CHAPTER 3

Shooting Movies Without Shooting Yourself in the Foot

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You will very quickly decide what genre or style of story you're reading. Is it a comedy? Drama? Dramedy? Is it a genre film—horror, cops, even a Western? Is it sui generis : something that is its own thing, perhaps an original work of art? You will react differently, and you want the audience to react differently, too. You may want to clue them in from the very beginning with a particular look in the lighting or the framing.

You will want to ask the director how realistic the look should be. It's possible to convince an audience that they've seen a kind of neutral reality—without any camera “tricks”—while manipulating the image extensively. The late Conrad Hall, ASC, was a master of this look. In many of his films—particularly later ones like Searching for Bobby Fisher and American Beauty —the look of the film is, to the average audience, almost documentary. It's as though they just filmed wherever the camera just happened to be. But Connie Hall worked to give a convincing simulation of reality while manipulating the feelings of the audience. You and your director want to decide whether you want to go for apparent realism or you want a look that is more dramatic—in essence, artificial. If you're making a horror picture, the clichés are stark lighting, a lot of darkness, and a film shot almost entirely at night. Film noir is called “noir” (French for “black”) because it's dark.

And then there are times when the time and setting require a look that contra-dicts the story and the action of the film. Out of the Past , shot by Nick Musuraca, ASC, is a film noir set largely in rural areas, not urban; often in daylight, little night; and often with very bright shots, not noir . The action and the dialogue are in contrast to the beautifully composed sylvan cinematography. In the begin-ning of the film, we are misled by the picturesque sunniness of a small town, only to be thrown into discomfort when bad people show up doing bad things and threatening our hero. As the film proceeds, the peaceful landscape becomes more menacing. We see more shadows in the trees, the darkness of late evening or early morning. Later, as the story moves to more urban locales, Musuraca

We're Still Reading the Script

22 PART 1 Realities: Preproduction

conjures the urban claustrophobia of New York, the dark side of San Francisco's underworld, and the foreign ambience of Mexico. Returning to nature, our hero seeks refuge in the High Sierras, only to find that the surrounding beauty of the forest quickly becomes a death trap when the villains come after him.

You will notice pretty quickly whether your film will involve kids or animals. No matter how well-behaved they are, kids and animals mean that it will take more time to shoot. What will affect your photography is the way you have to work around them. If there are wild animals, you can only prepare in the most general terms. When the animals want to do something, they do it, and you'd better be ready to catch it. I worked on a Western in which we had a white buffalo. Well, buffalos don't come in white, so the trainer had to spray paint this very large animal. I'm sure he used water-soluble hairspray or something of the sort, and I'm sure the buffalo wasn't harmed. But no one told the buffalo that, and the beast was very unhappy about being an albino.

The buffalo was at one point quietly munching grass on one side of the set. The crew was busy setting up a shot. The grips had set up about ten reflectors—large boards covered with silver or lead foil to redirect the sunlight. It takes a grown man to handle the reflectors, and the most he can do is one at a time. Meanwhile, the buffalo decided that the grass looked tastier across the way, and he walked over to it. Of course, he was tethered with a rope, so as he ambled over, the rope knocked down every one of these large, heavy reflectors and stands. The crew scattered everywhere. I grabbed my camera and ran (I was an assistant and responsible for the camera), something I have done only once or twice in my career, since the camera weighs about 50 pounds with the tripod. The set looked as though a hurricane had scattered all of our heavy equipment like twigs. And the buffalo calmly ate grass. I learned that day what we mean when we say some-one is buffaloed. I'm just happy the big guy only wanted to eat, not play. But we could do nothing to influence the animal, and it's pretty much the same with any animal you work with.

And it doesn't have to be wild animals that upset your plans. I worked several weeks on an old Disney movie, The Cat from Outer Space . We used real cats, cute little guys. One night we were shooting in an airplane hangar. The hangar sub-stituted for a stage because we needed a big place for the spaceship models. We had a “hero” cat (the hero object or character is, in advertising and sometimes in movie parlance, the object of your attention) and a look-alike to sub for him. When the lighting was ready, the trainer brought out our star. The kitty star immediately ran off as fast as he could. Several minutes later, we heard our star meowing up in the rafters at the highest point of the roof where no one could reach him.

Well, no problem. We had another cat, and the trainer brought him out. You know what happened. So the crew of 80 sat around, drinking coffee and gossiping, on overtime, for eight or nine hours until the producers called it a day. I didn't go back on that unit, so I don't know if they ever got the shots. I think Uncle Walt had the right idea when he had animators draw the animals.

