Five Things That an AD IS Not

The list could certainly go on, and there is certainly nothing more wonderful  than a list, instrument of wondrous hypotyposis" - Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose

If you have a Facebook account (and who doesn't), you have come across an increasing number of links to - for the lack of a better word - "articles" that count down some random list.

You know the ones.

"Seven Things You Never Knew About Kale"

"Six Actors You Never Knew Were Episcopalian"

"Eight Things You Should Never Ask A Hot Dog Vendor"

They are usually the internet version of those magazines you grab at the checkout counter that alternately tell you of a new cure for cancer, or how they know your favorite TV celebrity is actually a visitor from another galaxy.

Sadly,  more and more of them are now part of more respected sources of news.

I used the terms articles in quotation marks because most of them are the type of off-the-top-of-your-head jottings any of us could come up with,  and often do, in places like this - blogs.

As with everything else I do, I probably over-think this blog. I pour over every word, research,  and scratch ideas that fail to come to full fruition.

That does not make this journalism, or high art. However,  if you're going to ask others to use their minds to read something,  you should use yours first.  Yet, these "journalists " who are getting paid to offer up something, are satisfied with these frills - or, really,  no-frills - offerings. As someone who had the pleasure of working with future CNN correspondents, PBS news hosts and network news execs* in college, I find this a soft-core excuse for journalism

This will be one of those.

One of my regular First ADs and I have been friends for many years, and we occasionally share an adult beverage  (or more), as well as our incredulity at the lack of awareness of what a First AD does.

Now, there are a few great blogs on being a First AD (like the one offered by my blog-sister Michelle ), so rather than offer five things your AD does, I will offer five things that you should not expect from your AD. (I use the male pronoun because AD in question is male; your AD's gender may vary.)

#1. First ASSISTANT Director Does Not Mean He Should Help You Direct.

Inspired by my AD's latest experience.

In a group email, the producer asked the director if he had sent a shot list to the AD, who he had just hired.

Now, they had just fired their last DP. The director asked if he were to send it, could AD put the shots in order of shooting.

AD was brazen enough point out that could not happen yet, as he a)had never been on a scout of the location (s), b) had yet to meet the DP, and c) had yet to speak with the director.

Director was upset and decided to go with another AD.

It is my belief that misconceptions about what an AD does start in film school,  where the AD is inevitably someone who, as the t-shirt suggests, just wants to direct. As such, they love having long conversations about the perfect angle, blocking,  mise-en-scene and any other aspect of directing.

In Europe,  I understand that being a First AD is a path to directing. In the U.S., that is not true, and ADs who offer directing advice don't last.

Now, most experienced First ADs have been around the block enough to be helpful when needed in that department. More often, they should be focused on keeping things moving.

Which leads me to #2.

#2 A Good AD Can Lead You to Set, But He Can't Make You Shoot.

This goes for the director and the DP. Let's deal with the director first.

The director must have the scene blocked, and then be ready to shoot. Directors generally call action on takes, and ultimately must decide if they are satisfied and ready to move to the next set-up.

When faced with an indecisive director,  good ADs will employ a series of tricks to keep them moving. Some will anticipate and start to call the roll when they sense the shot is ready but the director is still wavering.  Stan used to encourage me to do this, and let the director stop me if they weren't ready. This was a tactic only to be used as last resort, as it has the potential to cause conflict and undermine one or both.

One of my favorite versions of this was a tough-talking, chain-smoking Mama of an AD who, when she wanted to push a director to move on from one setup to the next, would call out, "Movin' On. You don't want to put your foot through a Rembrandt. "

As for trying to get a slow DP to move faster, suffice to say you cannot ask a DP to shoot when they are not lit or when they don't have frame. I've pissed off enough DPs that I will leave it at that, as I've covered this ground before.

Yes, keeping things moving is part of the ADs job, but that doesn't mean ...

#3 The AD is (Not) A "Grip With An Attitude"

This was the exact phrase a producer once (incorrectly ) used to describe a good AD.

A truly good AD moves the crew along with communication,  and, not unlike a good sports coach, will use various means to encourage a crew to move as quickly - albeit still safely - as possible.

Most crews want an AD to keep everything moving quickly,  as they don't want to spend endless hours on set when they can get home. In those rare occasions where a crew is slow or, let's face it, just a bit lazy (hey, it can happen ), private discussion or talks with department heads are options.

