ON BEING A DIRECTOR

Posted on February 7, 2016 by Stefan Sargent

Hint: Try Starting with a Shot List1Aboriginal fingers on bulldozer controls—shot by Keith

Back in 1968, I get a job as a director and I’m forced to work with my client’s chief cameraman. “Want the job? Then learn to live with Keith.”

Day one, Keith, my unwanted cameraman, says, “Tell me what you want me to shoot.”

I reply, “If it moves, shoot it. We’ll just play it by ear.”

“That’s not good enough. I need a shot list.”

This guy’s a pain. “You’re kidding me.”

He isn’t. He says that if I want to be a director, I need to direct him; he really wants a shot list.

“Come on, just think of shots. Basic ones—then we’ll get more creative.”

A Shot List
“OK, here goes: we need shots of passing trucks.”

“Day or night?”

“Both—this is a 24-hour operation. Night would be good … headlights flaring into the camera lens. Trucks backlit with smoke and dust.”

“Great, you’re getting the idea. Give me more.”

“Here’s a thought: I’ve always been fascinated by how a huge crane can be controlled by just the hand of a man. Contrast a frail man with a powerful machine. Do you think you can get a shot of an aboriginal’s hand controlling the bulldozer?” (The video was shot in Australia.)

It’s a difficult, dangerous shot. Keith has to wedge himself in the scoop of the moving bulldozer. If he slips and falls, the bulldozer will run him over.

“Did you get the shot?”

“Yep, cross it off the list.” (See it at vimeo.com/65002374.)

Franz explains how planking is steamed and affixed to the hull—shot by George

Today Is the Ship’s Planking
I’m back shooting the building of the brigantine. Part one concluded with the completion on the hull—all the ribs in place but no exterior planking.

Over the next few weeks they’ll be affixing long planks to the hull. There are temporary metal stairs going up to scaffolding. I’m recovering from surgery—there’s no way that I can climb the stairs and shoot from the scaffolding.

My son-in-law George runs a successful production company, but way back when he was an ABC7 cameraman.

I phone. “George, can you help me? They’re putting planking on the ship but it’s too high for me.”

George to the Rescue
“George, that’s Franz. He’s the man in charge. I’d like him to do a piece to camera explaining what they’re doing.”

“OK, I’ll shoot that now.”

“No, not while he’s on the ground. Wait until he’s up there and just about to cut the plank out of the plastic steaming bag, so he’s on the left of the shot and the new plank being steamed is on the right. You’re following him and then ask him, out of the blue, “What’s happening, Franz?” He’ll turn to the camera and say something like: “I’m just about to take the plank out of …”

And that’s exactly what happened: Franz turns to camera and says, “I’m just about to take the plank out of the plastic …”

It’s just as I had planned. Thanks, George—and thank you, Keith, for showing me how to direct.

Posted in 2016, Production Diary | Comments Off on ON BEING A DIRECTOR

TO FILM A FAMILY

Posted on November 30, 2015 by Stefan Sargent

You Have to Join It

It’s 2009. I’ve got to tell you, we are running out of money. My corporate video business is on the wane. I save money buying cat food at Costco. Sirius XM and Netflix are cancelled. We consider moving downstairs and renting out above. “Do we really need two cars?”

2009, Pinot: Sonoma Dreams. Accepted by Sonoma but nowhere else—a failure.

When it comes to entering my newly completed Pinot film into festivals, I’m cautious about spending the money. Sundance is around $100 and there’s almost zero chance you’ll get accepted. It’s like burning money.

Pinot: Sonoma Dreamsis rejected by 86 festivals. Bang goes over $6,000. Only the Sonoma International Film Festival comes good, and while it was an excellent screening to a full house, that was it.

Reversal of Fortune

Tricia, my wife and co-producer on the Pinotdisaster, has always been passionate about linen. She decides to make linen cushions and we sell them on a simple PayPal web site.

For herself, she makes a natural linen duvet cover and, after a stiff drink, plucks up courage and e-mails a photo to Remodelista, a homemaker blog. The next day, they publish and sales pour in. That is the start of our linen business.

2012 • Man at the Door

Three years later, there’s a knock at the door. The man, a local, wants linen sheets, pillowslips and, of course, the duvet cover. We chat. He tells me there is a tall ship being built by volunteers in nearby Sausalito. He knows Alan Olsen, the life force behind the project.

