(PICTURE: Tom Ivy on a filming site survey at the Knesset, the Israeli Parliament, in Jerusalem, Israel)

Why Am I Blogging?

WHY AM I BLOGGING?

I'd much prefer to be standing beside a camera calling "Action" or in the director's booth of a giant arena, watching the stage manager call the cues to a big show I've designed... But when I'm NOT doing those things, I'm sometimes privileged to be asked to share some of what I know -- and what I'm still learning -- about this craft, about working with people in the entertainment business, and, more fundamentally about life in general... It's full of surprises, some of them delightful, some of them devastating, all of them capable of making me a better professional, a better friend, a better husband and father. So from time to time I'll share some of these 'lessons from life' with the particular slant of a guy who loves what he does and has learned some lessons (too many of them the hard way) about writing, producing, directing, and about this often-confusing journey called life. I welcome your comments and viewpoints in this conversation...

Tom Ivy

Thursday, December 15, 2011

"NOON BALOON"


I had just flown into Costa Rica.  I was about to meet my crew – well, not really MY crew, but the local news crew my producer had hired to avoid spending the money to fly my American crew down from LA for the documentary I was there to shoot.   I was concerned. 

A good television news crew must be able to quickly capture enough images to provide a reporter with visual coverage for a breaking story.  The FACTS of the story are what is essential to good news reporting.  A documentary film crew has an additional need to find those compelling images that tell a deeper story, often one with strong emotional elements.  But like a news director, a documentary filmmaker seldom has the opportunity to set up every shot or to check playback on every take.   If he is not the cameraman himself,  he must rely on his camera crew to jump into a moment and be ‘self-directed’ in capturing emotionally-compelling images, as well as filming sufficient angle choices to provide adequate material for later editing the sequence.   This kind of photo-journalism is an art and few do it well.   I needed to understand what these guys could do.

I set about to explain the emotional character of the material I was hoping to shoot, contrasting straight news photography (with which I knew they were very familiar) and photo-journalism documentary film-making (of which I had no idea of their experience or understanding).   After a few moments, the cameraman (who I had only met a few minutes before) leaned over and said, “You know Tom, we didn’t just drop in on the noon balloon!”   What he was trying to politely tell me was ‘Shut up, stupid!  We know what we’re doing!”   I said no more.  We went on location.  We shot for several days.  The material would have made great clips on the evening news.  It was not photo-journalism. 

In the end, I had to agree with their assessment.  They had NOT just dropped in – they never got there!   We  somehow  made the material work.  But the resulting film fell far short of what it COULD have been.  I DID come away with an expression I’ve been able to use many times since then.  The next time someone who doesn’t know you is questioning  YOUR skills or ability to do something,  you can gently remind them that ‘you didn’t just drop in on the noon balloon’.   They’ll either smile and believe you or be more convinced than ever that you’re not the one for their job!  Good luck!


Thursday, December 1, 2011

"LOSE TO WIN?"

We were on location in the Colorado Rockies, shooting scenes for an upcoming Christmas television special.  The older celebrity I was directing was getting tired as I pressed for yet another take.  Not that any were unusable.  They just hadn't risen to the performance I had imagined when I wrote the script.  I kept pushing for "just one more", and "just one more" is what I kept getting -- of the same performance!  I was about to call for yet another take when Ted, my producer, called me to one side and quietly pointed out that I was likely not going to get a better take, but I was tiring the talent to the point I would get even worse performances on the remaining scenes to be shot later.  I stubbornly pressed on anyway and Ted was respectful enough of my position as director to let me do it, though he was obviously displeased with my decision.

We shot the scene again.  It was only marginally better than the other takes.  But more importantly, I had flexed my rightful creative authority as director and won, or so I thought.  We broke for lunch.  Danny Franks, our lighting designer, had overheard my conversation with Ted.  He fell in step beside me as I walked from the set.

Danny may be physically a short man, but he's super tall in the ways that count.  The name Danny Franks and American theatrical drama on television are practically synonymous.   His lighting design credits on "American Playhouse",  "Great Performances",  "Live At Lincoln Center" and a host of network specials, chronicle an award-winning career of Broadway music and drama staged on American television.  I was privileged to work alongside this veteran television legend early in my career and we had become good friends.

Danny turned to me and said something that changed my life.  "Tom, you've got to learn how to lose the battle so you can win the war!"   I looked at him puzzled (shows you how smart I am!).  Danny continued, "You won the battle with Ted back here, but you lost the war.  The next time you disagree over something, he'll be much less inclined to listen to you.  He'll suspect you would insist on getting your way and disregard the value of his opinion anyway, no matter what he says.   If instead, you'd have made him feel that you DID value his opinion, listened to what he said, and let yourself lose what was really a very inconsequential battle, you'd have won Ted's confidence to trust you more the NEXT time...when it might really count.  In fact, you'd stand a better chance that there will BE a next time!

I let Danny's words sink in.  In "winning the battle" that morning I had little to show for it (side note: I ended up using an earlier take anyway!) -- but what I DID achieve was to alienate my producer and lose his trust.   I had compromised my performer's energies for the remaining scenes of the day, and I had frustrated the rest of my crew who could see (much better than I) the futility of my stubbornness.  Later that day, I went to Ted, my producer, and ate some well-deserved crow!   He graciously accepted my apology.  We went on to work together on lots of other productions.

Over the years, I've had plenty of opportunities to put Danny's advice into practice, not when it comes to compromising moral values or ethical integrity, but all those times (and directors seem to have more of them) when I was convinced my way of doing something, my creative vision, my choice, was the right one.    Time and time again, I've seen how my NOT insisting on getting my way (even when I had the authority to do so because I was also producing) saved a relationship with someone, or strengthened one, or gave an opportunity for someone else to shine that encouraged their own creative journey.   Those choices, on and off the stage, have made me a stronger leader and a better man.  Thanks, Danny!