This does not mean screaming at them like the above drill sergeant. 

Past high school football,  this technique rarely goes well. I always remember, and have often reminded more vocal ADs,that we in production may be figuratively be doing some heavy lifting,  but the crew is literally doing it.

Speaking of grips, I once saw an encounter between a bellowing AD, and the grip whose face he decided to get in, which is right on point.

The grip put down the equipment he was carrying,  took a breath, and said,  "I have two speeds, and if you don't like this one,  you definitely aren't going to like the other one. "

#4. The AD is Not a Script Supervisor

I have waxed and swooned about my love for the skill and.craft of script supervisors here. Suffice here to say that it requires laser-like focus on the action, which is impossible if you are also trying to make sure the actors for the next scene are through the works**, checking with art department if the next set is dressed, directing background action, and setting lock-up.

Yet, while no reasonable producer would double the 1st AC job with Best Boy Grip, I still see "keeping script notes" as duties listed in low-budget AD ads.

Somehow, smaller crews means "cut production people " first to many digital producers.

This leads to an even more common pet peeve that is becoming all-too-common.

#5. A First AD Cannot Prep Call Sheets.

The First AD is responsible for the schedule and everyone knowing said schedule. Long ago, in a movie - making galaxy now far, far away, call sheets were invented to distribute this information.

A proper call sheet is a work of art; a finished symphony; a perfect diamond. It also has a great deal of information to fill out, much of which can change right up until it is published. My favorite 2nd AD created a call sheet template (not the one listed below) so perfect that I would hire just for the call sheet alone, if not for the many other fine qualities he brings.

The First AD makes the major decisions on call times and what will be shot, but it is the 2nd AD who must get all this info loaded into the call sheet, in addition to all the other things he is doing. The call sheet is time-consuming and requires some free hands.

Avalokitesvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion shown above, vowed to not rest until he had saved all sentient beings. He struggled to meet the needs of so many, and his head split into eleven pieces. Amitaba Buddha, seeing his plight, gave him eleven heads to hear the cries of many, but when he reached out to them all, his two arms shattered, and, to once again aid him, Amitaba Buddha blessed him with a thousand arms.

Many a 1st (and 2nd) AD can attest to feeling like their head was going to split into eleven pieces, but all are limited to two arms, and as line producer, I do not have the power of Amitaba Buddha to give them any more.

More and more, First ADs are hired, and then told there will be no budget for a 2nd AD. This means often training a PA, which almost always mean it will be wrong for at least a few times - and teaching call sheets should not be part of the AD's job.

Now, on a very small shoot, with a very small crew, if everyone is fine with gathering everyone and just telling them where, when and what tomorrow, great. However, there is a reason for call sheets, and not having them will cause some level of confusion. 

You can have a proper call sheet and a 2nd AD, or a First AD alone and you do the best you can. You can't have both. Just don't go screaming at your First AD when the Best Boy Electric (I've been picking on grips too often) shows up at the wrong time or the wrong place.

I'm sure every department has it's own complaints. If you ever wondered about the types of things ADs bitch about when they need to blow off some steam, this is a small sample.

*Richard Roth of CNN, Ray Suarez formerly of the PBS News Hour and now with Al jazeera America,  and Bernard Gershon, ABC News and now Gershonmedia.

**Hair, Make-Up and Wardrobe

Party Like It's 1999 - Part 1 ...When the Big Man Joined the Band

"When The Change was Made Uptown

And the Big Man Joined The Band"

Bruce Springsteen

Tenth Avenue Freezeout

So, this post, this turning point in my career, starts with an Assistant Director getting replaced; and a good one. As I have pointed out, this is a more common occurrence than you might think.  As a matter of fact, it became something of a recurrent theme, as my first gig as First AD came replacing someone.

In this instance, it was someone I knew, and a very good Assistant Director. I never found out the reason for the change, but got a feeling it was mutual and not acrimonious. The brief introduction to the project by the producers did not include any scathing indictment of the previous AD, and my brief conversation with the previous AD did not come with recriminations of the producers. This was, at least, a good sign.

The movie, 1999, was about a party on the eve of the millennium, which was then a little bit away. It was being directed by Nick Davis. In speaking of my old friend, the talented writer/director Raymond DeFelitta, I pointed out how it was years after I first met him that I realized that his father had been in the business. Similarly, 1999 was long-wrapped before I discovered that he came from an industry family, and I mean, a
"breeding on both sides," as they say in horse racing, that would have impressed anyone. His father is film director Peter Davis, his paternal grandparents were both acclaimed screenwriters, and his maternal grandfather was the legendary Herman J. Mankiewicz.