I drive to the construction site to meet Alan and discover there is no construction site; Alan is still negotiating with the local council. “Can I film the making of the ship?” Alan is agreeable—especially when I say I will volunteer my services and donate any profits.

2015 • We Built a Ship

2015, We Built a Ship. Here we go again—entry time for 2016 festivals.

Episode one is finished and in 3D. These days I’m more selective with festival entries. Apart from one festival, there are no 3D, drone or virtual reality categories. Pity, you’d think they’d want bleeding edge stuff.

This week I’m making 3D DCPs, ready for the film festival rush in 2016. No news from Sundance, figures; I’ll phone Robert.

My New Family

Little did I know when I signed up as a ship volunteer that I’d be joining a family. Over the three years since I started shooting, I’ve made so many shipyard friends. I know all their names and backgrounds. They come to our BBQ parties with their kids. Richard, a shipwright, moves in downstairs and tells me when to come and shoot.

In July this year, I have heart bypass surgery. I am away from the shipyard for three months. When I feel strong enough, my daughter drives me there.

Nervous and a little shaky, I enter. A group of volunteers sees me and starts clapping. I am so touched, I burst into tears. I am reunited with my family. Richard gives me a big hug. I can’t wait to start shooting again.

Posted in 2015, Production Diary | Comments Off on TO FILM A FAMILY

Reelin’ in the Years: Not Dark and Fuzzy

Posted on November 17, 2015 by Stefan Sargent

1870 • Caught in the Act

Let’s start our story in 1870. In England, parliament passes the Education Act providing free schooling to children between the ages of 5 and 13.

A hundred years later and it’s time to celebrate with a movie about education in the modern 1970s. The government very sensibly choses a team who knows nothing about education in the UK. Tricia and I were both educated at private schools in Australia.

Our brief: “We don’t want to see kids sitting behind desks. Show them learning by experience. On their feet, outside, building things, in real situations. Nothing staged, no lights.”

No lights in 1970 means I am forced to use high-speed 16mm reversal film (Kodak 7242), the same as used for Albert and David Maysles’ Gimme Shelter.

1970 • Showtime

Our client, the Department of Education and Science, is thrilled with the result and a premiere screening is planned at the National Film Theatre in London. My film will be introduced by the minister for education (soon to be prime minister), Margaret Thatcher.

On stage, Thatcher talks about how she liked our film. “It’s all real. Nothing has been set up or staged. The filmmakers didn’t use lights, which is why some scenes are dark and fuzzy.”

How dare she! My work is perfect. It’s grainy, but there are no “dark and fuzzy” shots. At the reception, I have to be held back from telling her off. Then suddenly she’s gone.

1971 • No More Dark and Fuzzy

1971, a year later, the Department of Education and Science gives me a commission about a group of researchers in Scotland studying “children’s thought and language.”

As the situations are more structured, I plan to shoot with a tripod, use lights and shoot on a slower, sharper film stock, Kodak 7252.

2008 • I Want to Use My Umbrella Lights

1971, “Children’s Thought and Language.” I lit this scene with two umbrella lights using a kit set of aluminum tubes, clamps and fittings.

I want the same setup I used 37 years ago. I search the Internet for a similar system of clamps and connectors and discover Steve Cardellini. Even better, he lives only a few miles away.

I turn up at his house with the 1971 photo. “Can you build something like this?”

A day later he has everything set up and working in his living room just like the ’71 photo. I want more from Steve and buy a collection of tube connectors, clamps and ball heads.

2015 • My Secret Weapon


Last weekend, I hung a GoPro from our bedroom ceiling looking down for a top shot for Tricia’s “How to Fold a Sheet” video.

Cardellini Mini Clamp with Manfrotto Micro Ball Head

2014, “We Built A Ship.” Frame grab from a 3D GoPro HERO3 hanging upside down from Cardellini Mini Clamp.

For my 3D shipbuilding epic, I hung cameras from the ship’s wooden frames, from the top of a band saw and from a fork on a forklift—shots I could never have achieved without Cardellini clamps—and all because of Margaret Thatcher’s hurtful words, “dark and fuzzy.”