23We're Still Reading the Script CHAPTER 3

Besides the production trouble that animals give you, you have to work around them and their trainers. Usually you have to be quiet around animals, and they don't like quick moves. So you need to have a crew that can understand that and be sensitive to the animals' needs. You can't always set up your ideal shot. Often you have to use a long lens so you can stay at a safe distance from the animal (both safe for you and for the animal's nerves).

You've always got to be prepared for the most astonishing risks in this business. I got a call to work one day on a movie at Universal. It was called Cat People ; I didn't know anything about it. The head of the camera department asked me, on the phone, if I had any problems with cats. At that moment I was petting my cute little black-and-white cat, Rocky, who had the sweetest disposition in the world. So I chuckled to myself and said, “No.”

Then I got to the stage. The amazing Art Department geniuses at Universal had turned the sound stage into a replica of the African savannah. Yes, Africa. I started to get a bad feeling. I was right. This was no kitty cat from outer space; this was lions and tigers, oh my. In a dazed state of fear, I got the camera set up for the first shot. The director decided that the tiger should run directly at the camera and veer off at the last second. Once again, no one had explained this to puss. The trainer stood behind the camera with food. So the tiger made a beeline for it and ran right under the camera. I was saying my prayers as the cat ran straight at us, and I think my operator used up one of his own lives as the cat zoomed under the tripod, brushing his legs.

A little after that, the trainer had to go to one of the cats to do something. He handed me the food—a frying pan with a raw steak in it on the end of a ten-foot pole—and told me, “Let him have the meat if he wants it.” No kidding. Did he really think I was going to argue with him? And, sure enough, one of the cats (did I mention there were several roaming the “savannah”?) came by for din-ner. Very gently, almost daintily, he took his paw and flicked the meat off. I was just glad to have the proverbial ten-foot pole between us. Even at that distance it felt as if some monster was trying to tear off my shoulder. So think twice before working with animals, be prepared, and bring some clean underwear.

And then there are kids—a whole other kettle of fish. Of course, we love the lit-tle monsters, but your scheduling and approach have to change. First, children under 18 are limited in the hours they can work. It's different in each state, and varies by age. That's why 18-year-old actresses who look 12 are in great demand. They can work a full 12-hour day without breaking the law. Younger kids are limited to 8 hours or less. They have to have breaks for school or for recess. And if they're babies, they may be allowed as little as 30 seconds on set once the cam-era rolls.

Lots of crews think, “Oh, eight hours with talent! Swell, we get out early.” Au contraire, mon ami . The laws are observed, and the kids work a short day. But that means you must get all your shooting done with them in the few hours allowed. So all the kids' coverage is shot first, irrespective of what the adults are doing. Then, when the kids go home, you have to relight the scenes with them

24 PART 1 Realities: Preproduction

and shoot the adult coverage—without the kids and without someone the actors can react to. Your lighting at 8 PM has to match what you did at 8 AM. You have to make sure eyelines match. The rest of the crew—props, script supervisor, for example—have to make sure everything matches despite the gap of time. It's not fun; people can get testy. So now what seemed a pleasant shoot has become a bitchy endurance test.

And don't think of breaking the law. Not only is that a bad idea as a moral prin-ciple, but you can put yourself in a world of hurt. There are probably not many people today who remember the Twilight Zone movie from the early 1980s. John Landis was directing a sequence that involved children, explosives, a helicopter, and night shooting. First off, you can't have kids around explosions and stunts, which a helicopter is. Second, you can't have young kids (these were under age eight) on the set at night—not at all, ever . So these very big Hollywood filmmak-ers just disregarded the law. And no one but the crew—and we don't gossip—would have known. Unfortunately, the explosions made the helicopter crash, and the spinning rotor decapitated the two kids (and veteran actor Vic Morrow). John Landis ( Animal House, Blues Brothers ) was never prosecuted, but he hasn't directed a major movie in over 25 years.

No, it doesn't have to be that bad. Neither animals nor children are an inevitable disaster. But you as DP have to be aware that pitfalls lie ahead; you have to use your experience to make things work. You won't keep the director from unwar-ranted optimism, but maybe you can buy a little extra time in the schedule.

The production manager and the assistant director are responsible for making up the production schedule and for allowing enough time to shoot while mak-ing as short a schedule as possible. You will be reading the script with an eye to schedule and budget as well. Every time you find that a special piece of equip-ment might be needed, you will want to make a note that this will be extra money out of the equipment budget. And you have to be sure that you can shoot the film in the allotted time.