I've worked with people who had a fourth cousin that was an assistant editor on a Scorcese film that reminded you of this hourly, and the fact that it never came up once in all my time with Nick says a lot about his character. The only equivalent I can think of is someone failing to tell you they were a Kennedy.

I did know there was something special going on. Here was a director without any lengthy resume shooting a film with some actors I knew, comic Steven Wright and The Graduate author and Saturday Night Live regular Buck Henry. I was also told that some of the young actors on the shoot were "up-and-coming," what I used to refer to as "industry hot." (much more on that in subsequent posts).  I certainly was not familiar with them. While IMDB had been around for a few years at that point, it was certainly not the industry standard it is today, so checking people's credits still had some mystery.

To the logistics of the movie:

All of the action took place in one townhouse. We were shooting the main action on 35mm, but director Davis, himself a documentary filmmaker, would also be a "character" who shot home movies on video, and that footage would also be used.

The townhouse was three floors, with most of the action on the first and second floors. Production and holding for actors was mostly on the third floor, so it would not have to be struck constantly. Because the party happens over one night, continuity was a big issue. We had to bring back most of the extras for background - it would make little sense to see different people in the background in every shot at a party that happens over one night. As I will also go into with subsequent posts, there were actor conflicts.

All of this meant I was walking into a lot of logistics to deal that had to be addressed without a real feel for how it was being handled.

On my first day, the producers walked me through, and introduced me to the two 2nd ADs, who had not been let go. One of my first decisions would be whether to keep the 2nds or replace them.

This was a hard one. I figured they knew a lot more about what was going on than I did, and that could be helpful. When these sorts of parting happen, however, producers sometimes like a clean break. All of the reasons to replace them would have been political. Would they resent me? Would it make the producers happy? Should I bring in someone loyal to me?

If you think politics has no place on a film set, well, good luck with that.

I did not have someone waiting in the wings. I had been PM and line producer more than an AD recently, so I didn't have a regular second, and my calls to the few seconds who I trusted turned up people who had either moved up to First AD or were not available.

Talk about good fortune.

I decided to give the two, Amy and Brian, a chance. If nothing else, they could guide me until I found replacements.

We didn't exactly shoot in sequence, but we tried to stick to it somewhat, so there was a lot of striking set, moving to the next one, coming back to the first. Not my preference from either a logistical or scheduling perspective, but, hey, we weren't there to make things easy for the 1st AD. I already had the luxury of one building to deal with; I was not about to complain.

So it was, a moment I will always remember. The PAs were responsible for striking sets and clearing rooms for the next set, while art department dealt with the details. We had a lot of PAs, almost all of them without much experience. It amounted to a lot of "hands," which was exactly what I needed as we wrapped one set and were moving on to the others.

Neither Brian nor Amy were shouters, which was good. Over the years, I had developed a calmer demeanor, and always hated screaming on set. It just sets such a bad mood, but, we were still in the age when, as one co-worker once famously said to me, an AD was often thought of as "a grip with an attitude." Sure, on DGA gigs, this would be ridiculous, but on the low-budget indies, we were doing our best to establish demeanor and rules in the absence of anything on paper.

I got on walkie and calmly said, "Hands, please." There was some shuffling and scuttling, but not in the way of movement into the room, certainly not as fast as I would have liked. I also only heard my two ADs reply with, "copy."

Now, this is a major annoyance with newbies on walkies, PAs who don't "copy." It means I don't know if you heard me and are just not doing it, you lost your walkie, you're "on a mission" (someone else in charge has you doing something) or just fell asleep in the corner.

I get back on walkie: "I need hands, please. PAs, please copy." Static.

As a deep sigh was leaving my lungs, I feel the movement erupts like a volcano. Over walkie comes this voice, calm but firm, only slightly raised.

"I heard JB call for hands. Is there a reason no one is copying?"

Next came an immediate string of "copy that"s, followed by PAs running into the room. Before the ones who were just outside the room made it in, there was Brian, my 2nd, having made it down two flights of stairs moving things and directing PAs.

In bad Rom/Coms, this is when they backlight people and play violins. Don't get me wrong, Brian and I are happily straight, but I took one look at this calm big man, making things happen, and I thought, "you're not going anywhere."

