What about “ambient” sound, or the surrounding noises? Birds, crickets, automobiles, rock music, radio news—all give a different feeling to a scene. And only you can make the determination, from the script, as to which is proper. Some of that ambient sound should be laid in afterward (editing is difficult when too much sound is actually on the primary dialogue track; it has to be matched with little pieces of “room tone” as you cut and paste various tracks). But a scene that takes place in a totally “dead” location or where you have made no choice as to what sound will eventually occupy the room, is a scene strangely empty. For example: have you ever seen a film in which the director or editor later decided to put in the sound of a noisy machine, but in which the two characters in the scene are speaking at a normal voice level? To compensate, the machine is “held down” on the sound track and the reality of the scene is ruined. To do this right requires actors who feel comfortable shouting at each other in a quiet room or a quiet field, but since it is necessary to the successful outcome of the scene, you must think about it ahead of time.
While we’re talking about sound, think about the way you want your actors to talk. With an accent, dialect, or special characteristic? Or “normally.” What does normal mean to you? What does it mean to them?
Five You must give a great deal of consideration to the reading of each line of dialogue. You cannot wait for rehearsals to determine how a line is to be read. You must know what every word means and how it is to sound. This doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind—especially when you hear how your actors read the lines (see chapter 8), but it does mean you must have a conception and a preconception about everything associated with the script. This must be done over and over again as you approach the shoot. If it is, you will discover an amazing thing: you will begin to translate how you feel about, and how you understand, the dialogue into changes in all the other matters we’ve discussed before. Shots, moves, lighting, color, costumes, makeup, cutting plan—all will shift as your knowledge and conception of the characters and dialogue gets honed.
Which brings us, in these final paragraphs, to the crucial question, “What is the point?” I don’t mean of filmmaking but of the film itself. What is the story about? What is its moral or pragmatic point? Where is it going? You thought about all that when you were reading or rewriting; thought about it when the producer made a pitch to you— or you to the producer—in order to sell the project. But, as you go along with all these details, have you kept that point uppermost in your mind? Have you continued to think of your goal, which is the message of the film itself? Even if the film is a light comedy, it has some point. In the middle of all the costumes and makeup and camera angles, you can easily lose your path. There is no miraculous way to keep that “point” firmly fixed in your mind. Writing it on slips of paper, and sticking them in various places may help (“God is good”; “Anna wins”; “George loses”; “War is bad”; and so forth). Having it all thought out and continuing to think it all out, every day, is perhaps the best way. Each scene must lead somewhere, and every detail you work on must contribute to that goal. And they all must add up to one or two final points, or else everything you’re doing is a waste.
The processes we’ve been discussing in this chapter start the day you hear about or read the first piece of the story that will become a shooting script. They continue during fundraising and casting, rewrites and hiatuses. They should also continue during the entire shoot. You should not be afraid to think about changing shot lists and localities of scenes even after you’ve started, if the change is crucial to the changed perception of your script; though you should consider carefully how often you want to do so, since nothing is more threatening to a producer or production manager than the director who always changes his mind at the last moment! In the next three chapters, we will discuss preparation for the shoot in three different ways: how to get ready on a technical level, how to prepare your shots, and what to do when things go wrong. Nothing should interfere, however, with the continued analysis of the matters discussed in this chapter. They are the essence of your aesthetic approach to the film.
5
Getting Ready (II): Technical and Artistic Preparations
This chapter gets down to the very important business of making arrangements with other team members—such as finding the proper location, designing the set, having a say in who will do costumes and makeup, planning rehearsals (if you’re lucky enough to have them), and other technical or logistical matters.
As already stated in chapter 3, your producer will undoubtedly do much of the preproduction work on a television series, less on a feature film, and more or less on an independent production, depending on who the director is and what his or her relationship with the producer is. Since there is nothing for you to do if a producer has already made most of the artistic or logistical choices, we will proceed on the assumption that they’re all yours to make, that your contract (or your personal or professional relationship) stipulates that you will be in on everything, right from the beginning. What do you have to think about?
Designing the set
Picking locations
Designing costumes
Designing and planning makeup
Arranging for rehearsals
Special effects and props
You have read the script, plotted your scenes, and discussed them with appropriate people—the artistic and technical staff who help you find the right artistic expression for your film. First of all, that means the producer. The producer need not know everything you want to do with your film—the specific shots, the pacing, and so forth—but he or she will certainly ask pertinent questions about how you intend to visualize the film, where you want to shoot certain things, and how much money you need. Though some directors like to keep certain aspects of their production plans quiet, discussing them only with the D.P. or a friend, open discussion is generally the best policy. Then, if there’s a fight to be had, it can be had early on, before shooting begins. (You may be surprised. The producer may think everything you’re doing is wonderful.)
