First Time Director. Gil Bettman

gaps in my knowledge. The next day, I would return and casually deliver the word from on high.

      On the set there is no tomorrow Directing on the set is like being at the helm of a river raft going through increasingly precipitous rapids. There is no stopping, no turning back, and every decision must be instantaneous and correct, otherwise disaster is imminent. The smaller the budget, the smaller the raft, the fewer the oars, the greater the likelihood that — if you make a wrong turn — the boat will flip or smash on the rocks. To continue the metaphor, preproduction is the planning which takes place before the raft is put in the water and postproduction is like rowing across a calm lake at the bottom of the rapids. The existing books focus about 90 % on what comes before and after that white water and about 10 % on what it takes to get through that critical phase. It should be the other way around. This book will fill this need.

      It will tell you everything you need to know about the easy stuff — preproduction and postproduction — so you can convincingly discharge your duties as a director in those areas. It is going to tell how, while the set is being lit, you can take a bad performance and make it respectable, or a respectable performance and make it good. If you are lucky enough to actually have an actor on the set who is capable of delivering a good performance, this book will teach you what you will need to know to take the good performance and make it great. (I am not going to burn up pages with sense memory exercises and lengthy rehearsal techniques; you will never get to use them. Because unless your actors are sufficiently committed to your film to donate their time gratis, there will be no money for rehearsals.) All the time you are going to get is that which elapses between the first walk-through and when the set is lit. You may not be able to bring forth miracles in that span, but this book will enable you to come as close to such alchemy as is humanly possible.

      Will this book teach you how to move your camera like John Woo or Michael Bay? Actually, yes. By extrapolation you can take my approach to camera blocking and, budget permitting, move your camera all the time, in every imaginable way, like Woo and Bay. But it is unlikely your budget will permit you to do this. So this book is intended to teach how, within the constraints of your peanut-sized budget, you can emulate the camera technique of all those directors who are now setting the trends in the realm of mis en scene.

      This book will arm you with the “silver bullets” which you are going to need to kill the demons which will be coming at you right and left on the set. Time and money are going to be in such short supply, all your solutions to all your problems are going to have to be lightning fast and deadly — instantaneous and spot-on. These silver bullets may not be the most elegant. They may not be Academy Award-winning examples of a director's craft. But they get the job done. You can worry about the Academy Award on your second film, or better still, your third. When you get to that level, you can read all the other books on directing. At that point, elegant solutions are going to be expected of you. Then you will able to afford them. For now, your goal should be to survive your directorial debut in the best shape possible. This book is your guide to survival. It will enable you to pull form from chaos and make the best film possible within the limited resources provided to you.

      PART ONE:

      BEFORE THE BATTLE

      CHAPTER 1 | PREPRODUCTION

Soaking Up the Atmosphere

      Yes, preproduction is a picnic compared to production! Preproduction is the honeymoon. Production is the day-to-day grind of a difficult marriage. As a first time director, or a neophyte director, you're going to be a little nervous, but relax. You should be pinching yourself to make sure you are not dreaming. Nobody gets to direct without chewing glass for the privilege. Some just have to chew more than others. It is a well-established fact that for every available directing position there are dozens if not hundreds of individuals equally capable of expertly discharging the responsibility. The fortunate ones who manage to claw their way over the herd, slip through it, or somehow remarkably stand out from it, have got to congratulate themselves. It doesn't matter if they are going to get to direct a feature film or an infomercial. In their own world, big or small, they have made it to the top. There is no way they could have been anointed the chosen ones without an extraordinary effort, for — with a few exceptions — the director is king.

      Because you are the director, you are going to have to be Solomon: a fount of knowledge, imagination, and reason. From now until the project is shipped, everyone is going to be hitting on you for answers. You are going to have to come up with more solutions to more problems than you ever imagined existed. You had better be a take-charge person, the kind who gets off on dispensing wisdom and likes being challenged. Otherwise you had better get out of the directing game.

      I'm that kind of take-charge person. I like being the boss, so for me, preproduction has always been a blast. I am not fatheaded. It doesn't become a director to be so. I have my doubts about myself, as probably do all those who aspire to a career in the arts. Still, there has always been a part of me that thought I should be king of the world. Such is human nature. We all embody many contradictions. But I would guess that there is a little bit of that arrogance in everyone who aspires to direct. When you are the director, you get to be king of your own little world. Your producer, the bonding company, the investors, or the studio are the power behind the throne. They don't have the guts or the energy to direct. It can be a dirty, thankless job, so they have hired you to do it. A line producer whom I worked with on Knight Rider confessed to me that in his youth he had been a director but had given it up, because “You wake up in the middle of the night. You drive millions of miles to the location. As soon as it's light you start working. You work and you work and you work. Then, you look at your watch, and it's 10:00 a.m.! The guys at the studio are just getting in to work. You can have it!”

      But almost all those standing behind the throne, in their heart of hearts, think they are a director, and a better director than you. So they will meddle in your business and second-guess you, especially if you are a first time director. But for whatever reason, they have put you on the throne, and when you stand on high you call the shots. As a first time director, many of the crucial decisions will not be left solely up to you — especially those that impact the budget. But if it's purely a matter of taste and doesn't dramatically affect the budget, it should be your call. If it is your movie, it will be a better movie. It won't become a mishmash of what you want to do and what those who stand behind the throne want. For better or for worse, it will hang together as a coherent reflection of your vision and taste, and if you have any talent, then it will be a better film. Or at least so says a guy named Frank Capra. If you don't believe me, read his autobiography, The Name Above the Title. In fact, don't even think about becoming a director until you have read that book.

      Preproduction is a blast because now you finally get to be king of your own little kingdom and work with your capable minions on planning a great military campaign. I am not particularly partial to war, but I compare making a film to a military campaign because, once the shooting starts, it always feels like it's matter of life and death. Of course, nobody actually dies, and only the greatest films have any impact on history. Making a movie is probably more comparable to building a bridge, but it's your bridge, and, for some reason, you always tend to approach it the same way Alec Guiness did when it came to building his Bridge on the River Kwai. Your film, in the big scheme of things, may be of no more consequence than a bridge, but it always feels like Guiness' bridge — like something worth fighting and dying for, so when you take it on you are well served to gird yourself as if it were a War of the Worlds. The beauty of preproduction — the most delightful aspect of planning this great military campaign — is that everyone you are working with is certain that it is going to be a great success. You are going to win every battle, conquer new lands, and come back heroes. The powers behind the throne always have their doubts. But I have always found film crews and film support staff to be almost universally positive, energetic, and resourceful people. They have to be, otherwise they could never put up with the hours, the working conditions, and the stress. When I was directing rock videos, my favorite production manager wore a T-shirt that said it all: “Sleep is for beginners.” My experience has always been that the level of dedication of the average film crew is right up there with firefighters, though