A fully rigid Sock-Loupe.

I pay by Paypal and within minutes receive an email from the inventor, Mike Stevens.

“It was great to see an order from you as I am an avid reader of your little stories of weird shoots.”

Always nice to get feedback but “little stories of weird shoots.”

My life’s work summed up as little and weird. Great – email, Mike. I’ll just go and shoot myself.

Want another little, weird story Mike?

SOHO LONDON 1998. I’m on-lining a one hour program about the World Bank.
In walks my client Peter Delfgou and his distributor, Alan – plus – well let’s call him Jerry. They pull up three chairs.

Turns out that Spielberg is shooting “Saving Private Ryan” on Curracloe Beach in Ireland. Jerry’s mother lives in nearby Wexford and his friend, Pat, knows everyone in the local village near the beach. Hey, they’re ALL going to be in the movie. The village is being taken over by Hollywood. The local postman is going to man a German machine gun. The baker is a US infantry soldier.

The Curracloe Beach I never saw.

Alan says he’ll finance it. Peter is keen for me to do it. Jerry says, “You can shoot the invasion of Normandy from the beach. It’s a public beach. You can film anything from public property!”

I’m a cynic from way back. Nah, this isn’t going to happen. “Stefan, Jerry knows everyone in the village. Hollywood takes over small Irish village. Spielberg’s is shooting the invasion this weekend. You’ve got to go.”

Only a day later my good client Murray Withers phones, “Can you do a shoot next week in Ireland of an automated warehouse?” That settles it; I’ll go to Ireland on Friday with Jerry, shoot the invasion of Normandy over the weekend, then drive north to the Murray’s warehouse.

FRIDAY. Jerry drives me to Fishguard in Wales. We catch the car ferry to Ireland. It is a very rough crossing. Our fellow travelers are very, very drunk. A fight breaks out. We stay overnight at Jerry’s mother’s place.

SATURDAY MORNING. Jerry takes me to his friend Pat’s beach restaurant. It’s empty. We wait. I have a Sony PD150, a tripod and a Sennheiser rifle mike. Eventually Pat turns up. He has a pirated “Saving Private Ryan” production handbook. It’s as big as a phone directory. Details of where and when plus diagrams of how the cast will change into their costumes. It turns out that none of the local villagers is in the movie. In fact the military cast is the same soldiers who were in “Braveheart”.

We walk to Curracloe Beach. It’s a long beach, now surrounded by a high wire fence, security guards both inside and out.

Curracloe Beach

Pat thinks the real action may be on the far end of the beach. He has a brilliant idea: at night, we sneak through a hole in the wire and hide in the dunes.

Today there’s nothing happening; just a long, empty beach full of security guards. “No invasion of Normandy this weekend,” says Pat. “Bummer!” replies Jerry.

PLAN B. We go back to the local town. My English cell won’t work in Ireland. I find a pay phone.

“Peter, it’s a disaster. The townsfolk aren’t involved in the movie and the beach is sealed off, top to bottom.”

Just then Jerry appears. “Stefan, win some, lose some but since you’re here, let’s make a program about music in Irish pubs.”

I know when I’m beaten. We spend the night pub crawling. I film it all – one mike, no lights, no releases. Everyone is singing and dancing. The Irish know how enjoy themselves. Great fun. Is it saleable footage? Of course not!

I MAKE MY ESCAPE. Monday. It’s raining. I drive north. Half the road signs are in miles – the other half in kilometers. I shoot the automated warehouse in the pouring rain. For stock, I re-use the Irish pub tapes.

Jerry and Pat sneak onto “Omaha” beach and are quietly led away.

One of my favorites is from a Russian film, The Cranes Are Flying. It’s a handheld shot that starts inside a bus, goes outside into the crowd, then flies sky-high, looking down on a convoy of tanks (the cameraman went from walking to riding a crane).

The Cranes Are Flying, 1957 — inside bus, leave bus, push through crowd, fly over tanks — all one shot.

In the world of documentaries, Thomas Riedelsheimer’s Rivers and Tides: Andy Goldsworthy Working with Time makes good use of a lightweight crane. I can’t remember seeing a documentary with such great up-and-over crane shots. I leave the cinema saying, “Got to have a crane, got to have a crane.”

Rivers and Tides, 2001 — camera starts low, the camera goes up high — looking straight down.

I see the “making-of” and lo … there’s some footage of his crane. It’s a German-built unit from ABC Products. Made out of titanium aluminum alloy with a maximum lift of 14′, weight 13 lb., breaks down to 5.4′ lengths. No one sells them in the U.S. I e-mail ABC. They don’t answer.

So, what’s available locally?

Commercially Available Cranes
I search the ads for off-the-shelf cranes. The Losmandy Porta-Jib? Nope — weighs 45 lb. The Kessler Crane is cheaper and lighter. For $964.95 you get a 12′ reach. Want to pan and tilt with joysticks? Add $1,000. Weight is 30 lb., more than twice the weight of the 2′-longer German model.

I can hardly take out the garbage cans on Sunday night. How could I manage a 30 lb. crane?

I e-mail Germany again. Zilch.

Cambo V40 crane on location. The cameraman has a safety rope around his belt in case it all falls over

A little lighter is the Dutch-made Cambo V40, available from U.S. agent Calumet. With motorized pan and tilt, it’s $15,000.

What’s On The Web?
I turn to Google. Type in “homemade cranes.” Yikes, there are pages and pages of home-built rigs. Everyone’s doing it.

Here's one of the best sites for do-it-yourself cranes:

http://homebuiltstabilizers.com/greyjibsncranes.htm

Almost every DIY crane is made from long lengths of chunky aluminum. Fine for tossing into the back of the pickup, but imagine the scene at the Oakland International Airport.
For me, it’s got to be under 5 lb. and no longer than 3′ collapsed.

Is That A Camera On Your Pole? (Or Are You Just Pleased To See Me?)
I’m surfing the Web and I see the amazing video at http://www.polecam.com/in-action/showreel.html

Arctic Polecam: Steffan Hewitt, designer of the Polecam, shoots a walrus colony for National Geographic's Arctic Tale.

