the end is hear

Today is exactly three months since production ended for "I'll Remember."  And, finally, post-production is coming to a close.

One of the most crucial elements in a film is the sound.  A viewer is more likely to criticize a film when the quality of what he hears is poor than when that of what he sees is subpar, hence the reason I've spent much time these last two weeks of post-production on sound design and the score.  Luckily, I have an experienced sound designer and a great composer on my side.

The highlight of the entire post-production process came yesterday when I spent three hours in the composer's studio on a hot summer afternoon in Los Angeles when the temperature soared to nearly 100 degrees.  In the compact space, we had two computers running on four monitors, two keyboards, and four fans ineffectively trying to cool us off.  Despite the heat, the process of listening to the different instrumental tracks and watching the composer (a great guy from Taiwan, just like me) ad lib a stirring melody here and a melancholic chord there was tremendously entertaining, recalling the days when I was a pseudo musician in my high school marching band and orchestra.

We discussed the timing of the music to enhance the right emotional beat, the character of the instrument, albeit digital, to correspond to the story, and the duration of notes to allow for the right amount of silence.  I suppose I particularly enjoyed this experience because I was able to play the role of a musician/composer for those brief hours.  I don't know if the other directors the composer has worked with are as demanding as I am; I'll have to ask him when everything is said and done.

The score should be finalized tonight, the sound mixed this Thursday, and the color corrected by Friday.  So the only thing left to do is to put everything together and output a DVD.  It really is like giving birth.  The impetus to shoot this film was conceived about nine months ago in December 2012.  Two months later, my friend Quentin planted the idea to shoot it in Los Angeles.  Pre-production began in April, and now labor is beginning.

And, just like having a child, anyone who sees my baby will want to judge it - how pretty it is, how well it cries, its character, and its soul.  The difference is that instead of focusing on protecting this first-born from the disillusioned world, I need to note the criticism and prepare for my next birth.

I hope I'll be a prolific mother.

catch 22

I've heard it said that, for a writer and director, the most perfect film is in his head; the completed product is never as good as he imagined.  Too bad I can't make you pay to see my imagination.

After a total of 22 hours, spanning four days, the editor and I have finished a first cut.  During those 22 hours, I've had to analyze, question, defend my choices in shot selection, writing, direction, lighting, use of lens.  It hasn't been easy, to say the least.  But I have learned a lot.  

I have two choices from here on:  dwell on my mistakes and give up, or learn from them and improve.  I choose the latter.  

I'm guessing that's a sign that I really do love this thing called filmmaking.  

Just out of curiosity, how much would you pay to see my imagination?

day three

That's a wrap!

Today was the easiest and funnest day out of our three production days - we had 4 hours to shoot one scene at a chess club with 30 extras as chess tournament participants.  Certainly the energy level and the direction were different than the previous scenes, which included just the principal actors in small, confined spaces.

Thanks to all the family and friends who came out to support this project.  Now to post-production:  editing!

key grip and gaffer

friends and family watching

directing 32 actors and extras

day two

I lost my cool today only once.

If you know me, particularly if you've seen me when I served as tournament director of the United States Gay Open from 2011 to 2012, you would know that my patience magically shrinks during important, stressful events.

How was today stressful, you ask?  Let's count the ways.  On the shooting schedule today were three scenes, totaling six pages (more than half of the entire script).  The first scene required complex choreography due to movement in a confined space.  The second involved precise camera movement timed at exact moments of dialogue.  And the last was a day for night scene (shooting an interior night scene when the sun still hangs up high) that demanded an in-camera character vanishing act coordinated with intricate camera movement.  Oh, one minor detail that exponentially increased the complexity of the day:  we had a nine-year-old actor whose work day could not last longer than eight hours.

In the end, for the sake of time, I had to compromise on several details I had envisioned.  It's funny how you could be holding the script with your notes in one hand, yet still manage to forget all the fine prints during crunch time.

