"One first class ticket to Lake Como, please"

If you were to say the word "casting" to my father, he'd assume you were talking about fishing. In my universe, casting is all about auditioning and selecting actors for roles. However, both connotations are important to the respective task at hand. For instance... 


If you don't cast your fishing line correctly, nobody eats. 

Similarly, if you don't cast your film correctly, nobody eats.

Well, no... that's not true. Of course we still get to eat. 

But if you do make a bad casting decision, it's possible the food might be harder to digest on set... and sometimes on a low budget film production, the quality of catering needs all the help it can get.

"Casting is 90% of directing" - Elia Kazan

Casting is integral to the success of any production and it can be a very stressful exercise as a result. Looking back, the only real disagreement I had throughout the entire production with Jason Crane (my co-producer and good friend) came during the casting process.

Ever see a movie where the romantic leads have zero chemistry? It's a complete deathblow to a film even if the miscast actors are talented and deliver fine performances. 

I recently read an interview with Alexander Payne (director of The Descendants) where he admitted to turning down George Clooney for a lead role in his earlier hit Sideways.

Despite persistent lobbying from distributors and the lure of a bigger opening weekend at the box office, Payne held his ground and chose to cast lesser-known actor Thomas Haden Church as a better fit for the tone of the material.

 Thomas Haden Church (Left) and Paul Giamatti in Sideways (2004, Fox Searchlight)

Now I like George Clooney as much as the next guy, but having seen Sideways, can you imagine him in that movie and in that role? I'm not saying the Cloonster wouldn't have played his part well, but the feel of the film would be much different. 

It's possible due to Clooney's mega-celebrity status that he could've been too heavy a counterweight for Paul Giamatti's lead character within the conceptual framework of Sideways. Certainly it appears that theory contributed to Alexander Payne's reasoning. 

Regardless, I give props to Payne as it takes some big cajones to turn a star like that down in a creative industry driven by commercial incentive. Honestly, if it was me, I don't know if I could have done the same... perhaps the thought of hanging with Clooney and his entourage of hot Italian chicks in Lake Como didn't appeal to Alexander Payne at the time? That dude must be disciplined. 

Meanwhile, a million miles away from Hollywood and Lake Como...

If there's one aspect of casting that low budget productions battle with, it can be consistency of acting ability and performance across the ensemble cast. 

Sometimes the lead roles are performed ably by fresh, interesting talent but it only takes one clunky, wooden turn from an actor in a supporting role to compromise the illusion of reality and the audience's perception of production quality. 

Look, sometimes it's just more convenient to cast your Uncle Bob because he's the right age, and he'll do it for free... plus, he'll let you shoot in his garage. 

You may laugh at that type of logic but it is perfectly understandable and one of the many potential perils of working to a low budget. In saying that, it's absolutely brilliant if your Uncle Bob turns out to be Robert De Niro.

In all seriousness, casting decisions can often be a process of elimination - resulting mostly from scheduling conflicts with other film and television productions. You may find the perfect actor but it's possible they'll already be committed elsewhere.  In that moment, your heart sinks as you know it's back to the drawing board to wade through countless more head shots. 

Furthermore, an actor's agent might not feel the role fits the 'strategy' they have mapped out for their client's career - which I've discovered is actually a very polite way for them to say the following:

(a) You don't have a decent enough track record.

(b) We think your script is shit.

(c) The role doesn't pay enough.

(d) All of the above. 

However, casting is not always the precarious minefield that I'm inferring. Sometimes when things seem most dire, an act of generosity or a piece of good fortune comes your way. At the risk of sounding woolly (oh god no!), everything does happen for a reason.  

One of the aspects of production that I'm most happy with regarding Finding Honk is the quality of the ensemble cast I was able gather for my low budget debut feature...

To be continued... watch this space for Part Two

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See What You've Done...

Here's a sneak peek at Heydon's original song See What You've Done. The following video captures the end of the track as he performs it for the first time while on location in the South Island. 

For the film's soundtrack, I had asked Heydon to write a song that spoke more to the genre of a road movie, something that encapsulated the grit and attitude of the production; where Blues meets Johnny Cash.

Three days later, he emerged with this...

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Arrested Development

As the arresting officer leads me into a holding cell at Manukau Police Station, he chortles - "I'm not gonna end up in your movie am I?". I just smile. Too right mate. If I'm getting arrested, then I want something to show for it. I delight in the knowledge that I can always blur his face in editing. It's a small comfort as he locks the door and exits my view.