That settles it. I want a Polecam. They’re made in the U.K. Price, £15,000. I’d buy one if I had $30,000 spare, I really would.

What to do? Looks simple enough to build something similar. Back to Google — type in “carbon fiber tubing.”

I e-mail Carbon Fiber Tube Shop: “Hi, I want to buy 20′ of tubing.”

“Sure, we can fabricate that for you.”

“You mean you’ve got make it up specially?”

“Tell me the outer dimension, the inner dimension and how you will connect them together.”

Finally we settle on eight 30″ tubes with a 2.120″ outer diameter and a 2″ inner diameter. Plus a length of 1.995″ OD tubing to chop up into 7″ pieces and use as an inner ferrule connector.

Three weeks later, UPS delivers. I lift out eight 33.5″ lengths of CF tubing. Get out the Alveston kitchen scales: 20′ weighs just 4 lb.!

20 ft. of carbon fiber tubes in my 3 ft. Kata bag.

E-mail to supplier: “Any suggestions for connecting the tubes?”

“Drill holes for pins and a run a cable down the center of the assembly fixed at both ends with a tensioning device.”

Huh? He wants me to drill holes through his beautiful tubes? There must be a better way.

I wake up at 3 a.m. Velcro! I’ll use Velcro strips.

Next day, we order 1″ and 2″ rolls from www.joann.com, a simple and elegant solution.

Tube connection with Velcro.

Test Shoot
The Velcro joint is perfect. Now to try it out. We drive to a vineyard in Petaluma. I’ve no way to fix the pole to the tripod. Gaffer’s tape to the rescue. I screw my camera to a short rod. Push the rod down the tube and jam it with a kitchen paper towel. The camera is upside down. Easy to correct in post.

I try to do what the Polecam people do. They have the monitor and the joystick mounted on the tube. But here in sunny California it’s almost impossible to see the monitor. Not only that, when I swing the pole, I can’t help moving the joysticks. A better solution seems to be for one person to be boom swinger, while the other controls the camera’s pan and tilt. I take the joysticks into the shade of the Ford’s cabin.

We take turns. Tricia’s pole dances are better than mine. I stay inside with the joysticks and monitor, directing, “Go high, drop it down, slowly, stop, keep it steady.” She puts up with a lot.

Our first shoot. No pan and tilt. Gaffer's tape connects tube to tripod, paper towel secures camera to pole.

The test video looks terrific. More than a test, it’s useable.

Now to stage two: adding a servo-controlled pan-and-tilt head.

ServoCity
Here’s the problem: I can either buy an assembled pan-and-tilt unit from www.servocity.com or buy individual gears and servos and muddle through. I’m busy shooting a kidney transplant video for the UCSF Medical Center. I buy the expensive ServoCity head.

ServoCity's pan and tilt head arrives. Get out the kitchen scales. Tips the scales at less than 4 lb

Oh dear, lift your fingers off the joystick — Zap! — it bounces back to the center position, taking the pan head and camera with it. Tricia takes the springs out of both joysticks. But even now, the slightest touch jerks the servos.

I e-mail tech@servocity.com for a lower gear ratio. No reply. Phone: “Office hours are 9 to 4 Monday to Thursday.” Curse. It’s Friday. Can I leave a message? Of course not. E-mail again. No reply.

Next week, I phone again. Success. I speak to Tom. He’s great, except he sends me the wrong gear. Phone again. Speak to Kyle. He says I have the wrong gear. As if I didn’t know. Speak to Tom. He’s sorry. New gear on the way free of charge. No, they charge me. Oh dear, phone Tom. Damn, it’s Friday. Whaaaa!

First, Find Ron
If you’re going to build your own boom, you’d better find a precision engineer named Ron.

Ron installs the new gear. He’s also going to make an aluminum fitting to mount the tube onto my tripod and a gizmo to hang the pan-and-tilt unit. Ron’s so good (he also makes gadgets for Pixar) that he has very little time. I drive there once a week. “Hi Ron. How’s it going?” A month passes. Two months. It’s tough, I’m suffering severe pole withdrawal.

“Sorry, Ron, I’ll have to take the job away.”

“I don’t blame you, but leave it here, come back next Friday. It will be finished. I promise.”

And it was.

Moment Of Truth
I scurry home. It’s been three months since the tubes arrived. Tripod up. Ron’s new tripod connector clicks a tube into place. Add poles and secure with Velcro. Slide on the pan-and-tilt head.

Ron's connector.

To balance, Tricia adds sandbag counter-weights. Manfrotto Super Clamps stop them from sliding off. Run the six servo wires inside the CF tubing. Plug connectors into the ServoCity joystick. The tension mounts. This is it. SWITCH ON!

The pan head does three fast rotates — swish, swish, swish! All six wires snap. Sheeeet!!!

Leap into the car and see my friend Mars, who works in the Marin RC Model Shop. I dump the lifeless metal on the counter. “Look, Mars, all six wires are broken.”

“Not a problem, you already have Hitec servos, all you need is a Hitec transmitter and a couple of receivers. $220 for the transmitter — plus two receivers at $36 and a couple of rechargeable NiMH batteries at $25. Not a big deal.”

It isn’t. Mars wires it up. Martian magic! The radio control works!

Roman: Receivers and batteries mounted on the frame. Left balancing weights on left arm. Video out to transmitter.

Now to transmit the camera signal back to my monitor. Supercircuits.com has a 2.4 GHz wireless video link for just $88.99. Nah, at that price, it can’t be any good. Why, the Lectrosonics SM audio-only wireless system is over $3,000.

Surprise! The SuperCircuits video link is not only cheap, it delivers a clean, razor-sharp image.

Hitec joysticks and monitor inside Ford cab: Red light, yep, we're recording. 131 minutes left on the 16GB video card. Video link receiver is behind joysticks.

Red light, yep, we’re recording, with 131 minutes left on the 16GB card. Video link receiver is behind joysticks.

It’s a standard-def picture in the monitor, but the camera is shooting true HD. The link shows me that the camera is up and running and how much time is left in both SDHC card and battery.

Look ma, no wires!

