Coming Down from a Production High
Notes on Wrapping Production
Production has always been my least favorite part of filmmaking. For years, I would silently lament going into production on a project, because when working on client jobs, everything can feel like a performance. Like you’re being watched. Every company move studied, every storyboard questioned, overages, creative solves, notes from video village. I honestly hate it.
But working on my proof of concept without a watchful eye felt intrinsically different. It felt free. And for the first time, I really understood the difference between producing art and producing commerce.
Of course, when you have investors on a feature, or you’re working on a television series, there are always going to be complexities. Notes from executives, investors thinking about the bottom line, and competing interests. But I had never been in a situation where none of that existed. And it made me love production in a way I didn’t think I could.
Now that I have a few weeks before post-production starts, I’m slowly getting the feeling that I’m coming down from a production high. I didn’t realize how much time and mental space this shoot occupied in my life.
And now that it’s over, that means I have time to think, which is not a good thing. My analytical brain has a tendency to work against me, and so I’m doing something I never would have done in the past unless it was client work: I’m focusing on a completely different project.
I’m pushing forward on a new project that is more complete than Invisible Moves. It’s a project that received a fair amount of industry feedback, something I tweaked and edited endlessly, but like many projects during the strikes, it ultimately went nowhere.
But now, it feels like the right time to revisit it, and in an effort to keep doing instead of thinking, I’m moving forward with it.
As a producer, I was always forced to multitask across multiple short-form projects because it was how I made my living. But I never understood how working directors, especially those mostly working on features, could operate that way.
Now I’m slowly starting to understand that if things go well on one project, you want to keep building momentum into the next. If anything, it’s made me realize how much of filmmaking is about creating a feeling, and how watching films is about experiencing the feeling that was created on set. Here are a few things that no one tells you after you finish filming:
Emails
I’ll wake up thinking there’s someone I haven’t answered, or something logistical I still need to work through. It happens for a moment, and then it dawns on me that production has wrapped. It’s a combination of relief and almost disbelief that you were able to pull this off.
Coverage
I’ve found myself replaying tiny moments in my head. How I directed an actor, whether it made sense to do it that way, whether I have enough coverage. I hate coverage. It feels like a tricky math equation.
We had a very finite amount of time to film all of our setups, and because of that, the shot list was meticulous. I didn’t feel the need to get a master shot for every scene. But now that I’m heading into post, I wonder if that was the right move. There’s this lingering feeling of: is it enough?
Wrapping Production
Finishing production comes with a certain sense of accomplishment, but once you head into post, you realize how much work still remains. It’s also the part of the process where you begin to understand that what you envisioned in your mind will more than likely look very different in the edit.
Not better or worse. Just different.
The Comedown
No one really talks about the emotional comedown after production. You spend months operating at a heightened level, constantly solving problems, making decisions, and moving toward something. Then suddenly, everything becomes quiet again. Your body stops moving before your brain does.