For starters, don’t ask Josh Olson for notes.  In fact, don’t ask anyone for notes that is unlikely to give them to you (especially if they’re prone to ranting at you).  That category includes everyone you’ve ever heard of in the business, unless either (1) they explicitly ask you to send them a copy of your script or film cut, or (2) you are somebody (i.e. a peer) in the business.  Even if the well known person is an actual friend, it’s usually best to wait for them to ask to read or view something you’re working on based on your telling them about what the project is.  (This is called pitching, and it’s the primary way many scripts get read and films get funded or picked-up — by generating active interest in the story via a short synopsis.)  If you pester someone into giving you feedback, expect the harshest criticism since they didn’t want to do it in the first place and will therefore be sensitive to every flaw in your work.

Getting feedback, however, is not that hard if you know how to go about it.  From the suggestions below, you want to cast about for note givers whose notes you respect and can learn from, until you find a pool of people large enough that you can ask about five of them for notes on any given project (how many people that means depends on how prolific you are — don’t ask any one person for notes more than once every 2–3 months, unless you’ve got a very long term friendship or a very close working relationship with them).

Ask your friends

Some of them are going to be too nice to you, others too harsh out of jealousy, but you might as well ask for notes from the one or two of your friends that you think can be the most straightforward.  The idea that asking your friends for feedback is a bad idea because they may not be experts has one clear flaw: Your friends are your audience.  Most people who go see moves do not know how to write or make them, yet they are going to critique your work anyway.  It’s not a bad idea to get some feedback from people like that up-front.  You will have to guide them, and you’ll probably get a lot of terrible notes from your friends, but hearing about where they are bored or confused is especially helpful since that’s where a general audience may also be bored or confused.  Just don’t take your friends notes too seriously, they are indeed biased, after all.

As time goes on, you’ll make friends with other writers or directors, professional readers, producers, and other industry professionals and well trained aspirants who will both be your friends and also be excellent sources of knowledable notes. These are likely to be your most consistently available source of actually helpful notes, provided you return the favor for them when needed.  But keep at least one reader in your pool who isn’t a pro, because knowing how the average person responds is helpful, even through all the bad notes you’ll get.  (NOTE: Your non-pro friends being a poor audience is mainly true of screenplays, anyway, as those can be confusing and difficult to read for non-experts.  Those friends who aren’t pros are actually a great audience for edits of actual films, because they’re the closest you’re going to get to a public test audience without paying for one.)

Take classes

Even some very experienced writers and filmmakers (usually ones who haven’t broken into the A-list yet) still take workshop classes like those offered by the UCLA Professional Program, or labs like CineStory or Sundance.   Classes serve three major purposes: (1) providing you with deadlines, (2) providing you with a group of people who are obligated to give you notes, and (3) meeting people with whom you may later exchange notes and perhaps even collaborate with on projects.  Classes are the best way to meet people and build relationships that may go from exchanging notes to something more concrete later on.

You may get some terrible notes from classmates, but you’ll also get some very good notes if you pick classes that are at serious places for serious people. Since UCLA offers online classes, there’s no reason to stay in an awful class, but don’t completely discount local courses (especially those at city and state colleges).  Be cautious when considering for-profit adult education programs.  They rarely offer anything that city and state colleges don’t, and are often overpriced for the quality of teachers and students you’ll be working with.

Getting an MFA is also a way to get a lot of critique of your work.  In the U.S., there are the Big Three film schools (UCLA, USC, NYU) and the AFI.  But if you can’t go to any of those, there are also other decent programs out there like Columbia, UT, and various others.  In the UK, there is NFTS, and other countries have major film schools as well.

Join a writing and/or filmmaking group

Many writing and filmmaking critique groups form out of class or retreat relationships, so the two suggestions are compatible.  But even if you haven’t taken any classes, you may find a group in your area through friends, a local college or library, or an online message board.  Some regions may also have film organizations (like San Francisco’s now defunct Film Arts Foundation) that have bulletin boards where you can post looking for a group, and which also host events where you can go meet in-person and try to form a group that way.

There are also online sites which function as virtual critique groups.  Some are just bulletin board forums, such as those at Save The Cat, where you can discuss craft, meet people virtually,  and post requests for critique.  But there are also a couple sites, Trigger Street and Zoetrope, which are specifically critique communities in which you must give critiques in order to receive them.  The whole purpose of those sites is to have users give each other notes, both to help each other, and so that the highest reviewed projects on the sites can be considered by production companies.  Since Trigger Street and Zoetrope are organized forums for exchanging notes, if you give notes, you will also get them.

Only under very particular circumstances — pay someone

Sometimes you’d like notes from a professional reader — the very sort of person who may read your work for a company you sendit to.  Surprisingly, this is quite difficult to find, and even more difficult to find at a fair price.  The only paid notes I’ve found thus far that are worth the price is Scott The Reader’s $60 notes offer, and sometimes the notes I get back from Wildsound and Austin Film Festival.  My general rule is that I will not pay more than about $80 for notes (not consulting, mind you, but a single read and one-time delivery of a packet of notes), unless they are exceptionally amazing and detailed notes.  And I’ve not yet found a notes giver that I’d pay more than $80 for.  Honestly, in terms of disinterested third-party readers that give decent or better notes, I’ve only found the three mentioned above at all.

Also, many people selling note services are not professional readers, they’re professional consultants.  Most professional readers only resell their services outside the studios through festivals (I’ve only found one so far that offers direct service — Scott).  Consultants can occasionally be worth working with — even some A-listers work with story and script consultants — if you have developed a personal relationship with them.  Most of the successful writers who work with a consultant at all usually work with someone that was a professor or mentor of theirs in their MFA or professional program, or at a retreat, workshop or festival.  It’s meeting the person and hitting it off with them that’s most important, though vetting their credits and credentials is also important (con artistry works because those people seem nice and helpful at first, so do your homework when meeting someone new).

For example I always take classes with, and get script notes from, the same professor: Tim Albaugh.  I wouldn’t have worked with him as a consultant, though, if I’d just stumbled upon his website.  It’s the personal relationship that’s important, because otherwise your chances of feeling ripped-off by a consultant are very high (because many — perhaps most — of them are worse than useless, and those that are good can seem terrible if your styles are incompatible).

Get representation and/or work with a producer

All of these recommendations are especially relevant before you manage to get a manager or develop a relationship with a producer who wants to take an active role in developing you and/or some of your work.  Once you do manage to secure one or both of those relationships, your primary notes will come from your manager and/or producer.  Most producers and managers will give you excellent, detailed notes and work with you to see your way through implementing them.  Their notes will be geared towards making your work sellable by them, and may conflict with your vision for the project.  Your job will be to persuade them to stay as close to your vision as possible, while recognizing the issues they’re raising with your material and addressing them in a way that gets at the core underlying problems which may genuinely cause problems for an audience.  That’s your job as a writer or director — to understand the material, and address issues with it in order to make it the best implementation of that material possible.

Working with a manager and/or producer will take your notes to the next level — but you’ll also still want to get notes from about five people for each major draft of each project.  So keep those friends, mentors and hired readers handy, because you’ll always want a group of people you can trust who will give you notes about your work that are as agenda-free as humanly possible.

Also, while notes sessions are different from on-set direction (which will be discussed in other posts), there are similarities, and many of these principles apply to direction: be polite, clear and concise, give the kind of direction you’d like to receive, etc.

Be professional and polite

Successful critiques are ones that are phrased in such a way that you describe the flaws in the work that need correcting in a way that is as positive as you can be without “blowing smoke” and coming off as a phony.  Genuine positive reinforcement in a notes session is easy to come by if you let yourself recognize the hard work that already went in to the work, and acknowledge it even as you observe flaws and make recommendations for improvements.