Fine-Tuning
Today I discover that I can’t pan a camera that’s fixed to a 60-degree pole. Do it and I get a crazy angle. Ron says I need to hang the camera from a ball-leveling thingy.

B&H Photo has a Bogen double-ball mount. Only $35, plus Ron’s time to mount it. A B&H special order … it takes six e-mails and over a month to arrive. I’m beginning to think $30,000 for a real Polecam might be a bargain.

The head needs balancing. I’m back with Ron making sure that the center of gravity is spot on. I’ve placed spirit levels on both sides and fine-tuned the balance with stick-on lead weights.

Ford utility and pole above netting: Tricia's in charge of Roman. I pan and tilt Susie. She loves her Raynox DCR-FE180PRO wide-angle lens.

Frame grab from camera. Here's the shot. Running out the bird netting at the vineyard

Out And About
Once erected, a tripod with a 20′ pole is almost impossible to reposition. The solution is to fix the tripod to a wooden platform in our pickup. The legs go into metal rings screwed to the wood. Five bungees hold the tripod down and laterally. Not for freeway driving but just the trick once on location. We keep the counterweight end long and operate the pole from terra firma.

Meet Roman
Roman, now with full radio control and wireless monitoring, our pride and joy. Named in honor of Roman Pole-anski. Maximum lift (on tripod, in truck) 25′; weight with RC head, 8 lb.; breaks down to 33.5″ lengths.

Pole jibs are for lightweight cameras, that’s a given.

At just 1 lb., my little Susie (a Samsung SC-HMX20C) is the perfect mate for Roman. Don’t let her $661 (Amazon) price fool you. Stunning HD quality that intercuts with my Sony V1U. Roman also accepts the Sony, but it’s four times heavier. Heavy camera equals more counterweight or less reach.

The Acid Test: Our First Paying Job
It’s a decent-sized-budget video about sulfate of potash (SOP in the business). Here we are in Chico, California, where the almond trees are fertilized with … guess what? While I’m shooting interviews, Tricia sets up Roman and Susie in 10 minutes flat. I come back, switch on the servos, power up the video link and roll camera.

Almond farmers: My own up-and-over shot — inside almond tree, up and over, jib across the dirt track and farmers. Go Roman.

Hey, it’s all working. Tricia’s behind the tripod, controlling pole movements. I’m inside the cab, fingers on the joysticks. “Camera up. Slowly. That’s the height. Swing right. Cue the farmers. Keep going. Slowly. Keep moving right. Cut. We got it!”

The shot’s spectacular. My client is delirious.

The Payoff
Excluding the tripod and camera, Roman, complete with full RC, Mars’ wiring and Ron’s engineering, cost under $3K: a tenth of what I might have paid for the real McCoy.

Roman and Susie, my two new babies, make a great team. We now take them on every shoot and charge extra.

Today he’s Captain Cook discovering Australia. He staggers out of the water and discovers a beach full of tanned Aussies.

“Beads, pictures of the queen, you native Johnnies?”

A girl, wearing a skimpy bikini, groans, “Oh Gawd! Another British actor!”

“Pommie bastard!” yells her surfie boyfriend.

English comedian Will Rushton, as Captain Cook discovering Australia.

We’re making a weekly national TV show called Do Not Adjust Your Set, There Is A Fault In The Program. The crew: me, Rosemary (my assistant), Megan (casting and props) and Bob (assistant editor).

MONDAY
We meet at Will’s place. There is no script, only random ideas.

Will: “We build a machine called an Orgasmatron and I take Arlene inside.”

Me: “We can’t build anything in two days. Anyhow, Woody Allen’s done that!”

Will: “I’m a concert pianist but the piano is a paper roll Pianola — I bow to the audience and then work the pedals.”

Me: “Megan, find a Pianola for Tuesday.”

Will: “I sing a song about imaginary pink elephants and I’m riding one… a real one.”

Megan: “I’ll phone the Balmain circus.”

Me: “Offer a screen credit — no money. Make it Wednesday morning, 9:00, Dee Why beach near the lagoon.”

Will: “The Bolshoi Ballet is dancing Swan Lake. I’m a big game hunter and I dance on stage with a shotgun — I take aim and shoot a swan. She dies balletically — you know lots of twirls and then splat. I play rock ‘n’ roll. The Bolshoi is dancing to rock ‘n’ roll.”

Tempting to say, “NO CAN DO,” but it’s just as crazy as last week’s shoot — a remake of Lawrence of Arabia in a photobooth.

Megan’s friends, dressed as Arabs, run in and out of a double-sided photobooth. Will is Austrian director Erich von Stroheim. He inserts coins into the photobooth and detonates a charge. A brilliant white flash and the booth disappears in clouds of smoke. Cut to the train blowing up sequence from David Lean’s classic.

Wounded Arabs stumble out of the photobooth. We leave quickly.

TUESDAY. I shoot four sketches. Captain Cook’s arrival at Bondi. Next, the Trappist monk sketch. Then Arlene’s song. Finally, an under-cranked chase through Sydney streets.

WEDNESDAY. Megan is waiting for us on the beach at Dee Why with a small elephant. Drive to a Keith’s house in nearby Frenchs Forest. He has a Weber Pianola piano. Shoot that.

Megan tells Will the bad news. “The Bolshoi couldn’t make it, but we’ve got Warwick’s girlfriend, Shirley. She dances on Bandstand. I couldn’t get a hall and Channel 9’s studio is booked.”

Me: “We’ll use Lane Cove National Park. Rosemary, can you collect the dancers? I’ll meet you all at 3:30, that will give us two hours before sunset.”

THURSDAY & FRIDAY. Bob and I edit the seven film clips. I had shot the ballet in order, making today’s editing easy — just sync up and cut in the hunter shots.

Warwick’s girlfriend, Shirley, and her dancing partner fill in for the absent Bolshoi.

SATURDAY & SUNDAY. Saturday, go to Channel 9 where we have a live studio audience. We have a one-hour “window” when both the play-in telecine and the VR1000 recorder are free. No re-takes.

Sunday — our day off (oh yeah). Monday we meet again.

Will: “I’m driving a car giving an interview to a reporter in the backseat. I can’t see where I’m going.”

