MT FRIEND FLIPA Apr ’10

Posted on April 8, 2010 by Stefan Sargent

It’s Christmas. My son-in-law, George, has a local vid-prod-co. He’s feeling magnanimous.

“Stefan, we’re getting a Sony PMW-350 – you can use it anytime. No charge.”

“Thanks, George, that’s really generous [as the 350 is a whopping $22K] but I have my own new camera: The Flip UltraHD. It was $150 from Amazon.”

While the rest of the world is drooling over the latest fare from RED, Sony, Panasonic, the new HD-capable DSLRs, I’m in love my $150 widescreen HD gizmo. I call her Flipa.

The good thing is I’m using her professionally; I’ll get my return of investment back on day one, which just happens to be yesterday.

I can’t wait to try out my Flipa. I buy her a collection of clamps from Steve Cardellini, who lives down the road in Corte Madera, and some lengths of 5/8” aluminum tubing from the local hardware store. From B&H Photo, I mail order a Bogen Manfrotto Mini Ball Head type 494 at $55.00.

Finally, in this mad batch of spending, a Kenko magnetic 0.45X wide-angle lens, costing all of $24.99. The little Kenko comes with a separate ring, which has a peel off adhesive backing. You stick the ring on to the Flip around its lens and hey, presto, magnetism holds the attachment in place. Magic!

With the wide-angle on, there’s some vignetting at the edges. A 7% enlargement in post will fix. Besides doubling your shooting angle, the wide angle takes away a lot of the camera vibration. If there’s one thing wrong with the Flip, it’s the camera shake you get when hand holding.

I’m curious to see if the magnetic wide-angle lens will stay put. I clamp the camera on to our Ford utility’s front grill, pop on the WA lens and drive from the Presidio across the Golden Gate Bridge (at 45mph), up through the Rainbow Tunnel (60mph), past Sausalito and pull over at the Strawberry shopping center, that’s eight bumpy miles and a lot of wind on the bridge.

I get out expecting to see my Flipa without her WA lens. Surprise! It’s still there and the camera is happily shooting away. In fact there’s 1 hour 48 minutes left in her internal 8 GB memory. The results.
AFTERNOON DELIGHT
How about low light?

The next weekend, my younger son Felix, takes me to lunch at Rancho Nicasio. It’s a terrific restaurant-bar tucked away in the Marin hills – not far from Skywalker Ranch. Naturally, I take my new baby, Flipa. After a very late lunch, just as we’re leaving, a band arrives and starts setting up. I didn’t know they were coming. We’ll stay.

“Hey I’ve got a new camera. Can I shoot something?”

“Sure, I’m Lorin, send me a copy.”

“No problem, I’ll email it to you tonight. Give me a business card.”

I have the WA on shooting Lorin. “Looks too wide,” I think – so, right in the middle of the shot, I simply pull the Kenko wide angle off. Zap! I’m in close. Pop the lens in my pocket.

The Bueno Brothers – 0.45 wide angle above, normal lens below.

You can see the results here. The lens change is about a minute in.

The FlipShare software is brilliant. I click the email icon, drag in the clips, add Lorin’s address, click “SHARE.” Up goes the movie to some FlipShare server in the sky. After a few minutes both Lorin and I get a URL link to a “private” movie. It’s fast and free. He’s thrilled and shares the link with other band members.

BACK TO BUSINESS
This month’s job is for the SFGHF – The San Francisco General Hospital Foundation. Try making a lower third out of that. They’re a non-profit that raises money for the hospital. If you have a motorcycle, bike or car accident in San Francisco, chances are the ambulance will take you to SF General Hospital because it has the only Level 1 Trauma Center in the city.

We interview SFGH former patients. A biker: “They saved my life.” A cyclist: “I would have died.” Now we need to show a stylized accident before each interview. My direct client is John Catchings.

“John, I want to shoot the B roll with a Flip UltraHD camera.”

I do a demo. Within minutes he’s on the Internet buying one for himself. And so did the goofy lady down the road who came over for a cuppa tea. And so does Burton, aged 83. And so does my musician friend, Stephen – I’d better stop… but wait there’s more – add to the list, our own David Williams, esteemed editor of this very Web site, he’s got a Flip too.

TIME TO FLIP!
I volunteer my son, William. The first accident happened on Clipper Street. We drive there. Yikes! It’s a roller coaster ride straight down. I clamp the Flip to his handle bars, add the wide angle and press THE BIG RED BUTTON.

“Be careful, William!” Too late; he’s halfway down the hill.

He walks back pushing the bike. Puff, puff, puff. Now a shot looking at the wheel. “Bye William!”

Next the pedals… press da button. He’s off again:

He’s walking very slowly up the hill, perspiration dripping from his forehead. Sitting on the sidewalk, “I’m OK, Dad. I need the exercise.”

Time for the tricky shot from behind the bike. “Last one, William. I promise.” I fit an outrigger bar and hang the Flip upside down:

Easy to make it right side up in post:

Puff, puff, puff. He’s back again. We both sit down and check out the shots.

Hmmm… I lied. Maybe just one more, this time with the Sony V1 on telephoto looking up the slope. I find a good spot way down and wave like mad. He can’t see me; I’m too far away. I knew I should have brought my cell. Eventually he sees me and pushes off. Down, down, down. Terrific! It’s Bullitt with Steve McQueen on a bike. Where’s that pesky Volkswagen?

GET YOUR MOTOR RUNNIN’
Next, to shoot a motorcycle. None of my sons or friends ride. John emails me the address of a bike shop in San Francisco. I’m about to phone them. I imagine the call: “Hello, I’m making a video for SF General Hospital. We’ve just interviewed a rider who hit a stationary car on the freeway. I want to re-act the accident. I wonder if you could ….” CLICK!

Nope. I’ll go in myself. A salesman comes over. I make my speech. “Hi, I’m making …” Before I finish, the salesman says, “I’ll do that!” his name is Will, same as my son.

Out of nowhere, the manager appears.

“No, I’m not happy about Will helping you. We don’t want people to think that motorbikes are unsafe.”

“I don’t blame you. If I were manager here, I’d say the same. But consider this: you and your clients all ride bikes. If, God forbid, there were an accident, where would they take you?”

“SF General, it has the only Level 1 Trauma Center in San Francisco.”

“You said it and you’re right. This video is to raise money for that very same Trauma Center. In fact, they are building a new one (now I’m quoting from John’s script) with six trauma rooms and two CAT scanners right next to … this is your way of helping the hospital.”

I made the sale – Will can do the shoot!

YEAH DARLIN’ GO MAKE IT HAPPEN
Will’s only free day is Monday and it’s raining. In fact it’s rained every day this month. He’s unhappy. Me too. I don’t want my camera to get wet. The rain stops. “OK, let’s try one where I follow you with the camera clamped to the front of my car.” Off we go, driving towards the GG Bridge. And then on cue, the rain starts. We don’t cross the bridge but turn right into Crissy Fields, part of the Presidio. The camera is wet but still working. The lens is covered with water; the shot is useless.

