Do Not Manufacture Story

Typically, I shy away from lists or steps that lay out the perfect way to make a movie, tell a story, write a paper, etc. Those lists have merit, but I'm the type of person who will adhere to the list and not try to find my own way. I need to find my own way when telling a story. It's more rewarding for me that way. Then I read How to Make the Perfect Sundance Film and I immediately disagreed with its premise.

To be fair, I do agree with the ideas that the author, Ted Hope, is suggesting. As story points, yes, they work. And if they're executed well, they will bring in that audience and create a connection between the story and the viewer. So yes. If you follow those steps, and do the well, you will manufacture a good movie.

And that's my problem.

These are steps to manufacture a movie designed for the purpose to get yourself into a film festival. Is that why we make movies? To get into Sundance? We are in the business of telling stories. Yes, we can absolutely follow this instruction booklet and put together the pieces of a script together. An erector set screenplay. We can construct our story, but it's lacking heart. No matter the genre, our goal is tell our story. To share with the world a piece of our inner thoughts and feelings. This is what all filmmakers do. (Of course, on TV right now is Beverly Hills Ninja and I have no idea what people were thinking when they made that one. Moving on...)

Once we put the destination of our script ahead of the journey and its creation, we are failing our story. We are trading in our sincerity for a dream of rubbing elbows with fellow filmmakers and influential producers. And we will always lose with that trade.

Of course, I'd love to get into festivals! Of course, I'd love to see my work alongside other professionals! But that will NEVER happen if I'm more concerned with how to get my story there rather than how I'm going to tell my story.

For my last production, my vision was more along the lines of a slight homage to the comedies of Billy Wilder or Preston Sturges. Watch The Front Page. That's the one I keep thinking about. I didn't write the short because I thought the Winnipeg Comedy Festival was looking for dialogue-heavy comedies for their 2015 Winter Fest. I did it because it was a story I wanted to tell. I wrote a comedy with the influences of Wilder and Sturges in mind.  If the short gained attention, it would be for the work and effort put in by the cast and crew and not because I followed the ten step program designed to gain me an elusive entry into a festival.

Tell your story. Make your movie. Focus on that. True success is determined by your effectiveness in storytelling. Not how many festivals you get into.

One small note: The author of the article, Ted Hope, is someone I follow. He's got great insight into storytelling, filmmaking, producing, marketing. All of it. Everything indie, he knows. If you're one who is interested in that field, devour his writings and teachings. He is very wise and has been there and back again.

Feed Your Cast and Crew

"The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

Ignoring the chauvinistic undertones of that idiom, the takeaway is that a good meal pleases everyone. Your production cannot survive without a cast and crew that is fed well. Many of these people are working for little or no pay. That comes with an expectation of a decent meal for lunch and dinner. They should expect this. You should, too.

It's not enough to provide food for your cast and crew. You need to feed them well. This is how I felt from my first production in the early 90s. The Thing in the Cellar. It was adaptation of a story I was told as a cub scout every time we went camping. The shoot was one weekend. It was a great learning experience. It's also where my addiction to coffee first began.

Before I knew what a good meal meant, we would run out to Subway, the local pizza place or Dunkin Donuts for a variety of times. Anything the cast and crew wanted, we made a list and someone went and got it for them. No questions asked. I've asked people to give up their weekend to help me and I would return that favor any way that I could.

Personally, I don't eat when I'm on set. It's not because I don't want to, but rather I don't remember to eat. Too many thoughts run through my mind: The shot we're working on, the next scene on our schedule, tomorrow's first scene, the amount of coverage we need, the location fee, why are the cops here, etc. It's a seemingly never ending thought trail that does not include any worries on how my people will eat. That's the first problem I solve in pre-production.

The first day of pre-production should have time devoted to craft services. How will you feed your people? What will you feed them? When will you feed them? You may not have the answers yet, but asking the questions should be a day-one event.

