I had my most terrifying weekend since our last shoot this week.

I may have entered this job not knowing much, but I did know this about directing: you don’t tell anybody you’re afraid. You don’t tell actors that you’re petrified of failure. You smile, because if you don’t, everything might fall apart.

So when we were invited to the Butterly house to get together and rehearse, I didn’t tell them that I’d only read Janet Weston’s book one and a half times, and I still felt like a blinking “failure” sign was floating over my head in neon. I said, “Great! How wonderful. We’re going to have so much fun. Just let me dump everything I had planned for this week and prepare. No, we can totally do this…” and went and read the rehearsal chapter again gasping like a dying fish and realizing I had no idea what I was going to do or just how badly I could screw this up.

When I got a couple actors in a room together, first off it took ten minutes before I could even talk to them about starting. Music was playing, and people were joking around and texting and…and I was really, really scared. What if I was just bugging them and they didn’t want to do this? What if no one listened and I ended up talking to the walls? What if I made them mad or I scared them away and everyone quit or I taught them wrong or… Victoria Butterly rescued me.

“What is it?” she said.

I stared at her in an agony of indecision. “I…” I got out. “I’m trying to come up with a nice way of saying something, and I don’t know how.”

“Come on, what is it?” Her smile was flashing, and the others were laughing. “Just say it, Joy.”

I swallowed. “Could…” I felt like crawling into the floor. “Could you please stop texting?”

“Oh,” she said. She looked surprised. “Sure.”

Just like that. We were on the same side, and we were in it together.

Even if I had to grab Andy’s head and explain to her that what she was saying was fascinating but had nothing to do with rehearsal.  Even if I ended up saying something along the lines of “I love you, you’re beautiful, just be quiet” when someone else (*cough*, Hannah) broke in with something fantastically entertaining with even less to do with rehearsal. Even if I wasn’t as smooth or glib or witty or talented as I’d have liked to be. We were in it together. And we did it.

“Okay,” I said, my voice growing in strength. “We are going to start with a really stupid sounding game. And then, we’re going to rehearse it wrong.”

Thank you, Judith Weston.

I told them that the point of this rehearsal was to loosen up, to get comfortable playing off each other, and to make sure we didn’t get set into a stale reading. (Hence the totally pointless seeming game where people kept eye-contact and repeated bizarre statements.) The new way was hard to get into. People were more used to my regular inept direction; and the new stuff was bizarre for them. I’d watch people change and come alive during an exercise, and then they’d say it was uncomfortable, or second guess themselves. At one point, when I refused to answer a question with a specific, someone got kind of panicked and said, in a forced laugh, “I liked the old way better!” And I wanted to say, “That’s because you can’t see how AMAZING you are right now. You’ll see it on the screen…and then you’ll understand.”

My favorite part was rehearsing it wrong.

I knew we couldn’t rehearse with the actual scenarios yet, because at this point in the game we were way too likely to get sucked into line-readings- deciding what something means and saying it the same way every time. So I kept all my cards close to my chest, and we rehearsed wrong almost three times as much as we did right. Sometimes there would be resistance at first… “But that’s impossible!” “But that’s not the way it is in the script!” “But we’re brother and sister!” But they really got into it. When they were doing something we all knew wasn’t in the script, they played off each other, and they got more fully immersed in the material. They loosened up and they tried things. We played it with directions that would never make it into the movie. We tried things…knowing they might not work. And it was amazing.

I am so grateful for the Butterlys. I know the books say you need to maintain distance with your actors. I know Janet Weston would probably not approve of playing games on the Wii, borrowing their shampoo, learning their soup recipes, and hobnobbing with them nearly as much as I have. But…without these people, I wouldn’t be here, doing this. It probably isn’t normal. But knowing these people, spending time with them…it feels right.

Oh. I really like you guys…if you hadn’t figured that out already.

God is amazing. Next rehearsal? Is going to be even more awesome. And you know what? I’m not even scared.