We are about to call it a day – and guess what? The rain stops. This time I mount the Flip on the bike. “Will, are you sure it’s safe?” “It’s fine. I’m good to go.”

Will does the approach to the bridge — where the real accident happened — and circles back to meet me. It looks great. But oh dear, the wide angle has fallen off. Bang goes $25.

I’ve bought a Fotopro Action Mount to fit the Flip on top of his helmet. That’s what it says in the ad. Attaches easily to bike and skateboarding helmets. All you do is push the Velcro straps through the slots in the helmet. No way. A motorcycle helmet has no slots!

What to do? I know I’ll tie the Velcro straps around Will’s neck.

“Ouch. It tickles.”

He’s back again. I untie the still running camera. Wow, even upside down, it’s terrific and in HD1280 x 720 at 30p. We’re both excited.

One more. Let’s re-do the shot that was spoiled by rain. I re-fix the camera to my Ford Pickup. We do the circuit again. Without the wide angle, I’m closer. I can see the Flip viewfinder from my driver’s seat. Got to drive carefully. Will is changing lanes. I can’t let anyone cut in between us. The car behind doesn’t understand and toots me. I hate it when that happens. “Can’t you see I’m shooting a high def. film?”

We got the shot. You can rain now. And it does. We just made it.

A FLIP IS NOT A TOY, NO, MY BOY, NOT A TOY
Back at base, using FlipShare software, I transfer the movies to hard disc. The camera’s USB connector “flips” out but you’d be crazy to plug it directly into your precious computer. Use a USB female to male extender cable, they cost practically nothing and will save that awful moment when the Flip camera levers the computer’s USB slot wide open.

If you have a Mac, the first that happens is that iPhoto opens. (Use me, use me!) No way. Copy the FlipShare software from the camera to the computer and wait a while. Eventually the tardy FlipShare program will open. It’s nowhere near as user friendly as iPhoto but for Flip video it’s miles better. But, it needs a better user interface.

There are important messages in WIDGY UNREADABLE 4 POINT way down bottom left. See them? No you don’t. Dead easy to miss.

My boffin friend Adam Wilt tells me that:
“the Flip data rate is 8.9 Mbps, or ~1.1 MB/sec in MPEG-4 AVC while 720p HDV is 19 Mbps or 2.4 MB/sec. The codecs are very different. MPEG-4 AVC is roughly twice as efficient as MPEG-2 (which is what HDV uses), so a 1.1 MB 720p Flip image is roughly what you might expect compared to the 2.4 MB/sec 720p HDV image.”

In other words, it looks pretty damn good. To prove it, I connect the Flip using a mini-HDMI to HDMI cable to my professional Sony HD monitor and examine the quality of a rock steady, tripoded shot. Looks great! BTW, Flip only plays back through its mini-HDMI slot, don’t expect to use that output during record.

With your precious files on your hard disc and you’d think you could import them to Final Cut Pro and start editing. I wish! No; they’re MPEG-4 files. Great for viewing but impossible to edit. I use Square 5’s MPEG Streamclip to make DV files. Find your files in FlipShare Data and knock them off in Streamclip, one by one. Yawn. Not the fastest but it works. You can do other things (like sleep) while it makes FCP compatible files.

Churlish to complain about my darling Flipa, but here goes:
• The lens has no protection, gets finger prints all over
• The rolling shutter makes wobbly, Jell-O shots on movement (check out my GG Bridge movie on YouTube, see the bridge wobble)
• The battery charge indicator is a fake, it goes back to square one even after the battery is fully charged.
• And, finally, for the next model, please add an amazing image-stabilization system. Hand holding a Flip is a ^@>+$!%&*) thing to do!

Posted in 2010, Full Length Articles | Comments Off on MT FRIEND FLIPA Apr ’10

CONFESSIONS OF AN NAB JUNKIE: In Search of the OMG Spot Apr ’10

Posted on April 1, 2010 by Stefan Sargent

SAN FRANCISCO MARCH 2010. I’m good, I’ve written two Production Diaries, “The Diceman Cometh” for April’s DV and “Dead in Dorking” for May’s. Today, an e-mail from the high ‘n mighty DV editor, David Williams:

Hey Stefan, I want a Production Diary about NAB for our special NAB issue. You know some funny NAB stories. Don’t worry, we’ll use “Diceman in Dorking” some other time.

Write NAB stories? He wants funny ones? No way…

If you’re going to do NAB, it’s an endurance test. They shoot attendees don’t they? NAB is not like MIP in the south of France where you can do the whole show in a one hour flat and spend the rest of the time on the beach or hanging out drinking Pinot.
NAB is neither fun nor funny.

So why go? I go to NAB to chase the elusive butterfly of golly gosh, woo hoo, this is it, this is what we’ve been waiting for, all change now… I call it, THE OMG SPOT.

Stefan at NAB 2008 wearing cool 3D glasses. “Is this two cameras I see before me?”

MY FIRST OMG SPOT I remember the place, date, and time: London, September 21, 1976 — it’s lunchtime, so around 1:15.

Wandering aimlessly up Regent Street. By chance, I meet a friend outside the old BBC building.

“You won’t believe what I’ve just seen,” He says. “It’s a videotape recorder that records broadcast video, not 2″ but 1”. You can stop the machine and the picture freezes. Here take my nametag. Go inside.”

I’m running four audio studios in Soho, London. We record radio commercials and AV presentations. A new videotape recorder, be it 2”, 1” or string, is of no use to me.
I go downstairs under a centuries-old church. Is it a convention? I don’t know. There are lots of people down there, monitors and videotape recorders. It’s a little, wannabe NAB.
Whammy! I see it. OH MY GOD. The videotape recorder from heaven. A machine that can edit pictures the way we edit sound.

I touch her. Put my hands on her tape reels. Turn them and the pictures flick through one by one. Backwards and forwards. I am deeply in love. I woo her.

Now that we know each other a little bit better, wrap your tape around my drum – speed it up, slow it down. Make me feel all right! You are my queen and I am your fool.

And her name is… Ampex. Ampex VPR1.

We’re a sound studio. She is pure video. But I have to have her. I am lost.
OMG spots don’t get better than this.

I buy three there and then. Find an empty 20,000 sq. ft. building. Build a television studio and an edit bay. All for my new love.

It's 1979 -- Peter Tosh, Blondie and Gary Numan get Squeezed and Zoomed at Stefan’s London video facility Molinare.

MY SECOND OMG I met him at NAB in 1978. His name is Nubar Donoyan and he runs and owns Vital Industries. We hit it off immediately. Nubar is one of those magical over achievers who just wows you with his sustainable enthusiasm.
“Stefan I’ve got a new toy that will turn the world upside down. It didn’t make NAB but come visit me in Gainesville. Stay in my Daytona condo. You’ll love the pool.”

I arrive ready for the private demo. She’s called SqueeZoom (above) and blows me away with her digital effects.

