Directing for Film and Television

by Christopher Lukas

  Two particular advances in digital video are making an enormous difference in the way films and television are being made and will be made in the future. Any director worth his or her salt will want to understand the pros and cons of these new phenomena: the mini-DV camera and the software that lets you edit on your home computer. These technological advances are stunning because they allow low-budget productions while maintaining a remarkable degree of high-end visual quality. Let’s start with the cameras.

  THE CAMERAS

  It has been the practice for film schools at major universities to train students in all the disciplines—writing, editing, directing, lighting, camera. I’ve always thought this to be a mistake. Some people are not made to handle a camera. Some can’t learn to direct. Others seem born to those crafts. While it probably makes sense in undergraduate courses to let everyone take a crack at handling a camera, at least once, when they get to graduate work, where they’re going to prepare for a professional career,15 it probably makes sense to specialize. Let those who have a technical expertise and flair do that work; let those who are good at writing, and have a sense for story, learn to direct.

  Now that I’ve said that, I’m going to flip-flop. Because the new Mini-DV cameras (DV for digital video, “mini” for, you guessed it, very small) are just perfect for becoming a hyphenate: the director-cameraman.

  These cameras look very much like the home camcorders that have been on the market for a long time. They’re light (often less than 3 pounds) and easy to use; they take long loads of tape (from 1 to 2 hours), and if you drop them on a moderately soft surface you’ve got a reasonably good chance of being able to go on shooting. The problem with the home camcorder for professional or semiprofessional use is that the tape on which those cameras record is not made for editing. Rather, if you do edit with it, it degrades in quality (in look) almost immediately. (Those tapes are the same format as your home VCR. If you’ve ever tried to record from one VHS tape to another, you know that the original quality goes downhill fast.)

  Enter the digital era. It started in music. Engineers found a way of using the binary language of computers (0s and 1s) to code musical sounds during recording. When they translated those codes back into sound, they found that they could rerecord, dub over, and make changes as often as they wanted without losing quality. They weren’t dubbing down from original tapes. They were re-coding and re-encoding the little 0s and 1s that—when strung together—made up pitch, timbre, and tone. CDs are as good as they are because they use laser beams to read digitally mastered disks.

  Eventually, this technique had to become translatable to video and, after a number of years and a lot of money, the techno-wizards found a way to do it. Enter, first, the digital editing systems—AVID being the most well-known—that allow editors to store an enormous amount of images in digital form on RAM disks and to randomly access the material. Then, a few years later, the industry miniaturized the electronics sufficiently to put them into digi-Beta cameras: portable “Electronic Newsgathering” (ENG) equipment that was the same size as the models invented in the late 1960s and are now put out by all the big manufacturers. This digital tape continues in the sequence of better and better quality that started with 2” recording tape in the 1950s and went through two styles of 1” tape, on up to Beta recording systems in the 1980s. Only this is far superior because you can make endless variations of your tape and not lose any picture quality—all because of those little 0s and 1s.

  The next step? To keep miniaturizing and put that digital technology into smaller and smaller cameras. If this could be accomplished it would do two things: it would reduce the cost of cameras and it would make it easier to move around and make documentaries (much the way that the umbilical cord between lightweight 16mm cameras and Nagra recording devices enabled the cinéma vérité of the 1950s and 1960s). At first, broadcast engineers doubted it could be done. The size and amount of electronics required for high-end video cameras, even portable ones, required a bulky casing.

  That something like this could be done became evident when the Hi-8 video camera and tape were invented. For a short time, back in the early 1990s, the Hi-8 industry looked like it was the answer to the consumer demand for better quality in camcorders, and for the “prosumer” market—those budding videographers who wanted cheap but good equipment. Hi-8 cameras were very much like the camcorders that first came out, but they were able to record on a new kind of videotape, one that gave a better image. In the process of working on those cameras, engineers were able to use three color chips instead of the usual one, making purer color possible. A few inventive television producers even used Hi-8 to make some or all of their on-the-streets shows.

  But it wasn’t long afterwards that the impossible happened: engineers found a way to use digital recording techniques developed for larger ENG equipment (costing upwards of $50,000) in small camcorders with three color chips. The price ($4,000) was a good deal higher than the home camcorder but way below the ENG gear. As usual, the old-time producers, executives, and broadcast engineers denigrated everything about the little cameras. The images weren’t clean looking enough, the color wasn’t pure, they didn’t have interchangeable lenses, and so on. And the manufacturers, who in most cases also produced the high-end broadcast cameras, didn’t disagree. These weren’t intended for broadcast, they said. These were “prosumer” cameras, for use by the amateur and the budding professional. They were beautiful for what they were, but no one was pretending that they were high-end.

