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“Action!”
In This Chapter
Real World Versus Absolute Perfection
Shoot for a Variety of Coverage
Consider Shooting Interviews with a Racked Out Background
I mentioned earlier that on my first day at the production facility in a large company my boss sat me down and said he wanted to talk to me about POTS (Proposal, Outline, Treatment, Script). Another memorable comment he made was that if the full production process were laid out on a continuum, the shoot would be a very short part of the overall process. He was right, of course. But what I learned over time was that it is also a very critical part. All the elements planned for in preproduction are brought together in that short, but intense period of recording: people, equipment, locations—all of which can cost a good deal of money—must be coordinated almost flawlessly to achieve success. I say “almost” because I’ve yet to direct a shoot on which at least a few things didn’t go wrong.
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BREAKOUT 8.1 “KNOWING WHAT WORKS: THE KEY TO CREATIVE ‘INSTINCT’”
You’ve just watched playback on a shot involving a host addressing the camera as he walks through an office area. The shot included a fairly long dolly move, beginning with a tricky tilt up and rack focus from a computer screen. The crew and client are standing around the monitor with you.
The videographer speaks up first. “You’ll never get the move any better,” he says. “It was right on the money.”
The audio recordist follows with, “Sound was perfect. No rustle, good level. Crystal clear.”
The AD turns to you offering a congratulatory smile and thumbs up.
And finally, the client chimes in with, “Looked really great to me. Boy, this actor is good.”
Does this sound like music to any director’s ears?
Sure it does. But in this case there’s one little problem. You weren’t sold on the performance. You felt it was a little too stiff and formal to come off credibly. It didn’t have the warm, conversational quality you’ve decided is an important part of making this host character believable. Adding to your discomfort is the fact that this was take nine, you’re an hour behind schedule, and the client has been pacing nervously since take five.
So, here’s your dilemma: Do you buy the scene and move on in hopes of making up some time and getting back on schedule? Or do you get farther behind, irritate everyone (including your tiring actor) and call for take ten?
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As you think about your answer, consider the fact that this is a common situation in the world of the corporate media director, and it gives rise to two very interesting questions.
First, who’s right? If everyone else watching the scene thinks the performance was great, why argue about it? Your videographer is a well-seasoned pro. Your sound person has been around forever. And the client? Heck, he’s paying the bill! The majority voice should be accurate, then, right? So, why not just call it a buy and move on?
Second, what exactly is this performance you want, anyway? And how should it be judged? What is the manifestation of the “warm and conversational quality” you’re after? Is it smooth? Informal? Casual? Chatty? Let’s assume we define it as smooth. Does smooth, then, manifest itself in the same way for you as another director? Is there a chance one of your peers might watch this same shot and actually say it’s too smooth? Too causal? It needs more “authority,” “presence,” more “formality?” The answer, of course, is yes, and I’m sure you get my drift. Judging any shot—or, for that matter, any aspect of a creative work—can seem like a confusing, and at times, very frustrating paradox. A “good” piece of work in one director’s eyes might be judged as “poor” by another. And who’s to say which one is right?
Though the question may seem paradoxical, the answer is actually very simple.
A small percentage of any group of directors will have a subtle but invaluable aesthetic sense that I call knowing what works; three simple words, but in the business of creating good media they define the “instinct” that makes the best writers, producers, and directors stand out from their peers. Why? Because knowing what works gives these creative people the ability to view a performance, script, or complete program and experience a very accurate gut-feel for how good it really is.
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So where does this “knowing what works” instinct come from? Again, the answer is not rocket science, but it is important. Knowing what works comes from an ability to view your work, not just through your own creative eyes, but rather through the eyes of your audience. Audience—there it is, that all-important word so many writers, directors and producers don’t quite understand.