“Nubar, you’re a genius. Can I take her home?”

“Only after the Montreux Television Symposium. But yes, she’s yours.”

I bring her home from Montreux on Lake Geneva. She cost $300,000 but pays for herself in six months.

NAB 1986 OMG #3 Quantel’s Harry, a Paintbox on steroids.

NAB 1989 OMG #4 There’s a crowd around a demo. The guy is editing using an ordinary 286/12MHz IBM computer. I’d seen random access “electronic film” editing before at Post Group in L.A. but that used a bank of laser disc players. Who wants 20 laser disc players? Not me.

The company is Editing Machines Corp. Its baby is EMC2. The picture is crummy and the frame rate is wrong. I tell the inventor, Bill Ferster, I’ll buy one when it works. “Sure, this is just a prototype.”

OMG. I have seen the future. This is it! But, sadly not for Bill.

A year later, I buy an Avid. So does everyone else. Bill Ferster is now an academic.

NAB 1999 OMG #5 Apple’s Final Cut Pro, non-linear editing on a laptop.

NAB 2010 OMG What’s in store this year? Surprise me. Amaze me. That’s why I’ll be there.

Posted in 2010, NAB, Production Diary | Comments Off on CONFESSIONS OF AN NAB JUNKIE: In Search of the OMG Spot Apr ’10

THE CLIENT FROM HELL Mar ’10

Posted on March 31, 2010 by Stefan Sargent

Client: I’ve looped my mother into this… Stefan: Dear God, no more…

SAN RAFAEL, SEPTEMBER 2009. Hi, Tom. I’ve finished the video. I put it on my server, URL below. It’s just over six minutes and Tricia & I think it’s pretty good.

Hi, Tom. Me again. No reply to my last email. Have you seen your video? I’ve left messages on your answer phone. Are you away?

Hi, Tom. I’m getting worried. No reply from emails or answer phone messages. Are you OK?

Stefan, Sorry for the delay. I’ve been on the road. Only viewed once, looks good. Sent link to my board members for input and thoughts. Will get back to you ASAP.

OCTOBER 2009. Tom, I finished it a month ago. I need to know if you like it.

Stefan, We should meet. Can you come to Morgan Hill, Saturday?

MORGAN HILL. (after viewing it) Yes. It’s good. But there’s a boom mike in shot.

Tom, that’s not possible. We didn’t use a boom. You were there. No boom.

Can I see it again?

Sure. See, no boom mike.

I’ve looped my mother into this. She says it’s all shot in daylight.

I’m sorry, Tom, I’m not with you.

Well, it all kind of looks the same. Daylight. Nothing shot at sunset. No nighttime.

Is there anything that happens at sunset or at night?

No, nothing. It’s not me. My mother said it. It’s a valid comment.

Tom, you’re my client. What do YOU think?

Stefan, there’s something’s worrying me. I think I know what’s wrong.

Tell me, Tom.

It needs more commas.

More commas? I’m sorry I don’t understand…

Things are happening too fast. It needs breathing spaces. I never worked on a film before. Can you add commas?

I was trying to keep it to six minutes. More padding might slow it down. These days people have a short attention span. But if that’s what you want.

BACK HOME. Hi, Tom. I’ve re-edited your video. I added breaks here and there.

Looked once with a friend, looks awesome, just need to change the background music…will advise.

It’s the same music that you were happy with before we added more commas. I think you’d better do the trek from Morgan Hill and come here. I’ve hundreds of mood music disks and you can pick the music yourself.

NOVEMBER 2009. Hi, Tom. I’ve re-mixed the music and put the latest version up.

Stefan, we’d like to get some traction from the video as soon as possible and need to get it on our Web site, Stefan meet David with the agency, David meet Stefan the filmmaker.

Hi, David, you can download a QuickTime file from my server.

Thanks for reaching out to David. We are likely to segment the overall film somewhat to utilize supportive video segments with various text and static picture content on the current page design — five or six short videos of one or two minutes each. Generic video for home page, then product video on product page, then our staff, testimonials, and next year’s events. Good idea?

Hi, Tom. Good idea? No. I’m sorry, this video is going off the rails. I didn’t quote for six separate videos. You said the latest cut was “awesome” — let’s keep it that way.

Stefan, Take this matter up with David at the ad agency in charge of creatives with our Web site.

DECEMBER 2009. Tom. Sorry to chase you for money, but the final 50% is still unpaid.

Stefan, We have accounts payable pending scheduled to pay 12/30 with our bookkeeper.

JANUARY 2010. Dear Stefan, I hope your Holiday was enjoyable and relaxing. Now it’s time to look forward to the positive prospects of 2010 and I for one am charging forward with anticipation and ambition! This past year has been a real challenge for us all, and I know that you are just as dependent on timely payments as we are. I personally apologize as CEO that we have been late thus far in meeting our agreement for the remaining balance for the video. We are making daily efforts to collect from our customers so that we can in turn pay you what is due in the timeliest manner possible. Again, thank you for your patience.

Dear God, no more…

Posted in 2010, Production Diary | Comments Off on THE CLIENT FROM HELL Mar ’10

DIGITAL IS SUCH A PITA (pain in the ass)? Feb ’10

Posted on February 24, 2010 by Stefan Sargent

2010 SPRING CLEANING It’s spring. It’s spring. Tra la! The end of the big freeze and the approach of summer. Now to throw out the old and welcome the new.

New? Yes, this year I’m going to take the HDSLR plunge — maybe the new Canon Rebel T2i or the Fujifilm FinePix HS10. I can’t wait for a new toy — but first to throw out the old.

So what’s to go this year? Film cameras, that’s what. I’ve got four still cameras. Haven’t used them for years. I chuck them into the kitchen bin. Tricia rescues them from the plastic liner and cleans them up ready for the local Salvation Army. They won’t sell one.

Who needs film these days?

Don’t get me wrong. I love film. Film supported me for 35 years. I bought houses, sent kids to school, traveled and lived well — all because of film. “Daddy, buy me a pony.”

That’s me in 1983. I’m as happy as Scrooge McDuck playing with his money. See the light of madness in my eye… the quivering lips… that’s how film gets you. Touch it, feel it, I can see pictures, lots of little pictures.

BACK TO SPRING 2010 Just as I was musing this thought, the who-needs-film-these-days? thought, the unexpected happens. Tap, tap, tap. A knock at the door. It’s Mary, our neighbor from Beach Drive. She’s excited; tells me she’s rented her house to a film school and they’re there making a film.

A film! Of course she means video. No matter.

“Come on Stefan. You’ll be interested.”

“No. They’ll think I’m a silly old fart. I don’t wanna go. Please no.”

I’m dragged off. Enter Mary’s house, or what’s left of it. It’s worse than I’d imagined. Banks of Kino Flo fluorescents light up the place – they are everywhere. Lights shining through every window. All the natural daylight gone, washed out. Who teaches these kids?

“Shooting HD?” I say to the student DP.

