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On Lighting

FOREWORD

I told a friend of mine that I was going to flood my brain with information about filmmaking and that I’d already learned a ton. She asked me if she could hang out with me so I could teach her as I learn. So, I’ve decided to share it here.

ON LIGHTING: COLOR

My friend bought a plasma TV. I tried to explain to him that the darkest black the TV could ever produce was the darkest black he could see on the screen with the TV off.

The function of lighting a set isn’t to make blacks darker, but to increase the range of the visible spectrum. And, that’s not for human eyes either. It’s for the camera.

You see, when we look at something, our brains figure out what it’s supposed to be and then that’s the way we think about it. For instance, if it’s late at night, and all the lights are off and you’re lying in bed, if you’ve got white walls, you’ll look at your walls and you’ll think, “Hey, there are my white walls.” However, you’re not actually seeing white walls. Instead, you’re seeing a dark shade of blueish gray.

The camera doesn’t make that compensation. It sees what’s there. Normally this doesn’t make much of a difference, but when we prefer to look at more brilliant pictures. What I mean is, we like to look at things that have a huge range in the color spectrum: bright whites and absolute blacks, vibrant reds and deep blues, etc.

When I light something on a set, it’s to increase that, leave the blacks black, but take the whites and make them white instead of that dark shade of blueish gray (assuming a daylight shot).

This is a delicate balance because it’s easy to make one of three mistakes: 1) Use so much light that the sensor in the camera peaks (this means that more things are that pure white than should be); 2) Not enough light; 3) Lighting the set without thinking about how it actually should look.

That last one is the most common mistake among indie filmmakers. You’ll see one side of a guys face clearly lit while the other side is almost completely black. It’s great for an effect, but if it’s not on purpose (and it’s usually not), then it takes away the value of having lighting there at all.

I hope that helps. If you’ve got other insights on the above subject, please let me know.

HACKER: Sneak Peek

In my first feature-length movie, I wrote a scene where a character breaks down and yells at her roommate (formerly her best friend). I’ve only got one camera and so in order to get good coverage of the scene we had to do several takes of the scene from several different angles.

It took the better part of four hours.

After we had wrapped, I was having some pearl tea with the lead actress and I asked her how she managed to stay in that emotional state for so long. I hadn’t done it and I was exhausted, almost on the verge of tears. She said something to the effect of, “That’s what I do. That’s what acting is.”

As I research computer hacking, I find my more mischievous personality traits, the ones that got me into so much trouble as a kid, wanting to creep back into my life. You see, in order to write HACKER, I’ve got to get inside the head of the lead character, a “gray hat” hacker. I need to know how he thinks, why he does what he does.

I need to know what his motivations are for everything that he does so when it comes time to talk to +Xander Jeanneret about the character and we decide how he’s going to play Hacker, I’ve got answers.

My natural tendency is to completely submerge myself in my work, to become a hacker for a little while. The problem is, many of the things the gray hats do are illegal. Since I don’t have any major moral compulsion to follow the law for its own sake, this could cause me some trouble.

So, if you’re a hacker in the Los Angeles or Orange County area and you’d like to talk about what it’s like to be you, hit me up. I can’t go there with you, but I’d sure love to watch and learn. And, if we end up working together, you will be credited, unless you prefer to remain Anonymous.

If you want a preview of what Hacker is like, check out the following video:

I Just Want to Paint

When I first started making my way into filmmaking, I kept hearing this phrase over and over again: “Never spend your own money.”

I get it. I mean, as my friend +Sean Hackett told me, “You just want to paint.” I don’t want to deal with money. I don’t want to have to deal with contracts or legal disputes or LLCs or S Corps or clearance. I just want to write stories and make movies.

But, the moment I accept other people’s money, it means I have to listen to what they say. I mean, they’re making my dreams possible, so it’s the least I can do. Plus, if they’re paying because they want to be a part of the magic too (most “qualified investors” don’t actually think movies are a valid investment; movies are just too high risk).

Of course, there is an alternative. I could ignore that age-old wisdom and actually raise my own money. I could use Kickstarter (which I may do someday). Or, I could do freelance work and make my own money and be answerable to no one (I always listen to the opinion of people with whom I choose to work: actors, DP, sound, etc.).

When I use my own money, I have absolute and unquestioned creative control. I don’t feel guilty when I make a mistake that costs money because it’s my money. Instead, I’m slightly more cautious with where the money is spent. I have to be more creative in my script because anything that shows up has to be paid for.

Sometimes that self-imposed restrictions results in pretty amazing solutions. For instance, on my current project HACKER, I can’t afford an armor. That means no guns. Here’s the thing, what’s a computer hacker know about guns anyway (ironically, most of my hacker friends own multiple guns each). Now, the script isn’t about cool explosions or bloody gunshot wounds. It’s about character and computer hacking!

Paying for everything myself also means I get to keep the profits (assuming there are any). That means with the next script I might be able to play with even more colors.

My Art Vs Nature

Sometimes I like to think of myself as an artist. I like to admire the things I’ve created, reading them, watching them, listening to them, sometimes just being in their presence and absorbing, or just as often, reflecting off of them whatever it is I feel.

And then I look out my window and see the sunset and I realize, no matter how good I ever get, I will always be a beginner.

People may eventually study my work, they might even teach classes on me and my work. But, I know that nothing I ever make will be done on the same scale as the sunset. I will never use as many or as vibrant or as suitable a palate as the sunset.

The thing that comes to my mind when I see the sunset is a couple making love in the orange and magenta hues, of people, swept up in passion, knowing each other in the moment that the Earth is as beautiful as it ever gets.

The funny thing is, that image, of bare skin lit by the sunset, that isn’t even the sunset, it’s a reflection off an imperfect medium, leaving only traces of the original. Even that is beyond what I’ll ever be able to create.

This line of thinking doesn’t depress me at all. Quite the contrary. I am not a competitive person; I desire to achieve. I don’t compete with Scorsese (I’m losing, so far) or Spielberg or Scott. And I don’t compete with the earth. When I see greatness, when I see perfection in beauty and form, I want to bring that sense of awe to my work.

When I see the sunset I want to make something beautiful too, and in some fractional way, improve the place in which I exist, making the lives of all of just just that much better.