My cell is the size of a small bus shelter and made of concrete with reinforced glass doors at each end. There I was, naked as the day I was born. Well, not really... I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt but those of you with an iPhone who can imagine it confiscated know what I mean.

Suddenly, a wave of claustrophobia hits me. Not a tidal wave, more like the gentle ripple you'd encounter at Takapuna Beach. I compose myself and take in my surroundings. The ceiling has a vent which pumps cold air directly downwards. Having entered from a hot summer's day, I initially savour the arctic breeze.

The metal bench seat is beset with poorly executed graffitti; crude, angular scratchings that you might find on a fourth former's mathematics desk. At that moment, I briefly consider the types of crimes perpetrated by the men and women who have occupied this space before me.

Then, movement beyond the glass door catches my eye. I peer into the main processing office, a large open plan area with computers and airport-style metal detectors. Several officers mill about with tasks; one views a bank of surveillance monitors which pry into corridors, interview rooms and the car park. Others congregate to glimpse a giant flat screen playing America's Next Top Model. I shake my my head and laugh. How on earth did I end up here?

My film got me here. A film project that required footage of a high-performance muscle car doing burnouts on a public road. The script called for it, so I had to find a way to capture these images. I could blame the scriptwriter, except... I wrote the script. And as I would soon find out, cops tend to frown upon what they refer to as "sustained loss of traction".

I get to my feet and begin pacing back and forth. The novelty of the experience is wearing thin and the air conditioning combined with the surrounding metal and concrete convert the cell into a makeshift refrigerator. I wonder if this feature is the result of poor planning or a deliberate ploy to make the occupant uncomfortable.

The officers in the processing area make sideways glances as if to say - "Sonny, no amount of pacing is going to get you out. We'll let you out when we want to let you out". I attempt to combat boredom by squinting into America's Next Top Model, but even with muted sound Tyra Banks still annoys the shit out of me. If only I had a permit. Then I wouldn't be in here, right? Why didn't I have a permit again?

I didn't have a permit because I didn't have time to organise one. Honestly. I wasn't being lazy. In fact, I only found out a few hours earlier that I was even shooting the 'burnout scene'.

The reason? The camera. A friend was able to access the Phantom camera at very short notice. The Phantom is a digital video system that shoots remarkably fluid slow motion images. Those of you who have seen the intro to the film Zombieland will appreciate its awesomeness. The Phantom normally hires out at a whopping $10,000 per day. This was an opportunity that I had to make the most of.

I knew that I wanted to capture slow motion images of the car doing burnouts. The car itself is a custom built '69 Corvette owned by Roger Williams, a gunmetal grey beast with a 572 cubic inch engine. In the film, it features as the prized possession of Russell Norton, a reformed chop shop operator and born-again Christian minister played by Greg Smith.

Greg Smith as Russell Norton

Due to the short notice, I was unable to scout a location in time. As I was preoccupied with shooting a major scene elsewhere, I asked my brother Adrian if he could recommend a suitable location in rural South Auckland where we could carry out these manoeuvres. "Quarry Road, out in Drury" he says. Cool. I promptly call Roger and Greg and arrange for them to meet us there later in the afternoon.

When we arrive, the location is idyllic; a quiet country road flanked by paddocks and distant farmhouses. We park our crew vehicles in a long line further up the road and get to work. As there is a coincidental resemblance between Roger and Greg, we fit Roger into Greg's costume so he can carry out the stunts.

We record four separate burnouts with the Phantom camera shooting at 1000 frames per second; 40 times slower than normal speed. The rushes of the footage look AMAZING. The sheer detail of the wheels spinning and the stones spitting from the tar seal is breathtaking.

I couldn't be happier.

Suddenly, six police cars turn up with flashing lights and cordon off both ends of the road. At this stage I'm not that concerned. Although the size of the police response is surprising, this wasn't our first encounter with cops during the shoot and I was confident that I could reason with them like I did in Wellington (another story for another blog post).

But this would be more serious. Apparently, three of the neighbouring farmhouses had called the police with news that an impromptu boy racer burnout convention was taking place. I immediately look to our line of crew vehicles further up the road and swing my head to the houses dotting the landscape. Of course that's what it looked like, from their perspective. It's then that an officer informs me that Quarry Road is a local hotbed for boy racer activity.

Despite this, I feel like I'm making headway with the responding officers. Clearly we're not boy racers and we weren't being deliberately negligent. Individually, the officers appear empathetic to our situation but it's when they confer collectively that things take a turn for the worse.

