“January” Production Diary #5
Jubilation.
This is happening.
After the read-through, in a circle in the cold outside the library, Zach asks me: “This is happening, right? Because I’ve been on board for a lot of films, but they haven’t come together.”
The answer is an incredible, “YES!” But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to Monday night.
Sunday had been a bust. We sat in the small study lounge on the sixth floor for several hours, and didn’t get much progress, at all. Most of it related to bickering about DSLRs vs traditional camcorders, and we spent more time talking about technicalities of the filmmaking process instead of focusing on the point of our meeting: storyboarding.
But Monday was different. It was a slow, methodical process, but we were making headway. Dan, Chris, Natalie, and I discussed potential shot compositions and visual ideas, and Natalie took our notes and converted them into images on the storyboards. We came up with this concept for the film—relating to the “fourth wall” of film, in a way—that I’m totally in love with. Basically, it hinges on cutting to non-literal depictions of things that David, the narrator, talks about. These will be more representational than anything else, and allow us to have these sort-of playful suggestions of things, rather than hitting the audience over the head with shots-of-the-objects-that-he-just-mentioned-in-his-lines. It was an arduous four hours, but by the end of it we had the first 11 pages of the screenplay marked up with all sorts of margin notes and ideas. These accomplishments, and our new concept, danced through my head as I got ready for bed at 3 AM.
Tuesday. The day of the read-through. 10:30 PM (although I knew that Zach would be late because of rehearsal for the musical) in room 409 in the library. Most of our cast and crew were there, with the exception of one actor (who I’d only talked to about this the day before, and knew he wasn’t going to show up) and our make-up and lighting guys (the latter of which said he’d be there, and was missing in action). Release forms were passed out and signed. We chatted for a little bit, until Zach showed up, and then we began introductions. Name. Role in the film. One of your favorite movies. We had a varied room of people—Speed Racer, Big Fish, Fight Club, Elf, 500 Days of Summer.
The read-through started. It was good. Like, really good. Some of the moments—the beats, the silences in between lines—were so good. Pregnant (ew!) with meaning. With emotion. There were moments that were light, and moments that were tragic. Evan’s read of David was honest and engaging. Zach played the role (which I had practically written for him) better than I could have imagined. Lauren’s portrayal of Rachel was fun and adorable; she really captured the spirit of performing children’s theatre. From Steph’s first line, as Sam, to her last sentence—which gave me chills—she was on it. Everybody was on their game. They made me all look good, as I’d cast them without really seeing what they could do with the material at all. They made the screenplay come alive in a way that wasn’t evident from just reading through it. This film—this story—was going to be great. The final “act” of the screenplay pulled me in and dragged me along with it, and the delivery of the final monologue was poignant and powerful. One of our boom operators and grips, who hadn’t actually read the screenplay, said at the end, “Whoa. That was really good.”
Indeed. Indeed indeed indeed indeed.
After the read-through, in a circle in the cold outside the library, Zach asks me: “This is happening, right? Because I’ve been on board for a lot of films, but they haven’t come together.”
This is happening.
LOVE,
BRENT