Nobody likes to be told that they are stupid, or that their work sucks, and hearing that in those terms will cause the note recipient to ignore the notes.  Giving unnecessarily harsh notes is counterproductive.  If you think the person is beyond help simply decline to give them feedback, and if they’re working under you on a production, terminate them.  There is never a good reason to belittle or degrade a colleague or subordinate.

Yes, there are assholes in the industry.  But most of the ones who are successful are not successful because they are assholes, but in spite of it.  Filmmaking is an industry of relationships, and you have to be quite amazing at what you do (or a marketing commodity, i.e. a “star”) for people to be willing to have a relationship with you even though you’re a jerk.  Even then, those who are professionals get the best results from people.  I know a number of prominent directors, writers, and producers through my work, professional associations, and the festivals and conferences circuit, and very few of them are assholes.

Give notes you’d want to receive

When giving notes, even if the person doesn’t ask, give them the notes you’d ask for if you wanted their feedback.  Be as brief as you can with each particular note, while still conveying the point you want to get across.  And give as many details as you feel the recipient deserves.  For example, when I give notes on friends’ feature screenplays, I usually give about four to ten pages of notes (unless they’re pretty far along, and don’t need it), all of them as precise as I can make them, organized more or less follows:

General Notes

• Overall feeling about the piece
• What I think the theme is, what I think the plot is, and whether or not they are coming together successfully
• Overall feeling about the main character, and what I think his or her arc is, and whether or not its working
• 1–3 major moments of confusion, if any
• Any points of confusion that run through the whole script
• 1–3 major moments of boredom / being less interested, if any
• Any boring elements that run through the whole script
• Fix suggestions for any of the above

Page-by-page notes

• What I think the scene is about, or should be about, and whether or not it’s working
• Anything in the scene that’s especially confusing
• Anything in the scene that’s especially boring
• Anything in the scene that’s just not working for me (even if it’s not confusing or boring)
• Fix suggestions for any of the above

That structure of note giving — general overview of what works and what doesn’t, followed by specific critiques on each element scene-by-scene — can also apply to notes to directors from producers, notes to editors from directors, and so on.  And it applies just as well to shorts, TV shows, and even stage plays as it does to feature film work.

Make your comments clear and concise

When giving notes you should be as precise as possible while still saying what you need to say.  Don’t bog down your point with unnecessary details, don’t make tangential comparisons, and don’t make suggestions that are so antithetical to what the writer or filmmaker is trying to do that they’ll just shut it out.

Make the exact point you’re trying to make, even if it seems too direct.  Usually clear and concise is not only more useful, but also less painful to the notes recipient than dancing around something thinking you’re trying to soften the blow.  Rambling notes often wind up sounding like you think the person is soft or an idiot and couldn’t deal with it if you just made your point, which is insulting.

And definitely use correct filmmaking terminology whenever appropriate — technical language is a shorthand that lets experts exchange ideas about a topic more clearly.

A note like:

The protagonist’s character arc is unfulfilled.  You set up his flaw as needing to grow up, but he is just as immature at the end as at the beginning.  It may also be hard for an audience to empathize with him, as he never makes amends to the people he’s hurt with his childish stunts.

Is much better than one like:

You set up your protagonist as this whiny, immature dude who’s always messing around with chicks and getting high.  I hate people like that.  It remind me of my ex-boyfriend, who is a total loser douchebag, and nobody would ever in a million years like a character that’s like that.  I mean, come on.  He’s like that the whole film.  Nothing but weed and chicks the whole time, and he never learns anything about anything.  He treats all these girls like they’re nothing but hoes, and in the end, he still treats them like hoes and is high all the time.  What a total jerk.  Guys like that are just gross.  Why’d you have to make it like that, anyway?  Who’s going to want to see that kind of crap, where some guy is just acting like a teenager the whole time and we’re supposed to like this twit and what’s that all about?  I’d make him a choir boy, who loves puppies and is a complete gentleman tea-totaler, and then people will like him better than the creep you’ve got now.

(Yes, I’ve received notes like that — and even much, much worse ones — but not from professionals.)

Rambling (and, in the example above, unprofessional) notes are going to do two things: confuse and/or bore the notes recipient, and make them think you don’t know what you’re talking about since someone who can’t give coherent notes is unlikely to be seen as someone who can help make the work better.  With notes, it’s not about how many things you say, but how relevant each thing is to helping the writer or filmmaker achieve the goals they set out to.  As Robert Browning said, “less is more”.

Get the notes back as quickly as possible

The person receiving the notes from you is likely continuing to work, and also receiving notes from others, while you wait to get back to them with notes.  This is even true if the person is someone working for you on a project that you’re producing or directing.  The longer you wait, the more obsolete your notes may become, and if it’s your project, the more you may be spending to have someone go in a direction you don’t want.

When you’re giving notes as a favor, it can be more difficult to convince yourself to be quick.  But you said you’d do it, and being timely does get the responsibility off your plate sooner.

Leave on a positive note

End your notes, whether it’s a written set of notes or an in-person notes session, on something positive.  Often the easiest way to get out is a general platitude such as: “great work so far, looking forward to seeing how you make it even better” or “finishing a draft or cut is the beginning of the journey, and we’ve all been there before, so don’t sweat the notes just make them your own and you’ll find your way to a great draft or cut”.

Those will suffice, but even better is to mention something specific you actually liked about the script — a particular character or story point, the writers’ voice, the director’s vision, the editor’s style, whatever it may be — and say that once the bits you’ve given your notes on are as awesome as that, the work will be great.

Giving notes isn’t your opportunity to seem brilliant at someone else’s expense.  Rather, it’s your opportunity to seem brilliant by impressing someone with both your insights and your professionalism.  Properly given notes will further a “I’ll help you, and you’ll help me” relationship.  Improperly given notes can ruin one.

You’re Asking, Not Demanding

Politely, is the first and foremost requirement.  Nobody is obligated to read your work or give you notes.  They’re not obligated to do so even if they already said they would, and they especially aren’t if they’re paying you (they can decide to pay you and never even read your work if they like — it’s their money).

Asking for notes from someone who is a professional (or accomplished pre-professional, such as a studious film student or avid self-producing filmmaker) is actually quite simple.  You identify people who are willing to give you notes, and then you say “will you read this and give me feedback”.  Then they say either “yes” or “no”.

What to Ask

If the person is not a writer, manager, agent, producer or director by vocation or avocation, they may not know how to give notes.  You’ll need to be more specific in what you ask them, without poisoning the well and accidentally guiding them into giving you your own notes back to you (you can also be specific in this way with more accomplished note-givers, but it’s not necessary and may annoy some).

There are two simple questions which are the core of all notes requests:

Where, if anywhere, were you confused?

and

Where, if anywhere, were you bored?

A few more advanced questions that can be asked include:

Is as many or as few words as you’d like, can you restate to me what you think the script is about, both in terms of describing the plot (what happens), and the theme (the moral of the story), and how they fit together or fail to do so?

Who is the main character, what is their problem at the beginning of the story, and how do they change at the end of the story?

Each time you encounter a new character in the script, can you please list that character by name, and tell me what you thought of them at first — and how that changes if you find yourself thinking more about them as you read on?

As you read, can you please write a rating number from 1 (worst) to 5 (best) beside each scene?

Essentially, those questions above are guiding your reader into writing development coverage of your script — or at least the closest approximation thereof that an untrained reader is going to be able to muster.

Additionally, you can ask between one and five specific questions about the script overall (any more, and the reader will get distracted and either give up or provide you with much poorer answers to each).  You want to be careful about picking those questions, and how you phrase them — you don’t want to write your own answer (or fear) into the question.  For example, “Is this film too dialogue heavy?” is a much worse way of posing that question than “What are your thoughts about how balance between action and dialogue in the film?”