  In my view, the industry made a mistake with that attitude. I own two of these little marvels, and I’ve been shooting with them, editing on digital equipment, and using the result both on television and for large-screen projection at conventions, and no one has yet to criticize the images. In short, I think the prosumer camera—and its offshoots (mid-range professional versions) are here to stay and are very valuable tools for many of the filmic uses that used to require big gear. At first, I could find almost no one who agreed with me, but more and more people are doing so. In fact, some like the slightly “degraded” look of the Mini-DV camera because it can take on the appearance of film, which still has a cachet in the world of Hollywood. The slight “grain” of DV mimics some of the aspects of that older—and more prestigious—medium.

  A caveat, and a big one: The industry is changing over to high-definition digital television (HDTV). Pretty soon, according to FCC regulations, all television broadcasts will have to put out both analog and digital signals. Though the industry is having difficulty meeting the government’s schedule, home TV sets will take on a different shape and clarity. It will be a setback for these little mid-grade cameras, but I have no doubt that the camera manufacturers will eventually find a way to upgrade the Mini-DV camera and make it shine a little brighter. And because they’re already digital they will already be compatible with the new signals.

  As one might suspect, most Hollywood and network broadcasters are not using the Mini-DV equipment. It’s still considered below broadcast standards. And, for documentary makers and news organizations, especially at the networks, the small cameras look so much like home camcorders that a certain amount of status is lost. I have one colleague who won’t hire me to shoot video for him because I insist on using my Mini-DV camera. “They won’t think we’re serious,” he says, meaning the clients will think we’re amateurs. And then there are the executives who don’t know much about technology to begin with. For years, they’ve been spending $50,000 on big, heavy Beta-SP cameras (or more for the new digi-Beta cameras), and they’ve been persuaded that only those cameras are “broadcast capable.” (To make them see things my way, I’ve once or twice taken to the following scheme: I transfer some of my DV material to Beta and I take it to an editor at another edit house—preferably one that is used by the prospective client. I ask the editor what stock or camera he thinks I used. Sometimes, the editor guesses BetaSP, sometimes 1”, sometimes even film. Almost never do the editors guess that the ca
mera I’m using is less than a tenth of the cost of the cameras the “big boys” use.)

  The future of the industry may not be in the Mini-DV field, but a number of very inventive professionals have begun using the equipment. Most of the very popular movie Buena Vista Social Club, directed by Wim Wenders, was shot on low-end video equipment. The experimental and highly successful Time Code (conceived of and directed by Mike Figgis) was shot in one continuous take on four Mini-DV cameras shooting simultaneously. I can’t guarantee that this was the same $4,000 camera I own. They may have used a $7,500 version that Canon makes (the XL-1) rather than my GL-1, but it was low-end digital video nonetheless, because there is no field camera that the big boys make that will record more than a half hour of tape. Films shot on Mini-DV are also showing up at festivals and on the Internet, as I will discuss further in a moment.

  So now that I’ve taken you on this technological trip, what does it mean for you, the director/cameraperson?

  Cost The Mini-DV cameras range from $3,000 to $4,000, tens of thousands of dollars less than the industrial or professional models. The slightly larger XL-1 that Canon makes is about $7,500. It has interchangeable lenses and lots more gadgetry, but it’s also heavier.

  Portability These cameras, even with microphone, cables, and batteries, will fit in a briefcase—albeit a large sized one. Or in a shopping bag. They weigh a few pounds, so handholding them is a cinch. The tripod required for them is lightweight and, while it’s not the fluid-head tripod that big cameras use, with their ultra-smooth movements, the manufacturers are getting better daily at mimicking true fluid-head tripods for the small cameras.

  Minimal size of operation Because the camera is light, and because you can plug an external microphone into the camera or use the very good stereo microphone built in (if you’re close enough to the subject, or want just ambient sound), you can go into a room with one other person (for lights) and make yourself almost invisible. This is especially useful for sensitive taping situations in documentaries—hospitals, for instance—but it can also be useful when shooting a drama in cramped spaces.

  Experimentation Because these cameras are lightweight, and because they’re easy to use, tilting them, holding them high above your head, using different shutter speeds, fooling with color, and other such moves are all very easy. My first camera in this arena— a Sony DXC 1000—allows you to set your shutter speed at anything between 1/4 second a frame all the way up to a frame every 1/2000 of a second. This is the kind of thing you can do with still cameras, and allows for a wide variety of lighting conditions, without pushing gain. The 1/4 second per frame also gives the most wonderful smearing of color and slow-motion effect and works well for music scenes. Try it, you’ll like it. (For some reason, Canon does not permit anything below a frame every 1/60 of a second, which is too bad.)

  The downside of these cameras must also be talked about.

  They may be too light. Holding a very small, very light camera and walking with it is almost impossible to do without jiggling. Even with a built-in electronic lens steadier, you will notice that the camera is wobbling. You probably can’t use a Steadicam with these. So, if you’re strong enough, you might want to invest in the larger Mini-DV cameras, such as the Canon XL-1, which has other virtues, as well.

