Movie making.

So I should have known that movie-making it a tough job. It's unlikely I'd pull through it with my sanity if Slim wasn't there all the time cracking jokes.

Imagine the following:

A 3½ room apartment crowded with six people, five of which aren't supposed to be framed at any moment in the movie. The appartment's bedroom is PACKED with crates, boxes, metal cases and equipment. It looks like a freaking bunker.

In the kitchen, hiding behind the table and under the chair legs, I'm crouched as small as I can make myself seem, hunched over the sound console, pressing large earphones that make my head huge to my ears, trying to drown out all sounds around me to focus on what Slim, holding up the heavy microphone pole over Dom's head just a few meters away from me, is recording.

If there's even the slightest twitch in Slim's movements, I can hear it. Everything in the room is amplified ten times in my phones. Slim can't afford to relax.

That's nothing compared to the strain put on Dom. Even though he's producer, he needed to be the cameraman in this shot because it's the longest, toughest, hardest of our whole movie.

The bane of all film-makers: the sequence-shot (I think that's the right term in English; the term in French is "plan séquence", if that helps).

A sequence-shot is the kind you might have noticed in Children of Men. A long, very long, multi-minute shot with many actions happening in it without a single cut from the camera. You might think it's just a matter of coordination, but it's actually also a matter of endurance, as Dom had the occasion to find out.

The problem with making a sequence shot is that you have to record the sound and, as you do a 360 to pan around the apartment, not see a single technician.

Which was why I was hiding under the table, Gen was hiding in the bedroom (the only room we couldn't see), and Slim had to silently slip behind Dom at every turn (not an easy task when your every move is capted by an ultra-sensible microphone).

The day had started painfully early. Slim was gallant enough to offer me a lift (he keeps asking to pick me up, in case he gets lost ―he wants to be able to put the blame on me should he be late ― at least that's what I say to try to explain why he'd go out of his way to pick me up and take me across a distance I could have walked) and we arrived early, carrying various pieces of equipment and bagfuls of paperwork.

We were at the apartment at 8:00. We started filming at 10:30, after changing the light bulbs, turning off all appliances, unplugging all the phones, decorating the apartment to look like it belonged to a messy young man who'd just killed his girlfriend as opposed to a clean-freak grandma, and setting up the ten-thousand dollar equipment (sum of projectors, sound apparel, tapes, cables and semi-pro camera).

We wanted to get the sequence-shot done. All our day's purpose was simply to do that one sequence. That's how hard we knew it'd be. By the time we rounded around Dom for the starter briefing, it occurred to us that it was Thanksgiving and that we weren't even going to celebrate it.

Slim, with a grin, turned to me and asked, "Would you even celebrate it if we didn't have work to do?"

I shrugged. "We never do. We prefer Christmas for family gatherings."

He nodded. "Same here." He turned to Max, Gen and Dom. "And you, lil loves?" His cheeky grin got him a few eye-rolls.

"We had a family gathering yesterday evening," Gen shrugged. "But nothing big."

"Nothing," Max said.

"Nope," Dom commented, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Well then!" Slim said, excitedly, outstretching a hand to every team member, "Happy Thanksgiving!"

We laughed and exchanged handshakes. Amused and a little exasperated, Gen asked, "What is this, Sunday communion?"

Slim was ready with a retort: "It's to encourage friendly bonds between team members." Suddenly remembering about our actor, John, he turned and shook hands with him. "Dude, you're in it too. And now," he said, turning back to us, "Time for a briefing, then let's get this show on the road."

And we did.

It was the longest show in the history of my life.

For six hours, we filmed. A sum of two hours was lost to let Dom rest from physical exertion (the camera is a heavy piece of technical wonder, and he had to steady cam, crouch and rise multiple times per take) and for us to eat Timbits and pizza.

And how many takes, you may ask?

Why. 41.

41 TAKES.

Do you know how morally discouraging it is to perpetually start over? The hardest wasn't even coordination, which we took a good ten takes to actually get around to, but actually keeping our spirits up and optimistic.

The first take was a practice shot. We had to train for the introduction protocol, and it went like this: Gen: "Silence everyone." Me: (once everything was silent and Slim was positioned) "Sound running." Dom: (switching the camera on) "Camera running." Gen: (with the clapper) "Scene 5, Shot 1, Take 1." Slim: (once Dom was done positioning himself) "Framed and ready to go." Dom: "Action!"