Follow-up

People are busy.  Even people outside the industry.  Even your mom and best friend.  If you don’t get your notes back right away, follow-up after somewhere between four and eight weeks.  If your reader still hasn’t responded after another four to eight weeks, ask once more — then give up.  And if they reply and say they’re busy and will get you notes in the future, then patiently wait for the future.   Someone I know got a call from a producer with not only notes, but a request to go forward on the project, one year after they sent the spec script to said producer in response to a query.  If that writer had been desperate, they would likely have alienated that producer by pestering him and never gotten either the notes or the opportunity.

Naturally, don’t just wait for the future.  Keep working on other projects and pursue other opportunities.  And if the people you asked for notes never give you any, find new readers.

If you are passionate about your work, receiving notes can be very difficult and emotional, even when they are delivered in the nicest possibly way by someone you trust.  It is even more trying if the other person isn’t particularly professional about it.  But each person is responsible for themselves, not for changing others.  The only thing you can control is how you respond to the notes, regardless of how they’re delivered to you.

Receive Notes You Hate In A Maximum Zenlike State

Zenlike — not sullen.  Be as calm and detached from the process of receiving notes you hate as you possibly can without seeming to brood or distance yourself from the notegiver(s).  Don’t get defensive, and certainly don’t get angry.  If someone bothered to give you notes at all, they bothered to read your work.  They also bothered to care — maybe more about the project than about you, but at least 90% of all notes are given in the spirit of someone trying to make things better.

Multiple people have suggested receiving all notes with some variation of the the following response: “These are all really interesting ideas. I’ll think them through, figure out how they impact the rest of the story, and see where they lead.”

Ask Questions First, Shoot Later

Don’t start trying to consider and accept, modify, or refute difficult or unpleasant notes right there in the room.  You should ask clarifying questions, if you have any that aren’t confrontational, but otherwise it is incumbent upon you to keep things positive and moving forward until the notes session is over.   Don’t let the session bog down in long discussions (or, worst of all, arguments) about controversial notes.  Let people have their say, convince them you’ll think about their issues and address them, and move on.  Get through everything they need to say, then get the heck out of there.  Leave the room on a positive note, and make sure to thank all present.

Once you’re out of the room and have had some time to stop potentially taking the notes personally (and even seasoned pros sometimes do), then you can start to really analyze them and see what the notes are really trying to tell you.  It’s likely to not be what they say on the surface, because often people’s “bad” notes are just an indicator that they see something wrong but have no better idea how to fix it than you initially did when you wrote it in the first place.

Receive Notes You Love With Enthusiasm

Unless you’re unusually stubborn you’re unlikely to hate all the notes you get, especially on early drafts / edits.  When someone says something you really strongly agree with, let them know.  Get excited.  Thank them.  If you show someone you value their input, they are more likely to also value your input.  When you’ve received some of a person’s notes with enthusiasm, if you ultimately come back to them with a contrary idea for some of the notes you asked to think about, they’re more likely to agree that you’re right — because you haven’t just been rejecting their notes offhand, and have instead even gone so far as to openly appreciate some of what they’ve said.

Bring the passion and enthusiasm you’re supposed to bring to a pitch or general meeting to receiving “good” notes as well.  A friend once told me that in all his Hollywood experiences, generally the most (positively) passionate person “wins” the moment.  Use that to your advantage to focus the energy in the notes session on things you actually do want to do, and let the other stuff go with a mere “quite interesting, I’ll consider these ideas”.

Genuinely Consider All The Notes

When you say you’ll think about someone’s notes, actually think them through.  Especially the notes you hate the most.  Sometimes the notes you hate the most are the most useful (and sometimes they’re not).  You may discover you hate them because either you wish you’d thought of them yourself and are ashamed you didn’t, or because you did think of them yourself and discarded them because you knew it would be painful to make the necessary changes and now you’re faced with verification that you must do precisely that.  Shooting the messenger in those cases will only make problems where they never existed in the first place.

If you find yourself still disagreeing with the note, set it aside.  And if you never come back to it, it wasn’t the right note.  But if multiple people give you the same “bad” note, no matter how much you disagree it’s time to think it through again.  Maybe the notes are “bad” because the suggested corrections are way off — but then you need to find the core of what it is that multiple people are bumping on and solve it your own “good” way instead.  There is a problem if the same general issue is raised by many independent notes (i.e. notes not given in the same room or by people who are in regular discussions about the project).

Know When To Hold ‘Em, Know When To Walk Way, Know When To Run

Once you’ve really considered a note and still disagree with it, if the notegiver insists on bringing it up again in future notes sessions rather than letting you quietly ignore it, attempt to gently persuade the person that your idea is really what they wanted all along.  Shane Black, at the Austin Film Festival, said basically this about “bad” notes in a couple different panels: “Writing is about persuading people.  So persuade them you’re right.”  You want to be passionate in your persuasion, but not confrontational.

You also don’t want to persuade someone out of all their notes.  They want to feel they have contributed something to the process, and that you value them as you expect them to value you.  A producer friend once told me a story about a writer they sent around town who came back excited that they’d persuaded everyone they met with that their notes were wrong.  This writer was not impolite, but even so within two weeks nobody would agree to meet with him anymore, and a career ended before it could even begin.

In the rare case someone is genuinely trying to merely come off as clever or derail a project they detest, you need to figure out a polite and professional way to deal with the issue.  If notegiver isn’t a stakeholder in the project, simply stop asking that person for feedback.  If they are, either find a way to bring that person over to your side, learn to armor yourself against that person’s attacks, or — if the situation is utterly intractable and you’ve got some other opportunities to move on to (and you almost always do) — politely quit the project.  But getting angry will just gird the other person for battle and make things worse, so it’s better for you to win with kindness and persuasion.

Address The Notes (And Have Good Reasons For The Ones You Don’t)

Once you’ve analyzed all the notes, and their impact on the story, your job is then to change the project in such a way that it addresses all the valid notes (and/or their underlying causes) in the way you determine is most advantageous to the story.  Whatever notes you do decide are not valid, you need a good reason for it (one that shows you thought the note through thoroughly — “it’s just not going to work” is not a good reason).   Even if nobody ever brings up a particular note ever again, you want a good reason for any notes you don’t address so you can convince yourself that your reasons for ignoring the note are valid.  Your job is to make the best possible project you can, and that means hard work, including sometimes unpleasant hard work like thinking through notes you detest.

Work At It

If you care deeply about what you’re writing, directing, editing, etc., it may not be the easiest thing in the world to follow this advice.  It certainly isn’t always so for me.  But maintaining a positive attitude during notes sessions is something that can, and must, be learned.  Review yourself after each notes session, and let yourself know what you need to improve on.  Focus on paying attention to what you’re doing in the room.  Force yourself to think before you speak.  If you find yourself getting caught up in the moment, do something that forces you to take a moment to calm down (writing down the note that’s getting me riled up, but rephrasing it in the most inoffensive possible manner often works for me).

Practice getting notes from people you really know well and trust, who will tolerate your initial amateurish, overly emotional responses to notes — and then let them critique how you received their notes.  And if you do screw up in a room with someone, apologize, and make sure you learn from your mistakes.  Becoming someone that giving notes to is a pleasant experience can mean the difference between a stellar career and no career at all.

It may seem like everything is happening all at once, and that on-set production is total chaos rather than a pipeline.  But this is only true if you let it get out of hand.  When you’re inexperienced, your production simply will get out of hand at times and you’ll just need to get it back on track.  To help you do so, it helps to understand what things basically ought to look like if they’re going right, so here’s an overview of on-set production as a process.  What is especially helpful about this is that while the actual on-set activity may sometimes seem overwhelming and frenzied, when looked at as a process the structure of on-set production is relatively simple.  Knowing this pipeline can help you focus and bring things back under control when something goes wrong.