The production manager is certainly someone with whom you will want to discuss all your needs. You may get real help from him or her in terms of suggestions. You may also get interference, but once again, know that in advance.
As we saw in the last chapter, you will discuss everything with your director of photography.
You and the art director will talk. In chapter 3 we merely mentioned the work of the art director, but now that we’re looking at several areas of the production that call for his or her expertise, we should know more. An art director may have worked up from jobs such as prop person or set decorator. He or she will have studied art history in college, or be a painter or an architect manqué. Very often, too, a film art director will have done the same kind of work on the stage. The ability to draw, to design, to research, and to conceive overall visual appearances will be a specialty. It is the art director’s responsibility to discuss all possible sets and all possible locations with the director; to accompany the director on location searches, then make suggestions whether such places are appropriate for the scene(s); to design original settings and alterations for locations; and to present estimated costs to the P.M. or the producer and to supervise the construction of the finished sets. That’s a lot of work.
A director will want to spend a good deal of time with an art director, giving his or her gut feelings about the script and discussing how much detail is to be portrayed, and whether the film is realistic or expressionistic, humorous or serious, and so forth. Do not take it for granted that anyone who has read the script—no matter how gifted— automatically knows what the proper tone of the film is. Only you can share your vision. Other people may find no humor or too much humor; too much pathos or not enough; colors that are too bright or too dull—in something you think is just right. Express yourself completely about the look to your art director.
THE SET
Gooid art direc
tors know how to use a little and make it look like a lot. They are also trained to know that it is the little details that make a set look “right.” They will tell you, for example, that when pots and pans in the windows of stores are painted, rather than being three-dimensional, the artificiality of a Western can be given away. This is true even if the shot is to be a wide shot. Fakes look fake. On the other hand, an art director often is so intent on creating the perfect set, he does not see the essence of a shot. It is not possible, for instance, to get rid of power lines across a landscape, without extremely expensive digital manipulation, the cost of which is seldom in the budget of most productions. So if you and your cinematographer have decided that they won’t mar your scene, you may have to override the art director’s judgment.
Your discussions with the art director will involve the look you have decided upon, but they will go much further. You will want to give him the “feel” of the place; you will want the art director to supply you with information that you can use in your shoot. For instance, you want some valid activity for one or two of your characters. If the writer hasn’t suggested what your characters should fuss with, your art director may know what kind of equipment or furniture makes sense in that period, in that room.
The art director will do drawings and/or paintings of anything that has to be constructed, but you must check on small details, too. In Hollywood, one day, our show was doing an episode in which a little boy bought a dog. The signs on all the stores (which were located on the “back lot” at MGM) had to be painted for this particular day’s shoot. They had a sign shop at the studio that did such things in a standard simplified style that could be read very easily on television. What the art director did not realize, in this case, was that the director was going to take a close shot of the sign and that he wanted it to look old and worn. The sign shop printed a nice, clean, simple sign that looked nice, clean, and simple in close-up, ruining the effect the director had in his head. “In his head” is the key here. You must know what you want; communicate it to your staff (in this case, the art director); and check on it before it’s time to shoot.
There are other things you will have to do. Convey to the art director how much space you need for your scenes, so that sets can be built accordingly. You will need to decide ahead of time whether you need “wild walls”—walls that give way to allow the camera and lights to be placed there, so that you can shoot from the “other side” of the room. You will have to learn how to read drawings and blueprints, so that you don’t end up being shocked at how small a room is after you saw the original drawing and thought, “plenty big.” Don’t be afraid to ask questions if you’re puzzled. Heights of walls are especially important. You will have to decide how low your camera will be and how it will be angled. You may need extra protection in wall height. On the other hand, don’t have walls higher than you really need them, because that means that your lights will be placed higher than you want them. Higher walls also mean more expensive sets, and you may want to trade that expense for a special piece of equipment later on.
BUILDING SETS VERSUS SHOOTING ON LOCATION
Because sets do cost so much money, more and more producers have decided to film on location. (We’ll look at locations themselves in a moment.) What are the pros and cons of building sets as opposed to making films on location?
The Pros
One You have the possibility of getting things exactly the way you want them. This can range from wanting a set that represents a nineteenth-century butcher shop to the need to shoot everything from very high up—looking down into the room. The latter isn’t easy on location, and the former means either a long search or a great deal of restoration. Sets can be built for the specific look you have in mind.
Two Sound is generally easier to record in a studio setting. You have no fourteen-wheelers roaring past the microphone. I remember being on location and having to wait for the airplanes to pass on their flight run to La Guardia Airport in New York. We hadn’t heard them (or the flight patterns were different) when we looked at the place, but we certainly heard them (and waited for them, endlessly) when we went to shoot.