Posted in 2015, Production Diary | Comments Off on Reelin’ in the Years: Not Dark and Fuzzy

Camera 4, Where Are You?:

Posted on July 27, 2015 by Stefan Sargent
  • Missing in Action and Presumed Dead
5/26/2015 5:30 PM Eastern
By : Stefan Sargent

Fifty years ago, I was a boy with a Bolex—just one camera. On the way to work, I’d walk past Miller’s garage. I’d wave or drop in and chat about my Bolex and their wooden tripods.

How it all changes. Today I’m shooting with 10 cameras. It’s 3D, so it looks like five, but really it’s 10. I have four camera-pairs, while Brandon, my ’copter pilot, has two Sony HDR-AS100 Action Cams. We’ve modified the rig so much, he needs a toothpick to get them started.

Cam 1

It’s a Sony HXR-NX3D1. I have carefully set it up on a tripod for a wide-angle 3D shot of the ship.

Suddenly I notice the tripod has been picked up and moved away by some helpful volunteer. I dash over, reposition it and start it running.

Cam 4

While I’m doing this, Franz, driving the forklift, is picking up frame 36 bearing cam 4—a 3D GoPro—clamped to the wood.

“Stop, stop! Franz, my camera isn’t running! I need to start it. Can you put the frame down?”

“Sorry Stefan, no can do. Jessie, get a ladder for Stefan.”

I’m already out of breath and I have to climb a tall ladder. With Jessie’s help, I reach the top and grab the 3D GoPro. First, turn it on. Next, start it running. Lights flashing, great. Reposition it down. “Got it! Thanks, Franz!”

Cam 2

I clamber down the stepladder and walk over to cam 2. (“Walk” because I’m out of breath. You can see me in the video: hat, red T-shirt, brown shorts.)

Camera 2 is really two GoPro HERO4s and a 3D plastic case. HERO4s are not meant for 3D. I have to start each one individually and then fit them one by one into the 3D case. All this time, Franz is lifting and swinging frame 36 with cam 4 towards the keel. Finally, I have cam 2’s cameras up and running and in the 3D case. I walk over and position it right on the keel, flat on its back, looking up.

Nic, a volunteer carpenter, tells me I can’t put it there. “It will be in the way.” “Richard knows it’s here. Nic, please, please, don’t touch it.”

Franz and Richard have frame 36 above the keel. Richard takes a moment to move cam 2 into the perfect position. Thanks, Richard. You’re a star.

Cam 3

This is my handheld camera, another Sony NX3D1. I go back, pick it up and get there just as Jessie and Richard struggle to push frame 36 into its rightful place.

Cam 5

Cam 5 is on the quadcopter gimbal. I can see Brandon’s ’copter is in the air. In fact, he buzzed me while I was up on the ladder. Very funny, Brandon.

Camera 4, Where Are You?

Back at my editing base, I use Apple FCP X to sync up the five left and right pairs and then multicam them all together.

And you know what? Pesky cam 4 looked really good for a minute but wobbled loose, swung over and photographed the roof of the tent. Useless. Win some, lose some.

You can see “Frame 36” in 2D and 3D at http://webuiltaship.com and vimeo.com/115675999

– See more at: http://www.creativeplanetnetwork.com/news/shoot/camera-4-where-are-you-missing-action-and-presumed-dead/610002#sthash.ri5ZWxBN.dpuf

Posted in 2015 | Comments Off on Camera 4, Where Are You?:

If You Can’t See It: It’s Somewhere Down There

Posted on July 27, 2015 by Stefan Sargent

4/23/2015 3:45 PM Eastern

By : Stefan Sargent

“Alan, are you afraid of death?” asks the Buddhist monk at Odiyan Retreat Center.

Alan is the founder and guiding light of the tall ship project I’m shooting. There’s no stopping the monk.

“Alan, what will you regret on your deathbed?”

In a flash, Alan realizes that he must build a 100 foot brigantine tall ship—a replica of a ship built in 1891. He finishes his volunteer work at Odiyan and—psyched up and inspired—returns to fulfill his life’s mission.

It’s a great story and the start of my documentary. I have Alan’s VO, now I need some visuals. I search through Alan’s scrapbook

“Have you got any photos of you at the monastery?” “No, nothing. It’s a monastery—you don’t take photos.”

