Shooting a DV Feature: Part 2
"Ready! Aim! Shoot!"
Article by Steve Saylor (01/07/2000)
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 |
You've written your cinematic masterpiece, and now it is imperative that your creative vision be faithfully and artistically adapted to the big screen. Can't really trust anyone else with the job. And so... with one semi-fearless flick of your magic wand...
Presto! There's a slash in your title. You're now a writer/director.
Looks good. But um... what exactly does a director do? Well, you kinda know. However, you're not absolutely sure. But you've never let ignorance stand in your way before.
* * * *
When we took our last meeting, and I pitched my concept, and promised to have my people get back to your people... (oh please, just...SHOOT ME! Before I go Hollywood again!)
Now then. When I was rambling on last month about this movie thing, I was determined to make a two-hour feature for under $1,000.
The actors would donate some time and, along with my writing partner, I'd write a script that would take into consideration these... considerable limitations.
And now, the moment had finally arrived. It was time to call...
LIGHTS! (wish I could afford some)
CAMERA! (I managed to borrow one)
ACTION! (Help!)
* * * *
Did I just say... consider the limitations? Yeah, I did. Then you say, no, no, no. An artist should be thinking the exact opposite.
But remember: You have no money, and very little time, and you're responsible for the writing and directing and lighting and camera work.
Time to start thinking like a director, and to begin hearing those voices in your head, echoing the same line, over and over -- "How Am I Gonna Pull This Off?!"
And there, in a nutshell, is your slash. That's what separates the writer and director. The way they look at it. Think about it. See it.
The writer gets caught up in the scene, lives out the drama alongside the characters. You're up there with them on the silver screen, an impassioned (and yet comfortably detached) participant in the action.
The director? Sure, he has to keep one foot in that creative stew, but the other one must remain firmly planted in a crockpot of technical mumbo-jumbo, tangled in cables and wires.
* * * *
Quick example: A writer, when he's in his right mind (the creative half of the noggin), might see a page like this:
Dark alley. Light rain. Moonlight filters the mist, illuminates Our Hero as he steps from the shadows and confronts Big Bad Guy. A bad guy who just happens to be manhandling our Leading Lady! Using her as a shield!
Hero says something incredibly clever (worry about this later), catches Bad Guy off-guard.
In that split-second, our Heroine ducks. Hero fires a bullet that pierces Evil Heart. He rushes to her side. They embrace.
Heroine looks like she could faint, and yet somehow... also looks drop-dead gorgeous with the rain on her face, penetrating her clothes, which now cling precariously to her dangerous curves.
Then comes the kiss! Drenched with passion! Oh man... it's so... hot!
* * * *
Hey, hey, settle down. Get a grip. Okay now. Let's mosey on over to the left side of the gray matter, where the director sees that same page like this:
* * * *
Moonlight in the mist?! Great. Oh boy. We gotta haul those lights -- the big muthas! -- up three floors to the rooftop. Neighbors will think "this movie stuff is pretty exciting" for about 10 minutes! Then they'll raise hell. Better get some PR muscle flexing in that direction right away, work out a cease-fire in advance.
The writer wants rain? Moonlight in the mist? Splendid. Take forever to setup. Arrange for the water trucks and the hoses and the tanks. And heat one of those tanks for our stars. It's in their contract. Christ, does it have to be raining?!
The bullet in the chest? Hell, the squibs will probably get soaked, won't work. Let's forget that one tonight. Pick it up tomorrow, insert shot, close-up on the chest, do it inside, controlled environment, maybe have time to call my agent.
And the kiss? Do we have to shoot it in that alley? Gonna be a bitch to light. Make-up's gonna run in that freaking "moonlight mist"! Oh man... it's so... hard!
(Note: This example applies to directors of low-budget features. If at all possible, direct a really big movie, get paid plenty, sit back in director's chair, enjoy neck-rub, give orders, visit Betty Ford)
* * * *
While writing the script, I urged my left lobe to lead the charge.
Lefty's Battle Cry: "Nothing fancy!"
