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

Back to LA - I Am Not a Number - (But I Could Be 1A)

The following story is true.  The title of the film, as well as the names, have been changed or left out to protect the neurotic, the psychotic, and the petulant.

The city is Los Angeles, 1991.

I am there because a woman has sent me a dark, unique cerebral script.  She teaches film at a local California school, and we have a good conversation on the phone.

Have script I haven't seen one hundred times before, will travel.

This is part of the on-going flirtation I had with Los Angeles during this period.  My actress friend Annie had moved out there, as had some other friends.  Maybe Maureen and I would move as well.  If you've ever worked in film, you've thought about whether you should move to Los Angeles.

There isn't a huge budget for the film, but enough to get it done.  I was going to come on as production manager AND assistant director.  I had seen the really talented Paul Kurta do this on a feature I worked on in New York, and I had done it to some extent in on a few shorts, so it seemed okay.

The writer/director and the cinematographer were lovers.  They happened to be two women, but the lover/couple team is always a complex relationship on a film, regardless of make-up.  Often, it is one as director and the other as producer.  This was my only experience (to date, I might add) where it was cinematographer and director.  We will call the director Cheryl, and the DP Lynn.

The prep for the film went well.  I sat in on most shot-list sessions and many of the rehearsals.   Because I was not native to LA, I probably spent more time with the team than usual.  I really got to know them well, and was impressed by how much they supported each other.  Couples often try to hide affection on shoots; these two would hold hands during meetings.  What a good feel I got for this film!

Of course, I was reminded of something another LA indie film person told me - never believe what they tell you at Dennys.  It was an LA thing, and I later grew to respect it, and you can trade Denny's for any NY coffee house to cover the idea that nothing is ever as rosy as the first meeting leads you to believe.

The lead actress brought a lot to the table; the male lead, not so much.  The short was called The Artist's Wife (title slightly altered) and the man, who was featured in a soap out there, was very much a supporting role.  He was good enough, but there was no growth or depth in his performance.

When you are trying to UPM and AD, a good Second AD is essential.  Lack of budget means we were only paying a stipend, so I split the responsibility between two bright up-and-comers, leaving some of the UPM paperwork to one, and the other took on the 2nd AD paperwork.

As we got closer to the shoot, the DP would express her concern for the director, who was working the usual long hours.  Was she stressed?  Yes, but that was not unusual for a director close to rolling on a film.  I thought she would be alright, but also felt good that her partner was there on set as part of the creative team.

The lead actress had established herself as a solid character actress in bigger films.  She did a great job.

The lead male actor was, to be polite, passive aggressive, and as with some actors like him, left the heavy lifting to his agent.  I worked out the deal memos, which included giving him single card credit in the opening titles after the lead.  This was a short, and it was generous, but we all agreed it would work.

Both the actor and actress were on lower SAG rates.  While she made more, their rates were comparable.

All of this will become relevant soon enough.

The first day of principal photography, I am like a fire warden in an overcrowded bar - I expect the worst.  This is a good mind-set, as anything short of a Titanic-like day seems like a success, and I know when to deploy the lifeboats.

We set up for the first shot, and the director and DP are arguing.  Hmm, I haven't seen this before.  They were so close in prep.  I'm sure this will improve.

It gets worse.  By mid-afternoon, they are screaming at each other and I am clearing set to keep the disagreement in-house.

The lead actress is siding with the director and making things more uncomfortable.

We work through Day 1 like this, and things just get tenser.

Finally, we wrap Day 1.  I'm spent.  I want to get the director and DP into a room and get this worked out.  Before I can do that, the DP takes me aside.

"Have you seen Cheryl?" she says.  "She seems so stressed.  We really need to protect her more."

Oh, really?  Maybe if you weren't screaming at her on set, she would be less stressed.  No, I don't exactly tell her this.  I am thinking it.  I see this as an opening to make tomorrow better.  We go for dinner, the director lays her head on the DPs shoulder.  All is well.

Hey, maybe today was an aberration.  At least, tomorrow will be better.