With legislation that is merciless on deliberate or sustained loss of traction, the police turn their attention to Roger and the road worthiness of his suped-up Corvette. Suddenly, there was the real threat of him being charged and his car being impounded. I couldn't believe it. Here was Roger, kindly giving up his free time to support my project, providing us with with free use of such a unique vehicle and how do I repay him? With a criminal conviction and a pink sticker on his car?

(gulp)

In that moment, I would've forgiven Roger for taking a swing at me. But he didn't. He remained calm and collected in a manner that made me think perhaps he'd been in this predicament before.

I launch into a spiel worthy of James Spader on Boston Legal in an attempt to divert the blame from Roger to myself. I make it clear to the officers that he was operating under my instruction; that the vehicle's sustained loss of traction was purely for the purposes of making a film. Okay, so I didn't have a permit - but the conditions were safe and the environment controlled.

After hearing my impassioned plea, the officers send each other confused looks. This was a situation that fell between the cracks of the law and required common sense and understanding. I see the wide eyes of the rookie cop twitching to make an arrest, but under what charge? As the six or seven officers huddle to make a decision and consult their superior via cellphone, Roger and I exchange a rueful glance.

While I've got my hands full with the police, Jason wisely spies the chance to record some guerilla footage amongst the flashing lights and blue uniforms. He instructs our actor Greg to get back into his minister collar and tweed jacket and to act as if the cops had pulled him over.

The sight of Greg in character standing next to the Corvette sheepishly praying for forgiveness elicits laughter from the crew. This footage will almost certainly serve as a humourous cutaway in the film (these are the shots that the arresting officer was curious about at the beginning of this blog post).

Russell (Greg Smith) repenting his sins. 

When the officers return from their time-out, they sensibly drop any potential action towards Roger. However, I'm not that fortunate. "Party to operation of a vehicle causing sustained loss of traction" would later be their edict. Aye? Punishing me for not having a permit I could understand, but this? I suppose they had to ping someone for tearing up the asphalt.

Inexplicably, the cops then call for a tow truck. What? They're impounding the Corvette?! Seizing the car seemed a bit over the top to me, especially as they weren't charging Roger with anything. The sight of that Corvette being winched up onto the tow truck was horrible and in that moment, I feel like a complete asshole.

Roger deflects my profuse apologies with a philosophical attitude and an appreciation for the fact that I (rightfully) owned up to everything. He strokes his greying goatee and laments - "They treat this stuff very seriously Eldon - hopefully you won't get any prison time". I turn to him anxiously and am met with a slow-forming grin. When I realise he's joking, I burst into laughter. Wait, he is joking - isn't he? I chose to keep laughing.

Which brings me back to the holding cell at Manukau Police Station.

An officer ushers an offender from another cell into the main processing area. There's an odd moment where we size each other up through the reinforced glass and the inmate reacts with bewilderment. It's little wonder; my attire suggests that I've been detained from a tennis match.

I can see his mind cycle through all the possible crimes that could have landed me here. In awkwardness, I can't help but smile. He recoils with trepidation. This white-boy is crazy! Either that, or he thinks I'm a homo. Two officers then lead him through the routine of fingerprinting, a pat-down body search and questioning. Ah, so this is what awaits me.

After two more hours of sitting, waiting and pacing, a female officer approaches my cell and unlocks it.

"Eldon Booth?"

I follow her into the processing facility, eager to escape the confines of the human freezer. She takes my fingerprints and I'm somewhat impressed with the technology of it all. I always thought those digital fingerprint searches in CSI: Miami were bullshit and conveniently speedy for plot purposes. In saying that, there was a slight hiccup when the software couldn't determine if my fingerprints actually belonged to somebody else or not. There's a short wait as she's forced to restart the computer.

The female officer then leads me over to the walk-through metal detector. I remember thinking it odd that they would check me for contraband after putting me in the holding cell. But hey, who am I to question the sense of protocol?

Satisfied that I'm not carrying a switchblade, the female officer takes my photograph and proceeds to ask me a series of questions from her perch behind a ridiculously high counter. Seriously, I feel like a five year old trying to buy a sausage roll from a high school tuck shop.

She then becomes caught up in the details of whether my hair is "curly" or "wavy" and if my eyes are "brown" or "light brown". She leans in closer. "Do they have a bit of green in them?". "Um, I don't know, I can't see them" - my smart-arse retort escapes before I can reel it back in. The male officer watching the surveillance monitors chuckles and shakes his head.

