Worth Every Second
I wonder sometimes if everyone thinks about making movies, and simply decides they can or can't depending on their mood, or if real, considerate thought goes into it. Truthfully (not that it's unique to my writing), I can't imagine anyone choosing this business on purpose.
The thing about movies and acting and film-making or whatever you want to call "the industry" that no one living or having lived can escape is that making a movie looks glamorous. Calling yourself an "actor" or a "filmmaker" or any number of other nouns is an inescapably inviting description of a person, and whether you're at the pump or at the cinema, someone will ask what you do in the normal course of work. If you're like me, you say something stupidly vague like "this and that" or "write a lot of emails and get a more work than you'd expect from Facebook." Fortunately, as an actor who is dedicated to telling the truth at every turn, this jives with the responsibility. Unfortunately, it means that most people are underwhelmed and turned off at the thought of you providing their entertainment. Maybe I'm simply not your first choice of first-responders... Heh. Whatever.
But, the question is still valid! So, what do I do?
This may be a part-er. That's what I do. Let's start simple.
On Losing Addison, I am a producer- an Executive Producer. This doesn't mean I came to the table with any money. It doesn't mean I had any particular connections with anyone, or could get any specific thing that anyone else couldn't get. What it means is this:
I'm willing to ask questions most people aren't willing to ask. Being an Executive Producer means I'm able, for example, to ask the bartender at a place I find particularly interesting if I can film there. If she says "no," I ask who I can speak to above her. This goes down the line until I've reached someone qualified to make the decision about my inquiry.
If the topmost person I am able to communicate with is unable to respond to my inquiry, it's usually because of either money, or availability. Sometimes, availability is unavoidable: on Losing Addison, for example, we have a two-week window (ten days) within which to complete principal photography (the most of the main movie that can be filmed with all the main characters); at our budget level (SAG ULB- a silly industry shorthand for "under $250,000" [really means "Screen Actors' Guild {union} Ultra-Low Budget"]), this means that over the course of two weeks, we will shoot every part of the film that requires every actor essential to the overall driving-forward of the story. This, of course, translates to some of the performers being confined to a very specific window of time within which to do their work, rather than to be given their ideal period of preparation, because the union (SAG) wishes to keep their performers and legislation very orderly. As a performer myself, and a producer, I would rather maintain a communal schedule..., but alas! This is what the people have asked for. If the refusal is due to lack of funds, my role as a producer is to negotiate- to ask for a discounted venue or employee, and explain why it is ultimately beneficial, even if it isn't so, immediately, on paper- or to ask for more money from investors, donors (in the case of Kickstarter), or even find out what- if anything- I can sacrifice from my own production and still maintain the commitment to quality storytelling to which I have dedicated myself. Most often, the first sacrifice made is my own paycheck... at least on the smaller passion projects, where I'm making a piece of art as an artist rather than running an organization (whose goal happens to be a work of art, the fact notwithstanding), like I am with Losing Addison.
Another of my producer duties is hiring. Most of the time, particularly in this business, the hiring is done on someone else's set. This doesn't mean you go to someone else's set and poach their talent, of course; it means that the introduction, the interview, the resume all come from that time spent together working on someone's project: you learn their workmanship, their work ethic, how they work in groups and teams, their personality, etc. Many of the people I have or haven't hired have been chosen or not based on my experience with them on set. Sometimes, it comes down to how I think their personality will mesh with another key individual's personality on set. Alternately, if someone I know and trust has recommended someone, I'm more likely to hire based solely on that recommendation for exactly the same reasons. What it ultimately boils down to it trust. People I've worked with trust me on set, and to run a feature film, so they want to work with and for me; people I trust are happy to recommend people they trust. It's very cyclical. I am always eager to pass along a name of someone who showed up every day, kicked ass, and collaborated on the vision in a way that assisted the smooth and swift flow of production. I don't think I've ever looked at a resume, except for an actor's; I don't know if I ever will. I've watched tons of reels for fun, though. I love enjoying people's hard work and talent. I, as a producer, am the first audience.
As we ramp into production over the next few weeks, wehave and continue to assemble the best talent in front of and behind the camera. Today, I'd like to share with you some of the talent behind the camera, where you might not normally recognize even the job title, let alone the name. These men and women behind the camera are rarely celebrities, but thanks to them and their tremendous skill, creativity, and vision, we have the ground-breaking and breathtaking beauty of cinema today. The first two individuals I'd like to introduce you to are Dennis Noack, our Director of Photography (DP), and Kevin Dyer, our Gaffer.
I hope you've enjoyed this brief look into two of our creative geniuses behind the camera, and I look forward to sharing more with you over the coming weeks! As always, please visit our Kickstarter and donate and share, and stop by our Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook pages and say hi!
God Bless,
Adam