When did I lose my cool, you want to know?  It was during scene two, my frustration growing due to the camera not coordinating precisely with the actor's movement - I grabbed the camera and tested it out myself.  In Hollywood, one can never touch any equipment not within one's department or role.  Luckily, I'm not there yet.  But still...

At the end of the day, as the director of photography and I recapitulated the problem, we realized that a simple change of camera lens would have solved our problem.  Note to self:  never hesitate to change the lens to get the shot you need.

Only once.

showing the actors how a chess piece need to be moved

which monitor to look at?

highest take number today was 8

day one

As torturous as it had sometimes been in the few weeks leading up to the shoot, today went by more quickly than Men on Film could say "two snaps up."

We shot the last three scenes of the story first, with Grandmother and teenage Joey.  Surprisingly, everything went fairly smoothly, other than the sun deciding to peek out in the middle of our outdoor scene, thus disrupting continuity.  It's going to take some clever editing to overcome this one.

Is anyone listening to me?

Grandma in the shadow

the classic picture of slate and boom

my favorite part - working with actors

three

Today was the third and final day of prep before production begins tomorrow.

Remember my reference a few days earlier about bad things happening in threes?  It's true.  While driving the car out of the garage to go pick up the camera, my producer jammed the left side mirror into the garage post, cracking the glass and plastic casing.

There are my three bad things - a denied application, a traffic ticket, and a damaged car.

Am I lucky that all this happened before production begins!

the final countdown

First day of prepping for the film - the final three days of push before production begins.

What's prepping, you ask?  Excellent question - one to which I sought the answer myself just a couple of months ago.  From the perspective of a director, preparations in the final days of preproduction include communicating with every department to make sure that shooting will go as smoothly as possible.  Here's my to do list with each person for the next three days:

Producer - prepare crew memos, pick up rental camera
Assistant director - prepare shot list, shooting schedule, and call sheets
Production manager - complete all sorts of Screen Actors Guild forms and contracts
Production designer - dress the set and finalize art and prop decisions
Director of photography - draw storyboards (the ugliest you'll ever see) and convey my vision

Better get going.

one, two,...

Many cultures believe that bad things happen in threes.

My application to film in Story Park was denied two days ago.  That was one.

Today, hours after complaining about the city of Alhambra's employees (see my last post) and police department, I got a traffic ticket in Alhambra.  That was two.

And then there was one.

is the universe helping me?

It is said that when you want to accomplish something and pursue it with your heart, the universe will help you along the way.

A while ago, I found a park in the city of Alhambra, with the fairytale name of Story Park, which seemed perfect for my story.  Too perfect.

Today I found out from the production manager that a city employee with the initials of R.B., who alone has the authority to grant filming permits, has denied our application.  His reason:  "For all the years I've been working here, I've never heard of anyone shooting in a public space."  He must not have seen a single movie since the 1940s.

Like I said, the park was too perfect - from its name to its serene beauty.  I should have known from the start.  I didn't know how we were going to find an alternate location with just one week left until production.

Over dinner, I bitched about the situation to a couple of new friends - Ike, whom I first met a month ago, and Mark, to whom the first impression I gave was the new director who could't find a park.  Incredibly, Mark and Ike's backyard is a multi-level terrace that has a passing resemblance to a park.  They invited me to check it out when dinner was over, and after a quick perusal, even though the yard was covered by a blanket of darkness and their two humongous dogs, each weighing more than I do, seemed to penetrate me with their friendly yet intimidating stare, my heart leapt for joy.  Perhaps the alternate location was looking straight at me.

I guess the universe will help you along the way, but it will first play a few tricks on you before showing you the path.

meetings...

I've now had meetings with the producer, production manager, production designer, costume designer, assistant director, director of photography, gaffer, and editor, many of whom multiple times.

I can't wait until all these meetings are over and production begins.

to rehearse or not to rehearse

In the many books I've read regarding directing, a major decision to be made on the part of the director is whether to rehearse with his actors.