December 30, 2009

I was reading a how-to-direct book recently, and a particular line froze me to my seat. “You cannot,” it said, “sit in your director’s chair the whole time.”

You've got to be kidding me.

A director? In a chair?

I’ve seen a director in a tree plenty of times. The last set I was on, the director, Chad Zeller, was constantly risking his life climbing high things for camera angles…including, in one scary instance, a rotting ladder. He got halfway up before it gave way to a chorus of screams and left him hanging there, halfway up, halfway down. Well . . . we were screaming. He gave a herculean yell, hauled himself up, and got the shot he wanted. 

Yeah, I'm good with directors in trees. But I never once saw the guy sit down while we were filming...unless he was explaining how to act to a group of elementary kids. That's guts.

So...why does this image bother me? Why have I never seen a director in a chair?

Well, I thought about it, and I realized . . . you don’t see low-budget directors in a chair, because they’re almost never just the director.  They’re also the producer and director of photography and the key grip and the continuity manager and the production manager and sometimes the assistant-to-the-person-who-get’s-the-coffee too. You see them setting up a stunt and then you see them helping everyone clear brush and move logs so they can pull it off. You see them give instructions to the actors, and then you see them helping "wardrobe" tangle burrs into someone's hair. You see them yelling orders and then you see them setting up the camera, or handing out water bottles, or telling the kid, "look, I know you're bleeding, but since the wound is the size of pygmy gnat, can we NOT stop filming, please?" And all the time they're getting the time and trying to keep everything scheduled and check-listed and keep all the bases covered and realizing that they're behind schedule and their job is impossible and everyone is breathing down their neck but it WILL get done . . . and they're keeping from visibly freaking out so they can keep you calm and tell you what to do and keep everone on their job. You never see them sitting down, because they're so integrally involved with the spit and the grit of filmmaking, so busy making their film, that they never get a chance.

Unless they’re acting, in which case, it's a nightmare you don't want to contemplate. If you want a dissertation on how awful that is, try back a few blog entries. I believe it starts, "You know you're having a nervous breakdown when . . . "

These people always seemed like crazy, masochistic, tragic, amazing superheros to me. That's one reason I got into this job. But as I got into it, I realized . . . yeah, the movies get done, but there's a reason that the big shots don’t try to do all these jobs themselves, a reason in Hollywood you don't have a person doing all these things at the same time. There's a reason these positions are separate jobs in the first place. Partly because, *cough*, this is way harder and more crazy than you think it is before you try it, and partly because they require different focuses and disciplines. And while you might be good at any one of them, when you’re doing them all at one time, things can- and usually do- slip through the cracks.

You can look into a camera and tell someone's elbow is in the picture, right? Well, so can I . . . but I didn't notice while shooting the opening scene with Hannah Lay. That's why I have way fewer shots to work with than I thought, and editing is going to be a blend of tightrope performance and open-heart surgery. You can push a tiny button and white balance a camera, can't you? Well, so can I . . . except when I'm so lost trying to direct a scene that's over my head that I forget. That's why we lost an entire day's worth of footage when everyone turned out blue.  And that’s not even mentioning the shot we had to go back and shoot again because someone was silhouetted behind the door in every take, or the time I found out that the camera and crew were reflected in the window behind the talent, or all the little times I was just not available enough because I was trying to do too much. Am I freaking out? No. Was I crazy taking on this job? Maybe! But the fact is, even if I am learning, and studying, and God is providing for us in an awesome way . . . there are things I need help in. I can do a lot more than I thought I could . . . but I can’t do it alone.

