Production Update # 24: Still Waiting for Steenbeck Repair!

These are perhaps the most disheartening moments in the micro-budget independent film process. When equipment breaks down. When people are willing but unavailable. When you are too broke to buy more film stock or pay anyone to work on your crew. When everything grinds to an undeniable halt: Suddenly YOU actually have room in your schedule to move forward, but the film gods are lounging feet-up in their comfy chairs with the extra-large drink holders, taunting you: "You want time? Here's your time...  But say buh-bye to all your other resources."

At moments like this, I wish I actually had that big wad of Hollywood cash to throw at the problem, just to get us rolling again. Sure, I can plan, keep working on the story, scout locations, find props. But right now I want to edit. To see if the film we've already shot works... and if not, what we can do to make it work.

If one more person asks, "Wouldn't it be easier to shoot on video? Why are you working in film when digital technology is so much cheaper?", I think an artery in my neck will burst... These are well-intentioned souls, but they will never understand, and it's almost not worth the effort to try to lead them toward the light: Telling a good story, one you really care about, is never about expediency. It's about tenacity. It's about not taking short cuts, but also about not giving up. Sometimes, letting the story take the time it needs to evolve seems absurd to those outside the process. "Are you done yet?" they ask. I've heard it so often I call my little homemade production company "RUdoneYETfilms." But these are folks who see film as a product. As a commodity. As something to be consumed, critiqued, then stored away on a shelf.

But I see it as a process. A journey. A path. An opportunity to work on something larger than myself with other people fully engaged, fully committed to the irrationality of it all. It's also a chance to create a cinematic artifact, a snapshot in time that has a very real shot at outlasting my own mortality... And once the characters start talking to you, you get hooked: You want to follow their story wherever it takes you. Quite simply, you need to see how the film will end...

So the broken Steenbeck angers me not so much because it is wreaking havoc with the production schedule. It angers me because it is the most central tool I need to chase the story: Every shot cut into the reel answers a question. But it also asks the next question. Without the Steenbeck to assemble what I have, I can only guess at the next questions.  I need to chunk in the actual shots to be sure...

And so, while I anxiously await that phone call from Christy's Editorial in Los Angeles, CA -- 2,600 miles away -- here are a few photos taken by Greg Witthauer on our last shoot (6/26/05). When I look at them, they remind me of why I suffer through all the equipment failures, all the doubts, and all the well-intentioned but misguided questions about why we shoot film.

Onward.