back and look at your work, or are you a writer that re-reads and revises all of the previous days work before a new word is written?  Those preferences and superstitions combine into a long process or a short one; does it make you one of those blowhard writers who swear it takes a journey to write something worth reading, or one of those cocky crackerjacks who explode script faster than oil shooting into the gulf?  (or are you one of the other writers who fall somewhere in between?)

Give your preferences some thought, because they combine to affect how different you are at the beginning and end of the process.  How much time did you allow yourself to change?  What freedom did you allow yourself to question your perspectives, or potentially lose motivation in your subject?

It's possible that our consistency or our ability to change, is what ultimately distinguishes a good writer from a great writer.  You are not the same person you were when you started writing that first draft... How different are you?  And how does that affect a script?

Maybe its a good thing to change; like getting another set of eyes to scrutinize your work on the next draft, with the advantage of sharing the same intimate knowledge of the script.  Stephen King might agree when he offers the following advice in his increasingly seminal book, "On Writing."

"How long you let your book rest [...] should be a minimum of six weeks. [...] When you come to the correct evening [...] take your manuscript out of the drawer.  If it looks like an alien relic bought at a junk-shop or yard sale where you can hardly remember stopping, you're ready."

Divorce yourself from the material to get a clearer perspective, until you're less attatched to any line or section that doesn't serve the work as a whole.  Become a different person, with tweaked tastes and sensibilities who will approach the work with new found experience.  Who knows?  Maybe she'll discover that old-you's ideas are sophomoric and stupid...

Maybe there's an advantage to drawing a first draft out long enough for your views to change.  The tone of the work at the beginning will be inconsistent with the end, but in exchange you can attack the second draft with maturity, perspective, and new ideas.

Maybe it's healthy and even beneficial to change alongside your characters.

Then again, to let one person start a book, then hand it off to a stranger to finish it sounds like it could be a terrible idea...  What if consistency is the thing, and it's best to fight change however possible; to stay true to your original ideas -- to keep them vibrant and mysterious, and protect that they stay as close as possible to how you first found them.  Maybe this approach keeps the energy in a script, and one should rush through the writing process to avoid changing too much before he or she finishes?

Perhaps the mark of a great writer is his ability to change, but remain true to their original intentions on the page?...  What are your thoughts, fellow writers?

Charles Rhoads

You Gotta Watch This Movie: The Thing (1982)

 This is a new article series where we write about movies that have inspired us, driven us, left us speechless, or are just so well executed we have to talk about them. 

I’m going to kick this off with a movie I wish I had been exposed to years ago, but thankfully I finally watched in its incredible blu-ray release, John Carpenter’s “The Thing”.

Maybe you’ve seen it, but if you haven’t, hopefully we can expose you to movies you’ve never given a chance or one’s you’ve never heard of.  Either way, if it’s in this series, see if you can dig it up from somewhere, get it on blu-ray if you can, or at least throw it on your netflix queue (heck it might even be streaming).  I guarantee that whether you share our taste in films or not, for people who enjoy film, anything in this series will be worth your time.

-Nick Harris

 

The Thing (1982)

From the first heartbeat synth notes of Ennio Morricone’s haunting score, the atmosphere has already dug its hooks into you.  BUM… BUM-BUM… BUM-BUM… A lone helicopter flies over the vast, white expanse of the barren Anarctic.  The sheer scope of the landscape immediately claustrophobic; in a place like this there’s nowhere to run.  A gun shot echoes amongst the thrumming gravitas of the chopper blades.  They are hunting something – a dog.

It’s 1982 and a scientific research team has just unearthed an alien ship buried in 100,000 years of ice.  The pilot is revealed to be a shape-shifting creature; one that first takes the form of a sled dog, infiltrates the team, and soon begins to absorb them one by one in their isolated research facility.

The genius of this movie, however, is that it’s not really about the alien.  The shape-shifting effects are terrifying and incredibly conceived, in fact they are some of the best from a time when these sorts of things were hand crafted (giving them a sense of being more visceral, I might add).  But, as the researchers (led by Kurt Russell’s “Mac” MacReady) discover this “Thing” could be any one of them, paranoia over who can be trusted crumbles years of friendship, camaraderie, and faith.  “The Thing” is the story of 12 desperate men, alone in the bitter freeze with nowhere to go… and so into the darkness they venture. 