Sure, you'd like lots of dolly shots. But then "Lighting" demands more detail. "Sound" becomes a challenge. Time consuming. Might have to go ten times before you get it right, especially with this skeleton crew.
Oh, and... about that crew: Two or three is all you need. The agreeable sort, preferably. Enthusiastic perhaps -- even when they're working for free. Competent would be a plus.
Close friends can be best. Mild acquaintances are discouraged, for you're likely to find that -- in just the first few days of the shoot -- your "new friends" have become strangely difficult to reach by phone.
So, nothing fancy. We'd arrive at the locations (friend's homes) with just the 2 or 3 actors in the scene, a tripod, microphone, a duffel bag -- stuffed with various cords, adapters, and accessories -- the VX1000, and moi.
* * * *
No lights. So forget about too much blocking. Find a spot where you can frame a decent shot. Place your actors accordingly, and move along.
Windows are tough to shoot into, but they can serve nicely as your key light. Might need to adjust the curtains a bit. Turn the actors off-center to get some contrast from one side of the face to the other.
And in most cases, that face can use some shading. String up a homemade silk. Clamp a piece of cardboard to a mic stand. Or pop your umbrella and get on with it.
Turn on the inside lights. Move a few lamps around for some fill. Artificial light has more of a reddish tint, so be careful not to combine too much of it on one side with natural light on the other.
Pay attention to the background. Flat walls won't help your cause. Need some depth to suggest that third dimension. Movie screens and TV's stop at two.
Maybe there's a hallway that can provide that depth. Stick a lamp down there at the end. Open the bedroom doors, and spill some light from that direction. Get the camera rolling.
* * * *
How many angles will you shoot? (Or... how much time do you have before the actors have to hurry off to their real jobs?) Master shot? Medium, and close-up? Over the shoulder, two-shot?
Should you run the whole scene in a Master Shot? Nah. Just the first line or two. Probably won't cut back to it. It's better when you get in close.
The actors had no time to rehearse or memorize dialogue. No problem. As long as I'd be cutting back and forth, we could shoot just one or two lines at a time.
To your actors, stress the fact that "less is more" with those close-ups. The pros tell you, 'act with the eyes'. That's where the audience will feel the connection. Keep 'em open nice and wide. And don't blink too much.
Quick master shot. A few over-the-shoulders. Move in for those close-ups. And let the actors tell the story.
(Hopefully you've written a good story. With engaging characters. And fresh dialogue. Because that's what it all really comes down to, isn't it?)
* * * *
First day -- keep it simple. Don't unpack the microphone. We needed some montage sequences. Required no sound. Breezed through it.
Next day -- plug in the mic. We were only shooting a couple lines at a time, but still... a little stumbling over the dialogue. Go to the cue cards.
Sure, we could've taken ten minutes or so, run the scene a few times, rehearse it a bit. Yeah, we could've, except that... one of the actresses had to run, pick up her kid from preschool.
I printed out the dialogue in extra large type for the rest of the shoot. One actor would hold the pages (taking "sight-line" into account), and the other would play the scene -- and pretty damn convincingly! -- to the piece of paper.
Worked great. Ninety percent of the movie was shot like this. Can't tell.
Often, the actors couldn't be there at the same time, so we'd tape the pages to a microphone stand, I'd stay in close-up, and they'd emote to Mr. Mike.
* * * *
Locations? Sets? Wardrobe? Not a big deal with these small pics. As long as your audience cares about what's going on inside these people. That's all that matters. Just pick a place, anyplace, and let it roll.
Location? (How about over there, in the middle of that field?)
Sets? (Those mountains look pretty good in the background)
Wardrobe? (What you're wearing works for me)
It's sunset. The light's fleeting. Hurry along, gang! Bring those folding chairs! Watch out for that ditch. Grab the six-pack!
There were a couple "rambling dialogue" scenes -- mildly lubricated by the Budmeister -- where Hutch questions Carrie about her "belief system". She doesn't subscribe to that "old-time-religion", or anything else, really. By this point, it's become sort of "a bit".
How about those "down-home American Values"? Worthy of devotion? Baseball? She rants about "jocks-in-heat, gettin' paid millions to whack a stupid ball. Hard to believe in that!" Okay then, apple pie?