  The smallest of these cameras are made for idiots to use, which means the viewfinder is filled with too much information, and the options are kept to a minimum. As I said above, for instance, you can’t use the Canon GL-1 below a 1/60 of a second. You can’t change lenses on any of these small cameras. They have zooms, but no ability to put a really fine prime lens on them, or a super-long lens. I’ve put wide-angle adapters on top of my lens, but it’s highly unsatisfactory. The lens is plastic, not glass, which means there is some distortion that you wouldn’t get with glass. Also, the controls are tiny, which means you can easily press the wrong button or be unable to read the labels.

  These cameras come with a built-in microphone that is okay. They also come with a place to plug in a microphone with a mini jack. This is not okay. These jacks pull out very easily. They aren’t grounded, so that if you’re taking an audio feed from someone, and using AC current from a house system, you may end up with a loud hum on your audio track. The answer: purchase a gadget that goes between the camera and the tripod that costs about $300 and takes two XLR (i.e., three-prong, grounded) audio inputs. These are the standard microphone cables, and this solves your problem, as far as hum goes.

  There is no consistent time code on these cameras. (Time code is a continuous marker that tells an editing machine exactly where it is in terms of minutes, seconds, and frames.) That means that you cannot screen your tapes and take notes using real time code. You’ll have tape time, but it’s not going to help you in making an edit list. What I have been doing is transferring my Mini-DV tape to BetaSP at an edit house. I make a “burn-in” time-coded VHS at the same time (sometimes called “viz” code; see chapter 10) and an audiotape. That way I have everything I need for screening and eventual editing on an AVID, and I can turn the audiotape over to a transcribing house. As the next section will tell you, there is another way around the time-code problem, if you choose to edit at home.

  EDITING EQUIPMENT

  Here, I’m going to be very brief, because the next chapter is all about editing.

  The good news is that with the software programs called, Final Cuts and Final Cuts Pro, the ability to edit digitally on your own home computer is finally at hand. Not any computer, mind you. The systems were designed for Macintosh, and they work best on those computers. Not only that, the top-end Mac. The reason is that you need a tremendous amount of memory to hold the shots in readiness for editing, and to store different versions of your film/tape. While some PCs and Macs now come with “home video editing” software, this is truly for Uncle Ted. If you want to play around, you can use that stuff. If you want to get serious about editing, you need one of the high-end programs. Cost: As of this writing, my editing guru, a top-notch editor at a Manhattan editing house, tells me that $6,000 is about what it’ll cost to get a very good computer system with enough memory and speed.

  Another piece of good news is that these systems are patterned after the big, expensive systems like AVID and Media 100 that I discuss in the next chapter. If you’ve watched an editor work on those pieces of $100,000 equipment, you’ll be amazed how much you can accomplish on the home setup.

  The way these digital editing systems interface with the Mini-DV cameras is another bonus. Due to an invention called “Firewire,” a single cable will take the digital signals from the Mini-DV cameras directly into a slot on the back of your computer. You can then log your shots, store them in “bins” on your computer, and have them ready to edit at a moment’s notice. When your rough cut is finished you can kick it back out via Firewire to a fresh tape in your camera and take it to be screened by potential buyers. Or you can finish your version (with some graphic titles if you have the software for them) on your Mac, and kick out a complete product to be transferred to Beta (or even, through laser transfer, to film) so that it can be screened.

  The bad news is that it’s not easy to learn how to be a good editor. This is not something for which everyone has a talent, and just because someone is a good writer or director, or even a good cameraman, doesn’t mean that same person can become adept at editing. I know my own limitations in this arena, and I’ve held off buying a home-editing system precisely because I’d rather hire someone who is very experienced, even if it costs me a lot more.

  But that’s your own judgment to make. And the fact that many “filmmakers” opt to write, direct, and edit their own digital “films” is a sign that it’s doable.

  ONE FINAL WORD

  It’s well known by now that the Internet has sprouted sites where films can be shown. Directors who want to get their work seen, but can’t get into festivals or onto the home screen, have started to “exhibit” their wares in cyberspace. The word is that poten
tial buyers or distributors will watch the film or videotape on the Web site and make a judgment from that screening. And there’s the added benefit of knowing that a “lot of people” are out there seeing your film, even if you’re not getting paid for it.

  Whatever the future potential of this realm for the exhibition, sale, and distribution of films and television programs, my own experience with viewing video on the Internet is dismal. Whether it’s the baud rate of my computer (56K as of this writing) or the state of the art at this time, I don’t care—the pictures I get are viewable only in a small square in a small portion of my screen; the contrast and color levels are all over the place; and most of the time I get to see them at something like 15 frames a second, rather than the standard 30. The picture holds, then jumps ahead, then holds, then jumps. All of this happens in a blurred image. How anyone can make judgments about anything except the sound (which is very good if you have even a modest system on your computer) I don’t know.

  Now, that’s all you—as a director—need to know about digital.

  15 You’d better read my later remarks about film schools in general in chapter 13. I’m not a big fan. And this is from someone who spent six years teaching film and television at City College of New York!