I've always thought that rehearsals would be a crucial part of a director's preparation with his actors, benefiting all parties involved by providing a glimpse into how the story will unfold during production. But my producer Quentin warned me not to rehearse too much with the actors, because it is important to keep an actor's choices and reactions fresh.  On the other hand, if I don't rehearse, how the heck would I know what to expect come shooting day.  I decided to go for it, but the final cautionary words in one particular book have haunted me:  a director who has never rehearsed should not do so with professional actors.  

So I proceeded with caution.  I scheduled three hours of rehearsal time with the four actors and planned all sorts of activities that would help guide the actors toward the character I had in mind for each of them.  How did things go?  Let's just say that it didn't go exactly as I had planned.

Some of the things I learned today:

Never expect the actor to see a character exactly the way the writer or director does.  Directing a child and directing an adult require manuals from two different planets.  Never overwhelm an actors with too many ideas (i.e., more than one at a time) during rehearsal or during production.  Props are an actor's friend.  I have less time than I think.  Don't work on the same line over and over again:  allow the actor to figure things out on their own time when the pressure isn't on.

The most productive accomplishment from rehearsal today was that I found out which of my "too numerous to count" (borrowing a medical lab term) ideas will not work.  

Considering all this, I have to say that rehearsal was a success, in that I learned a tremendous amount about directing, about acting, and about my story.  

I just hope my actors come back.

i never imagined this...

Prior to preproduction, I knew certain firsts were in store:  first time working with a casting director, first time directing SAG actors, and first time hiring a crew.

I never imagined that I would be learning about the differences between an employee and an independent contractor, how to withhold taxes on the W-2, and how to complete 1099 forms.

Aaaaahhhhyyyyiiii.

There are countless ways to spell the sound my vocal cords has been repetitively making, but that comes pretty close.

Many visits to the IRS website and phone calls to the California employment development department later, I can fudge my way through this process.  I think.  When it comes to Uncle Sam, or Aunt Sammi, one little mistake could spell doom.

Better make sure I cross every t and dot every i.

i drive on

It has been exactly one month since I left San Francisco.

I'm tired of driving.  I've driven more this past month than I had this year in San Francisco.  I miss walking a block away to restaurants and bakeries.  I miss walking ten minutes to see my friends.  I even miss walking 45 minutes to downtown SF, passing drug addicts and homeless drunks along the way.

But that's not the way of life here in Los Angeles.  I'm referring to the walking, of course; drug addicts and drunks are plenty here.  So I make my weekly, instead of monthly, visit to the gas station and hope that when I return to San Francisco, I will still remember how to walk.

I miss the fog too.

white frog

One of the "perks" of having my friend Quentin Lee produce my short film is the feeling of professional obligation to go to some of his film premieres and social functions which I otherwise would likely be too lazy to attend.  Tonight I went to the theatrical premiere of "White Frog."

A story exploring the relationship between a teenager with Asperger syndrome and his older brother, "White Frog" had some heartwarming threads to make it an entertaining movie.  But the surprising moment of the evening came when the moderator of the Q&A, a white guy who coincidentally was a college classmate of Quentin, belted out phrase after phrase in perfect Mandarin.

The characteristics of Asperger syndrome are significant difficulties in social interaction and nonverbal communication, which are exactly what I suffer from whenever I am in the vicinity of a cute guy with talents I admire.  Needless to say, I was smitten by the moderator's charms and instantaneously became clumsy and speechless, hallmarks of many social disorders, let alone Asperger syndrome.  He got away before I had a chance to say hello:  actually, I found ways to sit alone and wait for the surge of heartwarming yet panic inducing thoughts to subside while he made his rounds greeting people and eventually slipped away.  So typical.  If my past is any indication, he's straight any way.