Let’s see if Odiyan has a web site. Yep, it does. Alan is surprised. We search. There are photos but they’re all strange sizes, like 582 x 418 pixels. I need 1920 x 1080, so that’s way too small.

Odiyan volunteers are on Facebook—just three iPhone videos—some swans and a rainy day—come on, guys, you can do better.

Phone Odiyan

I find a “volunteer now” number and phone up. A nice lady answers. I explain that I need to go to the center and take some video. “The monks would never let you do that.” “How about I tailgate a car?” “We’d throw you out.” “I have a drone. I could fly over the monastery.”“We’d shoot it down.”

We laugh. I don’t want to upset Alan or the monks. Good video of the Buddhist retreat seems to be mission impossible.

Then I remember Chris. He was in my pinot documentary. Besides owning a vineyard, he’s a United Airlines pilot. He flies an Airbus A320 and has access to a local Cessna 172.

While I’m thinking about Chris and his Cessna, guess what? The phone rings. Guess who? It’s Chris. He wants some help with his web site. We strike a deal. We’ll shoot next week.

I Google-up on shooting GoPro aerials from a Cessna. Decide that the GoPro fitting that attaches to the plane’s wing struts will be the best and safest solution. They arrive (two, as I’m shooting 3D)—but the adjustable ring seems too small. I go to Jackson’s, our local hardware store. Yes, they have larger sizes.

The Big Day

Brandon attaches the GoPro cameras. We shoot at 60p with Polar Pro ND filters to reduce rolling shutter jello.

It only takes half an hour to fly to the Buddhist retreat. We’re at 2,500 feet and from the air it looks amazing. He circles twice.

Chris wants to land and check out the GoPros. The nearest airport is at Cloverdale. We land; play back a GoPro. I’d set the HERO4 to shoot at the narrow setting. Oops. We have nice shots of lakes and fir trees but no temples.

Take Two

Now we know Chris has to fly directly over the Buddhist center. We fly back. The temples come toward us and then disappear right under the plane. Gone. Can’t see them. They must be somewhere down there.

Back home. Perfect. Thank you, Chris. Thank you, Buddha.

– See more at: http://www.creativeplanetnetwork.com/news/produce/if-you-can-t-see-it-it-s-somewhere-down-there/609650#sthash.6uUfUtFy.dpuf

Posted in 2015 | Comments Off on If You Can’t See It: It’s Somewhere Down There

Home Again

Posted on July 27, 2015 by Stefan Sargent

But There’s an Avid in My Bathroom

7/22/2015 4:30 PM Eastern

By : Stefan Sargent

Dear Friends,

In February’s Production Diary, I wrote about how my TV studio in London had been “transmogrified” into a bells and whistles 3D color grading suite. Steve, the 2015 “me,” had kindly offered to do a deal cleaning up my feature documentary and making a DCP.

Molinare 1980 house and garden, now Moli’s computer graphics department

Always the impetuous one and stoked up on thousands of airline miles, I book a flight and, finger in the air, pick a date four months away in the middle of the year. Two people to London and back for $393 plus a zillion air miles—what a deal.

Come the magic date, I am not quite ready … but the flights are almost free and we are staying with friends. We pack our bags and go.

London Sizzles
And hasn’t it changed. Wow, the place is flourishing. Lots of little street cafes, modern tall buildings and even new bridges across the Thames. So unlike 1976, when the country was in trouble.

As a regular contributor to Broadcast magazine back then—which was a tad like Digital Video—I was asked to design the front cover as a sort of fun ad for Molinare.

These days I’m still waiting for DV editor Cristina Clapp to ask me to do the same for her. Cristina, I have my Arnold Böcklin Letraset at the ready.

My old biz in Soho, Central London, is spread across two buildings with five floors on each, just the way I left it.

Today, Tricia and I are being taken on the prodigal son grand tour—32 years after we were chucked out by dumb non-execs and an even dumber chairman.

“This is Stefan and Tricia, they started Moli way back in ’73.” “Wow, you’re a living legend. You lived here with your children. I’ve seen the photos.”

A Legend on the Loo
With CEO Steve Milne as our guide, off we go. It’s a tour that I used to do so often in my prime, but of course it has all changed. Sound studios are now 4K Avid edit suites.