When working as a 1st, chemistry with your 2nd is important. It is even more important when you line produce and UPM and need to work with a 1st AD. The problem with 1st ADs who move up to UPM or line producer is we tend to either expect our 1st ADs to work like us, which is unrealistic, since no two people are alike, or we tend to micromanage. The solution is finding someone whose style may not be exactly like you, in fact, who can complement you with their difference, while respecting them.

This was that guy. A big man with broad shoulders (I later learned his friends called him "Biggs") he was nonetheless always calm and quiet, but when he needed to make a point, everyone listened. He commanded respect because of how he dealt with problems on set and, more importantly, how he dealt with people. We've worked together many times over the years, and never, not once, has anyone come up to me and asked, "why did you hire him?"

Truth be told, I think those same people liked him more than they did me. That's just fine by me - I tended to agree with them.

I love the calm Brian brings to a set. If I come on set as line producer, and things are a little off, I look at Brian, he will shrug his shoulders, then give me a succinct and simply explanation, one that I know that I can trust without an ounce of defensiveness.

Amy was very good as well, but had a very different personality. It was okay, they did complement each other, and I wasn't about to replace either of them.

Yeah, right then I knew what that look Springsteen gave the late/great Clarence Clemons meant. If you ever saw them live, you saw it, and never so much as when Bruce would sing those lines above, "..and the big man joined the band." It meant that finally, everything fit. It's the line I always thought about when Brian would have his first day with us on any shoot.

So, we were a team, a team that would work very well together, on a very creative and funny movie.

This was the beginning....

(Un)Lucky Stiffs - Part 3 - Hookers and Hussies

Least my previous two posts on Lucky Stiffs suggest that all was gloom and doom, I should point out that, with a good crew and Matt's calm direction, we had a number of good days.  It was, after all, a comedy, and comedies can have intended, and unintended, humorous elements.

This post will deal with some of the lighter moments.

When I came back to NY, Maureen and I were living in NY's Hell's Kitchen (although the city fathers would prefer I use the newer title Clinton, I prefer Hell's Kitchen and all the sordid history that went with it).  This is the Theater District and just south and all-the-way west to the Hudson River, where after the theaters were long closed, entertainment remained vibrant.

We started the shoot with some locations in Brooklyn, along the waterfront, and in New Jersey.  One of the more talented PAs I mentioned, Stacey, was assigned to pick me up and get me to set.  Although technically the 2nd AD is first-on-and-last-off, this was still early in my career and I was motivated (in no small part by fear of failure) that I had to oversee everything.  Capricorns.  As such, I wanted to get there before the crew vans to make sure all was well.

The rides with Stacey were great.  She had started out in theater as a stage manager - just like me!  All these years, I have loved to bring stage managers into the AD department; the temperament and skill sets required are very similar.  The differences can be learned.

The two key things I look for in potential production people are intelligence and enthusiasm.  Stacey had  both of these plus leadership skills, maturity, and the willingness to take responsibility.

The first couple of days of any shoot tend to be exterior day, and ours were no different.  This is for a couple of reasons, many of which are obvious to production veterans, but I will point out anyway.

As you go later in the day, it becomes harder to start early.  This is because, even with non-union crew, you want at least a ten-hour turnaround for crew, and must have twelve hours for cast. You want to get those beautiful sunrise (or magic hour) shots done early.  You also want to shoot  day exteriors early to avoid weather problems later on.

On lower-budget films, these scenes often use little or no lighting, only diffusion and reflectors to control "available light" (also known as the sun).  This means it's a good chance to get things moving while the crew and cast settle in.

This also means that your early shoot days have those un-godly call times, such as 5AM or 6AM.  We had our share of these, and Stacey would be picking me up in front of the brownstone I lived in before sunrise.

Hells Kitchen, in those days, had its own special brand of graveyard-shift freelancers, known commonly as hookers.  As I would sit outside, there was one hooker who always passed on the way home.  She later told me that at first she thought I was a detective, especially seeing me getting into the car.  She thought the cane might have been a prop.

After a while, though, she felt comfortable coming up and talking to me.  Yes, her first question involved a date, but after she realized that wasn't happening, she took to just chatting with me.  We would talk about how each of our respective jobs was going - her bad nights were worse than my bad days.