On-set production process

Crew Call; Location, Grip and Lighting Work

The day starts with a crew call.  On many sets, the Director and Producer may not even be on set at this point — particularly if there is a location move involved.  The First A.D., Line Producers, Location Manager, Key Grip, and Gaffer are responsible for getting the location moved and equipment ready.  Other services, such as portable toilets if needed and craft services, are also expected to arrive early.  The camera crew (often without the D.P.) arrive to start prepping and testing the camera.  When the D.P. is scheduled to arrive, the camera crew, grips, and gaffers are expected to be ready to start putting lights and cameras onto the proper grip gear and into position for the first shot of the day.  If sets need to be constructed, the Set Foreman heads this up, and the arrival of the Art Director is the cue for set dressing to begin.  All the mechanical aspects of prepping the set are expected to more or less be done before the cast arrives.

The Director (and Producer) may choose to oversee any and all of this, of course.  It depends on the level of trust you have with your crew.  Very experienced Directors with experienced crews, particularly ones they’ve worked with before, trust everyone to work from the boards, previs, set blueprints, art packets, and so on that the Director has already approved in preproduction — and the Director makes occasional walkthroughs during initial setup to make sure all is well, or decide on last minute changes when inspiration strikes.  Otherwise, the Director focuses on working with the actors (and, if necessary, the writer — see below).

Script and Storyboard Revisions

On-set script and storyboard revisions happen for one of two reasons: the Director has a flash of inspiration, or disaster has struck.  In the former case, it is dependent upon the Director’s personality (and the extent of the change) whether to bother with script and board changes or to just give verbal adjustments to the cast and crew.   In the case of disaster — whether it’s a scene or sequence that just isn’t working, a cast member has quit (or, God forbid, become too sick to work or passed away), or the production has fallen so far behind schedule that major portions of the script need to start getting cut — it is best for all involved to get the changes down.  It will help mitigate the chaos of the disaster, and the comfort of seeing the changes committed to paper will enable you to more easily get back on track.

Cast Call and Cast-Director Check-in

By the time the cast is scheduled to arrive, the set is expected to be ready for them.  The First A.D. and Production Assistants will check the arrival of the cast, make sure they get call sheets, answer questions, bring them water and snacks, and generally get them settled-in before the Director arrives to go over the day’s shooting.  Not all sets bother to (or can afford to) give the cast and Director time before the shooting starts, but if you can make it happen, it’s a great idea.  It allows the cast to ask questions and give suggestions to the Director in a more intimate environment.  Some actors don’t feel comfortable either seeming to need help, or giving suggestions to (or being critical of) the Director, in front everyone.  Time spent alone can enable a freer exchange of ideas, and help diffuse potential issues before they become a big deal.

Wardrobe, Hair and Make-Up

Once a cast member is on-set and informed of the day’s work, they will get their hair and make-up done, and wardrobe fitted.  This may happen before or after the Director check-in, and if the preparations are especially complicated (which may be the case for special effects make-up or elaborate period costumes), the cast call may be at exactly the same time as the crew call (unless, of course, a location move has happened and the wardrobe, hair and make-up trailers or rooms are being prepped), and the actors may be in wardrobe, hair and make-up the whole time the technical set-up is happening.

Actual Shooting

Before the cameras roll, five main things happen:

Lights (1), Camera (2), and Grip gear (3) are set-up.  For the first shot, things are supposed to be pretty close when the cast arrives, but the D.P. still needs to visually inspect the shot with the actual cast in-place, take light readings, and make any necessary adjustments to the lighting and camera rigs before shooting.  When a new shot is started, things may change radically.  This is when the cast and many other members of the crew get a break (or, in the case of the cast or a crew lead who needs Directorial input, perhaps go talk with the Director) as the camera crew, gaffers and grips work fast and furious to get the next shot ready.

Sound gear is set-up (4).  This basically consists of the boom operator getting into proper position, and the recordist doing level checks.  To make this work as it should, the boom operator has been in rehearsals with the cast, is present for all on-set warm-ups, and gets informed of any updates to dialog and timing.  If that’s happening, an experienced boom operator can get set-up without having to ask for run-throughs  before the actual shooting.

All the parts of this set-up that requires interaction with the cast are expected to happen very quickly, so the cast spends minimal time worrying about technical issues and maximal time acting.

Shot Direction is given (5).  Once the set-up is finished, the Director gives the final directions to the cast and crew.  If it’s not the first take, then refinement directions are given — or the call is made that a good take has been achieved and it’s time to move on to the next shot.

Once all the set-up is done, and Direction given, the First A.D. calls “action”.  Then the cameras roll, almost always for a very short period of time, and then the Director calls “cut”.  That’s it.  You just shot a take.  This process happens again and again until the shooting day is done.  In between takes, it’s just the Director giving direction and occasional technical tweaks (and/or touch-up on wardrobe, hair and make-up).  In between shots, it’s just somewhat longer versions of the same thing.  Sure, throughout the day there are meal and restroom breaks, longer set-ups during which some people get to take a break, and so on — but a shooting day is basically this over and over again: technical set-up / adjustment, cast and crew direction given, and roll cameras.

Once you’ve done that for as many days as scheduled for shooting the entire film — have a wrap party, because now you’re ready to go into post production.

Production — before going on-set

Production before going on-set includes the tail end of pretty much everything in preproduction.  Indeed, the distinction between late preproduction and early production is debated.  If you mark a production greenlight as the start of production (as some studios do), then it’s early production.  But if you mark the first shooting day as the start of production (as others do), then it’s late preproduction.  Either way, the tasks you must perform are the same.

Casting, Wardrobe, Make-Up Tests, Rehearsals, Camera Tests with Talent

Sign those final contracts with all your remaining actors as quickly as you can, because your schedule depends on it (and depending how large a percentage your casting cost estimate is relative to the rest of your budget, you may not be able to budget for crew and materials until you do this).  The final casting is also needed so you can start rehearsing (and doing those last script tweaks before hitting the set), fitting costumes (and working with the production designer to refine any costumes that aren’t working now that the real talent is selected), doing make-up tests, using real talent in camera tests to start finalizing lighting and film stock choices (some talent, particularly big names, won’t allow this — and/or you can’t afford it), getting to know people so you can develop a working rapport with them, and (and this is serious with regards to primary cast and crew) finding out about dietary restrictions before starting the process of hiring a caterer.  Rehearse as much as you can (unless you or your lead are the kind of folks who absolutely hate rehearsing — in which case, I hope you’re both excellent under pressure).

Crew Casting

You’re about to go shoot a movie.  On-set work is the post people intensive part of the filmmaking process, and now you’ve got to go out and hire the entire rest of the crew (actually, the production staff and department leads you hired in preproduction do).  For a large budget film, you may be about to hire and schedule several hundred people.  Everyone from the most senior craftsmen and technicians to the lowliest P.A. need to be signed-on now so that legal and payroll can get them on the books, and production (First A.D. and Line Producers) can get them onto the schedule, and production accounting can start itemizing this part of the budget.  In reality, big productions do the entire budget and pre-assign salaries and schedules, and then people either agree to take the jobs or not.  No-budget shooters on the other hand need to be more flexible with timing and compensation because you’ve got as much of the latter as you can squeeze out of people and very little of the former, and crew casting will drive the budget and schedule rather directly.

Lock Locations, Build Sets, Get Props

You need to finalize your locations both for the budget and schedule (getting the final budget and schedule right is the driver for much of late prepro / early production), and so that your art department can start translating the Production Designer’s vision into reality by building and buying sets and props based on the images and measurements gathered during location scouting.  You may not be able to build full sets for some locations (be it extensions and dressing for what is properly called a location, or a what is properly called  a set to be used on a soundstage) at this point, because they’re too large and/or site specific to be built in a workshop, but everything else is fair game.  You want all the props and as many of the set pieces as possible to be done before you go on-set / on-location.