My evening ended at a bar in Hollywood, where I managed to exchange a few words with television star Harry Shum, Jr., who played the brother in "White Frog" and was in attendance for the Q&A.  How does a guy who doesn't drink, dislikes loud music, and turns into a listless pumpkin at the stroke of midnight (I'm being generous - more realistically at eleven in the evening) learn to enjoy his time at a bar?  I haven't figured that one out yet and probably never will.  Unfortunately, I was at the mercy of my production manager Daniel since he drove me to the premiere, and the earlier feelings of awkward joy in the theatre had faded enough that I no longer felt the need to walk home.  So I waited some more, chatting with Harry's adorable girlfriend, watching Quentin dance the latest hip hop beats, and pondering the meaning of a white frog.

When I arrived home, it was past 1 am.  And that's when I realized this:

I'm a white frog.

the perfect story

Today my production manager Daniel and I scouted for a park suitable for my story.  We found the perfect location in Alhambra at Story Park.

In the center of the park is a big leafy tree.  My knowledge of animals and plants is so pathetic that I can only describe them by their color, size, and prettiness.  I immediately visualized that the grandmother in the story would enter through there, the grandson would lead her over there, and they would traverse different paths to end up here.  Images were forming, and ideas brewing.  I am excited.

Could this possibly be the location?  Time will tell, as many hurdles, including permits and fees, are yet unknown.  But a possibility means hope, and hope means better sleep for me tonight.

Maybe it was an oak tree.  No idea.

when happens in palm springs...

It's a much welcomed and needed excursion for me this weekend.

I've come to hot Palm Springs this weekend, albeit unseasonably cool today, to celebrate my good friend Anthony's impending domestic partnership with his sweetie.  This break from pre-production comes at a most opportune time, as I've had enough of meetings and location scouting, and the end is nowhere in sight.  More importantly, I get to hang out with some of my close friends from San Francisco:  a beautiful vacation home, pool party, and barbeque - what could be better than that!

This being a gay bachelor party, which is essentially a bachelorette party without estrogen, a little entertainment is in order.  However, I've been sworn to secrecy and signed my name in blood - Anthony's blood, that is - so I shall not disclose further.  Although...

I suspect what happens in Palm Springs won't stay in Palm Springs.

we are family

Today was the day.

Today was the day that my little chess family would be united by the sheer magic of auditions and callbacks.

Based on initial auditions from the last three sessions, the casting director and I invited back nine actors vying for the roles of Grandmother, Mother, Teen Joey, and Young Joey.  Our goal today was to match up these actors in different combinations to cook up the family of three in a believable, harmonious way.  It's like match dot com, without the drearily pretentious profile names, but with the same photoshopped, years-old pictures, sometimes.

With three actors returning for the role of Mother and two actors each for the other roles, I was tempted to recall my days of math competitions in high school and attempt to calculate the different number of permutations such a match would yield if we were to try to group the actors into every combination possible.  I didn't - too busy watching their performances to even dare humiliate my pride.  Besides, I'm probably using the word permutation incorrectly anyway.

We didn't try every combination possible.  We couldn't put the actors through that emotionally draining and parking meter fee draining process.  We couldn't put ourselves through it.

It would have been 24 different combinations of actors to go through, I think.

Rather, we concocted a special formula to test out our hunches for the best actors that we liked for each role, but even that, the whole process took more than two hours.  I had forgotten who was auditioning for what role by the end of it.  Luckily I had my casting director and producer there to keep my on track.  Now that I've decided on whom I wanted to be in my family, it becomes a waiting game:  you eagerly await a response after bravely sending out a message (no "winks" - too lame) on match dot com, hoping you're somehow in the league of "talljockinSF4same."

I don't know who that is.

I made it up, really.

All profile names in this blog entry are fictitious.  Any resemblance to real profiles, active or inactivated, accurate or exaggerated, is purely coincidental.

wysinwyg

In film, what you see is not what you get.

Yes, it's all lies.  This actor isn't really standing in front of and talking to that one, and the window over there doesn't actually look out to the turquoise sea.  The sea isn't turquoise either, but that's another topic.