We climb the stairs. “Here is our documentary section. We’ve just finished the Amy Winehouse doc.”

We go into a preview/dubbing theater somewhere on the second floor. “We’re mixing our latest feature, but you must promise not to write about it.” Sworn to secrecy, we meet the director and crew. Where are we in the building? Was this our AV suite? Dazed and confused.

In between the fourth and fifth floors there used to be a men’s loo. Yep, it’s still there. “Would you excuse me?” I climb the half flight of stairs, find an empty cubicle and sit down on the lid to recover.

I get my breath back and enter our old apartment—surprise, no longer the family home but jammed full of geeks with computers. “This where we edited and did the effects on The King’s Speech.” Our bedroom is now a conference room, our bathroom an edit suite.

But, hey, the kitchen is still … a kitchen. Some things never change.

– See more at: http://www.creativeplanetnetwork.com/news/expertise/production-diary-home-again-there-s-avid-my-bathroom/610771#sthash.fMpYgmlu.dpuf

Posted in 2015, Production Diary | Comments Off on Home Again

The End of the Beginning

Posted on June 27, 2015 by Stefan Sargent

Quivering, Nervous and Wrecked

6/23/2015 3:30 PM Eastern

By : Stefan Sargent
Mozart had his critics.

It’s been a tough time here at Chaos Manor. I finished my 90-minute 3D ship documentary. Did I leave out quotes around the word finished? Yes, I did. There you go: “finished.”

Lots of bottles of champagne are opened and friends drop in to celebrate. After working on it for three years, I am fed up and don’t want to see it ever again. Ninety minutes is a long time and Mad Max in 3D is showing down the road. I mean, if you had the choice, my film or Mad Max?

I Am Depressed

I haven’t shown it to my dear one, Tricia. I guess it’s now or never. I sit her down in front of the 3D screen and make sure that the five surround speakers are perfectly placed.

“If it stops, just hit the space bar to start again.” I dim the lights, leave the room and close the door.

Outside on the deck, I have a bottle of pinot, chips, pistachio nuts, hummus and pita bread. The sun is setting very slowly, and inside my film is playing on and on and on.

Ninety minutes is a hell of a long time. I could drive across the Richmond Bridge to the East Bay, down to the Bay Bridge, into the city of San Francisco and back north across the Golden Gate Bridge in less time. Perhaps I should have done that. Sitting, waiting, is agony.

The Verdict

Finally Tricia emerges. “Well?”

“It’s absolutely wonderful, but …”

Oh dear, here we go. “You have three sequences of beveling frames.” Ouch, she is right. “I’ll cut one out.” “No, cut two and shorten what’s left.”

“OK, what else?” “The beginning is wrong. It should start faster. Cut to the chase, delete the first scene with Alan and Franz.” “OK, agreed; you’re right. What else?” “The ending is wrong. Move the sailing sequence to the beginning.”

Napa wine train

This is what I was afraid of. “I can’t do that, it’s the climax of the film.”

“I’m only trying to help.”

And There Are Simply Too Many …

“There are too many sequences with frames being put on the keel. You could lose a few of those.” “But I like them.”

“You could cut 20 minutes.” “20 minutes! I can’t do that. And tell me, where, oh where are those 20 minutes?” “You’ll find a way.” “But Tricia, darling, I am making a 90-minute documentary, not a 70-minute one. And what I do cut? The forest sequence?” “Maybe. That dragged a bit.” “The lead keel sequence?” “Yep, cut that in half.”

Is It Real—Or Is It Final Cut?

The next day, I am a quivering, nervous wreck. I sit strapped into the passenger seat and am driven to the wine country to recover.

The sun is shining on the vineyards, the wine train is racing alongside us, birds are flying overhead. There is a deep blue sky and fluffy, white clouds. Is it real or is it FCP?

I rub my eyes—it’s Real 3D—and in Glorious Technicolor, Breathtaking Cinemascope and Stereophonic Sound.

– See more at: http://www.creativeplanetnetwork.com/news/produce/end-beginning-quivering-nervous-and-wrecked/610398#sthash.P8O1yCIc.dpuf

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BYE BYE BONEY: HELLO MOBY

Posted on February 28, 2015 by Stefan Sargent

The Matrix

Remember when Neo and Trinity rescue Morpheus from the agents and escape in a ’copter? They look down and pow! There it is, the AWA Tower in Sydney.

