Sunday, October 29, 2006
Scene 47
The pilot epsiode (including 'next week on the Match') is 52 scenes. Some of those are a single shot, others are 3 pages long. Of the 52 scenes, 51 were shot in Richmond this summer. The remaing scene is a critical one, scene 47, wherein we learn why Mr. Thompson left his law practice.
The challenge - shoot outside an NYC courthouse, arguably one of the most famous halls of justice in the world, and shoot the scene in post 9-11 NYC when city security is at its height, without getting a permit.
No big deal, right? People do it all the time.
Still, the idea of the cops showing up and confiscating our camera halfway through the shoot,gives me nightmares. It keeps me up most of the night before we attempt our little guerilla filmmaking black-op mission.
Our plan was simple: rehearse ahead of time, hide the camera, and pretend the cast and crew don't know each other. So we'll act out the scene without revealing the camera to get a master shot, and then (and this moment is critical,) we'll break cover, reveal the boom pole to the world and run the scene five times in a row without stopping to get all the coverage we need. Hopefully we'll be gone before the cops can mobilize.
After all, if you 're just pointing a video camera at some people on some courthouse steps, you can get away with calling yourself a tourist (and our cameraman had a CA driver's license). But once you pull the boom pole out, you acknowledge that you sort of know what you're doing, and you darn well know you're supposed to have a permit.
These are the things I lose sleep over.
We're supposed to shoot Saturday morning - the forecast is heavy rain - I call the actors and Gladys and Brian on Friday night and tell them we're on stand by for Sunday, our back up day. Shannon and I go to a Halloween party Friday night and don't feel guilty about staying out late.
Saturday afternoon, the forecast looks good, I call everyone and tell them we're a go. We're to meet at the Starbucks on the corner of Court and Joralemon at 8 a.m.
It's daylight savings time - hopefully no one will show up at 7 a.m. by accident.
At 7:15, I wake up, shower, put on my costume. Shannon helps me lug the equipment a few blocks to Starbucks. The phone rings. It's Heather: she slept through her alarm, she's coming as fast as she can. At Starbucks Shannon orders a Grande Vanilla Latte and a pumpkin scone - I don't fel like eating - I have OJ. I'm getting nervous.
The phone rings. It's Tara and Jeremy. They're running a few minutes behind, they're coming as fast as they can.
Outside the neighborhood is waking up. More people = more potential bystanders = trouble.
The phone rings. It's Gladys and Brian. Thye're waiting for a train, they'll be there as soon as they can.
Now everyone is late (we would have been late, too, if we didn't live right around the corner) and the only one we haven't heard from yet is Tony. I assume we'll have to do the scene without him.
Heather shows up first, then Gladys and Brian, then Tony, who apologizes, the 4/5 train wasn't running.
Tara and Jeremy arrive - they look great - all the actors do - they've chosen perfect costumes.
The team is ready.
Gladys and Brian and I scope out the set. It's still a pretty quiet morning, but a police van is parked fifty feet from where we want to shoot.
We try to recon nonchalantly and mostly succeed. I point out where we'll be, just between the 4th and 5th column on the courthouse steps. Brian nods. We run back to Starbucks to tell the others we're ready. The group heads over, the actors take their places on the steps. Brian pretends he's a tourist and Gladys signals us to go. Shannon watches the cops like a hawk. It's still not totally obvious what we're doing, so we act out the scene and get the master shot.
I walk over to confer with Gladys and Brian. Master shot's in the can, I look at Gladys. "Well?"
"Let's do it," Gladys says, with the air of someone who knows she must jump off a cliff, and doesn't see any sense in waiting.
We pull out the boom and we all run up the stairs, camera and mics blazing. It occurs to me in this moment that I have a number of responsibilities:
1) I wrote the scene - if it sucks, it's on me.
2) I am in the scene - if the acting sucks, it's on me.
3) I directed the scene. Gladys and I work closely on the scenes where I appear, since she can see what's happening (and she knows what she's going to need when she sits down in the editing room) but I blocked it, I instructed the actors, so if the story isn't coming across, it's on me.
4) I am producing, so if the cops give us a hard time, or take our tape, or take our camera, or get any of the actors in trouble, or they shut us down, then I've wasted the morning of all these generous people who have decided to get up early on a cold, blustery Sunday morning and help me tell my story.
