Exhausted, broke, and barely conscious, I somehow stumbled into Day 14, our last shooting day. Everyone was excited that we had gotten as far as we did with as little as we had, but I was still in paranoid producer mode: money, get it done, follow COVID protocols, finish the shoot. The COVID protocols made everything that much more difficult, but I knew if I could get something done in this environment this would be proof of resilience. Or so this is the story I told myself.
“Actualities” are never perfect. In film, they barely resemble what one initially thought up. But they are tangible. They are something DONE. That is more than most filmmakers can speak of. There are countless screenwriters with stacks of scripts on a shelf somewhere. To commit to making something, you have to accept that your ego will be set aflame and you will deal with people who are there to finish a job. I’ve learned over the years that the crew’s impersonal relationship with your vision is exactly what you as the creator need more of. Remember: DONE, not perfect.
There are only so many ways we could film in this club. The stage was surrounded by mirrors so blocking was limited. The morning of the shoot was also the first time I’d seen that location. The cast and crew waited outside for god knows how long for the owner to open the doors. Would this be a wasted day? I recall feeling calm throughout all this.
Why?
Having fewer options means most of the decisions you have to make are made for you. Decision fatigue is a real thing. We shot what we needed to shoot and everyone felt fine. None of this “woulda, coulda, shoulda” business. Possibilities are the seeds of buyer’s remorse. I was just happy we didn’t lose the day and we got the extra production value we needed by shooting in a ghetto ass strip club.
It was our dreaded first overnight shoot. I believe the day was to go from 4pm to 4am. We had the following day off to ensure our circadian rhythms had some normalcy. My car, a shitty Yaris, was also the vehicle of the main characters.
Of course it had to break down.
It was around midnight, I believe. This bloody piece of junk had never busted on me. But now it did. The starter was fucked. I can remember thoughts of resignation, i.e. “ It is what it is… It wasn’t meant to be…. I can always reschedule… etc.”
And then it miraculously started.
We made it to the “highway” area where most of the night shoot was to take place. Miscommunications with the production designer on props, exhausted cast and crew and rain had made things harder than planned. By the end of the night, I was a frustrated, hollow mess. I couldn’t wait to climb into bed after having seen the film I spent a year planning go up in flames. At 4am, everyone took off.
And then my car broke down for good.
I couldn’t get home. It was poetic justice. “At least I got the coverage I needed,” would have been a healthier way of seeing it, but that wasn’t the case. I’d given up on filmmaking. My good friend Dominique was there to see it all. CAA had screwed up and I had to wait another 2 hours for someone to pick me up. I gave the tow truck driver my keys and didn’t give a shit where he took my car.
I slept for a few hours at home, defeated. The total repairs cost about 700 bucks. I was back at it by noon.
I like to say that filmmaking is a relationship.
The litmus test on whether or not a relationship is worthwhile must be harsh. Say, for example, you’re with someone and you have the itch to pursue better. The question you should ask yourself is, “Would I rather be with this person, or die alone?” If you can’t help but think of the charming ways that your person betters your life then that person is “good enough.”
When it comes to film, the formula is similar.
Would you have rather made this film you are so critical of, or have never done it at all? If you are a true filmmaker the reasons for why the experience was worth it will come cascading and they will be enough for you to try again. If they don’t, give it up and start a food truck.
I look at Dominique Brillantes smoke that cigarette like his life depends on it, and Brandon Pierre look as lazy as he’s supposed to be. This scene is fine just the way it is.
Every now and then indie filmmakers can pull something off that would have been way out of our league years ago.
Nate Estabrooks, my DP, blasted some light through the wooden stairs leading up to my apartment and Isabelle Lafond ran down them onto a rain soaked rue Leduc. We were capable of getting one take in focus. It made it into the trailer and the film. The rest were too blurry. No focus puller, after all.
That was on the first day of the shoot. We felt like we had stolen fire from the gods.
Much has been said about COVID protocols. Too harsh, too lenient, too inconsistent, etc. etc. Regardless of what one thinks about the measures put in place by the government and film associations to keep people safe, cast and crew put up with them all in the love of telling stories.
One such rule was that there was to be no kissing, unless the two people in question were a couple in real life or they lived together.
Productions got creative to get their kiss. Some would bring in the spouse of the actor/actress and make them wear a wig and shoot them from a certain angle. I heard even plexiglass was used in love scenes. Everyone needed their kiss and we were no different.
We got ours. Why? They were a couple in real life.
I took this for granted back then. I needed to write this for it to register.