Film Pipeline Overview, pt. 2A: Production, phase one
As mentioned in part 1, production really begins with a production greenlight (it does where I grew up, anyway). For bigger films, this is upon getting a go-ahead from the financial backers (a greenlight from a studio exec, delivery of a materials that convince indie backers to go ahead and sign checks, or whatever other form it takes), and for no-budget films this is when you decide: “hey, I like what we’ve gotten out of prepro, let’s make this thing now.”
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 Pipeline Overview, pt. 1: Preproduction
For my day job, I’ve done a lot of pipeline design and development for animated films (I’ve co-designed the entire production pipeline for two features, and contributed pieces to several others). So I figured I’d apply the diagramming and summarization techniques I use to create a general film production pipeline overview for you.
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.)
Actor Expectations on an Indie Film
Many no-budget and indie Directors and Producers come to the task woefully unprepared for working with actors. Unlike in theater, most Directors and Producers were never actors, myself included. What this means is that we’re not familiar with the needs and expectations of actors, and going in blind like this can quickly lead to production-wrecking conflict that you may never be able to recover from. It is essential to learn to work with actors if you want to Direct or Produce films.
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.
Hitchhiker: Creative Gaffing and Gripping For The No-Budget Set
The lighting and grip crews are departments that too often don’t really get the respect they deserve. Lighting is headed by the Gaffer, a funny sounding word, made funnier by its use amongst the Hobbits in Lord of the Rings. That both the Key Grip and Gaffer’s assistants are called the Best Boy doesn’t make life any easier. More importantly, however, the practice of lighting and rigging the set is seen as mechanical, and any creativity involved is assumed to have come from the Cinematographer / Director of Photography.
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.
Storyboard Handoffs
I recently handed off the first sequence in my in-preproduction short animated film Measured Assessment to Emma, who has graciously agreed to board the film.
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:
INT. APT, LIVING ROOM — DAY
One hundred twenty-three year old JOSEF L. sits on his couch, reading a book.
He adjusts his glasses. Runs his fingers through the fur of ANNABEL THE CAT sitting beside him. Books are piled up everywhere.
A small, hospital green ROBOT hovers nearby. It bears the logo of the Department of Homeland and Social Security, and text that reads “Automated Nurse for Geriatric Emergency Lifesaving.”
CLANG. An old cuckoo clock strikes noon. Josef adjusts his glasses. Grabs his cane. Struggles to his feet. Annabel rubs up against him.
INT. APT, KITCHEN — DAY
Josef puts out some cat food for Annabel. Puts on his hat and coat.
Adjusts his glasses. Opens the door onto the hallway. Annabel runs to the window.
ANNABEL POV
Josef exits the building into an empty courtyard.
EXT. STREET — DAY
Futuristic glass towers stab into the sky.
Josef’s building is the only one that isn’t shiny and new. He exits the courtyard and hobbles along the sidewalk.
The A.N.G.E.L. robot follows closely behind him.
Everything is a blur — except Josef and the huge buildings that dwarf him — as the life of the city races past him.
And by way of example, here are notes similar to the ones I gave Emma:
INT. APT, LIVING ROOM — DAY
One hundred twenty-three year old JOSEF L. sits on his couch, reading a book.
He adjusts his wire rim glasses. Runs his fingers through the fur of ANNABEL THE CAT sitting beside him. Books are piled up everywhere.
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.
A small, hospital green ROBOT hovers nearby. It bears the logo of the Department of Homeland and Social Security, and text that reads “Automated Nurse for Geriatric Emergency Lifesaving.”
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.
CLANG. An old cuckoo clock strikes noon. Josef adjusts his glasses. Grabs his cane. Struggles to his feet. Annabel rubs up against him.
INT. APT, KITCHEN — DAY
Josef puts out some cat food for Annabel. Puts on his hat and coat.
Adjusts his glasses. Opens the door onto the hallway. Annabel runs to the window.
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.
ANNABEL POV
Josef exits the building into an empty courtyard.
EXT. STREET — DAY
Futuristic glass towers stab into the sky.
Josef’s building is the only one that isn’t shiny and new. He exits the courtyard and hobbles along the sidewalk.
The A.N.G.E.L. robot follows closely behind him.
Everything is a blur — except Josef and the huge buildings that dwarf him — as the life of the city races past him.
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.
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