Feed your cast and crew. Feed them well.

Indie Crew App - Community Based

The three biggest challenges with Independent Cinema are raising money, having time and getting people for your crew. In this digital movie age, filmmakers can tell their stories from anywhere in the world. If you're lucky enough to raise the money and block out a few weeks of time for the production then their only other obstacle is finding crew members.

The Indie Crew App can help.

Indie Crew (IC) is a social sharing app designed for people interested in working on film and television productions. The app will develop a community of filmmakers in your home state and help seek out local people for productions. The difference between IC and other apps/websites like Stage 32 or Mandy.com is that IC is solely local community based. Each state will have their own database of crew members to choose from. If a production spans across multiple states, IC provides the freedom to select crew members from those locations. This will save productions the added crew cost of travel and living expense.

IC awards active members by offering incentives for productions. Claim prizes such as free catering for a production, discounts at rental houses, access to casting offices and audition spaces. IC members are encouraged to write recommendations for other members. These will appear on members profile pages and provide insight for future employers.

As mentioned, the app has a secondary purpose of creating a film community. Filmmaking is a collaborative craft. It requires a large group of people to buy into the same idea: To tell a great story. It takes a village to make a movie. IC is a tool to help build that village. 

There is no charge to registering with IC. Simply create a profile, browse the app and build a film community.

The C-47

C-47

A C-47 is an essential tool on most film and television sets. Its uses are numerous. It is often regarded by film and television professionals as the most important piece of equipment on set. Also known as 47s, CP47s, bullets, ammo, pegs. [1]

Design

In the late 19th century, David M. Smith developed the design of the C-47 to be two interlocking wooden prongs in between a wedged spring. The lever action this created added to the C-47's gripping strength.

First C-47 used in early 1900s

Years later, this design was improved by Solon E. Moore who created a coiled fulcrum which wrapped around the wooden prongs, holding them together and thus increasing the rate of strength.

Today, C-47s are manufactured with stainless steel coils that prevent rust and decay, a key attribute when used outdoors.

Origin

There are many disputed origin stories about the C-47, but the one that is confirmed by all to be untrue is of famous director George Méliés fashioning the first C-47 from a block of wood while filming "A Trip to the Moon" in 1902.

According to lore, Méliés whittled the entire time of production and created the C-47 at the exact time it was needed to fasten a drop cloth along the back of the set. The story has been refuted by many who knew Méliés personally.

Other rumors are below:

Douglas C-47 Skytrain

During World War II, the C-47 Skytrain was a versatile and essential aircraft used for troop transport. The C-47 was rumored to be named after the Skytrain to honor it's versatility during the war and make the comparison with the C-47's versatility on set. [2]

Patent Number

C-47 from set of "The Village" (2004)

C-47 is often thought of as the patent number that was used when the first C-47 was created by David M. Smith. Smith applied for the patent in 1854 after creating the C-47. There has been no such patent found. [3]

Hollywood

In an effort to provide as many C-47s on a set, it was common practice for productions to find mundane, yet important sounding names for essential tools on a film set. This practice would fool studios into allowing the bulk purchase of these items. The C-47 was given this name for this very purpose. [4]

Uses

Set Design

C-47s are used to keep cloth backdrops from falling. They help fasten fabricated works of art on the walls during period dramas. They are used by set designers to clip notes on sets warning crews of a "hot set."

Grip and Electric

C-47s in action

Members of the crew that are known as G&E often will have a stash of C-47s attached to their clothing ready at a moment's notice. Uses for G&E include: electrical cords that need to be kept out o sight, blackout paper on windows, filters and gels on lights.

Film Editing

Film editors, using a linear editing machine (or flatbed editor) for editing film, will use C-47s to hang strips of film from above to keep track of splices and cuts during the process of editing.

Other Uses

Laundry Drying

The C-47 has been adapted by people for home use as well. People will hang their wet clothes on a piece or rope. which is suspended between two fixed points, known as a clothesline.