Sydney’s AWA Tower

I arrive there fresh out of school. My first job, my first day. Can any 17-year-old be so lucky? Heart pounding, I enter the Tower. In the foyer next to the elevators is 2CH radio announcer Roy Hampson. He’s hosting a promotional stand. There’s a slide show and music playing.

“Good morning, I’m Stefan. It’s my first day.” “First day, pleased to meet you.” “I love the music. What is it?” “‘Canadian Caravan,’ a Chappell Mood Music record.”

Mad About Mood Music

From that day on, I consume mood music. Love it, love it, love it.

I learn by heart the whole of the Chappell library from C.100 to C.453. Play me any Chappell and I can tell you the track name, the composer and record number.

AWA production studio. Yep, that’s me, aged 17

Go on, try me.

The Air Adventures of Biggles – Easy: “Chappell’s Changing Scenes No2” Chappell C.337 followed by “The Duel,” Queen’s Hall Light Orchestra, composed by Sidney Torch, C.337.

Every Monday morning, we record four 15-minute episodes of Biggles straight to 16-inch 33 1/3 rpm transcription discs. I play the mood music and sound effects from four 78 rpm turntables.

Temp Music

These days when I’m editing a documentary, I don’t start with mood music. I just want something quick and easy: The theme from Grand Theft Auto, some jazz from Boney James, a song from Jim Croce.

Then as the job nears completion, I replace the temp music with production music.

Amy Sewell, who made Mad Hot Ballroom, paid $170,000 for music clearance. Ouch! I can’t afford that.

So it’s au revoir Aretha, bye bye Boney and hello royalty-free.

Production Music Libraries

When I started, there were just two: De Wolfe Music and Chappell. Today it would be impossible to list them all. Hundreds and hundreds of mood music libraries: Killer Tracks, Omnimusic, FirstCom Music and on and on.

Tracks created for nothing in bedrooms on Apple GarageBand to recordings with the full London Symphony Orchestra on the KPM label.

There are the more expensive libraries like APM, Warner/Chappell Music, Manhattan Production Music; the mid-priced ones like Shutterstock; almost free ones like Jamendo; and (wait for it) the free one, mobygratis.

mobygratis

Twenty-five years later, my music and SFX library in London.

Seen Lucy Walker’s documentary Waste Land? You should, it’s brilliant, and the music: all for free.

On Moby’s blog, she says: “I love mobygratis! It provides a fantastic resource for independent and not-for-profit filmmakers. The music for a movie is the most vital, integral part of a film’s mood, emotion and impact, but a decent soundtrack can often end up being unaffordable by anyone except big budget studio films. It’s amazing that Moby has created this archive of fantastic, soundtrack-suitable music for filmmakers to use completely for free.”

Thank you, Moby. Love your music and your price. What a great idea!

If music be the food of love, another helping please.

Posted in 2015, Production Diary | Comments Off on BYE BYE BONEY: HELLO MOBY

TRANSMOGRIFIED

Posted on February 1, 2015 by Stefan Sargent
Look What They’ve Done to My Studio, Ma

We all love Larry Jordan, don’t we? Larry is an industry guru—was an editor, now an Apple FCP X and Adobe trainer.We meet up each year at the NAB Show. He loves my Production Diary. I love his weekly newsletter. These days he is obsessed with his new studio, like a 6 year old at Christmas. It used to be DTS’ preview theater, now it’s all his.

Totally Smitten

It’s nice to see a grown man so in love with a new toy. Of course, I’ve been there myself.Way back in 1976, I have four sound studios in London, called Molinare. Like a crazy fool, I order Ampex VPR-1 videotape recorders. And you know what? When I order them, I never think about new premises. £100,000 of video kit and nowhere to put it … but like Larry, I am in love.

Camelot with Cobwebs
Tricia and I wander the streets of London looking for a video studio. One day she comes back, “I’ve found it and it’s brill!” She is right! A huge, deserted school building only two blocks away.We pluck up courage and see the owners, the Peachey Property Company. Humble and unworthy, we have the keys to the great cobweb castle.