On take 5, Slim and Dom shot me death glares because I'd interrupted the shot again to tell them they had to stop moving so loudly when they assured me they were doing their best.

By take 11, we were almost there, but a wire caught and Dom nearly fell backwards.

Take 17 was the first to reach the planned end, but was riddled with technical mishaps.

Around take 23, Dom started losing his patience and crumbled on the couch, shaking with exertion and trying to find a new way to present the scene because the sequence shot was turning out to be impossible. Slim and I, exchanging looks, allied to convince him we'd pull it off, even if we worked for another three hours. Dom would get his sequence-shot, dammit.

By take 27, we decided to take a break because everyone was getting snappy and evil. To get away from the tension, Slim and I, who were in considerably better moods than everyone, suggested to wait downstairs for the pizza guy.

When came the time to record take 29, we had all slipped into a sort of irrational hilarity that kept our spirits high.

On take 31, we didn't follow the previous protocol, going instead in whatever language we knew, some invented: Gen: "Silencio on el plateau!" Me: " ... Slim, arrête de danser. ... Ça roule au son. ("Slim, stop dancing. Sound running.") Dom: "Cam-cam a-run-runnin'." Gen: "Scene 5, shot 1, take thirty-fucking-one." Slim: "Ach, ze frame and moody cameraman are ze going." Dom: "Accio John!"

Take 35 was going perfectly until Dom knocked into Slim, slamming poor Slim backwards until he hit the wall and strained to be silent about it while still recording the dialogs.

Take 36 was perfect, until the last few moments, where Dom hit the camera against the doorframe, sending us all into fits of cusses.

Take 37 was too good to be true, so Dom had us do another four takes that were all flawed in some way.

Ultimately, we decided to go with take 37.

It was six-thirty by then. We started cleaning up and left the apartment at eight, tired like hell and knowing only too well we were far from finished.

We have two more film-shifts this week: tonight from seven to midnight, and tomorrow from eight to one in the morning.

Pleasant.

And though the place where we're filming tonight is in walking distance from my place, Slim has offered to take a huge detour to pick me up. Strange, though I suspect it's to subject me to more conversations about walking on ceilings, re-enacting survival videogames and arguing over whether the Brain Wave Generator actually works (him: you never know; me: no, and stop putting that CD in your player, you can't get horny just because of a dumb annoying sound that gives headaches, now put in something that actually resembles music, like H.I.M. or Dream Theater or something).

Meanwhile, one might say I'm keeping it together by allowing myself a few good cries to free from tension (not crying out of sadness, rather for stress relief) and messing with Slim's opinions (a challenge, but a hilarious one).

In other news, you might have guessed that writing, of all kinds, is currently put on hold for the simple reason that I don't even have a right to full nights anymore (see above scheduling). I'll get back to it as soon as I'm free again, but it will definitely push back my release plans a few months, dammit.

That's not to say I can't let you read "new" stuff. If you read this blog in all its plain sometimes-cussing glory, you're probably mature enough to read the more adult stuff I've written in the past to rid myself of writer's block. I didn't release it, but it's quality stuff, in spite of its lemony taste. If you think you'd like me to make it available to you, vote about it on the top of the side navigation bar. Just remember that if I do, I don't have any control over who sees it and it could corrupt an oversexed thirteen year-old even more (egads!).

Also, I have a new video for you to see. :) I'll post it here for now, but I'll also upload it to YouTube sometime soon. It was finished a little while ago, but I needed to find a better compressor (the original file weighed around 600 Mb).

Before anyone inquires about the music I used, it's actually my personal version of "If You Shout" by eRa (Eric Levi's choral work). I cut off a third of it and sped it up; any versions you find online will be a tad slower and in full. I absolutely adore the feel of eRa, since it's both modern and rhythmic but contains a sort of mystical, ancient tone. The language is purely invented, which makes it all the more interesting. "If You Shout" is not my favourite song by eRa, but it seemed to suit a LoZ video best. If you're interested, I suggest you give "Ameno" and "Enae Volare Mezzo" a little hearing.

Yeah, my tastes in music run in every direction.

Anyway, tell me what you think if you have time.

Love,
CM