Resources

1. ^ "It's a C-47" http://www.scoutingny.com/. Retrieved 2014-07-15.
2. ^ "It's a C-47" http://www.scoutingny.com/. Retrieved 2014-07-15.
3. ^ "It's a C-47" http://www.scoutingny.com/. Retrieved 2014-07-15.
4. ^ "It's a C-47" http://www.scoutingny.com/. Retrieved 2014-07-15.

You're Never Alone

One of the misconceptions of independent cinema is the idea that independent means you do it on your own. It does feel like that at times, but you're never really alone in your endeavors.

As a writer, I am alone in front of that computer screen. I'm there with my notes, my thoughts and that keyboard trying to fashion a story together. I may ask for feedback from trusted sources, but no one is writing the story for me.

But after that screenplay is written, I cannot continue without the help. When I step back and look at the actual act of creating a short film, I'm always amazed at the willingness of so many people to help create my vision. The passion of others to make something I've written into a reality is as surprising as it is powerful.

I should've recognized this earlier in my indie career.

In mid-2002, myself and a few of my friends had already formed a small production company. The idea, not a new on, was to work on short films and support each other through the process. We did a variety of commercials for the production company, which all participated in, but the majority of the short films were written and directed by me and I was done with short films. I wanted to do a feature.

We had a meeting. I stated my intention. And I added an escape hatch for my friends, because I didn't want to impose my desire to shoot a feature. I offered the chance for my friends to not be involved in the feature. I knew it would cost money and time, and I didn't want my friends to feel like I was demanded that from them.

I wanted all of us to be independent in our work. I didn't want the production company to be just about me. To my own career detriment, I cared too much of the success of my friends. I wanted them to be as passionate as I was. Looking back, knowing what I know now, of courser they would say yes.

We were in it together. We did shot that feature in the summer of 2003. It was a great experience. We had some disagreements and it was a challenge to finish, but finish we did. I couldn't have done it without them.

I'm never alone when I make a movie.

How-To: Paint Your Own Green Screen

This post is an old one from a few years ago, while I needed to shoot season 2 of a web series, which I'll change the name of. I'm keeping the original posts as well as adding my How-To points.

Prologue: The Failed Attempt

Pre-production is rolling along for Season Two of Scenes. Props are being located and obtained. The cast and crew are falling into place. I have a new location for the shoot, but it's not a studio. I have to build it out. Which means I need to create the green screen. Lucky for me, I have a giant wall to work with. So I decide to go the paper green screen route. Our plan was to tape over the duct tape with Chroma Key tape, but we had not yet purchased it. The problem was the upper right corner peeled off and everything came down. Granted, it wasn't exactly the flattest surface, so it probably was already a failed option.

1. Get Your Supplies

You Will Need: Ladder, Paint Rollers, Painter's Tape, Plastic Drop Cloth, Sheet Rock Putty, Putty Knife, Chroma Key Paint

What to do. Time to paint the wall. I hop onto Amazon.com and find some Chroma Key Paint. $50 a can? (Price went up!) After cursing to myself, I click "purchase". Then I realize I need to get this paint to me ASAP. Overnight, please. (I cursed aloud when I saw the shipping fee) Nothing I could do about. Purchase!

Wednesday comes around. 12pm. I begin.

2. Spackle and Tape

Notice the bordered paint tape. The first thing I did was spackle a ton of holes in the wall and then sandpaper those bad boys flat. Then came the primer. After 15-20 minutes waiting for the primer to dry, because I'm impatient, I taped the box on the wall. I wasn't real confident about painting the entire wall, so I created a giant box. And I didn't want to mess with painting to the floor, so there will be some space on that bottom. Honestly, it won't be a big deal come shoot time.