“No we’re shooting film. So much better than tape.” The poor kid then launches into the digital-is-such-a-pain-in-the-ass speech. I called it D.S.P.A. “Film has so much better latitude. Has that real, nitty-gritty texture you can’t get on tape. I mean tape is too sharp, too plastic.”

Need I go on? Blah. Blah. Blah. “Too plastic?” Pull the other one.

Nice boy — sad: he hasn’t a clue. With all the money they’re spending on renting an Arri BL plus film stock, processing and telecine, they could have got a RED or a Sony CineAlta F23 and maybe learned something useful.

My theory is that teaching RED/ F23/ F35 is way beyond the skill level of the school’s faculty, so they teach film and dead, easy HDV. A real cop out and a waste of fees for the students. A degree in ancient history would be more use. Let’s get honest, that’s what they’ll have when they graduate.

Sony CineAlta F35: Too good, too high tech, too expensive for film schools?

I knew I shouldn’t have come. Just gets me angry to see time and money wasted.

I escape — still musing about “who needs film.” In the mailbox is Kodak’s INcamera magazine.

The know-it-all film D.S.P.A baby cinematographer and now INcamera magazine, all in one day. A double whammy…

OH, THE HUMANITY!
Nothing makes me madder than Kodak’s INcamera magazine. Yes, I’m mad again.

INcamera seems to think that the only way to promote productions on film is to rubbish digital; big time… no holds barred. A kind of warped religious fervor you’d never find in a real magazine, like DV or American Cinematographer.

Instead of getting useful production info, you’re hammered with outrageous D.S.P.A statements:

Funny, I used to like Remi. Way back in ’64, Remi Adefarasin and I worked together at the BBC Ealing; at least I think we did. He was an assistant cameraman, my focus puller. Can’t be two Remis, can there? He seemed very sane and rational at the time.

“Can’t handle humanity.” Come on Remi. It’s same D.S.P.A digital-is-such-a-pain-in-the-ass twaddle the student gave me an hour ago.

I quote from other Kodak-brainwashed DPs.

PAGE 10: “The texture depth of film suited Wilfred’s world perfectly and enabled me to be intuitive on the set.

Texture depth? Film makes you intuitive?

PAGE 12: “There was some discussion on the outset about shooting digital or HD format. I really didn’t want to do that since we were outside so much and you never know what you are going to get into.”

…we were outside so much? It’s hard to take seriously, isn’t it? “you never know what you are going to get into.” This guy’s a real worry. What’s so scary about being outside?

PAGE 15: “I know we could never have gotten the same results had we shot digital.”

I can’t bear to transcribe nonsense anymore. You get the message, it’s all D.S.P.A speak. 46 pages of jingoistic advertorial — page after page. On the back cover, they actually print shooting digital is such a pain. I kid you not. Thank God — they draw the line at “in the ass.” Finally, a little restraint.

Wow, and there I was happily musing. Out goes INcamera into the kitchen bin. First sacrifice of the 2010 spring clean.

SANITY CHECK
Just in case you kind of believe in D.S.P.A, here are some well known folk who might disagree:

George Lucas – Star Wars — Episode III – Sony CineAlta HDC-F950
Michael Mann – Public Enemies – Sony CineAlta F23
David Fincher – The Curious Case of Benjamin Button – Sony CineAlta F23
Mel Gibson – Apocalypto – Panavision Genesis HD Camera
James Cameron – Avatar – Sony CineAlta F23, Sony CineAlta HDC-F950

SPRINGTIME FOR SARGENT
Got to get back to my annual clean up. There are strict rules: “If it isn’t used in the last two years, chuck it!”

Behind my editing table are two boxes of BNC to BNC cables. While audio has remained true to XLR, video has moved to “interface” connections like SATA, USB, HDMI, DVI; you name it. Anyhow I don’t need two boxes of dusty, old fashioned cables. Out they go!

Next, my FireWire drives, I’m all eSATA now. I’m throwing out 200 GB Firewire drives – why, because I’ve standardized on 2TB SATA (Seagate Barracuda) at just $194.95. They’re 10 times bigger, cheaper and faster. I copy the data and chuck the FWs. Another few years, the 2TBs will be out of date, replaced by solid-state 1000TB. I’ll copy and chuck again (but only in spring time).

MY 2010 LIBRARY
It’s painful to throw out books, there’s a feel-good factor about having an impressive reference library. Get real, Stefan, when is the last time you read PHP for Flash? Who needs a book about MX2004, aren’t we on CS4 now? PowerPoint 2003, huh? There’s an entire shelf of Dodo books.

Ten years of Wired magazine. I advertise them as free on Craig’s list; not a single reply. Out into the re-cycle bin. Wired is now green. Will return here one day as National Geographic or perhaps Shopper Offers from Safeway.

Cinefex magazines dating back to 1983… Maybe I can sell them. I e-mail our editor, David Williams, for suggestions. Nope, he’s got the same collection. Seems there’s a glut of old Cinefex mags. Shame, and they cost $10 a copy, but I’m not reading them, so why waste valuable shelf space?

2008 SPRING CLEANING Two years ago, come The Great Spring Cleanup, I copied my all CDs to MP3 and threw them out. Another five shelves emptied, plus all floor space under the bed.

Then I went for the DVDs. All those copies I bought on Amazon when I was flush and hundreds of illegal copies I’d pirated and never viewed.

Sure, one day, one day, I’ll want to watch the French Connection II. Maybe not.

“Honey, let’s watch Titanic tonight?”

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Maybe a Truffaut? Jurassic Park? Annie Hall?”

I copied them all, every last one, on to 2TB drives. I can fit about 350+ DVD movies onto one 2TB drive. At 70 cents a DVD, you know it makes sense. Put the bare drive into a wiebeTECH storage box for safekeeping. I can sleep soundly knowing I still have And God Created Woman ready for me, night or day.

I don’t throw out everything. On the shelf near the front door, I keep the boxed DVD sets of Kieslowski’s Three Colors Trilogy, BBC’s Planet Earth, The Bourne Collection, Fantasia, The Matrix Trilogy and Looney Tunes. They look so impressive.

“Nice collection, Stefan. You’ve got good taste.”

“Wait ‘til you see my hard drive.”

I even keep Ken Burns’ jazz show — the boxed set from Costco. “Hey, you’re a jazz fan too.” Confession: I never watched it right though. The talk to music ratio was too high and all those Ken Burns’ effects.

1995 – REMEMBRANCE OF SPRING CLEANINGS PAST
I’m fed up buying film stock, going to the lab with exposed neg, collecting the cans and cutting copy the next day, neg cutting and/or telecine transfer… I crack. I swap from shooting film to tape mid-stream, right in the middle of a production. I just say “no to film” and quit. Disenchanted at springtime, that’s me.

Both my Éclair 16mm cameras, an NPR and an ACL, have to go. I give them to Pete Anway at Birns & Sawyer in Hollywood. He sells them, no problem. I use the money as down payment on an Avid.

