SeeingEyeBlog

Here we go. On Monday, I’m starting principal photography on my second full-length film in which I will be working as cinematographer. It’s been an eight-year road since graduating high-school in 1998 with dreams of being a filmmaker. Eight years is a long time to be in the starting gates of a career, with so little monetary gain to show for my progress. But as I look back at my resume over the years, I see a steady progression year to year, with the steps getting larger and larger as time goes on. Artistically, the filims I work on have become better and better as well. If that trend contiinues, I will be very happy.

Monday launches me into three weeks of a unique type of work which combines the intellectual with the emotional, the unseen with the visual, and the creative with the laborious. I shouldn’t say my work combines these things, because it’s more of a translation. Intellectual films are boring; visually bland films are a waste of the medium; shooting a film is the modern day equivalent of building a railroad in the 1800s. Everyone with whom I work needs to be a John Henry, because it takes a lot of sweat and physical effort to make a visually interesting, emotionally engaging film. Most importantly, it takes people who, unlike a steam drill, can put the full weight of their humanity behind every shot, every swing of the cinematic hammer.

On the film I’m working on now, I am working with a first time director. Usually when a first time director is paired with a cinematographer, the director is about 30 to 40 years younger than the more experienced cinematographer. This time, the director is around 60 and I’m 26. It’s odd being younger and having to carry the older rookie. I have to explain filmmaking techniques as we go, as if I’m a teacher at the same time as trying to shoot a movie. I imagine this is the same as what I’ll be doing when I’m 60 and the director I work with is 26. I’m just getting a taste of it now I suppose.

The actors, all veterans, are getting worried and many times come to me with their problems, rather than the director. I have noticed that they are very selfish (like any actor) and try to push their own agenda on the director so they get more screen time. If they are ever successful, the effects end up in my department because it usually means adding set-ups to an already full schedule. So to nip these changes in the bud, I’ve started to respond to their questions with my own answers. The director and I are on the same page with how we want to shoot the movie, so I feel like I can be a good proxy for the director.

I’ve noticed that I have a knack for relating to the actors. A lot of their questions stem from not knowing exactly how to put their head around their movements and around their lines. If I can help them think of a reason why we want them to move to a certain part of the room (where they’re lit best), then it makes my job easier with respect to the budget and schedule. It allows us to stick to our shooting plan. The movie can’t afford too many changes in our shooting plan, because it’s so tight to begin with. If we spend three hours blocking because an actor can’t think of his motivation, then we’re dead. So I guess you could say I’ve started to take on a quasi-directorial role on this project, since I know the story pretty well and I’m discussing the scenes with the actors. And I like the job. If I ever had the chance to direct a good story, I think I’d do a pretty good job.

Here’s a couple shots of me at work on The Urn.

Just a quick post about how comfortable I feel in my job. I am learning so much every day on this film I’m currently shooting, but most of all, I am learning that without a doubt, this is my vocation. I will be a lifetime cinematographer, and that’s all there is to it (perhaps a director after I amass enough life experience). Every day is satisfying, and I feel great about my work. I go home everyday feeling as though another feature has been chipped away from the marble, and David is emerging from the stone.

The director of the film, who is also the writer, told me today that he couldn’t imagine if anyone else had shot the picture. I was extremely modest, and basically told him not to count his eggs before they’re in the pudding. Modesty is the best policy, even after you start to win awards…..awards for showbiz people are the equivalent to a raise for lay people. But…modesty, always.

I’ve started thinking of production value in terms of the good/fast/cheap triangle, and have used the analogy of the sand pile. As you pour more sand onto a pile, the base increases as well as the height. But the slope is usually stays at a certain angle. Trying to make a cylinder out of sand is hard. A really technical explanation is here.

Basically production value is a self-organizing criticality, and when amateur producers try to bypass this law of physics by trying to shoot a 90 minute feature for $10,000, they end up with a mess, because they’re trying to take a few grains of sand and build it up two storeys with a 1 grain base radius. I think possibly the same model could be used to make a case for trickle-down economics.

Shooting this film The Urn has caused me to raise my standards, because I’ve been working with some great people and we’re doing everything right. We’re taking the time to make things right, and shoot the movie correctly, to stretch the production value as far as it can go. I’ve decided that I can’t work on films with amateurs any more (or at least, I’ll really be hindered from doing a good job).