On the commentary track, John Carpenter and Kurt Russell recall saying throughout production that, “if at any point we don’t treat this story with complete and deadly seriousness, we will fail.”

 And serious this movie is. 

I have long said that what I love about film is that it can take you to impossible places.  When I sit in that theater seat I like to go on a ride, an adventure; to see worlds and characters and conditions I’m never going to see in real life, but I want it to feel real. 

The reason this movie is so effective is because they managed to take a far out concept of the “body snatcher” variety, stick it in a setting that’s unique and alien, yet of this world; and ground it with strikingly real characters.  All of this and a trip into the darkness of man’s psyche make for something that you will never forget.

The cast and crew look back on the production as a miserable, grueling experience.  Glamorous Hollywood film this was not, they lived it for 6 months.  The clouds of breath in the air, the shivers from the extreme temperatures of an unforgiving location -- all are authentic.

The cinematography is perfect, the effects are bar none, and John Carpenter shows why he was once one of our most talented directors. 

You gotta watch this movie!

The Meeting Of Minds

"The meetings.  It's all about the meetings", he said with a light chuckle. "Ya.  It is", I responded with a smile.  At the time I thought I knew what the guy was talking about.  How else do you complete a production if you don't meet with your core crew and cast?  But a few years and a slew of meetings later I now know exactly what he was saying.  For the life of me I can't remember who the guy was who said it or what the situation was but for some reason his all knowing yet humble demeanor towards meetings never left my memory.

In the past 5 years my life has been nothing but a series of meetings.  Meetings to network, meetings to gather crew, meetings to find the right cast, meetings to follow up, meetings with potential clients, meetings to just make a connection, meetings to find the right mesh, meetings to build the rolodex, meetings to find the right lawyer, meetings to find the right accountant, meetings with people you just plain like, meetings to plan a collaboration, meetings to ask for assistance, meetings to find the next rung on the ladder, meetings to offer assistance, and meetings to catch up with people you haven't seen in a while.  Meetings, meetings, and more meetings.  They are the backbone of this industry.

There have been some really awkward ones for sure.  A guy looking for a production company but clearly not meshing with our personalities, a fickle indie producer acting like they knew what they were doing but having no answers, ideas, or respect for anything in the end, an actor looking to turn writer/producer but so overwhelmed they emitted fumes of stress, a scamming director claiming to have investors for a slate of films, a development producer refusing to want to find money or laugh at a joke, a director who threw out strange smiles that came and went faster than the speed of light for seemingly no reason at all, a producer/sales rep who didn't trust a word said and actually came off angry and suspicious at the first and only meeting, and a marketing guy who used such large words and threw in such random knowledge of everything it was hard to decide if he was as knowledgeable as he claimed to be.  And most of the above took more than one meeting to find out the end result was not going to be good.

But then there have been some great ones.  Looking for interns was one of the great series.  I ran into so many excellent personalities, eager to learn, talk, listen and help.  Some of those ran long and to this day we all stay in touch.  Talking to a film festival marketer who raved about our short (praise is always good!) gave us the much needed boost at the time.  A production company owner who came from TV offering up so much info in his quick producer speak my pen never stopped writing.  A few Canadian directors and producers with great ideas and professional demeanors at the level of short film production.  Getting to know a fellow alumni and studio guy over dinner and drinks that moved on to a friendship and trips to art galleries and LA hot spots.  Sitting down with an editor to discuss making the impossible happen in a damn near impossible time frame...and making it all work out.  A DP with clear knowledge and excellent work but very little overbearing ego over lunch and a beer.  Catching up with a couple producer friends over breakfast to see if all was going well in our worlds.  Meeting a San Diego man through commenting on pay vs. no pay in the entertainment industry on Craigslist that lead to referrals and a job opportunity a couple times a year.  And last but not least all those company meetings with anyone interested in helping us build our foundation.  What learning those meetings have accomplished! 

