Production Journal, Heartbreak in ? Cuts: Washing Away

This is the part where I usually have very funny anecdotes about everything that went wrong. I suppose if you’re paranoid and expect the worst then you are pleasantly surprised when nothing goes wrong. Well, nothing did and I’m beyond pleasantly surprised; I’m flabbergasted. Things seem to have worked out beautifully ever since I conceived this story while running my ass off trying to get over my painful break up five weeks ago. Had I not been treated like trash, I would have never made this film. Wait, so am I saying that I’m glad I got dumped so that I could think of this story and make THIS film? Yes, I think I am. I am. That’s how crazy filmmakers are.


I’m reminded of this scene:

This film is me through and through; it represents my point of view.  While we were shooting I told my crew that if you don’t laugh at all the shit that happens to you then you’re fucked.  Does that mean I’m an optimist?  I don’t know and don’t care. I’m just very thankful I get to do this instead of going to a shrink.  Money better spent.

My Crew of Ruiz’s was a gift from the filmmaking gods.  They did the work of 10 people, more or less, but more importantly, they got it and had fun.  They made me cook them breakfast but I let that slide because I was in a generous mood and because of them I was free to focus on the creative aspects of directing and ordering lunch. 

My DP (Giancarlo Ruiz), Ruiz 1, got what I wanted to do visually (maybe because we both have twisted senses of humor) and delivered it.  How often does that happen?  It was so easy to let go of my anal attachment to the camera because I trusted him.  And I’m loving the results.

The sound dude, Ruiz 2, was a close friend/family who had never been on a film set before.  He learned to operate the sound equipment right there and then and as far as I can tell, he got great sound.  I never doubted him.  The AC, Ruiz 3, was also new to a film set, worked her ass off and did a great job.

I was pretty nervous about working with a new actor.  Sylvia (Panacione) was a joy to work with.  She was willing to try anything and took direction very well. That’s the mark of a trained professional.  She had great instincts and came up with some very funny improv on the spot.  I told her she could try anything and if it wasn’t any good it wouldn’t be on the film.  (I learned that from Lelia Goldoni). Yes, it’s true, 90% of directing is casting. 

It’s the trust that John Cassavetes and his people talked about.  It’s about who’s around you helping you make your vision a reality.  When it works, it’s magical.

And then there was my Peeps.  Pepa. Pepita the untrained supporting canine.  She would hit her marks perfectly, but mostly when the camera wasn’t rolling.  She was happy to have a house full of people, but I think at some point she was too tired and just wanted to go to bed.  She’s a method actor and it worked out perfectly.  It was a huge risk to write her in, but it paid off.

My confidence wanes and I have to remind myself constantly I don’t want to let down those who helped and supported me in this endeavor.  So yup.  It’s really up to me to fuck it up or make it work.  

“I’m making this film to exorcise a pain in my soul that just won’t go away, like oil stains. I wash my clothes with movies.”—Alex de la Iglesia

Production Journal, Heartbreak in ? Cuts: The 5D Has Entered the Room

It's been a hectic day. It takes fucking forever to get places in Los Angeles. It's an art to keep your wits driving around this town.  The equipment is safely in my house, I have all the props and now all I need is to clean the house and dress the set.

If I prayed, I'd pray that the actress show up safe and sound on set tomorrow.  That's it.

I've always said all I need to make a movie is me, a camera and an actor. You keep the gun Monsieur Godard.

Let's get this very exclusive party started.

Production Journal, Heartbreak in ? Cuts: Lighting the Puppy

Last night I attended the “Indie 101” class at Film Independent. It’s really geared for beginning filmmakers who really have no idea about much. Even though I knew most of the information I learned some cool tips and tricks (which I will share later) to achieve a more cinematic look, got to see the 5D Mark II up close and in action and learned how to operate the sound equipment and LED-Z Brute lighting kit. The LED-Zs are a pretty cool bunch. Best part? They won’t blow my house’s circuits. I still need to remember to find the breaker though.


I wanted to make love to the 5D right then and there. My love is unconditional. I know she’s not going to make things easy for me like a proper video camera would, but the results are worth all the foreplay. Once I figure out how to make her tick, I’m set. I know she can blow my mind and love me back once she gets to know me.

OK, end of not-so-pithy sexual metaphor.