Two of the people on a film crew that help the director accomplish these lies are the director of photography (DP) and the production designer - PD, which I just made up.  Today I met the three people who will be helping me in these roles, and I could hardly believe, still, that living, breathing souls will actually carry out my vision to translate my dream onto screen.

Today was the day to let the creative juices flow.  I had been anticipating yet dreading my first meeting with the DP, eager to discuss with him the ingenious camera angles and movements that I had dreamt up, having desperately crammed as much camera jargon as I could find online.  The pressures of a newbie.  Sigh...

After that, I rushed from Pasadena to Downtown LA.  This trip would have been a piece of cake for anyone with a Smartphone.  However, since I have not paid the membership dues for said group, I, in a futile attempt to avoid traffic on a Friday afternoon, got lost twice and ended up 15 minutes late.  Since my meeting was with the co-producer and the two PDs (that's right - I have not one but two PDs), that was the equivalent of being 45 minutes late.

This was a brainstorming session to concretize the words in my script into the physical world that would house my chess playing family.  We talked about the tablecloth, posters on the wall, and the cookie that little Joey eats.  It was mind-boggling.  I believed I had thought of everything until the PD asked me if the young actor playing young Joey is allergic to nuts.  It's all becoming real.

Except that it isn't.

kings and queens and pawns, oh my

It is an unglamorous weekend of location hunting.  I am searching for a location to hold the chess tournament in my story.

Unlike the super powerful and super rich world of team sports in this country, the Bobby Fischer want-to-bes can only strut their stuff in public spaces such as libraries, churches, and hotel conference rooms. No high school cheerleader would dare show their face or pom poms at a competition such as this, where intellectual prowess, not brute force or athletic agility, are on display.  'Tis sad but true - corporate sponsors, television broadcasting contracts, and celebrity spokespeople avoid the pursuit of intellectual achievement like the plague.

So I must rely on my own research to find the whereabouts of these neglected warriors.  Smart that I am, a simple search for chess clubs yields a few possibilities in Los Angeles.  Could one of these clubs lead me to a potential location for my film?

Stay tuned.  I don't mean tuned to the television, since balls are not used in this competition.  Rather, we've got a royal court in black or white, fighting their way to victory with one brain cell at a time.

i know what that's like

Second day of casting:  today we focus on young Joey and his grandmother.

Watching these eight to twelve-year-olds, I wonder how it is that they have been able to figure out what they want to do at such a young age.  Sure, some of them may have come to the audition to fulfill their parents' (or perhaps their own) dream of fame and fortune, but some others exuded a certain air of refreshing energy which was not difficult to detect.

One boy came in and hit every emotional beat that the script demanded, at least on the surface:  I was immediately turned off by the seeming perfection of his performance, because that was exactly what it was, a performance.  What I wanted was an innocent vulnerability that no amount of hours of memorizing lines or embellishment with gestures and facial expressions could achieve.  Luckily, we saw one boy that showed a hint of this quality, although he was quite raw and would need a lot of direction.  What should I gamble on - my directing skills or the boy's acting skills?  Another boy had to postpone his audition because he developed a stye.  He should have come anyway so that I could treat it.  Or maybe not.

The last actor of the day was a cheery boy with sandy blond hair.  After his first reading, I offered him the adjustment of reading the scene as if he has had a bad day at school.  His response:  "I know what that's like, I get bullied a lot at school because I'm the smallest."

I did not expect to be heart broken at these auditions, but I suppose moments like this need to be expected in the business, and I must not consider offering a part to an actor as disappointment to all the others.

We move on; we all know what that's like.

location, location, location

In real estate, finding the right location for your home is everything and more.  In filmmaking, finding the right location for your story is nothing but pain.

My location scout Daniel took me to the California Film Commission office in Hollywood today to learn the process of locating scouting.  We spent a couple of hours there hearing about obtaining permits, contacting local film commissions, and the surprising utility of The Thomas Guide, the bible of maps in the Los Angeles area, more accurate and informative than Google maps.  I think the first day of anatomy class in medical school was less daunting; at least there a mistake wouldn't necessarily land you a hefty fine or a lawsuit.