Those who do, know that the best of them, both in Hollywood and the corporate boardrooms across America, are acutely tuned and in perfect creative sync with the tastes and preferences of their audiences. When they accept or reject a scene, they are not just standing in front of a monitor surrounded by crew and clients, they are also sitting in a conference room or theater, weeks or months in the future, as the final product they’ve created plays on a screen. And through the combination of these present and future aesthetic perspectives, they gain an immediate, very accurate gut-instinct of what works.
Which brings us back to that initial question.
If it’s you in front of that monitor, do you buy the scene and move on, or go for take ten? Once again, the answer is simple—simple to state, that is. If, as you sit with the audience in that theater or conference room in your future, what you’ve just witnessed rings completely true and comfortable, buy it and move on.
If it doesn’t?
Grit your teeth, take a deep breath, and say, “Sorry, folks. First positions, please.”
Many of the “issues” that arise on a shoot can, and should be, dealt with by the AD and other crew members. Some of the most important things a director deals with are:
• Execution
• Command
• Critical judgments.
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As the director you are the guide, the supervisor and the critic who will judge the actors’ or employees’ performances. As the guide you set the pace of the shoot and move it forward towards a successful, cost-effective and hopefully “on-time” completion. That may mean detours at some points, dropping shots or even complete scenes, talking with clients and company personnel, overcoming any number of obstacles and generally creating a sense of confidence that the crew will find comfortable and reassuring.
A director who does not have command or does not guide a shoot effectively will leave the crew hesitant and anxious. I knew a director who operated by the seat of his pants and often had to put up with chaotic mishaps and all manner of problems and delays. He did manage to get material shot, but it was only with a great deal of help from the crews he hired. The videographer would often be in charge of working out blocking and lighting on the spot. He would also have to give directions to actors, asking them to hit marks, turn certain ways or walk slower or faster. The crew would scramble to get lighting set ups in place and often “run” to the next scene to try to keep the shoot on schedule. Meanwhile the AD would run interference for the director with the client and company employees.
As I said, he did get material shot and, for the most part, he managed to get by on this type of work ethic, but he got very little respect from the crews he worked with and often the actors or employees. In my mind, without the respect of the people he works with, a director is failing at one of the most important aspects of the job. In addition, the work he produced could have been of a much better quality had he taken the time to prepare and schedule properly.
BREAKOUT 8.2 “HANDS-ON AND HANDS-OFF DIRECTORS”
I’ve worked with “hands-on” directors who micromanage virtually every element of their projects. I’ve also worked with “hands-off” directors who place virtually all of their focus on the actors’ performances and let the videographer, sound, grips, gaffers, PAs and others do the rest—for instance, select angles and focal lengths, determine the lighting, and even lay out basic blocking.
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I’m the hands-on type, but I try not to be obnoxious about it. My reasoning comes down to a single word: Accountability. On a shoot I’m directing, I am the one who will very soon attend an approval meeting in which the client, and possibly a troop of other managers and executives, will gather. If during that meeting a particular shot, wardrobe choice, sound issue or blocking are disappointing to these clients, I will be the person accountable to those clients and (probably also sitting in on the meeting) the producer. That’s a big responsibility from both a creative and financial perspective. In some cases it may involve thousands of dollars, critical timelines and company or departmental reputations. It’s a responsibility that I take very seriously.
It is because of this level of accountability that I have no qualms asking the videographer or, for that matter, any crew member to change some element of any shot. Since I’m going to be the only one held accountable, I feel it’s imperative that I trust my gut and make sure that what I get on the screen is a reflection of my tastes, opinions, desires and logic.
The same holds true for postproduction. Significant creative decisions are made in the edit suite. The editor will have his tastes and opinions, as will the sound engineer, and I will always be open to them. But in the end, I will always make the decisions for better or worse.
So what is the key ingredient? The preparation we’ve been discussing in earlier chapters: the careful thought and attention to detail in preproduction; the visualization and consideration of what it takes to get certain shots; the empathy that helps a director recognize good performances by his actors; careful scheduling, and the sense of confidence this type of preparation produces. It’s this confidence that allows the director to make calm, admirable, effective decisions, and earn the respect of all crew members as well as actors and employees.