It’s torture, yes, but better than working.

You can see what happened to the Bolshoi Ballet here.

The Presidio Film Center, San Francisco, 2002. Son-in-law George Lang has completed a three-day shoot for WaterGym, Susanne Paynovich’s water aerobics business. I’m to edit a one-hour training video. When the lady in question arrives, she has George’s tapes plus 50 Mini DVs of her own. No worries with George’s stuff — but another 50 hours! Spare me…

No one behind the camera, Susanne by Susanne.

SAVED BY THE MACBOOK PRO. I see a MacBook Pro in her bag. Hmmm … a crazy idea. She looks smart and savvy. I’ll teach her Final Cut Pro. She can edit it herself.
“Susanne, you know better than anyone else how this is meant to go together. I’ll transfer the tapes on to FireWire drives and teach you how to edit. You’ll need to buy Final Cut.”
And she does. Let the lessons begin!

“Move the cursor here to mark an IN point. Hit the space bar to play. Stop. Now mark the OUT, that’s the end of the shot.”

“Sweetie, let me do it.”

She grabs my mouse. I take it back; soon we are fighting over the mouse. I give up, get a spare mouse and plug it into the keyboard. Susanne moves her mouse one way; I move my mouse the other. The cursor is dancing all over the screen. We collapse in laughter.

Lessons over, she takes away the drives and works from home. After a month, she’s back with 20 separate timelines; one for each exercise, one for the testimonials, one for HOW TO USE THIS VHS, one for the interview and so on.

CUT TO THE CHASE. I assemble the show. The opening is a long ramble about the wonders of WaterGym. Now there’s 10 minutes of testimonials. Next, five minutes of HOW TO USE THE FLOTATION JACKET. Then the dreary interview with Susanne. OMG, it’s 20 minutes before the first WaterGym exercise!

“Susanne, it’s got to start faster. Get rid of the testimonials. Dump that awful TV interview. I’ll ask George to shoot an intro of you by the pool.”

Silly me. I’m talking to wonder woman, Client Breed #13.

The next day, all by herself, she sets up her DV camera, hits RECORD and runs around to the front. “Hi! I’m Susanne Paynovich. Welcome to WaterGym.” It’s perfect! What have I started? She shoots and edits. What next?

There’s a male VO reading a script. It’s terrible. “Susanne, you don’t need this voiceover. Narrate it yourself!” She goes home. Uses the on-camera Sony mike.

A week later, we have a new voiceover. Halfway into to the edit, she says it’s no good. Can do better. Re-records her VO from scratch. It is better, much better.

She brings in an underwater ballet that she shot herself — of herself.

“Sweetie, I have a question. I want the ballet to be in slow motion?”

“Under the MODIFY menu, go SPEED, try 50%.”

Susanne shoots herself dancing underwater.

BREED 13 NOW WANTS TO DO EFFECTS. “Sweetie, I have a question. This water looks green and this water looks blue. I want to match them.”

“Very tricky. Let me do the color grade.”

“No, I really want to do it myself.”

While I’m getting out the FCP manual, she is going through her own books.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ve worked it out. You use this eyedropper. Find the reference color. Store it here. Then with this eyedropper…”

That was six years ago. She still phones.

“Sweetie, I’m making a DVD. I have a question about motion menus.”

Any more clients like this and we are out of business.

You can see a clip from Susanne’s WaterGym video at www.stefansargent.com/water gym.html.

Every time one gets the chop, it collapses on me. I’m drenched; so is the camera. The lens needs to be dried after each shot. The DOF is four inches. Autofocus is on holiday. The viewfinder has fogged out. If the shot hasn’t got water on the lens, it’s out of focus.

Way at the far end of the vineyard is Roman, my 20’ Pole-anski. Up high on Roman is another rain-soaked Sony V1. It’s meant to be taking one frame every 30 seconds but has decided to do its own thing and flipped over to a normal frame rate.

After four hours of shooting, I have three tapes with totally useless shots. My cell phone rings. It’s some guy called Oren. Can I give a talk to the Bay Area Professional Videographers? Huh?

“Oren, I’ve had a bad day. I’m not feeling very professional.”

“Perfect. That’s exactly what we want you to talk about — screw-ups.”

“So I’m Mr. Screw-Up now?”

“Let’s call it ‘creative ways of dealing with problems.’”

HEALDSBURG, CALIFORNIA, JANUARY 2008. Friends, I can’t go on as Mr. Screw-Up. Here’s a job that went really well. You remember that I did a helicopter shoot for The Band of Pomo Indians. (Yes, you do, it’s in DV, May 2007.) It was for a new resort in Sonoma.

In ’07, they only had architectural plans, now they have a model of the resort. It’s not a big model. In fact, it’s only two feet square. I need a periscope camera like the one that shot my infamous Alveston Kitchens commercial (see here).

The periscope lens comes perilously close to our $60,000 model.

Mark Centkowski

After searching around the Bay Area, I decide to use Innovision Optics in Santa Monica. Its founder and owner, Mark Centkowski, agrees to be cameraman and TD. He flies up with his precious periscope lens while his regular kit is FedExed.

My fixed lens HDV camera is useless for the periscope. I rent a Panasonic HDX900 and a Porta-Jib from Studio B in Berkeley.

Mark, an L.A. boy, suggests shooting the model outside. Sonoma county, outside in January!

“No go, Mark. It will rain.” I’m wrong. It doesn’t rain, it pours. We shoot in the Pomo’s conference room.

Tricia buys 40 yards of blue material from Jo-Ann Fabrics and sews a “chromakey” cyc to hang from the false ceiling grid. Couldn’t be green as the model is full of miniature trees. We lift the $60,000 model from its display case to Mark’s turntable. (Can’t be an Alveston Kitchens shoot where the lens hits the product.)

NOTHING’S WRONG … WHAT’S WRONG? The camera operator from Studio B takes me to one side. (WHISPERING) “We’re missing a part.”

“Which part?”

“The jib arm. It’s coming up from Berkeley now.”

“The jib arm? No worries. We can do tripod shots while we’re waiting. I feel better now.