3. Paint

Simple enough. You will need to fill in the painted box that you have already created with your painter's tape. Look at those rolling strokes. It's a work of art. This location is actually a space used by a local theater group, but before that it was used by an artist in the area. While working on this, someone asked me if I was creating a canvas. In way, I guess I was.

4. Paint Again: The 2nd Coat

You may have noticed that I did not use a primer coat. You can, if you'd like. I chose not to here because the wall was already a white color and the chroma key paint is so bright and solid, I didn't think I needed a primer coat.

First coat (above). Look at those wet blotches! Awesome. I wasn't freaking out, but I did want it to dry fast because I needed to see a closer to a finished product.

5. Paint Again: The 3rd Coat

Second coat. I sent this pic to a few people, to which I received one response of "It needs another coat." This, of course, I figured but I was hesitant to tap into the second can of Chroma Key Paint. So far, we've been on one can. But I knew that second can was calling my name. At this point, I talked fantasy football with a friend of mine on the phone and then I grabbed a late, late lunch.

Looking back, if I did a primer coat then maybe a third coat wouldn't have been needed. Then again, doing a primer would've made the 2nd coat of chroma key paint a third coat of painting the surface anyway. I'd rather have three coats of chroma key paint. then 2 coats and a one coat of primer.

6. Shoot Your Content

Done! Look at that neat green screen box! So pretty. I didn't have much faith in my painting abilities and as my wife can attest to, I was a bit frantic in making sure I was able to get this done correctly. But I'm proud of it. We have our location. We have our cast. We have our crew. We have our equipment. We're ready to rock and roll on Season Two.

We still have some other things that need to get done. Notably those windows on the right will be blocked out and those lights won't be on. We'll have our own, of course. A green screen needs to have an even light spread in order to have an even image projected on its background in post-production. But we're good to go otherwise.

I was told I might have to paint this back over white, but let's hope I don't. I was thinking I'd drop a black circle in the lower left corner and a white circle in the upper right corner. Attach a golf club to the wall and call the whole thing an installation. A work of art that will never be removed!

Profile Member of Audience

Who I Think It Is

Jimmy Random: Filmmaker, Age 24
Jimmy has so much access to an on-line audience, but no guidance. He seeks a mentor. He needs a sounding board in the form of someone who has experienced the ups and down of indie filmmaking. Jimmy is full of ideas, but no plan to execute them.

Who It Probably Is

Alex Faison: Filmmaker, Age 24
Alex is a recent college graduate with a degree in a communications. He works a part-time job, but has dreams and aspirations of becoming an actor or director or writer. Alex has great ideas, but is unsure of how to become a working filmmaker.

Meta Tag Fun

Alex Faison‎ - The Homepage of Alex Faison

www.alexfaison.com

Alex Faison is the writer of the Kirk Stewart Mystery Series. He's written several screenplays, such as Murder on the Big Chief, The Calutron Girls and Doll.

About the Author - Career - Bibliography - Future Works

In the news

Alex Faison - Launch of new movie social sharing site #MovieNight

New York Times - 2 days ago

Bestselling author Alex Faison unveils a social sharing site to bring cinephiles from all over closer together

Alex Faison to promote new book in Chevy Chase, MD.

WHTN- 5 hours ago

Alex Faison's Kirk Stewart movie series starts production.

Cinema Blend‎ - 1 day ago

More news from Alex Faison

---

Alex Faison (@Faison506) | Twitter

https://twitter.com/AlexFaison

19 hours ago - View on Twitter

Check out the launch of #MovieNight. Bringing movie night to the masses or something like that.

2 days ago - View on Twitter

Transformers 9? Seriously? Eh. I guess I'll see it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Oh, you know I won't. #VoltronIsBetter

Lo/No Pay Is The Way to Go

In a perfect world, we’re all getting paid to do this work. The tenets of independent cinema are based on a system of “lo/no pay work”. It’s a rite of passage for anyone looking to break into industry, much like an unpaid intern starting at a brokerage firm down on Wall Street. The world is run on the backs of the unpaid intern. Why should that be any different for indie film?