I have three locations to track down for my script - a community space for a chess tournament, a park, and a home.  I have three words for each of them - hard, harder, hardest.  Let's hope that Gentleman Luck comes my way, and possibilities turn up soon.

The highlight of my day?  Feasting on a double-double at a Hollywood In-N-Out.  To help the meaty burger find the right location to my stomach, I washed it down with a thick milk shake.  Chocolate, of course.

the golden moments

Picture it:  New York, April 2007.

A not-so-young director want-to-be was in the midst of a busy pre-production session for a filmmaking workshop.  During auditions, an actor approached the director and shared with the director his interpretation of the character.  Hearing that another person understood his vision, the director sensed chills running up his spine and was nearly moved to tears.

It was then that the not-so-young director want-to-be knew that that was what he was.  That director was me.  And that actor - I've forgotten his name.

Fast forward six years (perhaps even to the day), and I am once again in the presence of actors with whom I will have the daunting task and privilege of interpreting my script.  Luckily I've got a great casting director and her assistant to guide me along the way.  The journey ahead this time, however, is quadruple the challenges of my previous experience, as I've unwisely written a story about a family of three, including three generations and a span of ten years.  That translated to review over 500 head shots this afternoon and many hours ahead of matching up faces to build a believable family.

I'm looking forward to every moment of this process, especially since one of the ladies auditioning for the role of Grandmother reminded me of Estelle Getty from The Golden Girls.

beyond 5 is another 5

Ah - thirteen - my favorite number.  Hence the reason I've chosen today as my departure date for Los Angeles.

I've just realized that the word Angeles contains the name "Ang Lee."

But I digress.  Ahead of me is the seemingly unending and desolate stretch of Interstate 5 which, by the time I reach my destination, will have covered my car with dust and remnants of insects that fly too slowly to avoid impact with my 75 mph (plus or minus 5 mph, okay, maybe 10) vehicle.  I must focus on traversing this lonely journey accompanied only by the humming of the California wind and the sappy lyrics of Taiwanese and Japanese pop songs from the 90s.

In between the too frequent glances at the distance to destination indicator on the dashboard, my mind wanders.  It recalls the last time I trekked away from home to the prospect of a new career, arriving in Pittsburgh to begin medical school in 1995.  I was nervous, and I wanted to turn back.  Eighteen years later, abandoning medicine and embracing the new role of film director, I am nervous, but I don't want to turn back.

Back then, I felt compelled to study medicine; it was an external force that originated from my brain and not my family, as many might guess.  Now, I am once compelled.  Only this time it is an internal drive emanating from my heart to propel me toward filmmaking.

I steal another look at the dashboard:  yet another 5 miles closer to the X that sometimes clearly marks the spot but other times only seems to suggest it.  A deep breath.  5 miles at a time, and after an X number of times, I will be there.

And there will be here.

what a feeling

Two months after the idea of making a short film with a professional crew in Los Angeles was proposed to me, one month after I decided to make this leap of trust, and a few weeks into sacrificing uncountable brain cells from revising the script, learning about SAG contracts, and debating whether to from an LLC, I finally felt the excitement of taking that first creative step toward the production of my film - when I bought a chess set today.

An important element in my short film "I'll Remember," the game of chess demands complete concentration and employment of various strategies in response to the opponent.  I will skip the obvious metaphors of needing total focus and strategic planning in the production of a film; instead I will remember the still fresh details of opening the glossy box, laying out the heavy wooden chessboard, and smelling the woodsy scent of each piece this afternoon.  I imagine Joey, the young boy from my script, leaping out from the inked pages to move a pawn while declaring "check!"  And I see the grandmother, pondering over her next move at the board and fading into Neverland as dementia gradually takes over.

It's good, isn't it.  This chessboard.  These 32 black and white pieces made of cheap wood with a circular felt pad glued to the bottom.  I must remember this.

The chess set was MIT - made in Taiwan.  Just like me.