Finally, you need to just stop getting ready at some point.

There is a saying in the business: no project is ever finished, it merely gets released.  (And many variations thereupon.)  Script revisions, storyboards, production design, previz and camera test tweaks need to end some time, and probably some time before you spend more on them than you should have is a good time to do that (especially if you’re observing diminishing returns in terms of making the storytelling — visual and textual — better).  You really need to stop changing these things as soon as possible so that all the rest of this stuff can get locked down — especially the schedule and budget.

Movies usually go over budget and off schedule because of ongoing changes.  Indecision, second guessing, infighting amongst power players, and so on can be the cause of these changes, but if they’re not curtailed it can mean financial (and artistic) disaster.  Some studios, like Pixar, have spent years (and huge amounts of money) figuring out how to carefully balance the need for ongoing and sometimes very late changes to make the film better with knowing what not to change, and fitting those changes into a carefully crafted whole.  Pixar has a well developed system for doing this, and a large, talented staff who have learned over many years how to pull it off.   This approach provides great results for a few studios, and is an unmitigated disaster for others.  And even for the experts, it is neither easy nor cheap.

I’m not talking about on-set inspiration taking a scene or a sequence in a new direction.  I’m talking about big structural changes.  You need to go on-set prepared so you can deal with flashes of inspiration, actually necessary changes, and a million disasters of varying sizes by having a well-laid foundation you’re building on.  If you go on-set with everything still in flux (or so recently having been finalized that you haven’t had time to internalize your own vision and decisions), you’ll get confused knowing what piece goes where, and things can easily spiral out of control. If you find yourself continually making major changes throughout late prepro / early production, maybe your film isn’t really ready for production.  And if your film isn’t actually ready for production, why is it in production in the first place?  If more executives (and producers, directors, etc.) asked themselves this question seriously (paying it lip service is easy), there would be more quality films coming in on-time and on-budget.

Film production, like screenplays andanything else that is initiated, proceeds, and then completes, can be (and is) broken down into a three act structure: preproduction, production, and postproduction.  Simply stated, preproduction is everything that happens before you start shooting, production is all the stuff that happens while you’re on-set and shooting, and postproduction is everything that happens afterwards.

The diagrams and summaries I’ll present are influenced by my big budget feature work, but the way to apply them to smaller budget films is to simply scale them down.  In doing so, some pieces may fall off if you don’t have a friend who can do them for low enough cost (storyboarding and previsualization being the main pieces of preproduction that are most easily cut).

Preproduction

Preproduction starts when a project is greenlit.  In some studios, a greenlight is first given to go into first phase prepro / advanced development in which only script revisions, storyboarding, early production design, and preliminary budgeting are happening.  But once the film is put into real preproduction, a number of other things quickly follow in order to prepare to go into full-blown production.  Here is a visual guide to preproduction, followed by a summary (various aspects of which will become more detailed posts in the future):

Preproduction Pipeline (click to see larger)

Casting Crew Leads and Actors

Depending on the approach at the particular studio or production company, the very first person cast may be a Writer, a Director, or a Producer.  In order to proceed from development into preproduction and have it be maximally successful, all three of those positions need to be cast before moving on.  And in order to proceed with certain tasks in preproduction, you then need to cast your Cinematographer, Production Designer, Production Accountant, Location Scout, Casting Director, and First A.D.  You will need these people to do the first script breakdown (Producer, Director, and First A.D.), and then begin technical / craft preproduction as well as scheduling, budgeting and financing.

Casting your on-screen leads will have a very direct impact on both script and story development and budgeting and financing.  If you cast someone with enough stature relative to your film’s budget, you will be required to give them some say in the development of the story in return for the fact that their signing-on will be a major step towards securing financing (and may increase your budget, too, depending on how big a name they are relative to your project’s size, balanced against how friendly they are towards you and your vision).  And, the earlier you cast, the earlier this input can be gathered, which means better preproduction results, as well as an earlier opportunity to start rehearsals.

Script Breakdown

The usual meaning of a script breakdown is taking the pre-shooting style script and breaking it into shots in the style of a shooting script.  People generally think of the first shooting scrip breakdown as happening right before going on-set, but it really needs to happen before you can start budgeting and scheduling, which you’ll need a first pass on before you can start to go out for financing.

The first script breakdown also helps the Cinematographer design appropriate camera tests, and the Production Designer, Location Scout and Casting Director to start finding the look, key places and key on-screen talent for your film.  A different kind of breakdown is needed to go into the Story department (if you’ll have one), but the first pass at a shooting breakdown is essential for Previsualization (if you’ll do it).   All these people will be working off the script breakdown, so it’s crucial to do a complete pass on this before moving forward with the rest of preproduction.

Budgeting and Scheduling, Financing and Legal

Money, time and contracts all must be managed in order to actually produce a film.  Budgets and schedules are simple to conceptualize, and difficult to get right.  A schedule is just a detailed list of things you want to do, with how long each will take and who (cast and crew) and what (locations, equipment, sets and props) needs to be there.  The budget is derived from the schedule by figuring out how much each of those things costs per day, and adding it all up (remembering to include preproduction and postproduction as fully scheduled and budgeted aspects of making the iflm, as well as overhead, with potentially substantial fixed costs like permits, fees, film duplication, etc. called-out as line items).

You then use the budget and schedule to help determine financing needs, and plan the actual production.  The early budgets and schedules will be used as part of the financing process, so the producing staff knows how much to be asking for.  As cast member salaries (and, sometimes, story demands) boost the budget, this must all get revised.  Early design, scouting, previs, and camera tests will also influence the budget and schedule.  As you refine what it is you’re trying to do, you will almost certainly be forced to repeatedly decided between something you really want — a cool shot, a great location, an expensive cast member, etc. — and the realities of your budget.  Sometimes, if you’re early enough in the financing process and sufficiently skilled at getting people excited about your project, you might be able to boost the budget once — but usually not.

It’s best to keep the very first iterations of all this stuff to yourself for as long as you can financially afford to do so with whatever seed money you bring to the project (and whatever free time your crew might give you).  If you’re lucky enough to be doing a big studio project, all of this happens on their dime, though how it then may get deducted against gross and therefore any back end you may be lucky enough to have negotiated (though probably not) is something for the lawyers to work out.

And, indeed, there are a lot of things for lawyers to work out in terms of financing agreements, cast and crew contracts, rights agreements, and so on.  It’s crucial to have a professional, full-time entertainment lawyer with extensive film experience available to you throughout the process, especially if it’s your first feature film.

Script Revisions, Storyboarding, Production Design and Previsualization

Script revisions come from notes received from big name cast members, the Director, the Producer, and if it’s a studio film, the studio executives (either they read it alone, or from table reads and rehearsals — though rehearsals often don’t start until the moment after preproduction because on-screen talent often won’t commit the time until on-set production is greenlit, so there’s often at least one prepro iteration after prepro has officially ended).

They also come from other phases of the preproduction process, because the major reason for the preproduction process other than the budgeting and planning of the shoot is to do things that reveal problems in the film before you start incurring the high costs of being on-set.  Storyboarding and Previsualization processes are in fact specifically designed to do this very thing (and because of this, they are often omitted, particularly by Directors who — right or wrong — believe they don’t need to incur the expense as they’ve already “got it all in my head”).

Production design is the development of the visual look of the film.  The Director and Cinematographer are generally the only ones participating in this other than the Production Designer (and sometimes, not even the Cinematographer, who may come in after design is basically finished).  Production design establishes the basic look of the film, drawing, painting, and finding reference for major sets, costumes, buildings, vehicles, and even characters.  All this feeds into the production art department, as well as location scouting, camera, and casting departments as the production design packets are the physical embodiments of the Director’s visual goals.