Look for dialogue scenes with multiple characters. You will probably have to cover every actor in a single, two shot, and possibly over-the-shoulder, as well as the obligatory master. This can take a long time, particularly if the director is enam-ored of perfection in line reading. Besides the time used in coverage, you want to pay attention to the indicated movements of the actors. You may not know until you get on the set the real blocking of the actors, but you can anticipate occasions when they'll be moving around or times when they're sitting around a table. If they're moving, your lighting becomes more complex and time-consuming. Instead of what is essentially a portrait, you will have to be accounting for the position of every actor, and you will be working to avoid ugly shadows thrown when they move. If you have the room lit overall, and you can let the actors move at will, you may avoid the problem of relighting, but the director will probably want to see the actors' faces clearly at every point. And that's your job, again. And every close-up is likely to turn into a number of extra shots, since the actor will be different distances from you and facing differently in those positions.

25We're Still Reading the Script CHAPTER 3

And if you have a group just sitting at a table, you will have to light each side of the table separately. You will have to light the actors to look good while not throwing ugly shadows on the others around the table. All of this is your job, of course, but you must think about budgeting time to do a good job. Sometimes you can suggest alternative blocking; maybe the actor running all around the house can be confined to a smaller space. Maybe you can arrange the actors around the table so that you can easily light several with one setup. Any time you save helps the film, the director, and the producer. Don't be shy about point-ing out the time you plan to save, because in the next breath you're going to have to ask for it back for another scene.

Remember, you're just reading the script for now—maybe for the second or third time—but you're not going into budget conferences yet. Just keep making notes. Before you have to engage in negotiations for more time and more equipment, you should be given a budget and tentative schedule by the production man-ager. You can tailor your requests to it. But it's always fungible. The production manager will be able to find space in the budget for an item you convince her you really need, so keep notes now to plan for your deals later.

This might be a good time to bring up a piece of vital advice: Never say no . Of course, you may at some point realize that the director's plan to recreate the Battle of Gettysburg in real time is impractical, but don't be negative. When someone asks you if you can do it or if the time and money allotted are enough, always say, “Sure.” Don't elaborate. Don't promise the moon and the stars when you're unsure about delivering some sequins. But always be positive. The chances to say no or to be negative or simply to be realistic crop up all the time, starting from your first job interview. Deflect the question “How are you going to do it?” with pleasantries and “I'm sure it'll work out.” Remember, the director wants what he or she wants, and the producer wants what he or she wants, and they're deter-mined to get it. Don't throw a monkey wrench into their beautiful dreams.

I once interviewed for a job on what was described by the director as a “lesbian musical.” (I'm not making this up.) During our first interview, he and the pro-ducer looked at my reel, talked about the business in general, and asked me some questions about how I would go about shooting the film. The interview lasted an hour, which is a long time. Usually I'm in and out in ten minutes, even if they like me. It was obvious that I had impressed them favorably. They gave me the script, and the director asked me to set up another interview in a week. At this point I was feeling pretty good. I read the script a few times, got a sense of how it could look, and prepared for the next meeting.

Now, I knew that the budget was around $150,000, which wasn't much even 15 years ago. I was set to shoot another feature soon; the budget for that one was $300,000, and we were scrambling to find ways to do a professional job with so little money. And this other picture didn't involve 16 musical numbers, some with up to 20 cast members. But I knew that I could get good produc-tion value and a good look without a big budget, so I went into the interview optimistic.

26 PART 1 Realities: Preproduction

Again, we had a terrific time. We were becoming friends, and we were talking about shooting scenes as though I had the job. Then came the question: “If there's anything in the script that you think could cause us trouble, what would it be?”

Uh oh. I was not so green that I jumped in with “Well, trying to do a big musical for a budget that's too small for a music video might be a problem.” No, I said, “I think it's a great script, and we'll make a terrific movie out of it.”

The director persisted. “No, really, be honest with me. I know there's always something. I really want to be on an honest footing. We've got to trust each other if we're going to work together. So, really, what do you see that might be a problem?” So I decided to be truthful. I said something like “Well, it might be kind of hard work to shoot this music-and-dance number with 20 cowgirls in a western town, complete with a gunfight, in a 12-hour day.”

Jeez, I almost got frostbite, the atmosphere chilled so fast. You may have guessed that I did not get hired. In an odd development, I met the director a few months later, and he invited me to his premiere. I went. I saw. I was stunned. The guy they hired had gotten a cardboard drawing of a western street—it would have looked bad on a theater stage—and he photographed the number in one shot. Well, that's one way of doing it. I would have been unhappy to do that, but I could have had a job and some much-needed cash. But no, I had to be honorable.

So don't do it. Stay positive. Always be a cheerleader for the film. Sure, they're dreaming. So is everyone who ever wanted to make a film. And you never know—they may figure out how to do it. Or they may get more money. Or things may change. You don't know everything, and you can't control everything. So be that upbeat guy they want on their picture, and never say no.