Movies like “Clerks” and “Slacker” aren’t getting finished if Kevin Smith and Richard Linklater are paying for every single person working on their movies. The world would not have performances from Bill Murray in “Rushmore” ($9000) or Ryan Gosling in “Half Nelson” ($1000 a week) if we’re making sure everyone gets paid what they deserve when it comes to indie film.

Movies cost money and post-production costs eat up most of the budget. If it’s down to paying all the grips and electric their regular, industry standard rate versus the finishing funds needed to have the best color-correction and audio mix available, I’m sorry, but I’m finding a crew who will work for copy and credit. The final product is more important than who works on the set. All I really need is one solid person, who can wear multiple hats during the production to drag along those less experienced.

And isn’t that what working on a crew for lo/no pay is all about? The experience.

Understand that I’m not advocating not paying anything at all. Aside from the food that would be provided, there could be a small rate offered to those in key positions of the crew. With the alternative of getting paid nothing, a small rate would go a long way to helping shape a more interested crew. A cinematographer getting $75 a day is less likely to walk off set over a disagreement about lighting placement, as would one who is working for no money at all.

Let’s look at the genesis of most indie films. A few friends, all in the industry in some form or another, are hanging out one night bemoaning the state of movies. They complain about how the productions they work for are generating terrible movies.

Why would someone like this?

This isn’t funny!

We could do better than that movie.

Boom. An indie film is born. Most of these independent productions are filled with friends looking to create something special. They’re looking to put their stamp on modern cinema with their story. It’s about the story. It’s about the craft. It’s about the art. As soon as one starts wondering about getting paid for their work, the magic dies. It becomes a job and not a calling.

Telling a story with your friends is special. Looking to get paid to help friends is petty. When people start getting paid what they think they should be paid, it has now become a job and the inevitable complaining about the job begins. The work suffers. The movie suffers. The relationships suffer. What once began as a chance to experience something unique with friends is now tearing those same friends apart. It happens all the time. As soon as money enters the picture, it ruins the specialness of the movie-making experience.

Money ruins everything.

Mod 3 Lecture Thoughts

When class began, I chose the pseudonym of Faison for no special reason. I didn't think of using the chance to create a pseudonym as a way to further my voice and allow myself to be honest and truthful in my writing. The reason being is that I've always strived to be honest and open. Yeah, it sounds great and I'm not saying I'm successful at it all the time, but I'm not afraid to be honest. Sometimes, that honesty takes the form of sarcasm and satire, and that does tend to alienate people.

That being said, I do have many different versions of myself in this life. Even trying to be honest and open doesn't stop one from creating personas. I wouldn't say I'd go to extremes that "Relationship George was killing Friend George."

Jerry: I like that George.
George: Me too!

But when my worlds collide. It can be awkward.

Let's get this out of the way first. I dislike the public. I wouldn't say hate. That's too strong. But I dislike. I've worked with the public for quite some time and they don't see a person on the other side of the counter. They see an ends to a mean. Talk to me all you want about customer service and the customer is always right. (That's a load of bullshit) That's all fine and dandy like a handful of crap-tasting candy, but until you're in the shit, working with the public week after week, day after day, you have now idea what the public can be like.

The public is a collective. The Borg of Banality. They are faceless. Not everyone is part of the public, but the public is everywhere. When I meet someone from the public and a relationship is formed, albeit a generic acquaintance relationship, they no longer are part of the public collective. There are countless people who are wonderful and kind. They are funny to talk with, but when something happens that is contrary to what they want to happen, they will turn on you. I've seen it. I've been involved with it. It's not an exaggeration.

Why bring this up? Because Work Faison doesn't dislike the public. He's all about helping them out. Work Faison is just one of my other personas, avatars, which is probably the most extreme avatar I have seeing that it flies in the face of my dislike and discomfort with the public.