Storyboards (and animatics cut together from boards) are a way of working out structural, character, and visual storytelling elements before more expensive stages of production begin (camera tests, previs, and real production).  Story iterates with the writer(s) on the script side, and production design and the camera department on the visual elements.  Boards are like  a first pass at both rehearsals and camera tests, without having to hire any actors or camera crew.  Camera tests may then be done on specific shots that have been boarded (and/or previsualized) in order to find the best looking, most efficient and effective way to achieve them, whereas finding the shot during a test can incur higher costs due to space and equipment rentals (and finding a shot on-set can be project killing if you haven’t done enough prepro work to make the changes happen within a solid framework of production, and know enough about your own goals to get the changes done quickly).

Previsualization is a 3D computer graphics approach to exploring shot composition.  Some people use this instead of storyboards, but generally boards have better “acting” in them (skilled board artists draw more relevant and convincing character emotions than you’re going to get out of previs-grade 3D chracters).  This makes them superior to previs for acting-driven sequences.  3D previs is particularly useful for shots with complex camera movements, staging, and choreography.  In those cases a board artist may make shots look feasible that aren’t (or, at least, aren’t on your budget).  A cost effective, simple 3D previs with a system that models real cameras and real grip gear (such as Frame Forge) is a good way to test for this.  Very complex, expensive films also use (high end) previs extensively just because there’s so much going on it becomes an effective way to establish and communicate all the on-set needs for very complicated shots.

Camera Tests, Location Scouting and related work

Technical and craft scouting and tests are essential parts of preproduction that are fed by and feed back into both story development (can’t get a crucial location on time and budget?  need to change it) and production design.  Camera tests in particular develop and refine the look, both in terms of the production design aspects of color and value in frame, as well as the compositional and pacing goals established in storyboarding and previs.  The purpose of camera tests is to establish what camera, lenses, stock, and light kit will be the foundational basis of the shoot by proving that the combination can actually achieve the desired look by doing it.  Going ahead with a shoot without doing any camera tests is foolish, and any Cinematographer who suggests this isn’t worthy of the title.  Every film has differences, and they need to be analyzed and understood before huge costs are being incurred on-set.

Location scouting can be as essential as casting, especially in films where locations are basically characters (a chase across Mt. Rushmore is much different than a chase across “a big hill”).  Location availability and cost also has a potentially big impact on budgeting and scheduling, and the physical aspects of the location impact production design and the work of the camera, electrical, and sound departments.

Related tests and scouting may be done on some films where there are particular needs in terms of on-set sound (sound tests), music (bringing on a music director early to start establishing rights), or particular costumes, set pieces, vehicles, or other props that are key to the film and need to be established during preproduction in a manner other than merely being designed by the Production Designer.  But generally most or all of this sort of thing happens during early production — the part that secretly isn’t actually on-set despite going on-set appearing in the most common definition of production — because that’s when you’ve actually received all the money and go-ahead needed to go on set (which is really when production starts).

Iterate

If you look at the diagram, you’ll notice lots of arrows that show one phase feeding into another, and that phase then feeding back into the prior phase.  That’s because preproduction (and really all filmmaking) is an iterative process.  The results of taking the results of one part of the process and refining it in another may cause something in that prior part of the process to change.  Filmmaking isn’t an “all at once” process.  Think of iterating in preproduction a bit like doing takes on-set: with all the “moving parts” involved in making a movie you’re terribly unlikely to get anything right the first time, so you need to actively plan to fail to do so.  Iterating during preproduction is the least expensive opportunity to iterate and get more things right, and it is by doing so that you’re able to effectively plan to fail to get things right on set and still manage to make the film you actually want to (or something close to it, anyway).

Preproduction is the most overlooked, downplayed, and underappreciated part of filmmaking.  That’s because it is actually the most essential step in making a film, yet people generally want to skip most or all of it.  Without sufficient preproduction, you’re going into production and postproduction with no real idea of what you’re doing.  Even if you’ve made films before, at the beginning of every new project you should just assume you have no idea what’s going to happen and why, and set about developing an good idea about that before you go on-set.  You really, really don’t want to be figuring all these things out for the first time when five, fifteen, fifty, or five hundred people are all staring at you, wondering and asking: “what’s this scene about and how should it look?” (And all the hundreds of details that implies.)

Actors have the right to expect two key things: for you to be professional and respect them as professionals, and for you to know enough (about acting, directing, and your own material) that you can actually direct them.

Getting to Know Acting

Every Director should set out to learn something about acting.  After all, how can you Direct something you don’t know anything about?

Anyone who wants to Direct should really take at least one improv class.  Why improv?  Because every aspiring Director needs to experience the feeling of how difficult it is to be thrown in front of a bunch of people and told to perform right now.  It’s miserable.  And the best improv teachers start off this way, so you can experience the fear.  But you’ll soon realize that everyone starts off terrified, even the ones who seem natural at it, and that what ultimately makes improv possible is developing rapport and trust relationships amongst the participants.  That is also what makes a positive, productive film set possible.

Most of you won’t be doing Christopher Guest style improv films, but improv will teach you a lot about how to make actors (and crew) comfortable on-set — and do so by letting you experience first hand how terrifying it is if you’re not comfortable.

It is also advisable to take at least one acting class, and as cliché as it may seem, you should probably take a method acting class.  Many actors have been trained in one of the method schools (in the U.S., usually Meisner or Strasberg styles).  Even those who don’t practice method acting have generally studied Constantin Stanislavski’s acting “ABC” books, and so should you.

Finally, stick yourself out there.  Go act.  Do a community theater performance, or a role in a friend’s short film.  I don’t consider myself an actor at all, but I’ve done some voice acting, and played minor roles in a few short video productions, to make sure I have some first-hand understanding of what the actors are going through.

This level of exposure won’t make you an expert actor, nor will you become totally fluent in the academic methodology and terminology of acting, but you’ll have enough of a foundation that through repeated exposure to actors you’ll develop a shared language with them.

Expectations Before the Shoot

Most actors like to rehearse.  Some don’t, but most do.  And pretty much all actors would like to at least do a table read before shooting.  If you think you can’t afford rehearsals on your budget, try to think of other things you might cut before making that decision.  But even if you genuinely can’t afford the actors’ time and space for rehearsals on your budget, at least do a table read.  Whenever I’ve neglected to do table reads first, getting scenes right has always proved to be much more difficult.  This is especially true for no-budget shooters that are working with inexperienced actors, even those with a lot of raw talent.   Rehearsals and table reads allow the actors to become familiar with the material, and you with their performance style and Directing needs.  It is the beginning of developing trust and rapport.  But don’t over-Direct the rehearsals.  You don’t want the best performances off-camera, and you don’t want to burn out your actors.  Allow the rehearsals to be fluid, fun and imprecise.  Everyone should know that this is just a way to get familiar with the material and each other, not a pressure situation where they must “nail it” — and then be expected to exactly duplicate that performance on-set.

Actors also like not to be forgotten when updates to schedules, locations, shot breakdowns, and script pages are being circulated.  New Directors and Producers that have been struggling to figure out the technical how-tos of making their film can become obsessed with making sure the camera and sound crews are kept in the loop about everything, and completely forget about the actors.  But the actors care just as much as the technical crews if schedules, locations and shots are changing, and even more so if the script is being modified.  Don’t leave your actors out of preproduction updates.  (Another good thing about rehearsals and/or table reads is that it’s harder to forget about someone that’s right there in front of you.)

On-Set Expectations

These on-set expectations are not strictly limited to actor expectations.  Everyone on-set will benefit from good production and direction, and the film will be better for it.