Stacey stoically would pick me up as my hooker friend would wave goodbye.  Stacey's evil grin grew day-by-day, along with her "I'm not going to ask, JB.".  Once we would get past the snicker, we would talk production, and she always got me to set calm and prepared.

Once on set, there were not only the production issues but the cast.  There was talent, and there was insanity.

One moment strikes me as indicative of the insanity that went on behind the cameras.

The script revolved around a jewel heist.  Two young slackers want to plan the heist, and they plan it with an older "experienced" criminal.  Turns out they could have made a better choice, as their veteran had issues.

He also had a moll.

I find myself using some older, classic terms in this post; moll, hussy.  Today, we tend to be more graphic or judgmental.

Hussy and moll are two phrases from a by-gone era, but they better represent the femme-fatales in this movie.

The older, experienced thief was played by "Broadway Bobby" Downs.  Sadly, Bobby is no longer with us - more on him later - but he had a wonderful "Moll," who I will refer to by her character name, Angela.

"Moll" was a polite term used in the old studio days for the girlfriend of a mobster.  It's origin is multi-fold; it comes both from the suggestion that she carries a gun, and "moll" is short for Molly, an Olde-world euphemism for prostitute.

See how it all comes 360 degrees?

Our "moll" was not a prostitute.  Angela's fatal flaw was that she had the bad judgement to be dating Eddie Minuchi, the older criminal.  In the script, Angela came off as a busty, sultry and alluring woman in her twenties.

The first scene in the movie in which she appears goes something like this: Eddie and Angela pull up in a cab, Eddie has bought her lots of expensive presents (this is how he keeps her).  She is about to get out of the cab, the young guys help her.  When they open the door, she drops the presents, revealing her ample cleavage.  The guys ogle her and lose track of what they are doing, impressed by her cleavage.

Do you still wonder why we weren't at the Oscars that year?


These, as I point out, are the light moments.  The real road bumps?  Oh, they are ahead.

When JB Met JR - Part 3 - We Must (Not) Shoot Today

"If you want good news, hire family."
- JB Bruno


Yes, that JB Bruno.  Me.

I'm not exactly sure what the rules of blogs are; after all. this is the internet, which is all about expressing individuality, and, lets face it, the arguable premise that what each of us has to say is important.  In that light, I think quoting yourself is just fine.

I connect certain quotes with certain production heroes of mine.  In each case, the quote expresses that person's unique style while being universal.  I will get to these in good time.  For this post, however, I have to stick to a quote that I know I originated.

Anyone who has ever worked with me has heard me use this line, and any former student of mine heard it in my introductory class.

I don't know if I started using it when I was an AD, or when I started line producing, but it was in my head for a long time.  Film is all about collaboration, but film runs like an army.  It's not a democracy, and after taking all opinions into account, one level head has to make a decision.

For different reasons, the AD and the line producer find themselves telling people facts they have to hear, but often do not want to hear.  If you want someone to tell you how great everything is going, your family is a good bet.  They are there to prop you up, to boost your spirits, to make you feel good.

The easiest analogy for  me is a doctor.  Imagine going to a doctor who didn't have the heart to tell you that you needed a new heart? Too literal?  Eh, maybe, but you get the point.

Making a decision means that if it's wrong, responsibility falls on you.  If you can't handle that, then you can't handle responsible positions.

Sometimes, you have nothing to do with the horrible problem, but are merely the messenger.  History tells you what happens to messengers of bad news.




A former Second AD of mine, who is now an incredibly successful First A.D., told me this question from the DGA Trainee test.  I think its a great example of the latter dilemma.

You are a DGA intern and are sent to the trailer of the director to get three questions answered.  When you get to the trailer, the producer and director are in a heated argument.  Because the questions are important, you knock on the door.  Although still angry, you get the director to answer two of the questions before you forget to ask the third.  You walk outside the trailer and, as the door closes, you remember that you had to get an answer to the third question.

What do you do?

The answer is easy and obvious when it's a theoretical question; not so easy when you're standing outside that door.

If you cannot immediately and unequivocally say that you would turn around and go right back in, maybe the AD department isn't for you.

My situation on Walls and Bridges was a combination bearer-of-bad-news and Murphy's Law.

A majority of the scenes on the film had limited characters, and we did a good deal of the filming in Nassau County, which is the closer Long Island county to Manhattan.  On this particular day, we were filming about as far out in Suffolk County as we had on any day, and we had a large number of extras.  Organization for the day had been in the works from early in prep, and all of those plans were working perfectly.  This would be one of the top two or three most expensive scenes in the film, but it was all coming together nicely.

