While we have one minor bit of 35mm hand-cranked imagery left to capture, principal photography onNightscape is officially wrapped. In fact, we wrapped over a week ago, so I’m now fully acclimated to a (reasonably) conventional schedule. We shot for a total of 22 days (for those keeping track, just one day more than originally planned)—most of which went swimmingly. It bears repeating that we were able to pull off some incredibly challenging days only because of the exceptional talent and dedication of our cast and crew. In a particularly frantic two-day stretch, for instance, we shot close to two-dozen separate car stunts. A standard Hollywood production would’ve easily spent twice or three times the hours.
The key challenges we faced consisted largely of events beyond our control, i.e., mechanical failures. One of our cherished picture cars, a 1973 Chevy El Camino, which sadly, could be destroyed only once, broke down on a semi-regular basis. It proved to be our Bruce the Shark, prompting us to alter our shooting schedule on a number of occasions. For the sake of brevity, I’ll recount just one of the times this car nearly cost me my (relative) youth.
While driving home at the end of the first day of shooting—one of our few 14-hour days—the El Camino came to a grinding halt on the freeway. It was just after midnight and my cell phone had long since lost its battery power. Thankfully, a few crew members happened to spot my trouble and shortly thereafter, drawn by the growing crowd of cars in the median, a very understanding highway patrolman joined them. The car sported Mexican plates (rented from the Universal prop dept.) and at the time, I didn’t have any proof of the car’s registration or insurance. Rather than citing me, however, the patrolman called a tow truck, indicating the incident was an emergency and then waited with me until it arrived. He’d heard about our late-night (and very public) shoot in the neighboring town of Banks from a fellow officer and we passed the time talking about the ins and outs of producing an indie film.
I had the car towed back to Banks and the next morning, drove early to set to see if I could get a mechanic’s eyes on the vehicle first thing. With luck, I managed to track down Robert Duncan, the wife of an extra we’d recruited some time back, who helped me push the car to his shop. A short while later, he informed me the car had thrown a rod, punching a good-sized hole in the engine. I walked under the hoist and saw it first-hand. Yep, it was a hole alright. It might as well have been through my heart. The rest of the crew would be arriving in less than an hour and we didn’t have the car that was supposed to play that morning.
My years of project management experience in both the private and public spheres certainly came in handy. I didn’t panic (that would only panic everyone else). I didn’t curse (well, maybe a little, but only in my head). I called the key crew members and within the hour, we formulated a plan to adjust the schedule for the next three days to accommodate the lack of El Camino. As part of this plan, I actually arranged to have the El Camino towed to our next location so we could shoot as much as we could. At one point, we even had a few crew members push it down a hill so we could get two separate moving shots (one of which, I suspect, will even make it into the final cut). It wasn’t a stress-fee day, that’s for sure. But we got the job done. And when every day of a shoot counts, sometimes that’s enough.
>> Read Part 2
The key challenges we faced consisted largely of events beyond our control, i.e., mechanical failures. One of our cherished picture cars, a 1973 Chevy El Camino, which sadly, could be destroyed only once, broke down on a semi-regular basis. It proved to be our Bruce the Shark, prompting us to alter our shooting schedule on a number of occasions. For the sake of brevity, I’ll recount just one of the times this car nearly cost me my (relative) youth.
While driving home at the end of the first day of shooting—one of our few 14-hour days—the El Camino came to a grinding halt on the freeway. It was just after midnight and my cell phone had long since lost its battery power. Thankfully, a few crew members happened to spot my trouble and shortly thereafter, drawn by the growing crowd of cars in the median, a very understanding highway patrolman joined them. The car sported Mexican plates (rented from the Universal prop dept.) and at the time, I didn’t have any proof of the car’s registration or insurance. Rather than citing me, however, the patrolman called a tow truck, indicating the incident was an emergency and then waited with me until it arrived. He’d heard about our late-night (and very public) shoot in the neighboring town of Banks from a fellow officer and we passed the time talking about the ins and outs of producing an indie film.
I had the car towed back to Banks and the next morning, drove early to set to see if I could get a mechanic’s eyes on the vehicle first thing. With luck, I managed to track down Robert Duncan, the wife of an extra we’d recruited some time back, who helped me push the car to his shop. A short while later, he informed me the car had thrown a rod, punching a good-sized hole in the engine. I walked under the hoist and saw it first-hand. Yep, it was a hole alright. It might as well have been through my heart. The rest of the crew would be arriving in less than an hour and we didn’t have the car that was supposed to play that morning.
My years of project management experience in both the private and public spheres certainly came in handy. I didn’t panic (that would only panic everyone else). I didn’t curse (well, maybe a little, but only in my head). I called the key crew members and within the hour, we formulated a plan to adjust the schedule for the next three days to accommodate the lack of El Camino. As part of this plan, I actually arranged to have the El Camino towed to our next location so we could shoot as much as we could. At one point, we even had a few crew members push it down a hill so we could get two separate moving shots (one of which, I suspect, will even make it into the final cut). It wasn’t a stress-fee day, that’s for sure. But we got the job done. And when every day of a shoot counts, sometimes that’s enough.
>> Read Part 2