YEAR 2000 With my 16mm cameras gone, I’m desperately clinging on to my precious 35mm Arri IIC. I need it for my great indie feature film. It’s my comfort blanket.

Kubrick’s Arriflex IIC. They thought he was framing up a shot but he’s really asleep.

The Arri IIC was the RED One camera of the 1960s. Kubrick’s Clockwork was a IIC shoot. Easy Rider, IIC again. Herzog’s amazing Fitzcarraldo, another IIC.

You weren’t a real filmmaker if you didn’t have an Arri IIC on your shoulder and a Spectra exposure meter around your neck.

Me again. Shooting Ken Russell’s Debussy in ‘64. Oliver Reed is out of frame. Yep. It’s a IIC.

MY OWN 35mm ARRI IIC It’s old, an early model. I have two motors, three magazines and a collection of Cooke lens — maybe it’s the same camera that Kubrick used. Then again, Arriflex made 17,000 IICs. That’s odds of 17,000 to 1. Maybe it isn’t.

Between 1995 and 2000, dinner guests are forced to hold my camera and look through the viewfinder. I tell them that this is the very same camera that shot Easy Rider.

Guest: “You’re kidding me.” Me: “Would I lie?”

Kovacs shoots Easy Rider. Looking through a viewfinder on a moving car is the easiest way to get a black eye. Been there. Done that. Ouch!

417 CANS FROM eBAY In 1999, I buy 100,000′ of 35mm short ends. Some low speed, some high speed. 1,000′ cans, 400′ cans, baby 100′ cans. In total, UPS delivers 417 cans. They reach from one end of my living room to the other, back again and down the hall.

I go to BestBuy and order two huge freezers for my precious stock.

I know it’s crazy. I think if I have all the 35mm filmmaking kit, the script would somehow appear. People would find me. “Hey there’s this great guy with 100,000′ of film and an Arri IIC.” Just doesn’t happen. I will have to write the script myself.

I take Robert McKee’s three day course. That should do the trick. Nope. Buy every screenwriting book there is. I keeping repeating G. K. Chesterton quote, “If a thing’s worth doing, it’s worth doing badly.”

Hmmm… I don’t know about that. My scripts are bad. Really bad. The good thing is, I know they’re bad.

2001 IT’S SPRING AGAIN Come the big spring clean, both the IIC and the film stock have to go. They’re an embarrassment.

The Arri IIC camera is snapped up. I’m glad it’s gone; I’m busy shooting with my Sony PD150, a real digital camcorder. Money is coming in. My clients are happy. I am too.

The 100,000′ of 35mm stock is “won” on eBay by a young man in NYC. He’s making his first feature.

Here’s the weird part: he’s shooting a feature but can’t afford the ground UPS delivery; wants it sent by Greyhound bus. I go to the bus depot in San Francisco but the film is too bulky for one bus. I have to make three separate trips and fill up three buses.

Good news. I double my money. I guess it all arrived. Not a word from him. Not a squeak. Did he make the film? I don’t think so.

I fondly imagine that he resold the 100,000′ at a healthy profit. It’s now a permanent moving 417 cans of hopes and dreams.

A FAREWELL TO FILM And so ends my life of filmmaking, well at least the kind with the sprocket holes down the edges.

Digital Video, take me. I’m yours.

Posted in 2010, Production Notes | Comments Off on DIGITAL IS SUCH A PITA (pain in the ass)? Feb ’10

GOING VIRAL – Been There, Done That! Feb ’10

Posted on February 3, 2010 by Stefan Sargent

Stefan’s documentary is run three times in a week in 1965. Fourty-four years later, “Numa Numa” on YouTube: 33,681,426 hits and counting.

SAN RAFAEL, CALIFORNIA, 2009

Kevin, our electrician, is here.

“Hey, Stefan, what are you working on?”
“Nothing. It’s dead quiet.”
“Go and see Rolf. I share an office with him. He wants a video.”

Great. I’m there the next day. Rolf has invented a medical device — looks like a coffee mug. Sells them to laboratories. He does a demo.

“Rolf, it’s terrific. Here’s what I suggest: I film a demo, say, in a proper lab environment. Then we have some user testimonials. One from Genentech would be good.”

“No, no, too boring. I want to go viral on YouTube. Here’s some ideas: I’m a drunk, very drunk. I get out the product and drop it on the floor. Then I fall over. Here’s another: we get a contortionist. We make her small and she’s inside the canister.”

“Rolf, I’d love to make a viral video, but 30 million hits — it’s like winning the lottery.”

“Thirty million is super-viral like ‘Numa Numa’ or Susan Boyle. I’d be happy with plain old viral. You know, just a million or two.”

“Oh, plain old viral. No problem, been there, done that!”

LONDON, U.K. 1965
I finish my time at the BBC in London. Write to Bruce Gyngell in Sydney, Australia. He’s station manager of TCN Channel 9 and a good friend. A real letter with an airmail stamp.

“How would you like a one-hour documentary about famous Aussies in London? The ones who don’t want to come home?”

He writes back: “Go for it — the budget is £1,000.” (About $2,000, but, remember, this was 45 years ago.)

My first full-length doc. I’m excited and a tad scared. I shoot it using two Bolex H16 cameras (£74 & £110), a Uher tape recorder (£25), two photoflood lights (£12) and short-end 16mm film stock (£84).

FLY HOME
I arrive back in Australia. Ooops, the film can’t enter the country until it has been censored! The guy at the immigration gate confiscates my exposed but, as of yet, unprocessed film. Not to worry, TCN9 knows the routine. They get it developed “in bond” and find a corner in their bonded warehouse for me to edit. Completed, the censors screen it and only then it’s let into the country. My unused off-cuts remain trapped in the custom’s bond. Unbelievable but true. I couldn’t make this stuff up.

The next hurdle is to get it passed and broadcast by TCN9. I’m called into the conference room. Bruce has asked the station owner’s son, Clyde Packer and comedian/housewife superstar Barry Humphries to view it with him. Barry and Clyde fall about laughing. Ouch — it wasn’t mean to be funny. Bruce is happy, as the boss’s son loves it.

FIRST BROADCAST
Sunday, November 28, 1965, 10.00 p.m. — My doc, The Australian Londoners, is broadcast. At 11:00 the phone goes crazy with friends saying, “Congrats!”

Monday November 29 — Bruce Gyngell gets a call from the station owner, Sir Frank Packer:
“Bruce, Frank here. I came into to the office and everyone is talking about that program. You know, the one with Aussies in London slagging off their home country. Clyde told me it was a laugh. Put it on again. I’m home Wednesday night, say 9 o’clock. I want to see it.”

“I’ll have to bump Patty Duke.”

“Who gives a toss? Bump her. Wednesday at 9, right!”

Tuesday, November 30 — Sir Frank’s newspaper, The Telegraph, has a page three lead story: REPEATED BY POPULAR DEMAND Stefan Sargent’s controversial documentary…

GOING VIRAL
Wednesday, November 31 — Wow! On again at 9. Sorry Patty.