When my family, an aunt or an uncle, come to my place of business. Work Faison battles with Family Faison. You see, Family Faison, is quiet. He comes to the family events and talks to a few people, but generally keeps his conversation light and easy. Family Faison doesn't want to get dragged into political discussions. Family Faison doesn't want to talk about every facet of his life with family members. Family Faison doesn't want to get into a war of words with his sister because she's extremely high-maintenance and always right. Imagine that?

But when Family Faison and Work Faison collide. It's awkward. The words I speak are measured. A sweat usually begins at the top of my head. This sounds like I'm a complete mess, but I'm not and yet, aren't we all a mess when two worlds collide on us? It's about control.

I think one of the biggest reasons we create these avatars is control. We want to control the narrative of our life. I want to have what I want and that's it. How do I get that? I want me work night to be nice and easy, so I need to create an avatar that promotes that. Even if I have my issues with the public, I cannot allow that to take over. If I disagree with my uncle's politics, yelling about it over the grill does nothing but get my voice hoarse. Family Faison is born.

I have others. Smaller and not as important, but they all serve the purpose to control the narrative.

Back to Faison. Alex Faison was the character of the very first story I ever wrote. It was for my girlfriend, at the time. She had a class assignment and I offered. I chose the name, not because of that, but because I always choose that name when I need to make a fake name for something. Realizing why I chose it and it's significance to my life only recently made itself clear to me. I'm a writer. It's not my avatar. It's not my persona. It's simply what I want to be.

Stop Blaming Actors

Actors. I know, right? Just kidding.

Actors get a bad rap. I'm speaking mostly in the indie world. When you check out the indies that get into the festivals or those VOD movies that magically appear on Netflix and your In-Demand menu, you go into them knowing your journey for the next two hours could be a treacherous one fraught with plot holes, bad dialogue and incomprehensible motivations. The natural reaction when this happens is to ridicule what you see on screen, which is typically the actor or actress.

We've all done it and while there are times when the strength of the thespian on screen is an issue, it's unfair for them to catch the brunt of our disbelief and frustration with the failings of a movie. Actors only represent a culmination of the mistakes leading up to what's on the screen. They are not to blame.

In fact, I admire actors quite a bit. They are out there. Constantly facing rejection. Dealing with people who are not so kind and have no problem dismissing actors for their looks or style. It is a business, but it can be personal. And I know a tough skin is a necessity in this creative world, but you'd have to be a robot to not let it get to you at times. I salute actors for taking a chance on indie movies, web series, industrials, commercials, student films all for the experience and the hope of those roles leading to their goal. Unfortunately, if those projects are lacking in other aspects of the productions, the actors are the ones on the front line taking the heat for others failures. And that sucks.

You want someone to blame?

Blame the Writer

When I write characters, I definitely pour a lot of background into the character. That's the job of a writer.  Create a well-rounded character for the audience to either fall in love with, relate to, absolutely detest, etc. Writers are creating the blueprint to the story. I've talked about how the screenplay is the foundation to the house that is a movie. The writer(s) is responsible for that.

When a writer fails on that task, there's no one there to fix it. Unless another writer is brought in to correct those mistakes, that flawed script moves forward to the hands of the director and actor. Now, let's say this movie that's being made has a director at the helm who's more interested in the pretty images of the script. They're not going to focus on the characters. In comes the actor to make the most of a character that's saddled with bad dialogue, unclear motivations and actions that contradict major aspects of the plot. What's an actor to do? Even the best can only do so much.

So now our actor is on an island trying to fashion some kind of character from a papier-mâché like framework created by a terrible writer. I mean, come on! That's not fair in the slightest. And what you see on screen is an actor working with crap and creating something that's noticeably flawed. And the actor's reward for doing the best they could is ridicule. It's an audience who rips that actor for performing badly. I hate that. I hate watching a movie where I know the writing is inferior and having to watch an actor suffer for it. Shame on that writer. You failed your character and the actor.