CARRIE
I especially love those shiny red apples, all lacquered up with that synthetic glaze, and full of alar...HUTCH
Hey I'm ready to give up. I'm just doin' this for Devon. (her half-sister)CARRIE
Why Devon?HUTCH
Cuz she told me that you needed somethin' to believe in. Maybe that'd make you feel happier.CARRIE
She really said that?
(he nods)
Hell...l'm happy. Don't I look happy, dammit?HUTCH
(after a pause)
Uh... yeah.CARRIE
Damn tootin'. I'm practically giddy.HUTCH
But I gotta tell her we found somethin' for ya to believe in. How 'bout this?
(dramatic pause)
Mankind! Yeah, there you go... basic, simple, leaves no bitter theological aftertaste.CARRIE
But if you look at the big picture, I mean... Dinosaurs. They were around for what, a few million years, right? Then somethin' happened. And they were gone. Same thing with mankind. If we don't kill ourselves off, then something else will.HUTCH
Alright! We finally found something you believe in. Certain Doom!It was getting dark. But these Mini-DV camcorders work great in low light, especially if you turn them down to the 30 shutter speed, or the 15 when possible.
* * * *
Even in candlelight, these cameras can get the job done.
You'll recall from Part One that, in our search for an interesting occupation, our leading man had become a worm farmer. Inspired by a documentary on Discovery where this Worm Farmer Extraordinaire actually lies down in a box of worms for his annual worm-bath ritual.
"Some may find this a little strange," the narrator explains, "but Hy claims that worm enzymes are cleansing for the skin, stimulating for the complexion."
I wasn't aware of this, but did you know that 90% of all cosmetics from around the world contain enzymes -- or "the slime" -- from these cuddly little creatures? Did you want to know?
Now I'm guessing that when the director of that documentary heard about Hy's kinky ritual, he was thinking, Gotta get this in the program! It's so creepy. Can't help but elicit a visceral reaction, make you squirm a little bit yourself.
And I started thinking the same thing, too.
I ran it by the actors. They weren't so sure. Lie down in a box of worms? What the hell's that got to do with the story? And what exactly would be my motivation?
Well, um...you see... your father's been in this coma, right? It's time to pull the plug now, and return him to the earth. So when you lie down with the worms, this'll be like your farewell to him, and we'll dissolve into a dream sequence where you're with him again, out in the forest, and then he's walking away. It's like you're saying goodbye to him, and we'll understand that you've made that final decision...
CUT TO:
INT. ROOM - NIGHT
Illuminated by candlelight, Carrie and Hutch disrobe, walk slowly toward two coffin-like boxes surrounded by more candles. What's going on here?
CARRIE (V.O.)
Hutch thought that I should just... "put to rest"... this thing with Delores once and for all. And he convinced me that it was finally time... that we do it. You know... take off our clothes and just get into it.They stop, look downward. Yuck!
CARRIE (V.O.)
And what better way to symbolically bury the past?He steadies her. She steps, reluctantly, into the box.
CARRIE (V.O.)
And don't forget those enzymes... supposed to be wonderful for your skin.Her expression makes you believe she actually has worms between her toes. But she's just tiptoeing around on the carpet, and doing a great job of faking it.
* * * *
They both would've done it. They were kind of getting into the idea. But I couldn't come up with a decent set in the time remaining. The actress was leaving town in a couple days, might not be back for months. But I could cheat this one. Do that body double thing.
So I shot this from a low angle, looking up at the actors, the ceiling. We never knew what the bottom half of this room looked like. Anything would match.
Later, when the dust settled, I'd cook up something. Pound together some boxes. Just add dirt and worms. Then I'd shoot the other side of this scene -- looking down at the worm beds.
I'd be the double for Hutch, but who could I get to...
"Honey!" I called to my wife, "could you do me a little favor?" She said, sure, what do you need? "Would you mind lying down in this coffin full of worms?"
"Over your dead body."
"Come on, it'll be good for your skin!"
"It'll be bad for your home-life."