Most of the extras were still signing in when things turned bad.  JR rolled on a smaller portion of the scene that did not require extras when we heard a funny sound coming from the camera, a crunching sound.

For those not technically proficient in 35mm cameras, crunching sounds are definitely not a good sign.

JR was a tech whiz.  He said he hoped he could fix the problem, and to let him work alone and uninterrupted somewhere.  I found a room and put a PA outside it with instructions that no one was to enter.

Meanwhile, I worked with my 2nd AD to make sure that once camera was back up, everything would be ready to roll.

Minutes passed, and minutes turned into more than an hour.  All the while, Uzo, who was not only directing this drama that was close to his heart but who also made a healthy financial investment in it, keep coming up to me.  We would be able to shoot today, right?

To be honest, I hedged a little.  I said that if the camera was workable, we would be prepared to make up the time lost.

The if went away in a heartbeat.

I went into the room that JR was sequestered in, and it was a sight I had not seen before, not seen since, and don't expect to see again.  There, on a series of  tables, were many, many pieces of the camera.  The lens had shattered, and the broken glass had worked its way all through the camera body.  Humpty Dumpty was in fewer pieces after that unfortunate fall off the wall.

It is amazing that JR could take a camera apart like that, and more amazing that he could put it back together.

I feared the worst, but without having to ask, I got my answer.  I think I only got as far as "So, JR...." when my good friend looked up from the patient and shook his head.  How long?  The answer was a few days.

I just nodded my head and did the first of many "dead man walking" trips.

"Uzo.  The camera is down.  I'm going to have to wrap us for today."

Denial is the first stage of grief.

"We are shooting today, right?" Uzo asked.

I was more specific.  We were not shooting today.  We were wrapped.  I had not called it yet out of deference to him, and as we were not close to a full day yet, no one was going into overtime.

Make no mistake.  We were wrapped.

Anger.

"We MUST shoot today!"

I started explaining to Uzo that we could not shoot without a camera (he knew that - but grief is a bitch).

"I DO NOT care about the camera.  We MUST shoot today!"

This may be one of my favorite all-time lines from behind-the-scenes of a film.  It is ludicrous on its face, yet completely understandable given the situation.

Bargaining.

Yeah, this is where it gets ugly.  An erstwhile PA, who had recently graduated from NYU, suggested that he could get us a camera.  Uzo loved this solution.

Problems?

First, we were almost three hours from Manhattan, so if  he got his school to agree (highly unlikely) it would be six hours round trip.  It was also a 16mm camera and we had been shooting on 35mm.  Conforming them would be ridiculous, but, then again, the discussion was ridiculous because we weren't doing it.

Uzo started talking enthusiastically to the PA.  At my suggestion, the 2nd AD removed him from the room.

I'd like to believe me opposition to capital punishment was without exception, but then I remember this incident.

"Do you realize what this will cost us?" Uzo asks me.

Depression, and, yes, I do.

I guess we got to acceptance, but I don't remember it right now.

Squashing dreams is not my business, but squashing unrealistic solutions that sound good at the time is part of my job.  There were other contributions from the peanut gallery, but my job now was to see that the day cost us as little as possible and to wrap us in an orderly fashion.

I've sometimes thought if this film thing didn't work out, I could hire myself out to hospitals to be the guy to tell the family that their loved one was gone.  Nah, there is no upside to that one.  At least movies have given me many happy moments.

Epilogue:


Ok, this isn't really an epilogue per se, but I always loved when "epilogue" would come up at the end of the 60s series, "The F.B.I" with Efrem Zimbalist, Jr.  All the Quinn-Martin shows used it at one point.  Never heard of the show?  Here's a peek:





Probably the most famous Quinn-Martin epilogue"





Today, I am working as post producton supervisor on a wonderful film shot mostly in Cambodia on a 5D that tells a great story and looks great.  The producer and director are anxious to get the post process finished, as am I.  Today, for the umpteenth time, I've had to tell them it will take a day or two longer.  After firing the worst editor imaginable, who was hired before I came on board, we have actually made good time, but not as good time as they would have liked.  It's costing them money.  I feel for them, but, again, today, I had to remind them that getting it right was the priority.  All these years later, doesn't make me feel any better."