After a near-breakdown at the National Scholastic Chess Tournament a few weeks ago, I talked to my sister, and she agreed to step in as script supervisor (or “continuity manager”). That means, she'll make sure we get all the shots we’re supposed to, with no elbows or shadows that shouldn’t be there, and keep records of what we shoot. I talked to my mom, and she agreed to take over and direct the scene I’m in, so I’ll only have to act and run the camera. Am I still doing a ton of jobs? Absolutely! But God's going to supply everything I need. I'm not the naïve girl who volunteered, sure she could make a feature film. I'm not the totally freaked out girl who got disillusioned ver, very quickly. I know I don't have all the answers. But I know the Guy Who does. And He keeps giving me books!  J

Maybe someday Possum Tango Productions will be so professional that we won’t have people covering two to six jobs a piece. Eventually, we might just have full crews and separate people running the camera (or multiple cameras!), different people directing photography, producing, running lights, dressing sets, managing wardrobe, and all the other kooky stuff that comes up. Someday, we might have separate fight choreographers and FX specialists and experts to help with foreign accents. But right here? Right now? This is an adventure. This is a launching pad. And we're going to make this movie the best it can be. Not because we're brilliant, but because God likes using kooky people, and doing crazy things. I don't know how many lives will be changed watching this movie. But I know mine is being changed by making it.

". . . God will liberaly supply your every need according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:19)

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and not in your own intelligence. Acknowledge Him in all your ways, and He will level your paths." (Psalm 8:5-6)

"The Lord says, 'I will teach you. I will show you the way you should go. I will give you counsel and look out for you.'" (Psalm 32:8)

Yes, this too big. But I'm learning to ask for help in a big way.

So, about the chair…thanks. But no thanks. J

-Joy Smith, assistant to the person who gets beverages

December 2, 2009

I really expected this blog to be about lots of people getting together to do crazy things. Instead, as schedules are cut and chopped and people are isolated, there have been so many entries with just me, alone, freaking out.

Filmmaking has been a lot different than I expected.

This is a yo-yo life.

I wake up insanely happy. I mean, "You are picking on me and it doesn't matter because this movie is so amazingly fun" kind of happy. Fast forward three hours and I'm thrown into a confrontation that send me into a gut-crushing, life and death struggle just not to give up. It's always an extreme...and a lot of times, it's extremely scary.

I mean, I thought this was easy...at least the moral side of it. But I’ve been facing choices I never thought I’d have to think about, like do I do things God’s way when it doesn’t make sense…when we could lose everything. Do I do what I think is right here when it could endanger my relationship with this person? How about now, how to the letter do we have to be? Is it okay to be mostly right with God? Everything I believe has gotten hammered, and tested, and slammed, and I've had to make decisions that really hurt. The moral side of this is tough. And I'm on one little project, surrounded by Christians. When they said this business destroyed people, they were right.

Would you allow me a melodramatic image that's really real for me right now?

It’s like you’re being pursued by a monster, twenty-four seven. There’s something trying to kill you, every moment of the day. There are voices all the time telling you you’re going to fail, you've already failed, you are not strong enough or smart enough or dedicated enough, it doesn’t matter what you do, you are ignored and alone and He won’t come through. Telling you that you’re stupid, what you’re doing is stupid, and it will be worse than selling coupon books. And every day you’re clinging to His promises, reading his Word, praying like any minute you could be thrown into battle for your dreams…usually you are.

Oh, and most people think you’re crazy...that improves morale incredibly.

So what did my Director do?

When Jesus was here…and His project was way, way bigger than mine…there were things trying to destroy Him all the time. There were voices telling him he was a screw-up and a failure, people telling him he was crazy, and no good, that He was evil and He didn’t know God. You read the gospels; He had times when he felt alone, forsaken. But he didn’t give up. If there’s a monster after me, there must have been ten thousand after Him. But He spoke the word God gave Him, and He didn't shrink back. And He won.

I don’t know what I’m in training for. I don’t know why this movie is so important. I don’t know God's plan here, but whatever it is, I’m not quitting now. This movie will be made, and it’ll be made to the utmost. The action scenes will be clean. The emotions will be true. And the editing will be sharp. I asked Him, I’m believing, and He will come through.

I hope you have a great week. Stay focused. And if you find time, please pray for us. We need it.

-Joy Smith, director

November 25, 2009

Every Saturday from now till January is busy, and filming is on hold.