Thursday, December 1 — “Damn it, Bruce. Some friends dropped in last night. I missed it. That bloody documentary. Run it again. 8 o’clock Friday night.”

“That’s the Bobby Limb Show. I can’t bump Bobby. It’s a live show.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s my TV station and I want to see it. Friday at 8, right!”

GONE VIRAL
Friday, December 2, 8:00 p.m. — The primetime, live, Bobby Limb Show is off the air and my little documentary is run a third time! Bobby and the show’s production team freak out and blame me. They are coming to get me. I’ve gone viral but I’m in hiding.

No one knows whether Sir Frank ever saw the program. Rumor has it that he missed it again.

You can see a clip from The Australian Londoners right here.

Posted in 2010, Production Diary | Comments Off on GOING VIRAL – Been There, Done That! Feb ’10

L’ANNEE DERNIERE A DENVER Drink Pcshitt, Isabelle (Pardon My French) Jan ’10

Posted on January 31, 2010 by Stefan Sargent

BUDAPEST. I meet Sally in Budapest. She’s a motivational speaker. We’re seated together at dinner. It’s the night before a conference, well, not really a conference, a “performance theatre.” I’ve filmed these events in Moscow and Oslo. I tell Sally that I’m a filmmaker and she says she’d like me to make a promotional video. Over dinner I give her a price she can’t refuse. Good, an extra job.

The next day, Sally wows them. I’ve wired her up with a radio mike. I use two cameras. One is close up on her and the other I keep wide. Shooting two cameras at once is really quite easy and a great technique. I swing the second camera around to take audience shots.

ISABELLE. She is with a company that manages speakers. Cute French accent. Tells me they have seen Sally’s Budapest video. They want a similar one for an author, James Workman. He’s giving a talk in Denver and it’s next Wednesday. Can I shoot it? Sure. I give Isabelle a quote for making a video.

She phones back saying they want me to shoot it but they’ll edit it in LA. I protest, but, nope, they want to edit. I’m free on Wednesday. I give a price for a shoot.

DENVER. I fly in late Tuesday. Super shuttle to the hotel that Isabelle has booked. The booking is there but they haven’t paid for the room.

The convention center is across the road. James is talking at 10:00 a.m. I decide to check it out. It’s huge: restaurants, movie theatres, meeting rooms, but where’s his talk? I ask the people selling movie tickets. Nothing.

The Colorado Convention Center — 63 meeting rooms and two ballrooms, so where’s the shoot?

Outside there’s a man on a ladder putting up a sign for a coming event.

“James Workman?”

“Never heard of him.”

“He’s talking here tomorrow.”

“I’ll take you to the office.”

The office manager is going home. He’s never heard of Workman. Tells me there’s a breakfast meeting in one of their ballrooms. That’s the only thing happening.

CROWLEY DUNLEVY They are Denver-based auditors. It’s their Christmas breakfast meeting for the clients. I’m there at dawn. Nobody knows nothing but they’re happy to see me.

I find a position between tables for my cameras. Meet a helpful on-staff technician. He says he can give me a feed from the PA but I decide to clip my radio mike onto his mike.
People start arriving. Workman’s book is being handed out. Phew! Good thing I checked out the center last night.

Breakfast is served. Crowley, or is it Dunlevy, welcomes everyone and introduces the celebrity speaker, James Workman.

After his talk, I ask Workman if I can interview him for the video.

“Is it for TV?”

“No your agent in L.A. asked me to film you.”

“I don’t have an agent. My publisher is my publicist.”

I tell him the name of my West coast client. He’s heard of them but that’s all. It’s 8:50 a.m. here in Denver but only 7:50 a.m. in L.A. I pack up and leave.

DENVER AIRPORT. Back at the airport, I phone Issy. I’m cross. The hotel wasn’t paid for, the talk was at 8:00 not 10:00 and the speaker didn’t know I was coming.

“Quel dommage!” (Translation: “Tough luck buddy.”)

“Yeah, quel dommage” (Translation: “Never give a sucker an even break.”) “Anyhow, it went fine.”

“Good, FedEx the tapes.”

“Isabelle, I can’t do that until I’m paid.”

MY INVOICE I bill them for the flight, the hotel plus my fee for the shoot. A month later, a check arrives for my expenses. I phone Issy.

“Michael says send the tapes. You’ll get paid once we have them.”

No deal. No money. No tapes.

Each month I chase for payment. Then, out of the blue, Issy phones: “We signed James Workman. He’s on our books. We can pay you. Send the tapes.”

A YEAR PASSES.

Pschitt, a popular French soda.

“Bonjour Stefan, it’s Isabelle. We have job for you. It’s next Friday in Portland.”

“Isabelle?”

“Isabelle, You remember… the shoot… last year in Denver.”

“Ah oui, l’année dernière à Denver. Au revoir Isabelle.” (Translation: “Drink Pschitt”)

Posted in 2010, Production Diary | Comments Off on L’ANNEE DERNIERE A DENVER Drink Pcshitt, Isabelle (Pardon My French) Jan ’10

BAD DAY AT BLACKPOOL Just The Way It Happened! Dec ’09

Posted on December 31, 2009 by Stefan Sargent

“Mind not looking at me like that?”
Mortician: “Like what?”
“Like a potential customer.”
Mortician: “Huh. Everyone is…”
— Bad Day at Black Rock (1955)

LONDON 1998. Setting off for a shoot — any shoot — is dead scary. Why? Because I am a potential customer for the big screw-up mortician in the sky. I know it. He will get me in the end.

Blackpool tomorrow. I check everything. Shoot something and play it back. Batteries charged? Enough tape stock? Wireless mics: “Hello, testing, one, two, three.” Lighting kit — plug in, switch on. Got gaffer tape, location maps, shooting schedule?

Yikes, three locations in Blackpool, then a long drive to Leeds for another shoot in the afternoon. I’ll drive to Blackpool tonight — take my strong assistant, James.

O JAMES, WHERE ART THOU?
He’s a good driver and a great help on location. But where is he? Not here. Not answering his cell. James, where are you?

After half an hour, I give up. No time to find anyone else. I’ll go alone. A bad start.

BLACKPOOL — MALIBU IT AIN’T
I meet my client at a seaside hotel. Poor Rob has MS. Some days are good. Some days are bad. Today is bad.

We go to dinner at the hotel restaurant. Order steak. Wait and wait. Nothing. Where’s the waiter? I go inside the kitchen. All gone. The Marie Celeste of kitchens.

No dinner for Rob; he goes to bed early. I drive around looking for a burger and maybe the hotel kitchen staff. Rob phones. Can I get a prescription filled? Rob is really sick.

BLACKPOOL’S FAMOUS BEACH DONKEYS
In the morning, we make our way to the beach where the ICI Autocolor Eastern Division is riding beach donkeys. The sales team is dressed as Mexicans with sombreros and toy rifles. Each member of the team has one line to say about how they thrashed the competition. Not my idea or Rob’s. This is what they wanted for their part of the sales conference. The donkeys don’t want anything to do with this video. Me neither.

