into a meticulously constructed Red Cross tent. The handheld camera acting as Adam’s character runs into the room and McCourt yells, “Cut. Print.” He signs off using theclassic old-fashioned term. We haven’t exactly caught up with the digital age—we use the technology, but even I will admit “stop” just doesn’t have the same ring as “cut.”
Finally I can look away from my notes to say hi to Craig, but he is already standing with his arm around McCourt in a serious conversation. Victor gets off his camera stool and walks over to Frank. Their huddle looks equally intense.
While it’s fresh in my mind, and since no one has called me over or announced what we’re doing next, I make more notes about the scene and then review what’s coming up. I glance at my watch and start adding up how much more we have to shoot tonight before we can call it quits.
Frank returns announcing that the second meal is ready. We don’t normally have to break for another meal, but obviously, this is going to be one of many in a week of late nights. Frank protects his crew; that’s why they love him. But he always does a fair and balanced job of looking out for the show, and the producer’s pocketbooks as well, which is why he gets hired all the time. We both know the scene is at a critical point in filming. All the actors have to try and remember exactly how they moved and delivered their lines in that main version, so when we go back for close-ups and other tight shots, it will match. Therefore, now isn’t the best place to stop.
Frank and I are both trying not to appear as if we are watching Craig and McCourt, but we are. The outcome of their conversation is pretty critical to all of us. When Craig smacks the director on the shoulder in the friendly but firm way that guys do when they’re making a point, Frank and I slide a glance at each other and wait for McCourt to tell us the verdict.
Craig meets my eyes over McCourt’s shoulder, winks at me, then disappears around the false rock walls that comprise the terrorists’ hideout.
McCourt starts in as soon as Craig walks away. “This is why I hate TV. We’re making a one-hour movie on a shoestring budget, but they expect it to look like the latest Spielberg blockbuster. You can’t have it both ways.”
Frank and I both nod in weary agreement. I’m pretty sure McCourt doesn’t expect a reply. McCourt looks at the monitors that show the actors all still in position on set, and I can see his eyes refocus on the present.
“Maddy, was that last take clean? Did we get a good one?”
Sometimes you never get one perfect take, so you go into postproduction knowing there’s going to be a lot of editing and fixing to do. But every director would prefer to go in knowing there’s something to fall back on. If you have one clean version of the scene, you know you can build from there. It’s a safety net.
“Yeah, that last time was clean. I think the close-ups are going to get you better performances, and I know Victor wants to relight for Billy’s angle, but we’ve got the shot.” He’s trying to be subtle, but I catch McCourt doing a fist pump. After all the extra time and work that went into getting that special angle, he needed it to work. I’m happy for him, but there’s no time to celebrate. “So should we go in and get some of the close-ups you wanted?”
“Catering has the second meal set up for the crew. It’s ready now.” Frank’s voice is low so the crew doesn’t hear the announcement, or we might have a mutiny on our hands. He isn’t telling the director what to do, but it’s close.
“Some of that action is going to be hard to repeat as it is. We should try to get some of the close-up work done while it’s still fresh in everyone’s minds,” I argue. Frank and I work well together, but sometimes our goals vary. He wants a happy crew; I want my shots to match.
“When do we go into meal penalty?” McCourt asks Frank.
Frank looks at the
Finally I can look away from my notes to say hi to Craig, but he is already standing with his arm around McCourt in a serious conversation. Victor gets off his camera stool and walks over to Frank. Their huddle looks equally intense.
While it’s fresh in my mind, and since no one has called me over or announced what we’re doing next, I make more notes about the scene and then review what’s coming up. I glance at my watch and start adding up how much more we have to shoot tonight before we can call it quits.
Frank returns announcing that the second meal is ready. We don’t normally have to break for another meal, but obviously, this is going to be one of many in a week of late nights. Frank protects his crew; that’s why they love him. But he always does a fair and balanced job of looking out for the show, and the producer’s pocketbooks as well, which is why he gets hired all the time. We both know the scene is at a critical point in filming. All the actors have to try and remember exactly how they moved and delivered their lines in that main version, so when we go back for close-ups and other tight shots, it will match. Therefore, now isn’t the best place to stop.
Frank and I are both trying not to appear as if we are watching Craig and McCourt, but we are. The outcome of their conversation is pretty critical to all of us. When Craig smacks the director on the shoulder in the friendly but firm way that guys do when they’re making a point, Frank and I slide a glance at each other and wait for McCourt to tell us the verdict.
Craig meets my eyes over McCourt’s shoulder, winks at me, then disappears around the false rock walls that comprise the terrorists’ hideout.
McCourt starts in as soon as Craig walks away. “This is why I hate TV. We’re making a one-hour movie on a shoestring budget, but they expect it to look like the latest Spielberg blockbuster. You can’t have it both ways.”
Frank and I both nod in weary agreement. I’m pretty sure McCourt doesn’t expect a reply. McCourt looks at the monitors that show the actors all still in position on set, and I can see his eyes refocus on the present.
“Maddy, was that last take clean? Did we get a good one?”
Sometimes you never get one perfect take, so you go into postproduction knowing there’s going to be a lot of editing and fixing to do. But every director would prefer to go in knowing there’s something to fall back on. If you have one clean version of the scene, you know you can build from there. It’s a safety net.
“Yeah, that last time was clean. I think the close-ups are going to get you better performances, and I know Victor wants to relight for Billy’s angle, but we’ve got the shot.” He’s trying to be subtle, but I catch McCourt doing a fist pump. After all the extra time and work that went into getting that special angle, he needed it to work. I’m happy for him, but there’s no time to celebrate. “So should we go in and get some of the close-ups you wanted?”
“Catering has the second meal set up for the crew. It’s ready now.” Frank’s voice is low so the crew doesn’t hear the announcement, or we might have a mutiny on our hands. He isn’t telling the director what to do, but it’s close.
“Some of that action is going to be hard to repeat as it is. We should try to get some of the close-up work done while it’s still fresh in everyone’s minds,” I argue. Frank and I work well together, but sometimes our goals vary. He wants a happy crew; I want my shots to match.
“When do we go into meal penalty?” McCourt asks Frank.
Frank looks at the
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