(SHOUTING) Good news Mark. No jib arm.”

Mark understands. “I say, ‘Nothing’s wrong … what’s wrong?’ We’re good to go.”

I wish I’d brought more lights. Foolishly thought, “It’s a little model. Won’t need much light.” But model shots need depth. Depth needs a high f-stop. My normal shooting style is wide open at f/2, but Mark wants f/8 to keep it all in focus. I’ve got loads of lights including an HMI way back at base. Why didn’t I bring them?

A screen grab of the Shake workspace. Three small icons on the right are the foreground with the blue cyc, the BG of the view and the matte to protect the blue waterfall.

SUCCESS, IT KEYS! Wow! God bless Ultimatte and Shake. It keys. A week ago I did a pan of the resort’s view. Today it’s my background in Shake. I vari-speed it to match the speed of the rotating model. Render out in DVCPRO HD. Terrific! It looks like the camera is flying around the resort.

My client is thrilled. I am too. No more Mr. Screw-Up!

You can see the result at here.

STRATFORD-UPON-AVON, 1984. Hey, today I’m a director. (So different from the usual Stefan/Tricia modus operandi.) We’re here in Will Shakespeare land, home base of my client’s client, Alveston Kitchens. Up on the second floor, right above the kitchens.
Below, there’s a team cooking dish after dish for us.

He’s smiling now. Wait until I start directing.

The camera track spans two 17’ connected rooms. I’ve hired ace cameraman John Henshall and his crew of eight.

Tricia’s our stylist. She’s bought the tablecloths, plates and props. John’s team is building a camera track with dolly, jib arm and snorkel lens. The lights are hanging from scaffolding, each one on a dimmer. A cable goes out the window to a generator.

Tricia - center frame - is our stylist

THE BACK STORY. A few months ago, I made a TV spot for graphics designer Michael Peters. Now he’s bought a “creative shop” called THE IDEA WORKS. They do packaging and PowerPoint but not TV commercials. Their client Alveston Kitchens wants a TV commercial and I’ve got the job.

Alveston sells frozen meals to pubs and small restaurants. You order “Duck a l’Orange” and lo, it comes out of the freezer and into the microwave. And there you were, imagining a French chef in a funny white hat!

Chris, the head creative, has an approved script which is pure PowerPoint. It lists about 15 of Alveston meals, change slide, change slide, change slide. Get the picture?

Sargent, well-known smart ass, says that 15 cuts to static shots is not a good idea. “Why not fly the camera over Alveston meals stretching into infinity?” Chris likes it. The client buys it.

My job: Make it.

Enter Henshall & Co. “John, I have no idea how to do this.” John gives me a leave-it-to-me look. I go off and record the soundtrack with actor Michael McLean.
Armed with an audio track, Tricia and John visit the location and time out the camera move.

DAY ONE: SETTING UP. I did tell you, I’m a director. Did I tell you, I have nothing to do?

John and his guys carry up the camera, the lights, the tracks, the video recorder, monitor and play back tape machine.

“Can I help?” No.

Tricia is setting up the six tables and working out where the food should be.

It’s tiring watching them slave away.

“Anything I can do?”

“Nope.”

“Outta here.”

DAY TWO: THE SHOOT. Here we go.

My job: “Roll Tape.”

McLean’s soundtrack starts: “If you’re a caterer or run a busy kitchen…”

Jerry is pushing the camera. Simon on the jib.

At last I can direct: “A little faster, Jerry. Simon, you need to be lower. Tricia, the plates need to be closer together.”

“If I put them closer together, Jerry will need to be slower not faster. Why don’t you stay out of it?”

Take two. “Roll audio tape… Jerry fast now… slow down… Simon keep low… go high over the candle… tilt down…”

John: “Can you stop directing? We can work this out without you.”

TAKE 13. John, Jerry and Simon have had enough.

I say “Lower.” Simon cracks. The snorkel lens hits the profiteroles.

Jerry pushes on relentlessly while the soundtrack continues: …desserts your customers will find difficult to resist… Whack! …take our morning coffee selection… Wham! Bang! There go the croissants and pies. The attack of the killer cream puffs …working with you to add weight to your menu…

We all fall about, laughing. The kitchen staff cleans up the mess and cooks more plates.

“Go sit under a tree.”

I’m banished from the set. By take 18, it is in the can.

“You can come back now.”

When I show Alveston Kitchens take 13, I say: “It’s a motion-control computer glitch. Can’t trust this modern technology.”

But I lie. The glitch was the director.

Screw-ups don’t get much better than this. Where’s my director’s award?

up a ladder with my Éclair16mm camera

The lecturer enters. “I guess you’ve all met Mr. Sargent up there on the ladder.” I smile and wave. “I want you to give him … no co-operation. The shoot is off and so are we!”

With that the jerk walks out of the studio and signals his students to follow. They all leave. Dummies. They’ll never make Citizen Kane – or even Plan 9 From Outer Space.

I could scramble down shrieking “Come back, come back!” But no, I get out my cell and call Sarah Young, the nice girl at the University’s head office.

“Hi Sarah.” “How did go?” “They walked out on me.” “Again! Try this then. There’s a virtual reality demo at Chelsea College of Art. It’s in two hours. Can you make it?”

THE GOOD. It all began a few months ago when my client, Entertainment Productions, won the job in competition with several other production companies. Make a twelve minute video covering all the university’s activities. With five colleges, hundreds of courses and 25,000 students, it’s one big mission impossible.

And here’s the problem: this film is to recruit high paying international students from Spain, France, Malaysia, Japan – even from the USA. For local UK students there are grants, the colleges are almost free, but for every place sold to an overseas student, there’s one less for a local. Many students and faculty members feel that the Institute is selling out. Local kids are missing places. In their eyes, I am working for the Evil Empire.

THE BAD. MONDAY. London College of Communication. I turn up to film the weaving class and the rooms are empty. “Sarah, there’s no-one here.” “They told me Monday!”

THURSDAY. Chelsea College of Art and Design. “Sarah, I’m here at Chelsea but …” “Oh, not again.” “Yep. I’m just going to grab some students and make it happen.”