"Where's your sense of adventure?! Show some spunk! Do it for the sake of... Art!
She said she'd do it for a new car, but eventually settled for a night out, coming around to the realization that the life-blood of independent film was borne from the noble sacrifice of "saints such as you", whose selfless acts serve to lift us all to a higher ground.
Then we took turns shooting each other settling into the slime.
* * * *
Finally, it was over! I'd finished on time and under budget. Only $850 to this point.
$300 for Mini-DV tapes.
$300 for a shotgun microphone.
$100 for a wide-angle lens.
$150 for cables, adaptors, and babysitters.
This had been the hardest part. At least, so far. Way too much to think about. I wouldn't want to do it again by myself. Probably will.
Some would argue that writing the script is the hardest part, and that staring dumb-founded into a pulsating monitor, facing-down that blank page, can be a particularly troubled existence. "Excruciatingly Painful", I'd be the first to add. Oh, and don't forget "Demon-Infested", too!
But at least you're alone, in solitude, living in your fantasy world. And sitting on your butt!
During the shoot, I was working another job -- luckily, only a couple days a week -- but I'd hurry out of there, pick up the camera at the station, make sure I had all the accessories, props, dialogue pages.After the shoot, I'd get home late, take a few minutes to reacquaint myself with the family, watch the footage, log it. Then get back to the script. Apply more polish. You're never quite satisfied. It's never quite finished.
Three a.m., print it out. Get 4 or 5 hours. Get up. Get goin'.
* * * *
If only I'd had enough money to afford some industry-standard, state-of-the-art, professional counselling... well, I'd have gone ahead and induced my nervous breakdown right then and there. But, man, that shit's expensive. And it would've driven my budget well into the four figures.
An emotional crisis was a luxury I couldn't afford. I had to put this movie together now. Our local cable station would soon be purchasing a computer capable of video editing. I could use it for free. Sure, it might take a few days to learn these new programs, but then I'd power through it!
How hard could it be? I'd heard that you could cut those clips on a precise frame, move them around on a "timeline" -- the same way you moved sentences around on a word processor. Just string 'em together until you've got a movie.
Can't be that hard. I'd already learned how to write a script with MS Works. I'd become fairly adept at making back-up files, copying them to another drive. I'd mastered the Spellchecker and that tricky Thesaurus.
With a little soul searching (well, not that much, really) I'd managed to unlock my inner-geek, and I'd made a gentle peace with the little, bright-eyed, pencil-packin'-pussy, and together we were standing strong, holding our own against the swirling, unpredictable winds of progress, facing the future, hand in hand, with a solid grasp of the technology...
(Okay, I did try to install some "script-formating-software" at one point, and immediately got all disoriented, opted to cut my losses, save my sanity, and toss the sucker)
* * * *
But I'd take on those digital devils this time. Me and My Inner-Nerd were properly pumped up for the PC Challenge, and nothing would stand in...
Lo...! And the sky darkened... On the horizon... Blocking out the sun with its enormous complexity, mocking us mere mortals with its superior speed and intelligence, loomed the All-Knowing and Merciless Tower of Gates. And it was not at all micro, nor was it soft.
Instantly, we were surrounded by legions of Zeroes, along with their loyal allies, The Ones. Billions of 'em! All lined up... in what seemed to be a random formation...
But no, their arrangement appeared to have meaning, a language of some sort, hopelessly indecipherable to Me and my Wimp-Ass-Geek, who was mumbling and twitching uncontrollably. An Idiot Savant now... with very little Savant in sight.
Alas, we were no match for the ultra-fast and oh-so-hard Big Blue Scuzzies. We faced the future now from a different angle. Flat on our backs. Dazed, deflated, then finally disappearing into another dimension of sight and sound... as the twilight slowly faded... into the four, white, padded walls of... The Editing Zone...
* * * *
The "pre" part of this production had taken four months. Ninety five percent of that time was spent on the script. Five percent -- making arrangements with actors and locations.
The shooting -- approximately 15 half-days, spread out over a month.
The editing -- well, that would take... just a little longer.
I'll do my best to summarize that rollercoaster ride next time around.
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