Beyond the Frame

One thing people outside the industry don’t understand is how incredibly difficult it is to make a film.  If a film actually manages to get into production, the production itself is not only a logistical monster, but the stakes are often very high.  You have to have a schedule and you have to stick to it.

In independent film, making your days is essential to finishing a film.  Money cannot solve problems - there isn’t any.  Losing a day is the worst thing that can happen short of major injury or death.  One bad day can ruin a year of preparation.  It can sink the entire ship.  The risks are actually that high.  

John Bruno reflects on one such day.  Follow his blog if you can stomach the truth about filmmaking.  An excerpt is below:

Most of the extras were still signing in when things turned bad.  JR rolled on a smaller portion of the scene that did not require extras when we heard a funny sound coming from the camera, a crunching sound. 

For those not technically proficient in 35mm cameras, crunching sounds are definitely not a good sign.

JR was a tech whiz.  He said he hoped he could fix the problem, and to let him work alone and uninterrupted somewhere.  I found a room and put a PA outside it with instructions that no one was to enter.

Meanwhile, I worked with my 2nd AD to make sure that once camera was back up, everything would be ready to roll.

Minutes passed, and minutes turned into more than an hour.  All the while, Uzo, who was not only directing this drama that was close to his heart but who also made a healthy financial investment in it, keep coming up to me.  We would be able to shoot today, right?

To be honest, I hedged a little.  I said that if the camera was workable, we would be prepared to make up the time lost.

The if went away in a heartbeat.

I went into the room that JR was sequestered in, and it was a sight I had not seen before, not seen since, and don’t expect to see again.  There, on a series of  tables, were many, many pieces of the camera.  The lens had shattered, and the broken glass had worked its way all through the camera body.  Humpty Dumpty was in fewer pieces after that unfortunate fall off the wall.

It is amazing that JR could take a camera apart like that, and more amazing that he could put it back together.

I feared the worst, but without having to ask, I got my answer.  I think I only got as far as “So, JR….” when my good friend looked up from the patient and shook his head.  How long?  The answer was a few days.

I just nodded my head and did the first of many “dead man walking” trips. 

“Uzo.  The camera is down.  I’m going to have to wrap us for today.”

Denial is the first stage of grief.

“We are shooting today, right?” Uzo asked.

I was more specific.  We were not shooting today.  We were wrapped.  I had not called it yet out of deference to him, and as we were not close to a full day yet, no one was going into overtime.

Make no mistake.  We were wrapped.

Anger.

“We MUST shoot today!”

I started explaining to Uzo that we could not shoot without a camera (he knew that - but grief is a bitch).

“I DO NOT care about the camera.  We MUST shoot today!”