FRIDAY. Camberwell College of Arts. “Sarah ….”. “Don’t tell me.”

THE UGLY. March 1995, Entertainment Productions goes bust. With no EP, the University is now my direct client.

There’s still very little co-operation so I’m gate crashing and shooting my way in. It’s tough but I’m getting there. I sneak in through a back entrance and shoot the end of year degree show at Central St. Martin’s.

Central St. Martin's Year End Degree Show

Only the formal graduation ceremony to go.

Made it. Finished! A full 18 months since the job was commissioned. The University decides to bypass EP’s receiver and pay me the last 50%. With Entertainment Productions gone, there’s no 50/50 financial split. I keep it all and double my money.

A FEW DOLLARS MORE. Then just when I think it’s all approved. More changes! Sarah’s boss hasn’t got the budget to pay me for the extra work. “Don’t worry. You need VHS copies. How about, I’ll get the best price I can and add £1.00 on each copy?”

He’s happy; duplication comes out of a different budget. They order 5,000 VHSs. I make an extra £5,000 ($10,000). A year later, another 3,000 copies. Next year, more copies. What a great deal – in all, I make an unexpected $20,000.

Almost nobody wanted this film made. Half my shooting days were aborted. The production company went bust. Life’s a bitch. I doubled my fee. But not always.

You can see a 3 minute clip at www.stefansargent.com/college.html

Bought an iPhone? You’re in the game — and doing badly. Come July 11, the new model iPhone will be $200 less than you paid for yours and full of great features that you haven’t got. What to do? Upgrade? Or do nothing and sob quietly as your friends show off their new iPhone. Cheer up, their new toy will be out-of-date real soon.

Take heart. There are Obsolescence winners. I’m one.

1964: Dancer, Robert Helpmann holds pet Chihuahua, Virginia totes a Sennheiser MD421.

Here’s a frame grab from a 16mm documentary I shot in 1964. Wife #1 is holding a Sennheiser MD421 mike. And, guess what? Here we are in 2008 and it’s still a current model (the mike, not the wife). I bought mine 45 years ago for $50, and, unlike the iPhone, it has shot up in price. Will your iPhone still be working 45 years from now? Or worth more than you paid for it? Silly questions!

Winner — the MD421 - more than 45 years old and not obsolete

Out of sight is my 1964 Bolex 16mm camera — yep, you can still buy a new Bolex, exactly the same as my ‘64 model. And, again, it’s kept its value and still works. You can even buy the type of film stock I was using 40 years ago.

Your Sony EX1? Imagine it in 45 years. A museum piece.

I move forward three squares in the Obsolescence game. This is fun. I’m a winner!

Loser - EC: The Extra Collectible. Ikegami’s 1982 EC-35, now a collector’s item.

Remember the 1982 Ikegami EC-35 “The World’s first Electronic Cinematography Camera”? EC stood for Electronic Cinematography and 35 for 35mm film. Yes, way back then, there was a video camera that had “the film look.” That was the hype. Not true. It looked like video and was obsolete a year later.

My friend Michael bought two and went bust. Michael, thank you for playing…

Obsolescence — that’s the name of the game!

Here’s a sad story I found on the Web. These guys at Underdog Pictures are shooting an on-spec doc about Wikipedia. Interviews with the Wiki founder, Wiki contributors — that sort of thing. The trailer is here.

They’re using a Sony $3,400 HVR-Z1U at 60i but hankering to upgrade to something better. So they dump the Z1 and get a $14,000 Panasonic HPX500 which records DVCPRO HD at 24pi. Happy? Nope. They want to up the ante again and upgrade mid-documentary to a $48,000 Panasonic HPX3000.

The $48,000 Panasonic AJ-HPX3000 1080p camcorder

This puppy records using the AVC intra codec at a true 24p. Now they have convert their earlier stuff to the latest and greatest. Suddenly they need more disc space and a soon-to-be-out-date eight-core Mac. Ouch! Back four spaces!

The cautionary tale ends with the producers saying they “hope to show it at the 2009 Toronto Film Festival”.

My guess is that the Canadian festival folk won’t give a rat’s tooth whether it was shot on a $3,400 Sony, a $48,000 Panasonic or even a $100 Fisher Price. Content is always king.

The 1987 $100 Fisher Price PXL200 records video and audio to a compact audio cassette.

Knowing festival audiences, a Fisher Price version would win hands down.

Obsolescence — that’s the name of the game!
And each manufacturer, they play it the same!

At NAB 2007, you bought a Sony HDV V1U. Maybe a B&H Photo show special. Nice camera. Too bad, it’s out-of-date! The new Sony EX1 has a host of features that you don’t have. Upgrade at your peril because as sure as eggs is eggs, come next NAB there’ll be a newer, better version. (Oh, wait, there already is: The EX3!) Go ahead sell your V1 and buy an EX1. Now, move back two squares.

Next year’s EX camera will record at 50 and 100 Mbps against today’s EX1’s 35. The codec will move from 4:2:0 to 4:2:2. So why outlay cash on a product that will be out-of-date in less than 12 months? 2009 is only a few months away. But wait — the new 2009 models will be out-of-date in 2010.

Read the published V1U Vs. EX1 camera specs and you’ll quickly decide to upgrade:

2007 Sony V1U: 1,120,000 pixels
2008 Sony EX1: 2,073,600 pixels

Yikes! That’s twice as many picture elements. Quick, dump the V1 on eBay!

Dazed and confused, I turn to Adam Wilt, the source of all camera knowledge.

I love Adam. He remembers reading a 1986 article of mine called “Buying Obsolescence”. It was published in the Journal of The Royal Television Society, (which no one in the U.S. ever reads). Here’s Adam, 22 years later, quoting my ancient paragraphs over a Las Vegas breakfast at this year’s NAB. Even I had forgotten them. Adam is a Wiltapedia!