I try to forget all this is happneing and just be present, just be there, just be in the scene. ¶ 10:58 AM
The challenge - shoot outside an NYC courthouse, arguably one of the most famous halls of justice in the world, and shoot the scene in post 9-11 NYC when city security is at its height, without getting a permit.
No big deal, right? People do it all the time.
Still, the idea of the cops showing up and confiscating our camera halfway through the shoot,gives me nightmares. It keeps me up most of the night before we attempt our little guerilla filmmaking black-op mission.
Our plan was simple: rehearse ahead of time, hide the camera, and pretend the cast and crew don't know each other. So we'll act out the scene without revealing the camera to get a master shot, and then (and this moment is critical,) we'll break cover, reveal the boom pole to the world and run the scene five times in a row without stopping to get all the coverage we need. Hopefully we'll be gone before the cops can mobilize.
After all, if you 're just pointing a video camera at some people on some courthouse steps, you can get away with calling yourself a tourist (and our cameraman had a CA driver's license). But once you pull the boom pole out, you acknowledge that you sort of know what you're doing, and you darn well know you're supposed to have a permit.
These are the things I lose sleep over.
We're supposed to shoot Saturday morning - the forecast is heavy rain - I call the actors and Gladys and Brian on Friday night and tell them we're on stand by for Sunday, our back up day. Shannon and I go to a Halloween party Friday night and don't feel guilty about staying out late.
Saturday afternoon, the forecast looks good, I call everyone and tell them we're a go. We're to meet at the Starbucks on the corner of Court and Joralemon at 8 a.m.
It's daylight savings time - hopefully no one will show up at 7 a.m. by accident.
At 7:15, I wake up, shower, put on my costume. Shannon helps me lug the equipment a few blocks to Starbucks. The phone rings. It's Heather: she slept through her alarm, she's coming as fast as she can. At Starbucks Shannon orders a Grande Vanilla Latte and a pumpkin scone - I don't fel like eating - I have OJ. I'm getting nervous.
The phone rings. It's Tara and Jeremy. They're running a few minutes behind, they're coming as fast as they can.
Outside the neighborhood is waking up. More people = more potential bystanders = trouble.
The phone rings. It's Gladys and Brian. Thye're waiting for a train, they'll be there as soon as they can.
Now everyone is late (we would have been late, too, if we didn't live right around the corner) and the only one we haven't heard from yet is Tony. I assume we'll have to do the scene without him.
Heather shows up first, then Gladys and Brian, then Tony, who apologizes, the 4/5 train wasn't running.
Tara and Jeremy arrive - they look great - all the actors do - they've chosen perfect costumes.
The team is ready.
Gladys and Brian and I scope out the set. It's still a pretty quiet morning, but a police van is parked fifty feet from where we want to shoot.
We try to recon nonchalantly and mostly succeed. I point out where we'll be, just between the 4th and 5th column on the courthouse steps. Brian nods. We run back to Starbucks to tell the others we're ready. The group heads over, the actors take their places on the steps. Brian pretends he's a tourist and Gladys signals us to go. Shannon watches the cops like a hawk. It's still not totally obvious what we're doing, so we act out the scene and get the master shot.
I walk over to confer with Gladys and Brian. Master shot's in the can, I look at Gladys. "Well?"
"Let's do it," Gladys says, with the air of someone who knows she must jump off a cliff, and doesn't see any sense in waiting.
We pull out the boom and we all run up the stairs, camera and mics blazing. It occurs to me in this moment that I have a number of responsibilities:
1) I wrote the scene - if it sucks, it's on me.
2) I am in the scene - if the acting sucks, it's on me.
3) I directed the scene. Gladys and I work closely on the scenes where I appear, since she can see what's happening (and she knows what she's going to need when she sits down in the editing room) but I blocked it, I instructed the actors, so if the story isn't coming across, it's on me.
4) I am producing, so if the cops give us a hard time, or take our tape, or take our camera, or get any of the actors in trouble, or they shut us down, then I've wasted the morning of all these generous people who have decided to get up early on a cold, blustery Sunday morning and help me tell my story.
I try to forget all this is happneing and just be present, just be there, just be in the scene. ¶ 10:58 AM