Four Floors, A Basement and a Stowaway Cat

The door creaks open. We wander inside the deserted building. Spiders run and hide. Papers scattered up and down the never-ending stairs. Empty rooms with remains of food and unwashed coffee cups. Gulp. It’s dark, cold and scary. 20,000 feet of empty space, save for the mice, cockroaches and a disheveled cat.Yes, We’ll Take ItPeachey quotes us £2 per square foot on a repairing lease basis, meaning we take full responsibility for the upkeep of the rundown building. Then the gob smacker: “If your take over the adjoining warehouse, we’ll drop the rent to £1.”We now have 40,000 feet in central London and a stray cat. Peachey later tells us they wanted the place occupied and gave it away. They thought we’d last a year. Ha!

Cue the Horse

Then, 1980—my Molinare video studio.

The first thing we do is move in and live in the fourth floor gymnasium. Alan, our builder from heaven, sandblasts the walls, floor and ceiling. We find local kids and pay them cash to clean up the mess. Mindy the cat has a shampoo and manicure.Alan builds audio studios, edit suites and turns the garage into a shiny new video studio.Click! I take the photo. We buy the red Merc but not the horse.

Now ’n Then

Now, 2015—same space but now it’s a 3D stereoscopic grading theater

So here it is 35 years later, 2015. Molinare has changed hands several times. The new owners, headed by Steve Milne, have turned my garage-cum-video studio into the largest preview theater in Europe.

And hey, it does 3D stereoscopic color grading—hmmm, maybe I could book it for my 3D tall ship doc? Just a thought.

Posted in 2015, Production Diary | Comments Off on TRANSMOGRIFIED

WHATA FEELING

Posted on February 1, 2015 by Stefan Sargent

Being’s Believing

I wrote about my new Sony PXW-X70 video camera—you know, all the facts and figures stuff that Digital Video’s Ned Soltz is so good at. I read it and scrapped it. Sorry Cristina, no Production Diary this month.

Then George comes over for lunch. He was a cameraman at ABC7 and now runs a successful production company. Poor guy is tied up with administrative work but today he’s all smiles. Why? He’s shooting again. His eyes light up. He can’t wait to tell me about the thrill of shooting an orchestra playing on a lake with a fireworks display finale. What a feeling!

Marin Symphony Waterfront Pops Concert, filmed by George Lang.

George raves on about the indescribable high you get from doing what you love. He talks about passion. George talking about passion! Am I hearing correctly?

I am inspired to write this piece.

Take Your Passion, Make It Happen

Actors, athletes, dancers, musicians get “it” all the time. They rise to a new level of “peak performance,” a high. Sometimes it just happens, other times they’ll psych themselves up: tennis players by bouncing a ball, actors by some private ritual before going on stage.

I get “it” when I’m shooting handheld and the camera is part of me. It really is. There’s no thought of the exposure, shutter speed, focus or framing. Everything works in harmony. I could be Clapton, Nureyev or McEnroe—but I am not—I am a camera.

Making Pictures Come Alive

If you’re a filmmaker, “peak performance” is the place you want to be. Otherwise, you’re a technician or hobbyist with expensive toys. It’s a trap so easy to fall into. You read this magazine and are enthused to buy that new camera, that new lens, that new tripod. But …

Will you be a better filmmaker? Of course not.

What will make you better? Something money can’t buy:

Passion

The absolute need to do it and the love of doing it well.

Often it doesn’t make sense. “I really want to make a film about tango dancing.” Huh? Crazy, yes—but isn’t that better than “I really need to buy a RED camera,” or “That f/1.4 lens will make all the difference.”

Filmmaking, like playing a musical instrument, requires dedication and tons and tons of practice.

I Hear the Music, Close My Eyes, Feel the Rhythm

Last week Brandon and I were shooting my 3D tall ship documentary. It’s the day the ship’s transom is lifted into place. Brandon has been piloting the DJI Phantom 2 quadcopter for a year; practicing, practicing and getting better and better.

The brigantine Matthew Turner has its transom added. Quadcopter with 3D camera piloted by Brandon Cook.

I have four 3D cameras. I position three as remotes and handhold the fourth. Suddenly it’s all happening and we are in one-take mode. All four cameras are running, the quadcopter is up; the transom is flying over my head.

This is it. This is where I am meant to be.

What a feeling!

Posted in 2015, Production Diary | Comments Off on WHATA FEELING