Q: Adam, does that mean that the EX1 is TWICE as sharp as the V1?”
A: The V1 and Z7 use diagonally-arrayed CMOS sensors, with either 1440×810 or 960×1080 photosites depending on how you look at it [Sony quotes both sets of numbers interchangeably], which effectively and with some considerable hand waving give you almost the same picture as the 1920×1080 photosites on the EX1/3’s sensors. Practically speaking, the images are 95% as good, with only some slight aliasing artifacts and reduced diagonal resolution to betray the oddball setup. In a side-by-side with a true 1920×1080 camera, I can see the difference IF there’s enough fine detail, carefully placed, to reveal the difference, but in most real-world situations they’re very hard to tell apart.

Wow. If Adam W. says that, I’m keeping my V1. For me, it’s a no brainer.

This year’s model, the Sony EX1.

But, say you really, really wanted to upgrade from a 2007 V1U to a 2008 EX1, besides going back several squares in the game, you’d be about $8,500 out of pocket. Face it, you’ll need a few SxS cards, a matte box and shade, filters, extra batteries, that’s 10 grand. Less, I guess, $1,500 for your used V1U on eBay.

Now the crunch. After spending $8,500 are you really going to be making better looking movies? I doubt it.

My advice is: Do nothing. Sit on your hands. Spend the $8,500 on items that really will improve your videos.

Let’s assume there’s $8,500 unspent in the kitty. Here’s what I’d do: Buy a second camera. Go to eBay and buy that $1,500 Sony V1U from the poor sap who didn’t read this very blog.

The best way to avoid screw ups (I should know) is with redundant equipment. If a camera has water spilt over it (oh yes, it has happened to me twice) you simply pick up the dry one and carry on shooting.

Then there’s multicam shooting. I do it all the time. Lock one camera off on a wide shot, while with the second camera you shoot tight. Two cameras means you can shoot the subject and the interviewer at the same time. Two V1s will stay frame accurate over an hour — mine do, maybe because they were bought together.

Great. You now have two identical cameras plus $7,000 going begging. And you’re winning in the Obsolescence game. Move up three squares!

Steadicam’s Pilot. Who left the gumball on the gimbal?

Next, think about ways to get some camera movement. A dolly, a crane and jib — why not a Steadicam Pilot at $3,800? Even better is the new Flyer LE. There’s a great demo by Steadicam inventor Garrett Brown here . You’ve got to see it. The demo has a strange, surreal quality with the faces in the store blurred out — one missed at the end — was the editor getting tired? You’ve got the money to buy the Pilot because you didn’t upgrade. Move up two squares!

Personally, I’ve always wanted a Polecam. But at $30K it’s a pipe dream for me.

The real Polecam.Pity about the makeshift cardboard sunshade.

Then I think, “What the hell, I’ll build one.”

Buy 20ft of carbon fiber tubing, buy some servomotors, find a local precision engineer, find a good RC (radio control) guy and I now have a fully RC home made pole camera.

I put Susie on it with either a Raynox 0.66 wide angle or the simply amazing Raynox DCR-FE180 fisheye. We mount it on the back of Tricia’s pickup with tie downs. I move up four squares. Exciting, isn’t it?

My Samsung SC-HMX20C — I call her Susie — on my 20 ft homemade RC pole camera.

We’re now down to about $3,500 in the kitty. I’m assuming you have bought some wide angle attachments and a matte box and sun shade. You have, haven’t you?

You couldn’t do worse than buy some reflectors, a step stool and blackout aluminum foil. Maybe a good diversity radio mike or a rifle mike like an Sennheiser ME66/K6 with a good windscreen — just $500 at BHPhoto .

Alzo HMI. Dirt-cheap daylight lighting.

What about lights? I love my Alzo HMI here. Just $182 complete with a 150-watt lamp that’s the equivalent to a normal 800 watts and balanced for daylight at 5200ºK. I use it on location or for shooting inside daylight-lit rooms.

Get two Xantrex @ $66.99. One for your HMI, the other to start the car and inflate the tires.

Couple the Alzo HMI with a Xantrex Powerpack 200 Plus here. Terrific for taking on location and shooting outside anywhere. I don’t know how long the internal battery lasts as it’s never died on me. The amazing thing is that it’s only $66.99 on Amazon complete with internal battery, jumper leads and a tube to inflate your tires or clean the camera lens. If it had been made for the film industry, this battery to 110 volt power unit would sell at over $1,000. Why there are 12 volt camera battery belts at $1,400 — but useless for flat tires. Buy two.

For $250 you have BOTH an HMI location light and a battery pack. Move up another two squares.

Convergent Design’s $3,495 nanoFlash records at 50 or 100 Mbps 4:2:2

Since I already have the radio mike, HMI and so on, here’s how I’m spending my remaining $3,495: I’m getting a nanoFlash recorder#mce_temp_url# to attach to my Sony V1U output. With the nanoFlash, I’ll avoid HDV compression and get MPEG2 4:2:2 at 50 or 100 Mbps recording on a $135 32GB CF card.

I do a lot of greenscreen work. The 4:2:2 will give me better keying, that’s a given. And while the EX1 boys are shooting 4:2:0 at 35Mbps on their $850 SxS cards, I’ll be shooting 4:2:2 at 100Mbps on $135 CF cards. Across two cards, I can record 142 minutes.

So… resist the temptation to upgrade. I did and got a 20ft pole camera and a solid-state recorder instead. Game, set and match!

Obsolescence GAME OVER!

You’ve got to admit that I’ve saved you a small fortune. Either you have enhanced your shooting package or you’ve have saved enough money to rebuild the kitchen. A bottle of Pinot to the address on my site would be appreciated.

Han von Adlerstein's doppelgänger

We’re in the preview theater at JWT. Hans has just produced a commercial for Bonds’ nappies; diapers to you. Smiling, laughing babies are crawling everywhere.

The Bonds client is happy.

HANS MAKES A SPEECH. “Thezz commercial was tough. I can direct children and get beeautifool performances but zezz liddle kids you can’t direct them. Zee only way is to shoot a lot of film!”

“How much film did you shoot Hans?” says Mr. Bonds.

“I can tell you precisely. George has zee camera sheets.” Poor George Stephenson is Hans’ long suffering sidekick. “Shank you George. Vee zhot 20 rolls of 35mm film. 20 x 400 – that’s 8,000 feeet.”

“And how much did you use in the commercial, Hans?”