Be professional.  Stories of tantrums and tyrannical Directors and Producers abound in the industry, but there’s really no benefit to unprofessional behavior.  The only possible outcome of on-set tantrums and other mistreatment of cast and crew is wasted time and resentment that leads to people not giving your production their all.  Losing your temper is never good, and should it happen in the heat of the moment, accept responsibility for getting everyone back on track.  Being professional also means being punctual and organized, and sticking to your schedule as much as possible — and/or working with a Producer who will enforce all that on you if it doesn’t come naturally.

Know your material.  Many new Directors go on-set with insufficient knowledge of the film they’re actually making.  (Doing so on your first production or two is basically inevitable, which is one reason why it’s good to start small for your first few projects.)  Good Directing requires having ideas about everything from camera angles to character motivations, and you need to know the material inside-out in order to make sensible decisions about all those things.

Actors will expect you to be able to discuss every scene in-depth, from a variety of aspects: tone, theme, character goals, character motivations, blocking, etc.  Preproduction exists to allow you to build a strong foundation of knowledge of and ideas about the material, so that inevitable on-set changes aren’t overwhelming.  It’s easier to make on-the-fly changes that don’t wreck the final product if you know the material.  You will have a very difficult time, and your end product will suffer for it (if you manage to finish at all), if you don’t know your material and have ideas about how everything should look, sound, and feel.

Be flexible.  Knowing what you want is essential, but so is realizing when you just can’t get it under the given circumstances, and being knowledgable and creative enough to quickly make a change that you can live with (good news: sometimes it turns out even better than your original idea).  If you become obsessed with how things were in rehearsals, and what you saw in your head during preproduction, you can grind your whole production to a halt by trying to do something that’s impossible with the time, budget, and level of experience your cast and crew have.

Even Directors of hundred million dollar films don’t get every shot and every performance to come out exactly the way they dreamed it would, and you’re not going to either.  The job of the Director and Producer is to get the best work out of everyone on-time and on-budget, without burning them out or destroying the produciton by being intractable.  Actors particularly like the opportunity to try out an alternate read or blocking if material isn’t working for them.  Flexibility doesn’t mean straying from your vision or letting your film get hijacked by your cast and crew, but rather being able to deal with the real world in which things sometimes go wrong and an alternate approach is needed.  Creative adjustments to on-set problems often lead to better films, and insisting on something that’s clearly become impossible is a good way wind up failing to even finish shooting.

Let the actors settle-in.  Give the cast and crew time to get to know each other at the beginning of the shoot, and schedule the easiest set-ups for the first 10% of production.  Then, during each scene, leave time for the physical set-up (dressing, lights, etc.) and line-ups (reintroducing the cast to the scene and how it’ll play out, including changes necessitated by differences in the actual set to the rehearsal space, or new ideas you had on how to make the scene play better).  Start each day with an easier scene, as well.  Building a groove before trying the most difficult scenes will always give you better results.

Listen.  Actors want to be a part of the creative process, not just puppets.  You’re under no obligation to take all of, or even any of, their suggestions.  But you’ll have a much better time on-set if you give them the opportunity to be heard.  The phrase “let’s try a take of your idea, but I’d still like to get one of this other approach” can buy you a tremendous amount of goodwill with your cast.  And if you’re any good at managing your set, it will do so without wasting time and sending you off schedule.  Again, you don’t want to let someone hijack the set with their own personal baggage, but don’t assume someone will just because they ask to be heard.  Most actors will be very professional and collaborative if you treat them the same way.

Don’t give line readings.  When fixing performance problems, never read a line and tell an actor to do it like you just did.  There are two reasons for this: it’s patronizing, and “if you’re such a good actor why aren’t you up there doing it yourself?”  There are plenty of other ways to fix line readings.  General hints, such as angrier, are ok but often inadequate.  Talking about character motivation is popular, and necessary, but not always sufficient.  A more visceral and specific hint is often better, such as: “say it like he just punched your mom in the face.”   If you have time, having the actors do a short scene that isn’t in the film as a character warmup can get you some good traction, and if people are having a particularly hard time staying in character asking them to do so all day, even between takes and on breaks, can also be helpful.  In general, you need to work with your actors and see what approaches work best for them as individuals — yet another good reason to have rehearsals.

Food, toilets, and breaks.  It sounds hyperbolic (I’m not sure how one would get such data, or how to verify it), but in a producing class I was once told that 80% of all low/no-budget productions fail because the Producer didn’t provide for decent food and toilet facilites, and/or the Director wouldn’t ever let anyone off set to use them.  Whether or not it’s true that 80% of productions fall on this sword, you don’t want yours to be one of them.  Especially when you’re not paying people (or not paying them well), you really had better find a way to budget for food, facilities, and breaks.

The basic take-home point of all of this is: Well treated people will work those 16–18 hour days needed to squeeze out a decent production within a tiny budget and schedule, and mistreated people will walk off set and never reutrn.

But not all Cinematographers lord over their Gaffer. Many rely on the Gaffer’s experience to help them achieve the look they’re going for, giving general directions rather than micromanaging the placement of every light. The best Cinematographers develop the same kind of trust relationship with their Gaffer that the best Directors do with their Cinematographers. By learning each others’ styles and how to work together, a Cinematographer and Gaffer can develop a shorthand for quickly creating the right look for every shot.

Grips tend to get even less respect than Gaffers, even though they are essential to pulling off complex shots. Dolly grips, TechnoCrane operators, and the like are critical for Directors and Cinematographers that want the most sophisticated camera moves they can get. The rigging that Grips do ensures the safety of the cast and crew who are all standing beneath potentially tons of lights and light modifiers. Rigging problems can be quite vexing, and require some very creative solutions. A smart, talented Key Grip is just as critical to a shoot as any other lead role.

For no-budget shooting, lighting and rigging can become very creative. Even on a big set that creative problem solving can be the difference between hitting the look or not, but because no-budget shooters are always running low on time and money, there may be no second chances or backup plans.

On Hitchhiker, we had to shoot long dialog sequences inside a car. The actor was rightfully worried about trying to act while actually driving, particularly with a camera rig hanging off the car. Since we had nowhere near the budget for a truck or trailer rig, even a jury-rigged one, we decided to shoot indoors and do rear projection.

Erick built the rear projection screen using PVC pipe and translucent plastic from Home Depot. One interesting thing that we didn’t even think about until I noticed a problem on-set was whether or not the translucent material was color neutral.  It wasn’t, and I wound up having to adjust the color of all of our footage in Final Cut Pro in order to compensate for the fact that the plastic caused a color shift towards green.

Because the original plan was to shoot more footage in a moving car than we ultimately did, a substantial part of the budget had been used to purchase a car rig that wound up not getting used much in its expensive configuration).  But its suction cups became the basis for a cheap setup that Erick rigged to allow the camera to move with the car (which was jittered by someone pushing on the bumper — subtely, to make it seem as if it was hitting minor road bumps).

Car Rig and Rear Projection Screen with Emma, Dani, Austin, Danielle

You can see above that the car rig involves a long straight bracket (actually, two of them) bolted to the suction cups and stuck to the car.  The camera is then mounted to the bracket with a metal L-brace, and reinforced by being strapped to the bracket by the handle (one strap holds the long, heavy homebrew 35mm lens adapter Emma built, so it doesn’t torque off).  The image below has the straps outlined in red so you can see the basic idea (assume one of the straps runs down and is hiding the bracket, which is the case in that bad photo):

Me and Erick hamming it up for the camera, next to the Car Rig and the Rim Light Rig (and Danielle, Brandon and Austin)

To keep the camera from jittering/swinging side-to-side or front-to-back, a simple counterweight and stabilization system can be added to the rig: a tripod.

The bracket also helps prevent this — if you only had straps and no L-bracket in your rig, you’d need the tripod even more. But even with the bracket, because of some of the parts not fitting together perfectly, the whole rig was a bit loose.  So the tripod also generally served to help generally maintain the camera angle even though the bracket was also doing part of that job.