I lost a one inch plastic piece to my adapter, and editing is on hold.

All that’s not on hold is me sitting at my computer, and writing up shoot details; where each shoot is, what people are involved and what props and wardrobe we need. And this would be plodding, peaceful work, if I didn’t have a battle to fight the whole time.

Every minute I do this, I’m getting attacked. The more I learn and the more I see and the more I sit here and realize what this project entails, the more my soul is screaming that this is too big. It’s too hard. There’s too much opportunity for failure. Doubt whispers in my ear and my mind is screaming that I’m in over my head.

I know God gave me this job. I don’t know why He did it, and I definitely didn’t know what it entailed when I took it. But He gave it to me. I look at myself, and I see failure. I see weakness. I see all the reasons why this could fail. But that’s not where I’m supposed to be looking.

Ephesians 2:10 says “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Isaiah 46:10 “…I {God} say: my purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.”

Joshua 1:9 says, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

It’s not about what I see in me. I have to look in the Word, and stand on what God sees in me. God gave me this job to do. If God set this up, it’ll happen. I’ll commit my ways to him, and He’ll make them straight. I won’t be disobedient and get discouraged. And His purpose will stand, and He will do all that He pleases.

I have one more verse to add:

John 15:7-8, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.”

I’m asking for His blessing on this movie He’s given us. And I know, absolutely, that He’s gonna come through.

And I'm also praying that we find that adapter piece.

Don’t listen to all the voices in your head…open the Word, and listen for His.

Have a great week.

Sincerely,

Joy Smith

November 18, 2009

Filming fell through this weekend, so I decided to catalogue the top three weirdest situations I’ve run into as a director. If you can think of something weirder, write to me; I’m always looking for guest bloggers. J

Third Weirdest:  An actor strike in which all the talent sits down and colors pictures for five minutes. I’m still not entirely sure about the motivation of this stand-off. But all the actors sat down and started coloring with markers and refused to be cajoled into continuing for what felt like an enormous amount of time. (My sister responded just now, “Yeah! That was awesome! I think I started that...”)

Second Weirdest: Bit part taken as invitation to rewrite script. This person was invited for a bit part, and they started going to everyone and saying, “I know what part she’ll have for you, she can write you into the story this way…” and I was just paralyzed there with no idea what to do…of all my weird experiences, this is the last one I want to repeat. There was no way I could write in a pastor and a car-pooling evangelist. Did I explain that he had no idea what he was saying or tell them that they were on file for a future project  or what?

All-Time Weirdest: The “Audition.” Ever happened to you? Someone hears there are terrorists in the movie you’re directing, so they “audition” by grabbing your lapels, slamming you against the wall, and threatening your life! Leaving you to get out, “Thank you! I’ll keep you in mind. So...do you do stunts?”

...have a great week. J

-Joy Smith

P.S. I wasn’t lying about the future project…I file everyone.

November 11, 2009

Part of the adventure of making QuickStep, the movie has been working with unorthodox equipment. Because of budget constraints, QuickStep is being shot in Sony Handycam…most of the time with whatever lighting we find on location. Of course, there are exceptions…George is bringing in a desk lamp for the scene in the garage.

Yeah, we’re shooting with noob equipment. And it’s been great. Sure, we’d love to have the big, fancy stuff big studios use, but we made the decision to film any way…and we’re learning a lot.

For instance, you know when you see the professional cameras, how they always have this gigantic lens the size of a cake plate? And you never really think about why they might want a lens as big as a flying saucer…until you’re filming with a lens the size of a quarter and you realize, “whoa, this looks different. I can’t fit as much room into a picture.” One of the early shoots, we spent maybe twenty minutes trying to arrange a shot, moving furniture in a way so it wouldn’t show on camera, climbing on tables to get the camera higher and all sorts of loony stuff, before I finally got it: “It doesn’t matter how far away I get; I will never get this shot to look right, because I cannot get that look with a miniature lens.” So, we put all the furniture back, and reworked the story board to work with our camera.