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REAL WORLD VERSUS ABSOLUTE PERFECTION
As much as we writers, producers and directors talk about the challenges of achieving excellence in all phases of our work, the truth is that absolute perfection is often an elusive and difficult commodity to come by—especially in media production. I’ve experienced countless situations where I’ve had to settle for something less than 100 percent perfection, and all producers and directors fight this battle continually. So what is the relationship between talk of perfection on the pages of a book like this and the reality of judging recorded performances under enormous pressure in the field?
I call it just what it is: “real world perfection.”
Not long ago I produced a program that offers a good example. It was a semi-dramatic show on the terrible effects of alcohol addiction. I had done extensive preparation on the production, and hired what I felt were excellent actors and crew. I was hit with a big surprise, however, on day one of the shoot. The person I had cast in the lead role was not up to the task. She had obviously not studied her lines, and she was simply not nearly as comfortable and convincing in the role as I had thought she would be. As I thought back to the auditions, I felt perhaps I had been more taken by her look and a kind of brooding personality she seemed to exhibit than her performance. She was very thin and, although somewhat attractive, she also looked weathered as if years of alcohol addiction had taken its toll on her. The reads she had done seemed very convincing to me and based on those criteria, I had chosen her for the role. Now, however, on the shoot, her performance felt stilted and “overbaked.” My first thought was to work with her. At one point shortly after we had begun, I asked the crew to take five and I called her aside. We discussed the role and I encouraged her to take whatever time she needed to get comfortable in the character and, when she was ready, to “take it down a notch of two.”
It didn’t work. I was placed in a position no director wants to experience. My lead actor was not working out and, as a result of her performance, the program would appear corny and overbaked. The client (who thankfully was not on the shoot) would cringe when she saw the edited scenes.
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I decided that instead of panicking, I would take some time by myself and consider options. I gave the crew an early lunch and thought it over. I realized much of her unconvincing performance showed in her facial expressions and gestures. Her voice alone wasn’t great, but when it wasn’t matched with her facial expressions, and when it was edited to eliminate some words and phrases, I felt that with the help of a good editor we could make it work. And I knew that, in postproduction, there were ways I could significantly reduce her time on camera. I could also use the strong performances of the other actors to drive home the believability of the scenes.
In short, it worked well, but not to perfection. The client didn’t notice that in post we had cut around the lead actress to a large degree. And he was very pleased with the end result, as was I. So that was one program that, under the circumstances, ended up not being “perfect,” but given the conditions and the options available at the time, what I thought of as “real world perfection.”
This is just one of many situations that come up in production. The point, of course, is that as directors we all want the perfection of wonderful camera shots, Academy Award-winning actors, gorgeous lighting and crystal-clear sound, but the reality is many times this is not possible. How we deal with that lack of perfection—the judgments and decisions we make and the results we produce—are powerful measures of our creative professionalism.
Though I have not covered the mechanics of production in this book, I have talked about knowing what works and some ways to achieve it. The following are a few brief production tips that support that aim.
I worked with an intern who was directing a PSA that offered help to teen runways. One scene involved a mysterious man standing under a streetlight at night. He was to open out his jacket and inside we would see superimposed titles (offering a helpline) move up and out of an inside pocket.
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We had set up a single streetlight in black limbo in one corner of our studio. The talent was an employee. His action was simply to open his jacket, revealing the pocket inside, and holding the jacket open as (later in post) the titles emerged. The image would then freeze and a voice-over narrator would tell viewers how critical it was that they contribute.
When we were nearly set up, I noticed the intern had brought in a ladder. I asked how she planned to cover the scene. “It’s pretty simple,” she said. “I’ll shoot a wide shot from a high angle so we’ll be looking down on the man under the light. He’ll just stand there and on cue, open out his jacket. I’ll also get an eye-level medium shot.”