Three Lighting is easier in a studio. You have all the electric power you want, and special effects can be achieved effortlessly. If you want night, you make it night; day, and you can make it day. For television cameras, the “hot” (that is, bright) sky can be dimmed with a twist of a knob in a studio or on a sound stage.
Four More time can be spent actually shooting, less, running from one place to the other.
The Cons
One Despite the “perfection” that may be achieved by building a set the way you want it, a location that has the actual look because it is the actual place, can be far more successful than a set. This may be because the texture of the place is right (remember our art director saying that it’s details that make the difference), or because the hills behind the characters are real hills and not a painted backdrop. (Did you see Brigadoon? The heath always looked to me like a studio at MGM—which it was.)
Two The indoor sound for an outdoor setting may be just what you don’t want. In other words, indoors you may get a silent background, but you may also get an unrealistic echo. (See, or rather hear, the same Brigadoon.)
Three Cost is a consideration. In point of fact, a lot of the money that goes into a movie set doesn’t show on the screen, and a lot of the expense of shooting in someone else’s movie studio might buy you two or three different locations.
Four It can be a lot of fun to be on location, creating a spirit for a picture. That’s hardly something the P.M. or the producer will characterize as a valid reason for choosing location over studio, but it’s something for you to think about. (Of course, it can also be a nightmare. Imagine shooting The African Queen or Apocalypse Now in the jungles, which is exactly what was done!)
Five Believe it or not, although lighting may be more readily achieved for some shots in a studio, there is nothing like real outdoor light. As I said in the last chapter, arguments vary on this; some D.P.s will not use sunlight even when they’re outdoors, and others swear by natural light.
The upshot of all this is that, very often, a film will be shot partly in the studio and partly on location.
LOCATION
Let’s say that the script has approximately thirty scenes, ten of which take place outdoors. You and the art director will want to sit down and discuss where that “outdoors” is. But first, if you have a specific feel for a scene, one that tells you, for instance, that it’s in the backyard of the house you grew up in, you may want to go there, just to check out whether that space still speaks to you in the same way. You may get there and discover that a freeway has been built next to it. Or you may find it’s perfect, just the way you remembered it. Keep in mind, however, that you’ll need to have plenty of extra room for your equipment and crew, that a busy street will have to be blocked off, and that if the scene to be shot there is short, you’ll want to have a place nearby where other scenes can be shot. (Your production manager will keep these things in mind, too, but it’s smart to be ahead of the game.) If the film is not contemporary, keep an eye out for anachronistic things like TV antennae, new automobiles, or new buildings that come within the sight lines of your shots.
Being out alone in potential locations is wonderful, and if they’re not far from production headquarters, go there first by yourself. You’ll want to sit down and look through your script, to see the exact lines of dialogue and the exact angles you want to use. Then, after you’ve visited a number of the places, go back again with your art director, with the production manager, and with your director of photography. Now, the places will look different.
First of all, the art director will point out the very obnoxious yellow of the building in the center of your picture. “But that’s a background,” you will protest. Indeed, it may be background, but it may be a distracting background. Or it may be a yellow that wasn’t around in 1857. “We can repaint it,” sa
ys the art director. “Not on your life,” answers the P.M., and suddenly a discussion about the right look has turned into a question of money. The P.M. may also object to the location because the nearest motel that can accommodate the crew is the most expensive, and the cheapest is too far away to ferry the crew every morning and evening. Then there’s the fact that the location is close enough to a big city so that members of the Teamsters Union will be required for the vehicles, but not close enough so that the cast and crew can sleep in the city and make it comfortably to the shoot every day. Finally, to complicate things further, the D.P. points out that the horizon is so low there that you will see too much sky and not enough people.
How could you have missed all that? Maybe you didn’t; maybe you missed only some of it. Or, maybe you have answers, such as, the yellow doesn’t bother you, you’ll get by with it. The angle of shoot is such that, in fact, you’ll see more characters and less sky than the D.P. thought. And, by angling the shot a little, that barn over there (a lovely rust color) will provide a contrast to the sky. As for motels, you intend to use this location for only half a day’s shoot, and your next location is going to be near a chain of motels that’s noted for low prices and catering to movie crews.
Of course, you may not have all these answers. The D.P.’s thoughts on the location may disconcert you, and you’ll be depressed for a few days. But then you’ll think of an alternative spot (or maybe you had it in mind anyway) and everyone will be happy with that. Another course of action may be that you put your foot down and tell the P.M. that this is a perfect location, that the trees up there are fine for the bandits to come swinging down, that the barns are authentic, and that you discussed repainting the yellow barn with the owner, who would be delighted to split the cost.
Directing for Film and Television Page 11