Blame Casting

A casting agent, a good one, should be finding the right fit for your script. There is a push for casting to become a category for an Academy Award and I say, why not? Yes, directors have the final say, but they're not out there discovering those diamonds in the rough. They're being handed diamonds in the rough on a platter for them to say yes or no. Congrats, egoists, you make decisions. Now get over yourself and give credit where credit is due.

A good casting agent gives you the strongest pieces for your characters. They know their actors. They know the strengths and weaknesses. A bad casting agent doesn't read the script. They just grab a sheet of actors listed by look, age, range, etc and send that off to an indie production. This isn't to say that the actors on that list are not great at their craft. Not at all. But they may not be the right fit for a role. They may not have the right tools for the character that they're up for and that's not fair to them. They're being set up to fail. Even before they meet the director and work on the role, they're behind the eight-ball. Sure, they may be able to get around that and provide a performance to remember, but the more likely scenario is that they come up lacking and wanting for a better outcome.

Blame the Director

An actor needs direction. Even the greatest. A good director doesn't stand on a stool, with a mega-phone, and instruct his actors how to emote. A good director works with an actor to find the role. They help guide their actor to a space where the character represents what both participants are looking for in the role. A bad director pays no attention to these things. They say things like "Make it your own" and then retreat to hit on an extra. They tell the actors that their performances are "fine" and "good" and then run behind the monitor to see how great their shot looks. (Any actors I've worked with in the past are reading this going, Is that why he always apologizes for saying "fine"? Yes. Yes, it is.)

Directors are not just the people that put their hands and fingers up in a giant "U" to show everyone that they're directing. Yeah, that's great. Your image is going to be framed real well. How about the people inside the image?! Some directors are more focused on what's on screen rather than what's being performed on screen to the detriment of their story. Honestly, it's not the death knell for their movie because we're always enamored with image over performance. But that's a conversation for another time.

As I mentioned briefly before, it's a director's job to guide an actor. As a director, it's your job to help shape the character along with the actor. That's why you hired the actor, is it not? You're not Hitchcock. Actors are not cattle. And even though Hitchcock is the master of suspense, his thoughts on actors are wrong. I don't want an actor to not have any questions about a role. They should be pushing to find something that maybe I missed. The actor needs to make the character their own. Even if we're tackling a real-life person, there's always an aspect to the role that needs to come from the experiences of an actor. Without a piece of that actor in the role, that role becomes just a copy. It's just emotion from the page and not from a person.

This isn't to say that sometimes I have to just say "no" to an idea brought forth by an actor. Not at all. At the end of the day, I have a vision for the piece. It may not be clear for everyone, so even if it the idea from the actor is a good one, it might not fit what we're trying to do with the story. And usually, I'll explain that. Being transparent about the focus of the story is effective for the working relationship between actor and director. And sometimes, an idea from an actor may come from a place to make the actor comfortable in the scene like if they wanted to be eating a cookie or reading a newspaper. And that's completely fine with me. Unless it's a Macadamia Nut cookie. I HATE those! :)

Blame the Producer

Why not? We're blaming everyone else.

*     *     *

I'm sorry, actors. You work too hard to have to deal with the failings of others. Shame on them. Am I saying that everything I've ever done in my indie career has been fantastic and the equivalent of rainbows shooting out of a unicorn's ass? No. Trust me. No way. I know this business is tough. I know this business is full of shysters and selfish people who only care about their own careers. I get that. And while we all accept that as a fact of this business, that doesn't mean any of us should accept it as the norm of the business. Because it's not.

Just remember auteurs, you make mistakes, like all of us. And when your mistakes are on-screen for the world to see and people start ripping into your actors, you might want to say your sorry to your actors for not being strong enough help them succeed at bringing your characters to life.

Actors, you guys and gals are okay in my book. Always.