“Great,” I said. “The high angle sounds perfect. Then what?”
“When we have that shot, we’ll bring the camera down to just below eye level and I’ll shoot a close-up of his open jacket. In post, we’ll freeze it and super the titles.”
“Will the jacket already be open when you shoot the close-up?” I asked.
She started to say yes, but then realized what I was getting at and had a second thought. “Ah . . . no. Actually, we’ll have him go through the motion of opening it so we can cut on the action in post.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
She had remembered that when the footage arrived in post, the editor would be looking for action on both shots—the high wide angle and the low medium close-up. That would allow him to make the edit from the high to the low angle in the “middle” of the action of the jacket being opened, thereby making the edit all but invisible. Had she shot the low angle as a still shot with the jacket already opened, the editor would have had to wait for the action in the high angle to come to a stop and then cut to the low angle, also still, with the jacket open. This would mean he’d be cutting together two still shots—which would accentuate and call attention to the edit.
This is an important bit of craftsmanship to remember. On virtually any two shots that will cut directly together, if there is motion involved, the director should be sure to record motion on the tail end of the outgoing shot and on the front end of the incoming shot. This will allow the editor to create good clean edits that, assuming continuity is intact and the shots are not jump cuts, are virtually invisible.
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Shoot for a Variety of Coverage
Along with the idea of shooting to cut on action, whenever possible a director should also shoot for variety. Angles and focal lengths should vary in order to keep visual interest on the screen. A series of, say, wide shots with no medium shots or close-ups to break up the action can become visually monotonous and tend to “hypnotize” the audience. A variety of shots, on the other hand, will keep the viewers’ eyes moving, discovering and interpreting what is being presented on the screen—in other words, it will keep them involved.
Consider Shooting Interviews with a Racked Out Background
Camera placement can have a powerful effect on shots of interviewees. Though it’s not always advisable, most times I try to place the camera a good distance, perhaps 20 feet or more, away from the subject. I also try to combine this with a location that has a good deal of depth behind the subject, again, perhaps 20–30 feet—or more. With these kinds of distances, you will have to zoom in prior to shooting the interviewee to get a medium close-up and that will have the effect of “crushing” or racking out the background and foreground. This will make the subject stand out in the frame, creating an image that, assuming the light is good, will be very attractive. The out-of-focus background will also provide a nice soft background for the interviewee’s upper-body image to appear in. In addition, sometimes out-of-focus foreground images, perhaps the edge of a plant or a book can also enhance the shot.
This isn’t always the best choice, for instance when background items must be seen, and perhaps be readable. But in many cases the longer shot works very well.
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It’s a good idea when scouting, however, to be cautious of backgrounds that may be too “hot” or bright. A “blown-out” background will require additional lighting to “pump up” the foreground image of the subject. And most times this makes the subject appear to be lit—not a very nice look.
On the other hand, a camera placed very close to the subject will necessitate a wide angle to get a medium close-up, possibly creating a bit of lens distortion. Of course, there may be times when this type of look is the objective.
I directed a United Way program designed to solicit contributions from employees of a very large company. The subject was substance abuse and the story involved an addicted mother and her son. Much of the dramatic material was shot in my home. All went very well (I thought) until I got to postproduction and found that the audio on two key scenes—that had been shot in my kitchen—were “boomy” (they had a slight, but disturbing echo). The problem had come about because the audio person on the shoot had not done his job correctly. He’d heard the boomy audio in his headphones as it was being recorded, but never called my attention to the problem. As the director, I, too, was at fault. I normally watched and listened to playback of each take, but on this shoot, we were behind schedule and since the actors’ performances had been so convincing, I simply looked at the camera and sound person and got thumbs up telling me that all was good.
