I didn’t know what to expect.

As one who has edited his own videos to create short, mostly watchable productions, I have become increasingly intrigued by the filmmaking process.

My recent (and first) experience as a stills photographer on a movie set showed me just how meticulous the filming alone can get, especially when using only one camera. It also showed me just how much fun these people have doing their jobs.

It was a dark and stormy night (no, really, it was). I guided our minivan down rain-soaked streets from the suburbs north of Dallas to the downtown area, just east of the city’s renowned skyline. It was my first trip to Deep Ellum, the city’s arts and entertainment district, where a restaurant called Excuses served as the setting for the film’s final scenes. Several seedy-looking buildings lining the streets and a few rough-hewn street walkers showed me why my co-worker had advised not taking the DART train and walking the remaining half mile.

My van’s tires splashed through a few potholes as I made my way to a parking spot near Excuses. I shoved my work laptop bag under the shelf between the two front seats and double-checked that I had locked the doors and had my keys. One camera body in hand, one tucked inside my bag with all my lenses, I was glad the rain had let up for the moment.

The dimly-lit restaurant was decorated with attractive modern art including richly colored paintings and sculptures with severe angles. On the dance floor, neon tubing lined a runway punctuated by a smooth, shiny metal pole leading up to the ceiling. I meandered through the seating area, where only two tables were occupied, and found everyone setting up at and near the bar.

A beautiful young woman sat at one end of the bar talking to a man who appeared to be the bartender. I soon found that they and everyone else sitting or standing were part of the cast. That remained true for the next three hours, except for the real bartender popping in between takes to make drinks for patrons. Diners on their way to the restroom were encouraged to become unpaid extras on-the-fly merely by signing a release form.

That reminded me of the time the film Biloxi Blues placed extras application forms at one of the high schools I attended. The ROTC guys, haircuts already a non-issue, jumped at the chance.

   

 
Before each take, the director told everyone to take their places, and he or a random crew member held up a large white posterboard for the cinematographer to set the camera’s white balance. Then the cinematographer said, “Rolling,” and the director counted down from three and shouted, “Action!” As a photographer and a movie fan I was a bit disappointed that nobody stepped in to open and slam shut the hinged top of a black-and-white striped rectangle. Blame it on the economy.

I tried to shoot with existing light at first, but the bar area was very dark, and the set lights were not as bright as I had hoped. With inexpensive lenses that don’t open very wide, and older cameras that aren’t particularly good at high ISO settings, I soon resigned myself to shooting pictures between takes, using the flash.

My method was this: as soon as the director yells, “Cut!” I swoop in, temporarily blind everybody, and then back away quickly. They didn’t complain.

The acting was better than I have seen in many films with huge budgets. The process of directing them and capturing their actions? For that, I have no reference point. The director certainly could have used a megaphone, even one of those given away at football games. The cast got along so well that they often became too boisterous to hear him when the next shot was starting.

I can’t imagine the restaurant guests would have objected to a small megaphone anymore than they did the “F” word being shouted by an actress delivering her lines.

I thought the experience might remind me of the plays I acted in high school. Actually, not one bit. That process involved morning after very early morning of rehearsals, speed-running our lines, and culminated in a live performance, a one-shot deal. Then a few more performances after that.

Acting for a film is much different. I don’t know how much prep anybody did for previous scenes, but for these they were encouraged to ad-lib as long as they got across the message. A few lines had to be delivered as written, but for the most part they varied from take to take.

For moving shots, the cinematographer sat in a wheelchair — the camera carefully cradled on his shoulder, while a grip pushed him along at a slow, steady pace. Like a bridesmaid managing the bride’s train, a worker followed behind feeding out the cable that lead back to the video monitor.

Music pounding now that the restaurant had closed to make way for its alter identity, the club, it was time to film the final scene.

We gathered in a narrow corridor made narrower by velvet rope strung over brass poles, where I snapped a few shots of the leading lady and other crew discussing what she was supposed to do.

“Do you want to be in this scene?” a crew member asked me.

“Sure,” I said. Thought you’d never ask.

I hid my camera away. Now, what was my motivation? I got it! I’m frustrated because this guy in front of me is holding up the line, so I’m using my mobile phone to text a friend a few choice words. This truly was acting because I never have sent a text message.

The leading lady stormed up to the guy manning the ropes, who told her she couldn’t take her glass out of the bar, and she emptied it into his face and threw the glass to its loud demise on the floor. She nailed it on the first take, so if I’m in the shot, I hope my reaction wasn’t over the top.

   

 
Finally, after they had completed their final take, we had the cast and crew pose on a metal stairwell across from the bar. Once they disbanded, I couldn’t turn around with bumping into people hugging each other.

On my own I have learned much of what it takes to capture various angles of one scene, capture the audio track on a separate device and mix it in later, add voice-overs, and combine it all in a way that makes it look seamless. Well, maybe I haven’t reached seamless yet. Watch an old video of my son singing and swinging for an example of everything except voice-over.

Seeing that crew in action for just a few hours more than doubled my meager knowledge.