So, I went home really excited about shooting with the 5D that I could not sleep. My mind was filled with ideas for shots, and focal lengths and stylish sequences but—


WAIT…

I need to keep in mind that just because I can get all these beautiful shots doesn’t mean I should. That’s not what the story is about. I need to remember to reign myself in. I’ve worked really hard not to be so self-indulgent when it comes to directing. I’m not shooting a cinematography reel here.

Story before style! Remember what’s important.


(But you can be sure I’ll try to find a way to sneak them in. At least in an early edit just to get it out of my system.)

I guess the only things left to worry about are:

1. The actress showing up. I recently learned that people do, in fact, get appendicitis right before a shoot.
2. Pepa standing still long enough for me to get her shots.
3. Lighting Pepa. I’ve never lit a black dog before and I’m concerned about the details in the black.

I just wish I didn’t have to clean the house and do laundry today.

Oh, and I just realized my whole crew's last name is Ruiz. No relation. Cute.



Production Journal, Heartbreak in ? Cuts: Money's in the bank

It’s been a good day as far as pre-production goes. Along with a check, I received the note above from the other producers of the film. “Put your best in this project.” I’m putting all of me into this project. It’s personal in many ways.



I decided I might as well run errands during my lunch hour. First deposit the check and then go the Public Library to pick up a prop. Because I’m a dummy, I didn’t wear flats. Oh well.


The weather is glorious today. I feel sorry for anyone that doesn’t live in Southern California.

The library is gargantuan and intimidating, but also pretty amazing.  I wish I worked closer so I could take my lunch there every day. 

Getting the book was super easy.  I called it in and they had it waiting for me at the desk.  Also, they have convenient check out scanners.  I love that place.  Why can’t everything be that easy?

This is the prop by the way:

And since it was lunch time and Mendocino Farms just happens to be across the Library, I had to treat myself to a Pork Belly Banh Mi; their  playful take on the Vietnamese sandwich with braised, caramelized kurobuta pork belly, housemade pickled daikon and carrots, cilantro, cucumbers, jalapenos, chili aioli on panini grilled ciabatta.

So yeah, two less things to worry about.  Tonight is off to Film Independent for an equipment orientation. This is where I start to get paranoid.

No. 4: I Hate LA because...(Muses)

Angelenos are apathetic to the homeless.

Up until last year, I had only heard of the famous Los Angeles Skid Row and I came upon it accidentally on my way to a rave (don’t ask). My friends and I had to walk 15 blocks across downtown LA (don’t ask) to get to the rave. We walked and walked and walked and suddenly tents started to appear on the sidewalk. Holy shit. One thought and one thought only took over my brain: I will never complain about anything ever again. Then we walked by a shelter or mission, as that one was called. It was full and they were turning people away. I thought, “Wow, I was really short changed in the human being department. Why wasn’t I born one of those people working in there and dedicating their life to help the unfortunate? Such work is infinitely more significant than texting aid to the Red Cross. Fuck you God.” Then, I just thought, “I’m going to a fucking rave I didn’t want to go to in the first place, my heels are killing me and I’m sleepy and hungry.” I longed for my fluffy, cozy bed.

I’ve always been fascinated and intrigued by the homeless and I’ve had many interesting (and sometimes funny) encounters with people living on the streets. They have become my muses.  I love to observe them because they do really interesting stuff that is far removed from daily superficiality. During my runs, I try to take routes where I know I’m going to come across them. It seems I’m looking for life as performance; a sort of ongoing live documentary because I believe the meaning of life is found within these fleeting moments.

The underpass under the bridge is becoming populated.* I call it "Silverlake Hotel." Every evening I notice more tenants, more carts, and, furniture. Yes, furniture; armchairs, mattresses even a broken dresser. Last night was particularly fascinating. Along with the lounging men, there were two emaciated blond women smearing foundation on their leathery faces. They did not look any different than any ordinary woman applying make up getting ready for a night on the town. I slowed down, trying to make up my mind whether to stop or not. I wanted so much to ask them questions. But I didn’t. I just kept on running.

I’ve thought about taking a camera on my run, but I change my mind at the last minute. I’m not sure if what I see should be photographed, even though I am dying to document it. Besides, no one but me cares about this and how I perceive life. Still, I want to hang on to these images. It seems they’re worth something.

*Note: I took these photos last week on a walk with my dog.