You can do some wacky things to compensate for your tiny camera, like doing back bends over tables to get the camera back far enough, or faking that a room is a hallway and hoping no one will notice. But the hardest shot we had to do (minus the musical desks sequence) was a close up shot. Our problem wasn’t complicated…George just happens to be tall. Really, really tall...

We were filming one of the final scenes, and we had this intense shot where we both George and Hannah Lay are in the frame. The problem is, her head maybe reaches his armpit, and we couldn’t fit them both in the picture. So we came up with this brilliant idea to have him lean in. So they’re glaring at each other over the desk, trying to keep this intensity as they're leaning in, and I’m standing there saying “closer…closer…”

It was a blast.

Working with substandard equipment is turning out to be a blessing, with all these challenges, and lessons, and laughs along the way. Will we upgrade when we get the chance? Absolutely. But in the meantime, there’s a lot left to learn.

Who knows? Maybe someday, big studios will fit their cameras with handycam lenses, just to emulate the artistic style of this classic comedy spy flick!

Then their directors will do backbends over counters, look at their screens and say “closer…closer…”

Have a great week. J

Sincerely,

Joy Smith

November 4, 2009

You know your confidence is shot when you have a nervous breakdown over walking through a door.

It was the Heinous Shoot of October 09. The camera was rolling. I had practiced the action over and over. I don’t have many lines in this movie, but this was the simplest of them: “So sorry I’m late.” This wasn’t supposed to be hard. Open the door. Smile. Say the line. So why did I keep messing up?

Yeah, it had been a long night, but I’d practiced this. A lot! After take five, I was asking myself what was wrong with me, even forgetting my line. After take ten, I was terrified that I’d never get it right, and I’d be the goon who put her own sub-standard take in the movie. My shoulders were automatically hunching, and I was ducking my head. After take fifteen, I found out the camera had been misplaced, and I crumbled. I was officially a wreck.

I knew that line. I knew that walk. I’d practiced it a dozen times. So why, in the midst of the most stressful shoot of the year, did I mess up?   

I’d love to give you a fancy, clinical answer, but everything I’ve got I learned from a chess-class hand out.

Confidence. As you think, so shall you play. If you sit down at the board believing there is no way you can win, you will lose. Almost one hundred percent of the time. A crisis of confidence can start on the set just as easily as it can on the chess board: You make a mistake. Just a little one. It surprises you. Unnerved, you make another one. You start fixating on your blunders. Nerves make it even more difficult to think straight, till you are playing a losing game. You believe the problem in front of you is impossible. You end up believing that there’s no way you can win. So? You lose.

I’d rather work through almost any injury than work through shattered confidence. Directing with it is even worse. “As you think, so shall you play.”

I always used to kind of smile and nod when our coach said that, kind of like when someone tells you to “believe in yourself.” But after that shoot, I looked through all the things that I’ve done, and came to a startling conclusion: Every single thing I’ve succeeded at, I was 100% sure I could succeed at it. It might have gotten really hard, but I knew if I worked at it another hour, another week, another year, I’d get it… and I did. Every single thing I’d failed at, I’d quit…because I thought I couldn’t succeed.

Okay, so you know, confidence doesn’t mean you think everything you do is great, and you’ll never mess up. The confidence I’m talking about is confidence in the end result. For instance, I know we are going to have a lot of bloopers on this film. But I know that the end result, the film, will rise above all odds. I know we’re going to get this right. Why? Because God doesn’t give people losing battles.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for you Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” {Joshua 1:9} I say, “You are my hiding place.” He says, “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go.” {Psalm 32:7-8} I say “I have no earthly idea of what I’m doing,” He says “If any one of you lack wisdom, let him ask God…and it will be given to him.” I’m going to be asking for wisdom a lot.

Because of the white-balance fiasco, we get to film that wonderful door shot again. I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to practice again, and talk it through my mom. If I mess up, I’ll shake it off, smile and try again, knowing that, in the end, we will get it right. And we will.