She then asks surveillance monitor guy to come over and administer the body search. It must be procedure that a man has to do it. Obviously. And it appears that my wisecrack has somehow turned the floor into Open Mic Night at the Classic. As he asks me to lean against the counter and spread my legs to shoulder width, he offers a brief comedic repartee aligned to Brokeback Mountain. I feign laughter and wonder how many times he's used those gags before.

Still, I'd rather suffer bad comedy than get the (waa-kish!) rubber glove.

"He's clean" the officer quips as he returns to his coffee and swivel chair behind the surveillance monitors.

The female officer passes me a clear plastic bag and I'm reunited with my keys, wallet and iPhone. She explains that they're releasing me with a 'formal caution' - meaning I wouldn't be charged or need to appear in court. More importantly, it wouldn't result in a criminal record. Phew!

Finally, I exit the station and call my brother to tease him - "Hey douche-bag, next time I ask you for a location can you pick a place that the cops don't regularly patrol for boy racers!". Through the crackling reception, Adrian laughs - "True, I didn't think of that, I just thought you wanted to know the place where everyone goes to do burnouts!".

Ultimately, I suppose common sense prevailed. The following day I went back to the station with Roger and lodged an official appeal to have his Corvette released from the impound. Thankfully, it was returned to him within a week with no fines attached - which was a huge relief.

Looking back, I guess you could say it was all worth it based on the amazing quality of the footage we captured - right Roger? ...Roger?
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The Long and the Short of It

With five months left till production, I'm considering whether Heydon should have long or short hair in the film. The role has him essentially playing a version of himself; a musician and university student. I have my own ideas conceptually but which look makes the young man more appealing?

Long and shaggy? Or short back and sides? Glasses or contact lenses?

Heydon in various guises; at graduation (left) and directing his award-winning nature documentary Ducklings and Me (right)

This may seem shallow but the reality is film and television are visual mediums and... the reason Megan Fox is an 'actress'. An example which illustrates my point was the first presidential debate between John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon, televised live in 1960.

John  F. Kennedy (left) and Richard Nixon (right) during the 1960 U.S. presidential debate.

The consensus of listeners who tuned into the radio broadcast maintained that Nixon argued his case more effectively, whereas the larger television audience engaged with JFK's charisma and screen presence. Also, Nixon wore no make up and his appearance was weathered due to a recent illness. Popular opinion suggests it was this telegenic 'beat-down' that swayed voters to Kennedy in what became the closest presidential election in United States history.

So what should I do with Heydon??

I'd be interested in your feedback... and yes, you can comment anonymously!
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Stuck on the Realness

 Heydon Hohaia performing at Parachute Festival, 2009

Throughout pre-production, Heydon Hohaia and I have been working on original songs for the film.

Well, when I say we've been working on them - what I really mean is I visit him, he performs his latest song for me and I proceed to offer my cringe-worthy two cents...

"Can we make it more blues-y?"

"Hey! How about you sing the entire last chorus a capella?"

"What if... instead of with guitar, you played the spoons with it? Can you play the spoons??"

...for a split second Heydon will peer over his glasses and then appease me with answers to my hair-brained suggestions. Fortunately for us, he only listens to me about five percent of the time when it comes to the music.

Then... it's our mandatory game of FIFA on PlayStation, where I always 'let' him win... for um, morale reasons. Yeah, that's it. The first rule of making films is you've got to keep the talent happy. Except occasionally, I'll mess up and accidentally win and then have to pretend to be excited that I was 'finally' able to defeat him. If you're reading this Heydon, it's time you faced facts - don't make me Wayne Rooney yo ass. Yeah, you know what's up... (cough).

In all seriousness, I don't have the musical expertise to offer insightful technical feedback regarding songwriting structure so I simply try to respond to the songs at a basic emotional level. It's refreshing because it's one of the few instances when I'm the audience on my own project, as I have a strong overview of every other aspect of the production. Being that there are many similarities between Heydon and the character he plays, I've offered him a lot of creative freedom with the writing and producing of the songs.

It's important to our documentary framework that the music be performed with authenticity and woven as seamlessly into the fabric of the narrative as possible. Although I have admiration for the choreography and production design in musical genre films, I've always found it really contrived when characters break into an epic song and dance number whilst lip syncing to a pre-recorded soundtrack.