Whether bad or good meetings are what build those very important relationships.  They provide for referrals.  They create new friends and collaborators.  They let everyone know you exist.  They reveal your personal essence.  I don't care how skilled, how talented, how efficient a person may be, if they are not out there following up networking events with meetings or sitting down with people in the industry to form friendships or, as a producer/director, meeting all cast/crew who will be on a production, success will be difficult.  We have a million ways to communicate these days but in the end it's the tried and true meeting that secures a trust and a bond between people. I get what that guy was saying more than ever before.  It really is all about those meetings. - TKS

Be a 1st AD, Be a Better Filmmaker

Walk a mile in a 1st Assistant Director's shoes (you'll probably end up walking a cumulative 7-8 by the end of the day) and you'll learn a lot about directing.  By leaving your creative hat on the rack when you walk out the door for your 3:00 AM call time, you'll be liberated to experience (not simply witness) a lot about how a set breathes, beats, moves, and functions.  A recent project allowed me that great opportunity.

I remember directing past projects, standing there, looking at my watch, wondering, "Alright, why aren't we shooting?

I'd ask the DP, who'd respond: "I don't know, I'm ready..."

Suddenly you'd realize everyone was standing around waiting for someone to move production forward.  -- One of many situations where excess anxiety came out as visible sweat, while I tried to understand why in God's name things weren't moving the way the schedule said they would.

For the uninitiated, according to "The Everything Filmmaking Book," (yes, one of those generic Barnes and Noble specials out there -- don't lie, you've got one too) a first AD's job description is:

"[Someone who keeps] the balance between actual filming and the daily production schedule. [...] They track a film's progress, prepare call sheets, and make sure that everything is on time and within range of the schedule.  They also coordinate with actors and crew to maintain shooting schedules."

Simply put: Everyone on their set has their role.  The director, the DP, actors, make-up, production designer, etc. -- the AD coordinates every department to move through the schedule quickly, efficiently, and as seamlessly as possible (safely) without trading off too much quality in return.

That was a huge lesson: there is a real and distinct trade off between quality and schedule.

The day started off like this: grip and electric appear to be doing their jobs... check.  Make up is setting up... all systems go, extras, actors and director are staged and prepped.  The DP (Nick), was setting up the shot with his crew and I hadn't realized the director in me hadn't been properly exorcised:

"Give them time!  They need time get it just right.  You need some more time? -- Take it!  Have some more time, get it perfect.  How much time would you need?...  Alright you have 5 minutes... 5 minutes are up.  Not done, ok go ahead and take another 5 minutes..."

The director in me was way to sympathetic.  The AD wasn't driving, he was being driven over.  Thankfully Trina (of course, our resident producer/production manager, and once again savior of productions) pulled me aside and talked sense into me.

A DP can spend hours making a shot better, and a director can spend hours working with actors to achieve her vision.  Unrestrained, no doubt the perfectionists and obsessives among us would take another hour on top of those hours to "just nail it," but something inside (or the AD) has to tell them when it's time to stop.

That time to stop became much clearer for me after stepping outside of the creative realm, into the world of the 1st AD.  Things can always be improved, but at some point, less improvement starts taking more time.  Look at the convenient graph below to see what I mean:

When the AD reaches the above point, there's a judgment call -- give them a few more minutes to reach for that forbidden fruit because we're already ahead of schedule?  Take the time gain and save it for a tough shot coming up?  Or GO NOW because we're fighting daylight.

As a director or a DP, knowing that point of diminishing return is extremely valuable.  The trouble of course, is recognizing it and then forcing yourself to stop.  It's a discipline that can be improved the more you're fundamentally attached to it's importance.  If you can cut yourself off, you won't render the AD's job meaningless, but at least you'll be shaving even more precious time off the schedule, keeping moral high, getting everything you need, and making your producer very happy.

Other valuable lessons and practice:

• If the AD doesn't need to tell you what you should be doing next, you're saving even more time and probably doing your job better.  What should you be doing next?  The answer and the urgency to get to what's next is something that being an AD can instill (or a good AD WILL instill on set).
• This one's pretty standard, but it always bears repeating: think your production all the way through in pre-production.  The answers should come fast (a little extra bonus time granted for problem solving).
• Delegate, use resources in parallel, and keep it moving, keep it moving, keep it moving.