I hope you have a wonderful week, and get to ask God for wisdom with wild, impossible projects at every turn. It’s a fun way to spend your life. Signing off,

Joy Smith

October 28, 2009

Okay, so last Saturday was really rough.

We had a new mix of people, and it was a challenge to get professional, which usually happens the first time with a group. Unbeknownst to us, our assistant director was coming down with the flu, so she was really out of it and couldn’t help much. People had a hard time getting into the zone, and other people tried some unorthodox methods to “help” them…and things got really, really out of hand. I don’t think that we were epitomizing the biblical principles of gentleness and patience in any way, shape, or form. It was slow, hard and unproductive, and when we left at midnight, we had checked off three boxes of thirty-six. Then, I downloaded the footage, and got one last lovely surprise…I hadn’t white-balanced the camera. Everyone in every picture was blue.

 Add some emotional emails, and come Monday, I wasn’t even sure if we were still making a movie.

I was a wreck. I ended up just busted, on my knees, crying out, “God, I’ve failed every way I can see to fail this week. I know You forgive me, but can anybody else? Can You even use me with these people anymore?”

One of the things I learned this week is that God doesn’t freak out when we mess up. He doesn’t give up on us when we feel like screw-ups. He has plans, and he doesn’t expect us to know how to do them, he just wants us to trust Him. He likes it when we hand everything over; commit unconditionally to doing things His way.

Yeah, I screwed up this week, and it brought me to a question. I had to ask God, “Do you think you can use someone who screwed up?” and I got His answer. “Do you even think you can screw up bad enough so I can’t?”

The movie is still underway. No footage from this week is usable for the movie…and I’m kind of glad. I want, in every shoot for this film, to try and do things the way God would do it, just because we want to be like Him. Last shoot happened, and we learned from it, but nothing in it contributes to this movie other than what we learned.  Next shoot, we start clean.

I hope you have an awesome week. God bless.

Sincerely,

Joy Smith, Director

October 7, 2009

Freaky Phone Calls and Running on Fumes

People talk about receiving scary phone calls…the kind where you pick up, and you know your life will never be the same. Last week I received one of the scariest calls I’ve ever got. I picked up the phone, and our location manager was there. “Hey, Joy?” he said. “You know the flat you’ve been filming in?…it’s being leased.”

We had to finish all filming on that location...in one night.

Desperation, seemingly impossible goals and wild time-tables…obvious harbingers of a fantastic plan from God.

We got together. We prayed. We had no options, no leeway, and no thought of backing out.

We did it.

We innovated- improvising lighting instruments from paper and office supplies. We made mistakes- we forgot to use the makeshift lighting, leaving faces in freaky shadow for a key shot. We lost takes because a lighting tool or an elbow got into the frame while I was focused on the subject. We filmed things over and over to get them right…simple stuff, on camera, got complicated. (Ever analyzed the way you open a door, twenty times? George has!) We got tired and punchy. I interviewed a plant. People got so focused on their actions that they forgot to move their necks. And we pressed on. We got great emotional bits. George burst out laughing at random points. Victoria ate a banana. We got what we thought was totally exhausted. And people pulled up energy they didn’t know they had. I gave instructions…and forgot what we were doing by the time I hit record. I left out crucial shots. I started losing my English.

God came through anyway.

Maybe you’re sick of me ending with what I’ve learned, but when I totally freaked out afterwards over the huge holes in the editing- you probably won’t hear any heroic stories about film editors any time soon, but I will tell you it is the toughest thing I’ve tried- God hit me with 2 Corinthians 12:9: “My grace is enough for you, for my power is brought to perfection in weakness.”

No, I don’t have all the answers. No, I am definitely not the super-director that I expected to be. But this project belongs to God. And, like it says in Proverbs 16:3, He’s gonna bring it to success. His strength is perfect…even, maybe especially, when I’m clueless.

Have a great week…I know I will.

And if someone suggests that you interview a plant? Do it. It’s worth it.