Sweeping camera movements and dynamic editing can provide for dazzling visual sequences, however I'll always contend that the best format for a musical is seeing the live stage show. I'd suggest it's akin to watching a band perform live as opposed to seeing their concert on DVD.  Last July, I managed to catch the Broadway show Next to Normal in New York and it was thrilling to witness world class performers on stage with no editing tricks to hide behind.

Movie versions of musicals certainly have the capacity to mask deficiencies in singing ability. It seems some actor's voices are so digitally spliced together that a robot super computer may as well be performing. I haven't seen Mamma Mia, but what few seconds I have seen of Pierce Brosnan in that role make me shudder. Why would he do that to himself?? He was James Bond for crying out loud!

Pierce Brosnan in the hit musical Mamma Mia

For realism purposes, songs in the film will be performed acoustically and recorded in one take on location. Although it's an opportunity to witness Heydon's talent as a vocalist, the songs are an outlet for a character with musical prowess. And it's a vulnerability and immediacy to the character that I aim to capture through a lack of editing; our strategy is to utilise technology to support the performance rather than the other way round.

Okay, I'm starting to feel bad about dissing Pierce Brosnan. And I probably shouldn't make snap judgements about a movie or performance without seeing it in it's entirety.

So, does anyone out there in Internetland wish to accuse me of jumping to conclusions about Mamma Mia and actually recommend that I spend two hours of my life watching it??
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Writing with Indigestion

If you don't feel the emotion, the laughter or the conflict WHILE you're writing it, then it's unlikely the reader or viewer will experience it either.

Sometimes when you finish a scene, you feel good because you've been... productive. You even enter that final full stop with a triumphant strike of the keyboard. As you walk away from your desk however, a feeling starts to resonate in your chest like heartburn... it's a feeling you don't wish to acknowledge, not yet anyway... it's a feeling that deep down, you know the scene isn't quite working.

It's good... but not great.

That tasty sandwich you promised yourself as a reward for finishing those six pages just doesn't taste quite as succulent. Every bite is a chewy lie, a mouthful of denial.

This morning, I re-worked a scene from the screenplay and was reminded about how exhilirating the screenwriting process can be when you experience the tension as you're typing it. The scene in question? The pivotal South Auckland scene, where the lead character journeys home for what may be the last time he sees his father - for us, the highlight scene.

For those unfamiliar, the highlight scene is a screenwriting device which helps prevent Act Two from lagging. It's usually smackbang in the middle of the movie, or thereabouts.

The highlight scene is like a little movie within the larger movie, with it's own beginning, middle and end, complete with it's own plot twists, a dark moment and a clear point of departure. An example of a highlight scene in The Shawshank Redemption is the sequence where the old convict Brooks makes parole and fails to re-integrate with society as a senior citizen, culminating in his suicide.

Brooks (James Whitmore), The Shawshank Redemption (1994), Screenplay: Frank Darabont. 

As I was writing my own scene, there it was, I felt it.. a lump in my throat.. wait, is that a tear forming? No! What are you? A pansy?! It's only words on a page for heaven's sake.

Hang on a second!

This scene IS working!

So, in the aftermath of sombreness, my sandwich was one of the best sandwiches I'd ever tasted! In fact, I wolfed it down in record time so I could get back to my laptop, eager to find out what would happen next.

That's when you know you're onto something.

A successful film has the audience on the edge of their seats constantly asking the question: "What happens next?!" So, if the writer is excitably asking themselves that question AS they're writing then it stands to reason the audience will too.

Isn't it odd to think that you, yourself could get emotionally tied up over the fortunes of characters who live and die at the release of your fingertips... with every beat of punctuation, every word of dialogue, every descriptive action.

But these aren't imaginary friends, they ARE real people. They have to be. They have ambitions, burdens, and... body odour. If the writer doesn't see them as living and breathing, then there's little chance anyone else will buy into their existence.

(Hiccup!)

Whoops... I guess I did eat my sandwich too fast.

(Hiccup!)
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Message to My Girl?

I've been comptemplating whether the lead character (played by Heydon Hohaia) should perform an acoustic rendition of Neil Finn's Message to My Girl as part of the film.

Permission to use the track is subject to writer clearance and would be relatively expensive. Considering the cost, it's important that the song works successfully as a cover version to audiences. 

Heydon Hohaia, Message to My Girl (Acoustic Cover), 2010

Split Enz, Message to My Girl (Original), 1984

...is Heydon's interpretation of the song too different from the original to be effective as a cover?  Or is that a good thing?

Does anyone out there in Internetland have any feedback for us?
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