Loosening the vertical lock to allow the camera to travel vertically is the trick, and the tripod does the rest in terms of helping maintain camera position, preventing swing and saving your camera if your rig fails (ours didn’t).

Car Rig with Dani, Danielle, and Austin

You may be wondering: “What is that mess at the opposite end of the rig bracket?”  Part of it is a jacket taped to the bracket with masking tape so nobody injured themselves on the bracket.  In building the bracket, we forgot to include any kid of safety cap.  Oops.  Another part of what you’re seeing is a clever and obviously no-budget lighting solution.  Here is a close-up:

Rim Light Rig on Danielle

Dani, the DP, wanted a rim light on Danielle to give her head some separation from the background.  Fair enough, but we didn’t have the most appropriate fresnels.  We had no 150s at all, and a 300 was just too bright (we had used up all our C-stands and modifiers elsewhere).  However, we did have these little Ikea accent lights that had been purchased to create a dashboard lighting effects.

They weren’t all being used, because a dimmed, diffused Kino Diva was quite adequate to get most of the particular look that was desired in the conditions at hand. Had it been a higher contrast lighting setup lighting Austin and Danielle’s faces with nothing but small, dim, focused lights could have been quite useful, but as it was, only two of the several little lights we’d purchased were being used — one taped to the windshield on Danielle’s right side, and one taped to a piece of PVC pipe beneath her to fill a shadow on her neck).

I took a piece of scrap PVC pipe, and taped it to the “safety jacket” on the bracket, creating a perpendicular support.  Then Erick and I used masking tape to attach 3 of the little Ikea lights to the pipe. Two are seen in the image above, and here is the third (outlined in red so you can see it — and with an arrow indicating where the light is actually pointing):

Me and the Rim Light Rig

We positioned the lights in 3 ways: by their position on the crossbar, by controlling the length of their cables (how low they hung), and by angling them into precise position at Dani’s request.  That was done quite simply: we ran masking tape along the cable and taped pieces of it together until it twised the cable into the necessary position.  Note the twisted tape on the middle light:

Me, Erick, the Rear Projection Screen and the Rim Light Rig

(We’re repositioning the crossbar in that photo.  It wasn’t held up by someone out of frame in the actual shoot.  That was considered, but even something very light starts to cause discomfort or even pain if you have to hold it up for a long time.)

The entire procedure took about 30–45 minutes, starting with the request for a rim light, deciding the Arri 300 would not work, telephoning someone that I know who has Arri 150s (but wasn’t home), my spotting the scrap piece of PVC, presenting the idea, and then Erick and I rigging the entire crazy solution.  It was possible because we were both luck enough to have some equipment in the kit that could possibly be made to work (the little lights) and we were willing to “think outside the box” to come up with a nonstandard solution.

I think it worked so well that I’m going to buy some of those little Ikea lights, PVC piping, and clamps (using tape was annoying) to permanently keep in my own kit.   Versatile gear, even if it’s not “proper” film gear, is a no-budget shooter’s best friend.

Storyboarding is the phase of deveopment in which the visual language of the film is explored and conceptually locked down (the visual concept is simultaneously co-developed with the production designer, who will then refine it). Boards are the most economical place to explore camera framing and movement in order to figure out the pacing and style of your film.

In order to prepare for boarding, the Director needs to do a story breakdown of the script.  Doing a script breakdown for an animation storyboard artist is quite different than doing a script breakdown for on-set production. What an experienced animation board artist expects from the Director is not necessarily what you might think when you hear the word “breakdown.”

Start With A Sequence

Board artists are generally given full sequences to work on, not just one scene or shot (except, sometimes, for fixes or punch-up), because the idea is for the artist to focus on a thematic unit of the film and help develop it.  First off, one must realize that a sequence is not a scene.  A sequence is a series of actions, which may or may not be geographically and temporally coherent, but which are thematically coherent.  For example, in Pixar’s The Incredibles, the introductory set of scenes where Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl and Frozone are being interviewed about being superheroes is not geographically or temporally coherent (they’re all being interviewed in different places, at different times), but all the shots in that sequence are about establishing their old perspectives.  In the script, each of the interview scenes will be separate scenes, each starting with a new slugline.  But they’re still part of the same sequence.

Breakdown for Boarding

While it’s certainly not forbidden for the Director to include camera suggestions in the delivery to the board artist, but what the board artist really needs from the Director is a breakdown of the logical and emotional beats in the sequence.  Most story artists want this in the form of a verbal pitch, and they are expected to give the Director a verbal pitch of how they interpreted the sequence when they present the boards. The pitch the board artists need is not your elevator pitch, selling pitch, or even treatment excerpt.  It’s specifically a pitch about what the theme and mood of the sequence are, and how each beat (meaning some block of action and dialog that you feel is a continuous conceptual whole within the sequence) contributes to that, and to the rising and falling action in the sequence.

A section of the opening sequence of my in-progress short, Measured Assessment, can serve as an example.  Here is one scene and part of the next in the opening sequence:

And by way of example, here are notes similar to the ones I gave Emma:

Establish Josef: he is old, but not pathetic.  Still alert and engaged, he reads copiously and loves his loyal pet cat.  The books, his age, and the room generally should establish a contrast that we’ll build during the sequence, between Josef and his world, and the world he now lives in.   We need a close on the eyeglass adjust as it’s a runner that needs to get established.  A wide to establish his room, and how homey it is, would be good to heighten the contrast to what we’ll see later.

Establish A.N.G.E.L., who is in fact a lot like Annabel The Cat: a loyal pet, who also happens to be a competent and devoted caregiver.  This robot is not slick, it’s utilitarian, fairly outdated, and utterly dedicated to its charge.   A.N.G.E.L. is a bit worn, which not only helps to highlight the contrast between Josef’s “outdated” world and his unwillingness to constantly upgrade in comparison to the rest of the world he lives in, but also to show that he’s ultimately as loyal to A.N.G.E.L. as the bot is to him.  I’d like to be close on A.N.G.E.L. so we can see her details, including the logo.

The clock not only further reinforces Josef’s anachronistic life, but symbolizes taking the time to live or letting it slip away: a core theme.  The moment of his struggle to his feet is the highlight of this moment: his will to live is strong, but even his devoted bot can’t keep him feeling young forever. The other beats keep up the runners: he’s still actively living, he engenders loyalty, and also the mechanical element of the glasses adjust.

Establish the world around him.  Josef emerges into the world outside his cozy home.  It is cold and fast, and moving on without him.  His robot is his only comfort outside his lair, and even his loyal A.N.G.E.L. isn’t quite capable of being actively warm to him.  While the distance his bot keeps is a respectful one, it’s still the case that he’s basically alone.   An ortho view of the city showing the vastness and blur of people literally speeding through their days that does a tilt-down and push into Josef revealing him plodding along past the blur could be a really cool shot.

Camera: The pacing in Josef’s home should be a bit slow.  It moves along at Josef’s rhythm.  Outside, it’s a contrast between the staccato rhythm of the life of the city with his own steady beat.   I’m interested in limited camera movement in the beginning, with more towards the end of the sequence — but not shakycam or frenetic MTV cutting.  Still a more classically cinematic approach to framing and moving the camera, but increasing in energy (that build will continue for a while, and we never want to get into hyperactive cinematography, so plan accordingly).

As you can see, the idea in pitching to the board artist is to convey the emotional beats, and the purpose of each one.  Ideas about camera style are also given, but specific shot breakdowns aren’t a part of the pitch (if you want to do them, write them down and give them to the artist — and also let them know they’re free to change the camera specifics if they come up with better ideas since they’re there for you to collaborate with, after all).

Approaching your handoffs to your storyboard artist in this manner will make the process much more useful for you as the Director, and much more productive and enjoyable for your collaborator.