We ended up having to do dialogue replacement on these shots. This meant placing newly recorded audio over the video, matching the actor’s lip action. It turned out to be a nightmare. Talent had to be re-scheduled for another day and as she watched playback on a monitor in a sound booth, she had to try to say the lines convincingly, matching the lip movements of the scene shot in my house.
What I can say about that incident and other sound problems I’ve run into, is this: If sound issues are overlooked in the heat of production, they can severely damage your program, which you will discover after the shoot in post, when it’s too late. My suggestion is this: regardless of your schedule, be sure to record quality sound and consider it equally as important as recording quality images. Take it from me, if you don’t, it’s not a matter of if, but rather when that audio will come back to bite you!
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It has often been said that film and video production is a collaborative effort. In many respects this is true. The work of the crew has a major impact on how well the shoot goes and the end results. The videographer will pan, tilt, focus and zoom, all of which will provide the attractive shots the director is after. The grips and gaffers will keep the shoot moving and provide lighting and support for the videographer’s work. The AD and production assistants will deal with the client’s wishes, actors, paperwork, employees and executives’ needs.
In many cases, these are the utilitarian aspects of a production. The creative aspects, however, are a different animal. The director is hired primarily for his creative talent and ability to work with professionals to get acceptable, editable segments and credible performances. This means that the director should make most of the creative decisions independently. The word “collaborative” does not refer to a director having a democratic-type decision-making meeting with crew to call a performance a buy or go for the next take.
This is not to say that crew members may not have valid suggestions. In fact many times they do. But whether or not to incorporate those suggestions, and to what degree, are still judgments that will be made by the director. I have had crew members make very good suggestions and I’ve sometimes used them. Most times these come from the videographer or the AD, since these two positions are closest to the director’s work. And when they’re not appropriate, I often say something like, “Nice idea. But I’m not sure it would cut in post. Let me get the coverage I know I need, and then if there’s time, we’ll see.” In many cases, there is not enough extra time to get a suggested shot. But if there is, it doesn’t hurt to give it a try. It could be excellent.
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BREAKOUT 8.3 “’DISCUSSING’ THE PROPER ANGLE”
I directed an interesting video sequence a number of years ago on the subject of distance learning. One scene called for two actors at what appeared to be different locations having a teleconference—a conversation via cameras and televisions on a digital network. This meant several shots would be angles establishing that each actor was being projected on a TV screen, but I also decided to shoot several angles that showed each actor as if we were in the room with them.
The videographer I was working with was new to me and somewhat new to the craft. I was aware of his background, but a little surprised to find that he was intent on letting me know that he was a better judge than me of the proper angles and focal lengths. This became apparent as we prepared for a scene, when I asked him to place the camera lower than eye level on the actor to be recorded.
“You want a low angle?” he asked with a concerned tone.
“Right,” I said, “But not much. Just so we’re looking up at him slightly,” I replied.
“You don’t want to do that,” he said.
“Why not?”
“It’ll be too dramatic.”
Although a low angle can create a dramatic sense in many cases, in this one I knew it would just provide a little more visual interest and variation from the standard back-and-forth angles we had been recording. “No,” I said, “It’s just slightly low and in his case it’ll be fine.”
“Here. Let me show it to you at eye level,” he said, decisively, as he started to adjust the tripod legs to keep the camera at a higher level.
“No, John,” I replied, “We really don’t have time right now. Just frame it up a little low and we’ll be fine.”
He did as I asked, but shook his head, making it obvious he wasn’t happy with my decision. Several weeks later when the show had been cut and approved by the client, I ran into him prepping for another shoot. “How did that scene with the low angle turn out?” he asked.
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“Great,” I said. “It cut very nicely and it gave just a little more visual interest.”
He said nothing, but shrugged and walked away shaking his head just as he had on the day we shot it.
There are two lessons in this story. The first is for the director. He should be prepared, confident and decisive about shot selection and all visual aspects of the project. Second, a videographer should be prepared to offer input to the director, but only if the director wants it, and never in a way that appears to suggest he is the final authority.