“Vee spent three days editing. Searching, searching for thoze precious moments.”

“How much film, Hans?”

“35mm film runs at 90 feet a minute. Zo that’s 90 feet.”

“What happened to the other 7,910 feet?”

“It vas rubbish.”

“If we threw away our material like that we’d be out of business. Look at this.” He’s drawing a series of cut out clothes all over the commercial’s storyboard. “We cut out here for one section. Here for another. And even this little bit in between is used. Only 4% is waste and we recycle that. Hans, I’m shocked.”

THE MAN YOU LOVE TO HATE. No longer Hans, he is Erich von Stroheim and he’s up on his feet; obsessed, maniacal, shouting.

“A feeelm is not an underpant!”

George quietly leaves the room and returns with Paul Jacklin, Head of Television. Paul sums up the situation and quickly sides with the man from Bonds. He had no choice.

“It’s very simple.” Paul says to the room, packed with agency account executives, copywriters, and production assistants, “We will make a second commercial for you, no charge. Won’t we Hans?”

“It vill be awful … I caanh’t do it.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you do it Hans. We’ve got just the man for the job. Stefan, it’s yours. You have free rein. See what you can do with Hans’ left overs.”

Gulp. I’m cooked. Make something even half decent and Hans will hate me. Screw up and I’ll look foolish. It’s lose/lose.

CONUMDRUM. What to do? I go through the rolls and rolls of out takes. Hey, they’re funny. A wonderful collection of babies being babies. And there’s a hand in shot, picking up babies who crawl away from the camera, wiping their dribble, dragging them into position. It’s hilarious.

I lift out the funniest shots and write a voice over commentary. My JWT colleague, Jim Edmond, takes my script and a tape recorder home. He gets Matthew, aged two and a half, to mimic single words.

“Say dribble.” “Dripple.” “No Matthew, say dribble.” “Diddle.” “No say dribble.” “Dribble.” “Good boy, you got it. Now say, oops”

I join up Matthew’s words to make sentences.

“Oops. I’m starting to dribble.” A hand enters frame and wipes away the dribble. “Don’t push me down.” “I’m going to catch a lion. That’s not a lion.” “I’m all by myself with my rattle.”

MR. BONDS RETURNS – HANS IS AWAY ON LOCATION. Paul shows my edit. Mr. Bonds falls off his chair laughing. “It’s wonderful. That’ll teach Hans bloody von Adlerstein!”

For a while, my commercial and Hans’ are run on air. Mine creates a huge buzz.

The Australian Women's Weekly run a feature article about my commercial

Hans’ commercial is taken off the air.

Both Hans von A. and his doppelgänger, Erich von S. hate me – so does the copywriter. Paul Jacklin gives me witness protection but the atmosphere is grim. Even George Stephenson goes out of his way to avoid me. Poor Jim Edmond is moved to a smaller office with no window.

I resign and kick start my brilliant career.

me in our chromakey studio - Anna designed the background

“I’ve been here all night. We finished at 6, on the air at 7. It’s awful. I’m miserable.”

I look at her opening titles. There’re fine.

“I like it.”

“You hate it.”

“No, it’s good.”

“You said good.”

“I meant great.”

“Sarcasm.”

“No it’s terrific!”

“Stop telling me that! I know you hate it!”

“Anna, it’s only television.”

“Right, only television.” Tears.

“Erica, get a taxi for Anna and send her home.”

RENEE IN TEARS. We have the very first Avid/1 Media Composer in the UK. No one else has one. My colleagues think I’m crazy.  Maybe they’re right. We are living on the bleeding edge of technology.

Spitalot - $9,000 for 9 GB - now a noble door stop

Renée has been cutting for two weeks now.  Every night I drive her home in tears. The strain is getting to her but we are almost there.

Renée has lost confidence. Both Avid/1 and Spinalot, its $9,000, 9 GB drive, are temperamental. Every day, I phone Avid in Tewkesbury. Spinalot is tired. He’s dancing the frug. I smell trouble.

Rob, my client, is coming to see the Avid offline late this afternoon.

Renee: “I think it will run better if I consolidate.” “Sounds good. Do it.”

NICKI IN TEARS. There is screaming in the reception area. Erica and Nicki are shouting at each other. “I want you both in my office upstairs now”.  The girls arrive still shouting.

“Did you hear that? Nicki called me a bitch.”

Tricia, wife and business partner, looks up and says in the voice of sweet reason, “Well Erica, you are a bitch.”

Erica is outraged. “OK I quit. I’m outa here.” Nicki thanks Tricia. Tears.

CONSOLIDATE AND DIE. I get back to the Avid edit. Renée is distraught.

“It’s gone. Vanished”.

“What happened?”

“I consolidated. Now there’s nothing”.

“Timeline looks OK”

“It’s rubbish”.  Tears.

All the shots are there but in totally random order. The sound track too has been mangled. The voice says half a line about toothbrushes, we see sunglasses; a snip about bottle teats, we see an actor playing William Addis, the inventor of the toothbrush.

I phone Tewkesbury. I’m hysterical. They try to calm me down.

“What version software are you using? … You tried to consolidate? … You used the optical media drive? … Didn’t anyone warn you?”

THE CLIENTS ARRIVE. “Rob, Jim (his client), we have a problem – like there’s nothing to show you. We sort of made an experimental film by mistake. Just trust me. Have dinner, come back and we’ll have it sorted out.”

I find Robin, our best editor. “The Avid is a disaster. We’ve got to on-line the Addis job now. There’s no EDL, no nothing.”

We move into Edit A … three Sony BetaSPs, ADO, GVG 200 component mixer, Ampex ACE editor.

“Renée can you remember the edit?”

“I think so.”

“Open on the studio shot of old man Addis, tape three.” “Got it. What comes next?” “First line of VO, second take.” “We need the Select Effects star bed on one inch … ”

A few hours later, Rob and client come back. I have champagne ready. Dim the lights. Roll tape.  “Addis – an ongoing story of innovation in product design!”

Lights up. Client overjoyed. “Perfect.” The cork pops. We all thank Robin and Renée. More tears.

Just another day on the bleeding edge.