Yeah, right.  Day 2 is a repeat of Day 1.  End of day is the same - all love and comfort.

There is one difference.  As I have pointed out, this was the days when beepers were more prevalent (and less costly) than cell phones.  I'm being paged with a 310 (LA) number.  Hmm, have to call later.  The young lady who is helping me PM comes to me on set.

"The agent for the lead actor needs to talk to you.  It's urgent.  He says he keeps paging you and you don't call back."

I know it was urgent - the 310 number was followed by a "911" at the end.  That meant it was an emergency.  Was the guy's wife sick?  Mother dying?  Oh, my God, I should have called back.

When we break for lunch, I call him back.  The conversation goes something like this:

"Hey, JB. How is Jack doing?"

"Pretty well.  What's wrong?"

"It's about the call sheet."

Let me explain something.   Remember I mentioned how breakdowns work in earlier post?  In order to get info on that little strip, you assign each character (and actor) a number.  That number represents the character.  You cannot keep fitting the character name everywhere, so you assign a number.

Generally, somewhere in the # 7 to # 10 area, you are getting into a subjective area.  Which character should be higher?  Different AD's might break it down differently, based on either shooting days, script pages, importance to the story, etc.

The #1 and #2 characters are easy - or should be.

"Jack (I'm making up a name for the actor) is upset.  You have him on the call sheet as # 2"

"Right.  He is right behind the lead."

"You know, males normally get higher ranking."

"You've read the script, right?  It's called 'The Artist's Wife'.  That means the story is about her."

"See. that's what bothers him.  It's about him, too."

"Well, yes, it is, but it's more about her, you know, the Artist's Wife?"

"Ok, I see why you assigned her #1.  You're trying to give the girl a break."

"No.  She is the lead.  That's why I assigned her #1

"Do you know who my client is?"

I want to say a two-bit soap actor, but I don't.  Circumstances to the contrary, I try to work with logic and facts.

"We've already worked out his billing and money in the deal memo.  Number on a call sheet is just paperwork."

"To you, its just paperwork.  To him, well, it really affects his attitude to come into work every day and see he is number 2 on the call sheet."

I almost drop the phone.  He must be kidding.  No, he isn't kidding.  This jerk of an actor has really asked his agent to have this discussion with me.

"Look, she is # 1 on the call sheet, he is # 2.  It's paperwork, and I'm not changing it."

"OK, I see where you're coming from.  It's all good.  I have an idea."

"What is that?" I ask.

"What if she is # 1, and he is, like 1A?  That could work, right"

What's in a number, really?

After lunch, the actor asked me if his agent had spoken to me.  The old stage manager in me kicked in - firmly, but politely, I told him I had spoken with him, and nothing would change, and I would appreciate him acting like a professional and not bringing it up again.  I gave him a look that made it clear I was not kidding.  I wasn't mean or nasty, just firm.

The short turned out well, and the tension between the DP and director was a little less on subsequent days, in no small part because I took the DP aside and said that Cheryl didn't just need support after the day was over, but during it.

After the shoot, the director asked me to teach a seminar in production at her college.  I loved it.   Passing on what we know is part of our job.  

While I am undecided as to what to do next, JR contacts me.  He has a guy who wants to do another feature.  He sends me the script.

Some things don't change.  Even then, I read scripts in coffee shops.  I was living in West Hollywood, so I was at a place on Sunset.  Don't recall the place, only remember it wasn't Duke's.  Went to Duke's early on, but found it too hip for me.

I was a ways through the script when I went to the men's room.  When I came back, there were three headshots on my table next to my coffee - and I could swear one of them looked like my server.

I love LA.

The script, Lucky Stiffs (real name) was a comedy about three bumbling hoods and the hot gang moll who joined them.  It wasn't very deep, but it was a comedy, and comedies are so much lighter and more fun on set.  

It was mid-August, and we would start filming in September.  I would have the prep time I needed.  I would be working with my buddies, my crew, on a comedy in the Fall, my favorite season in New York.

What could go wrong?