I’m shooting from the beach looking up, straight into an overcast sky. I really need to be up high, shooting level. Can we get a truck on the beach? No. I will ride a donkey. Ever tried shooting paint salesmen from a miserable donkey? Don’t.

BLACKPOOL’S FAMOUS PLEASURE BEACH
Centerpiece to the Pleasure Beach is The Big One. It cost over $20 million to build and is the biggest, longest, fastest, ugliest roller coaster in Europe (see below). The regional Autocolor boss wants to make a to-camera speech in front of it.

Everyone in Blackpool knows that huge waves hit the sea wall and land on innocent cameramen.

He does his piece and out of nowhere the Irish Sea lands on me.

A typical day at Blackpool's Pleasure Beach

Blackpool locals shriek with laughter. This is why they call it Pleasure Beach.

BLACKPOOL’S FAMOUS TVR SPORTS CARS
They look great and their fiberglass body is painted with (you guessed it) ICI Autocolor.

TVR Tuscan-C Sports Car

My job: shoot a five-minute documentary about it. The only problem is my wet camera has stopped working and I didn’t bring a spare.

I put it in a spray paint booth to dry off. That’s what they teach in film school, isn’t it? After an hour of cooking, it still doesn’t work. I’m desperate. Give the poor thing a good shake and suddenly it’s running. In fact, it won’t stop. Take out the battery — it stops — put it back in — it runs. Who needs a switch?

I shoot a spray paint sequence wearing the full protective clothes and facemask. The donkey shoot was easier. I’m pulling the battery in and out. But I’m getting there.
Now I’m late for the Northern team in Leeds. No James to drive me. Rob’s too sick to come.

I arrive three hours late. “Where the f*&$, have you been?” No point in explaining.

The big day, my videos are run at the sales conference: “Hey, Stefan, those Blackpool clips are great. What a fun day you had!”
Grrrr…

Posted in 2009, Production Diary | Comments Off on BAD DAY AT BLACKPOOL Just The Way It Happened! Dec ’09

AS GOOD AS IT GETS Who Will Be the Best of the Best? Nov ’09

Posted on November 1, 2009 by Stefan Sargent

I worked at the BBC in London, went back to Australia for a couple of years, won some awards, and returned to London.

LONDON, JANUARY 1969. Armed with my “award-winning” reel, I do the rounds of advertising agencies. They watch my reel, give me tea and biscuits, and throw me out. I go to Lintas, the advertising arm of Unilever. Meet their Head of Television, Ian Fawn-Meade. Show him my Australian commercial reel. He promptly shows me his.

Mine: 16mm, B&W. His: 35mm, color.

“Not up to London standards,” says Ian.

He’s right. Mine sucks.

“Sorry kid.”

I’m tossed out the door. Hey, where’s my cuppa tea?

NEXT DAY 8:00 a.m.
Ring… ring. Go away, I’m asleep. Ring… ring.

“Good morning, Ian here.”

OMG it’s Mr. Get-Out-Of-Here himself.

“Stefan, I feel terrible about yesterday. How’d you like a job of filming Captain Birdseye, a sort of mini documentary? Come in and see me at 10:00.”

Try to stop me.

I’m there at 10:00. Ian’s client, Birdseye, feels that after two years they should retire Captain Birdseye from their fish sticks TV commercials and try a different approach. My job is to make a short film showing how the British public loves the Captain.

Best Actor: John Hewer, Captain Birdseye for 31 years, thanks to me, sort of. Best of the Best: British Gas, my old flame!

BEST #1 – JOHN HEWER
We hire a London black cab for the day. Captain Birdseye is actor John Hewer. Pick him up in full uniform and go off shooting. The cab stops at shopping centers. John is mobbed by fans. I run-‘n’-gun shoot. Back into the cab. Find a school playground. John gets out. The kids see him — mayhem! Pull up at a bus queue. John is mobbed. You get the picture.

I edit it at Lintas. Ian is thrilled. Our film does the job. John goes on to play Captain Birdseye until 1998 — that’s 31 years.

Besides being an actor, John has a conference company. He asks us to make conference films. Yes please! And he wants them non-stop. We go together to the south of France (read all about it in DV, April 2007, “The Dog Stays in the Picture”).

BEST #2 – HERB KANZELL
John has a friendly competitor, Herb Kanzell.

If you think a conference is 50 salesmen at the Holiday Inn, think again. For Schweppes, Herb hires the Royal Festival Hall with full orchestra and cast of actors and singers. The on-stage narrator is Alec (Obi-Wan Kenobi) Guinness.

British Gas is a client of Herb’s. Soon, John Hewer, Herb Kanzell and British Gas are my biggest clients. I’m starting a new film before the current one is wrapped up.

BEST #3 — BRITISH GAS
British Gas has a new toy: A massive IBM computer. They want me to make a film about their new computerized accounting system. It will show all the gas regions in the U.K. and how the central computer links them up.

Job finished, I mail the invoice: £12,500 (about $25,000).

Thirty days pass. No money. It’s that wretched computer, I suspect. I phone my contact, Clive: “Don’t worry, it’s our new computer, it has some bugs. We’ll get you a manual check.”

Two days later, the manual check arrives. I bank it. Three weeks later, the new computer springs into life. Yeaah, another £12,500! That makes $50,000. I phone Clive. “Bank it as well. Let’s see if our new system works.”

After a month, I phone the accounts people direct. “You banked it? Good. We want to see if the…” Cool, I’ll sit on my hands. Pay it back, when their system clicks in.
Another month. I phone again: “Hey, I’ve been paid twice.”

“No. That’s impossible. We have a new computer.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Let me double check” [No pun intended.] No, you’re wrong, you’ve only been paid once.”

“You paid me twice.”

“No, once.”

“Are you sure?”

Click! He’s gone – and so is their money.

Paid twice. That’s as good as it gets! British Gas, you are THE BEST OF THE BEST!

Posted in 2009, Production Diary | Comments Off on AS GOOD AS IT GETS Who Will Be the Best of the Best? Nov ’09

CHUCK ‘N ME and Little Richard too Oct ’09

Posted on October 31, 2009 by Stefan Sargent

Here’s a true story that’s so strange you’ll be singing Do de do de do do de do — the theme music to The Twilight Zone.

LONDON UK 1972. London has an afternoon newspaper, The Evening Standard. It’s bought by commuters for the long ride home on public transport. I never buy it. Well this time, I did. Why? I don’t know. Maybe the fickle finger of fate. Soon I’m reading the FOR SALE classifieds. One leaps off the page: Film stock. 16mm. Lots of it. In cans. All good stuff.

I get home, phone the advertiser. “Is it Kodak or Ilford? Negative or reversal?”

He’s an Australian: “Gee, mate, I don’t know.”

He’s in Chiswick, which is not far away. I drive there.