Execution is easy to overlook when you're caught up in the creative aspects of filmmaking, but when it comes down to budget, set stress level (and what that does to performance and safety), and getting everything you need before the day is out, execution is as important as it gets.

Charles Rhoads

Nicktales: Things You Step In On Set (a cautionary tale)

It was a crisp June morning in downtown LA when it happened…

5:45am; I pull up to the front of the penthouse loft we’re shooting in to unload my camera gear. The city hasn’t truly awoken yet, and the streets are empty save for a distant street sweeper whirring along sweeping streets and ticketing unsuspecting vehicle owners.

Taking the last swig from an energy drink, I quietly prep myself with a mental checklist of what is to come. The director was inexperienced and also acting as the DP, I knew the It was going to be a long day. Looking into the rear view mirror -- back at the pile of black cases full of gear in my Jeep I think to myself, “even on these longest days of shooting, at least I get to shoot.”

Then I step out of the car, my flip-flop wearing foot squarely landing on a fresh, glistening, layer-of-goo-covered pile of dog biscuit, sliding a good 5 inches before coming to a stop.

Let’s take a moment to appreciate that stepping in shit with your sneakers is one thing, stepping in shit in sandals -- much worse. The reason being is that -- the shit was tall, it was substantial and ever so slightly, when I surfed the wave of this shit sundae in my sandals, it grazed bare skin.

I bet at least one day in the glamorous movie set life of film sensation Jimmy Stewart started this way, quietly scraping his footwear of choice on the curb, maybe picking it out of the nooks and crannies of a rubber soled shoe with a stick.

Dogs-1, Nick-0

So halfway into the day, I’m in the middle of lighting a scene in the living room. Now -- in all of the scenarios where I’m on set, never in the mental registry of “things that might spontaneously happen”, did “dog will appear and urinate on my feet” enter that list.

See, there was no dog, no dog on set. No dog even conceivably close to the set. You can imagine everyone’s surprise when all of a sudden, without warning; a dog bursts onto the set.

I watch as this big, goofy puppy appears as if supernaturally, chased by a PA while the producer shouts “this can’t happen, this can’t happen!”, and tears around the room knocking things over, tail wagging like a windshield wiper and excited as can be. He narrowly escapes the grasping fingertips of everyone in his path, generally causing quite an impressive amount of chaos before turning his sights past me.

As he shoots by, I stoop down and grab him by the collar. I look into this dogs eyes and he’s just the happiest thing I’ve ever seen! Of course he’s still incredibly excitable so when I try to calm him down by rubbing his face and ears, this guy lets go, pissing all over everything, including on my feet.

Dogs-2 Nick-0

From now on, mandatory for any production I work on, it will be stipulated in the contract that at least one man with a net be standing on dog watch at all time. Apparently these dogs are a menace.

Just a week later I was barefoot again (why am I always barefoot in these stories?), shooting a steadicam shot on a private beach in Malibu.

The shots were gorgeous, the singer and the model looked amazing, everyone had a good time on that beach. When we were walking up the stairs back to the main set, someone points out "Hey there’s a giant seagull feather stuck to your foot." And there was, a giant, filthy, crusty seagull feather jutting out from the bottom of my heel. When it wouldn’t scrape off via my other foot, I had to reach down and saw that it was pasted onto my foot with nothing other than -- oh yes, a palm sized LAYER OF DOG SHIT!

Dogs-3 Nick-0

Now I'm thinking, do dogs have a pact with the universe against me or something? Did I accidentally kick a sack of puppies and I don’t remember it?

But when I reach down to peel the feather away it’s really stuck on there. This isn’t dog shit, it’s toxic sludge.

Whew, Dogs-2 Nick-1?

It stunk of motor oil, and refused to come off, even when I used a shell from some kid's shell collection to scrape it off. It was like pulling gum out of hair, just stuck.

This of course is when my gaffer comes out to tell me their ready for my approval on the lighting in the next scene we’d had them set up while we shot on the beach. So of course I spent the next hour lighting and shooting this music video with my heel covered in delicious, cancerous, oil. I know it’s impossible that it’s from the BP spill, but all the same:

Oil Barons-1 Nick-0

Hollywood, it’s a glamorous business we’re in :D

-Nick