CHISWICK: A DILEMMA
It’s a ground-floor apartment. The seller, Marty, has taken it over from another Australian who worked as an assistant cameraman. Marty inherited a closet full of cans of film. They’re piled high. All re-cans and short-ends.

Cameramen don’t like using re-cans. They could be fogged or mislabeled. As an assistant cameraman, you’re meant to either re-use or return. You’re NOT meant to take them home and fill up an entire closet.

Marty’s wife is getting agitated. “Do you think it’s stolen?”

“My guess is your friend didn’t buy it. So it’s not yours to sell. I can’t buy it.”

I make my goodbyes and get back into the car.

Fate strikes again, in the guise of a tapping on the window. It’s Marty: “Look, we need the closet space. You can just take it. No charge.”

Reluctantly, I accept his offer. I won’t use it for commercial work — it’s for fun projects. Dilemma resolved.

It will take me ages to shoot this much film, maybe a few years. The next day I buy the largest deep-freeze possible and freeze the film solid.

So here’s where the story gets weird and weirder.

SURPRISE PHONE CALL
A few days later I get a call from a Peter Clifton. Peter who? I can’t remember ever meeting Peter. Anyhow, he’s tracked me down and wants us to do a shoot — and it’s tomorrow: “Do you have any 16mm film stock?”

Do I have film stock? “Sure, Peter, in my freezer. How much do you need?”
“We have three cameras on towers, a couple on the stage and you. I’ve bought every foot of raw stock I can find. Kodak has none left.”
I empty the freezer. Our kitchen is piled high with defrosting cans. I also have some new Kodak stock, which I’ll shoot myself and save these re-cans for an emergency.

THE LONDON ROCK ‘N ROLL SHOW
Next morning, Tricia and I are at Wembley Stadium. We shoot the crowds arriving. Do interviews, and, once the show gets started, shoot audience reaction, anything that the five other cameras can’t get.

Late afternoon, Peter Clifton finds me. “We’re running short. How much extra stock do you have?”

“About 16,000 feet.”

“16,000! You’re kidding me!”

The five cameras run out of stock during Little Richard. I’m praying that my re-can stock is still good. Some of it was in that closet for a year or more.

CHUCK ‘N ME
It’s dark.

I’m shooting dancers on the grass near the stage. When my shots all start looking the same, I go backstage. Chuck Berry is on. Besides the three cameras on towers, there’s a camera on either side of the stage. They’re playing it safe, keeping well back. There’s only one place for me to go, and that’s on the stage right in front of Chuck:

I screw on my 5.9mm wide-angle and plunk myself down in front of him. You can see me in the finished film, Chuck playing right into my lens:

The next week, Peter phones. “Your on-stage shots are great and without that 16,000 feet, we would be sunk. No Little Richard and no Chuck Berry. But you never told me, how come you had so much?”

If I hadn’t bought that newspaper, noticed the ad, driven to Chiswick, had a closet of film stock dumped on me: No Little Richard, no Chuck Berry.

All together: Do de do de do do de do!

Go https://stefansargent.com/chuck.html to see Chuck Berry (and me).

Posted in 2009, Production Diary | Comments Off on CHUCK ‘N ME and Little Richard too Oct ’09

SUMMERTIME BLUES Sep ’09

Posted on October 1, 2009 by Stefan Sargent

SAN RAFAEL, CALIFORNIA, JULY 2009 “In the summertime when the weather is high, you can chase right up and touch the sky.”

What? Does that make any sense to you? What is Mungo on?

Let’s get honest. If you’re in the business of making sponsored films, summertime is the pits. I don’t know anyone in this business who has a scrap of work in the summer. If you’re like me, working for corporate clients, it’s slow — dead slow.

It’s actually worse in Europe. In France, August is the month when every business closes. While Paris is full of tourists, the Parisians themselves scurry away down south, causing the world’s worst traffic jams. It takes two hours to get into the St. Tropez parking lot. Getting out is worse.

So here we are in summertime 2009 at a loose end again. I phone my colleague: “What’s happening, John?”

“We have several jobs in September. October is looking good.”

“Forget that. We need work now.”

“Dave’s away, Mary isn’t answering my calls — it’s just very, very quiet.”

THE GHOST OF SUMMERS PAST
It’s the mid 1970s; we have a holiday house in the south of France. It’s actually on an island — a half-hour boat ride from the Le Lavendou. To pay the mortgage, we rent it out in August. Rented out — means we’re not there in the S of F.

We’re stuck in London, scratching around for work. Of course there isn’t any, as it’s summer. My clients are away, their clients are away. I cut a new showreel, re-arrange the office furniture and spend the time worrying. Is this it? Will I ever get any more work?

I need a haircut. I cross Oxford Street into trendy South Molton Street. The barber has a plastic box for 15 audio cassettes.

They slide in and out without their silly, hard-to-open cases. I want one; it will be perfect in the car. “Where can I buy one?”

“Designed it myself and had them made.”

“They’re terrific, I’ll buy one. No, come to think of it, I’ll market them for you. Give me a price for a thousand.”

I MUST BE MAD
So now I’m designing ads, finding shipping boxes, pricing advertising for cassette boxes.

“When the weather is high, you can chase right up and touch the sky.”

OK, Mungo, you win.

I decide to run small ads in the Sunday Times. I get a special rate for a month. CASSETTE 15 Audio cassette storage for your car £15.00. Looks good and, to my surprise, the orders pour in. Hundreds of them. Tricia and I are packaging, labeling and mailing like crazy.

Disaster strikes. The packaging isn’t strong enough for these delicate plastic boxes. Almost all arrive smashed into little pieces. There are irate letters, phone calls, refunds and replacements. The new, stronger cardboard box costs almost as much as the cassette box itself. Now people are complaining that the wretched things are falling apart in their cars. These fragile things are designed for barber shops and nothing else.

Despite canceling the ads, the orders keep pouring in. Checks come in. We post them all back.

CLASSICAL FUSION
Fifteen years later: It’s 1990, in the summertime, yep — the work stops dead. This time

I have employees wandering around aimlessly. Got to keep them busy. What to do?

I know, we’ll make Classical Fusion, a new twist on Fantasia.

I have two sources: Select Effects, a library I bought from Nashville, and our own homemade VidiKIT. I select the music and hand out suggested graphics to our editors.

Julie creates motion graphics for Mozart’s “Requiem” on our Quantel Harry. Junior editor Mark Wharton cuts Select Effects to Ravel’s “Daphnis and Cloé.”

When it’s finished, I go to EMI Classics.

A lady there loves it. She sends it to EMI Japan, where music LaserDiscs are big. “Come back next month. We’ll have a contract ready.”

But, next month, she isn’t there. The new team at EMI Classics knows nothing about Classical Fusion and throws me out.

Then a wonderful thing happens. Summer is over. Work is pouring in and I’m busy again.

See a track from Classical Fusion at www.stefansargent.com/ravel.html

Posted in 2009, Production Diary | Comments Off on SUMMERTIME BLUES Sep ’09