It is not the ship so much as the skillful sailing that assures the prosperous voyage.
â George William Curtis
What is an assistant director?
Francois Truffaut said that making a film is like going on a sea voyage: you start out hoping for a pleasant journey, and you end up clinging on, praying to survive. This may be an extreme example, but the metaphor of the ship is accurate, and in this scenario the assistant director (AD) is the first mate. The director may have the vision of the destination, the production manager may be calculating the budget, but the first mate has to be the directorâs support, the producerâs representative and the crewâs inspiration; if you donât keep the director encouraged, the producer informed and the crew happy, you will end up shipwrecked, keelhauled or facing a mutiny. Iâve seen all three happen, and theyâre not pretty.
An assistant director, first of all, is very different from an assistant to the director. âAssistants toâ can end up doing practically anything the director wishes, from the most personal errands such as picking up laundry to liaising with the editor to making dinner reservations. In any case, a production can move seamlessly forward with no assistant to the director whatsoever. Without a First AD, however, you wonât have a schedule or a communication system, and without these two things thereâs no show. You can have a first-time director carried by a good First AD, you can have a first-time producer educated by a First; but with a bad First there will be a catastrophe, and, joking aside, people can actually die.
As we go through the stages of what the job requires, the details of exactly what a First AD does will become clearer, but for now suffice to say the First creates and manages the schedule, runs the set, and executes the directorâs vision within the parameters of the productionâs resources. The First AD is largely responsible for making sure that the dayâs work is completed, directs the background action, supervises crowd control and maintains communications between the director and the crew. The Firstâs currency is time, and a good First makes things happen in the most efficient way possible, like the manager of a highly efficient factory. Rather than producing widgets, however, this company manufactures emotional responses in the psychologies of an audience; naturally enough, then, the First is managing egos, ideas, vulnerabilities and artistic personalities, while trying to make it all happen yesterday at the mercy of the weather, the public or the claustrophobic environs of a soundstage. At best, itâs like being a conductor leading an orchestra in Bachâs most beautiful concerto; at worst, itâs like trying to control a class of sugar-fueled three-year-olds let loose in a paint factory. In any case, itâs never dull; no two days are ever the same, and every job is unique. Itâs the ultimate collaborative process, in which the First AD manages the balance between creativity and forward motion.
The entire job is about anticipating where delays or problems could occur and taking steps in advance to prevent them. Thatâs really it. Across the departments, under all the circumstances, with all the personalities, what can possibly go wrong, and what can you do to make sure it doesnât? Itâs a good job for someone who suffers from anxiety and impatience. Anxiety helps you foresee any potential disaster, and impatience means youâre going to solve it quickly. Again, though, this is all internal; the mask of a First is unflappable, steady and in control, no matter whatâs going on inside. Leadership is not letting them see your fear, otherwise known as grace under pressure.
How do I start?
If youâve ever tried to figure out how to turn a script into a shoot, youâve already begun the process of being a First AD. Naturally, the more you know about the way a film shoot works, the better your ideas of how to plan the production are going to be. A film unit is a hierarchal structure, almost military in style, and this isnât because filmmakers are fascists but simply because it works. Itâs the most efficient system we have developed over the past 100 years to get the film through the gate (or capture the information, if you want to get digital about it!). Most ADs begin at the bottom rung of the ladder (as a PA or trainee), and despite the fact that the freelance world of filmmaking is completely unpredictable, it can be comforting to understand that if you want to be a First AD there really is a pretty clear-cut career path, even if it doesnât feel that way at the time.
The first step is getting a job, any job. No matter what department you actually want to work in, the hardest part of the whole film industry experience is getting that first job. You might assume that the word âjobâ implies that you will actually get paid, but that isnât necessarily the case. You have to be willing to shovel elephant dung for free â literally â to have any hope whatsoever of working in the business. In fact, if your goal is to get rich or famous, please look elsewhere. Inside every person on a film set, including the caterers and even the surliest electrician on the truck, somewhere exists the romantic child who was first dazzled by the silver screen. Weâre here because we love what can happen in a darkened room full of strangers; or because we were entranced and delighted by what we discovered at the movies; or because we were consoled or entertained or distracted or inspired by some sound and image we might no longer even remember. Even in the most grizzled cynicâs heart is this childlike love of the cinema; if this doesnât ring a bell with you, then youâll save yourself and everybody else a lot of heartache if you find something else to do with your one wild and precious life. If you have a choice, youâre in the wrong game. This business is for obsessives, dreamers and poets, people who simply cannot live in any other world. You have to be willing to put up with long hours, bad pay, disgusting food, verbal abuse, freezing cold and baking heat and still keep smiling. Iâm not saying that you wonât get the odd job that is a complete pleasure, or one freak shoot that is actually as much fun to work on as all the stars say it is when theyâre being interviewed, but generally itâs a tough slog no matter what youâre being paid, and you need to have some love or madness in your heart to get you through. Consider whether you want to get up at 4:30 a.m. 6 days a week for 8 weeks to stand in the snow for 12-hour days. If you canât face that, go elsewhere. (And if you think Iâm exaggerating, have a look at how the Directors Guild of America [DGA] itself describes the job in their trainee program at www.trainingplan.org â not for the faint-hearted!)
If youâre still game, you simply need to get in anywhere that will have you. Most cities (and unless youâre an auteur and plan to write, direct, star in and edit your film yourself, you will have to be in a city) have some kind of filmmakersâ association that may also publish a journal of some sort. I used to look in New Yorkâs theatrical newspaper Backstage to find short films to work on for free; now Mandy.com has similar listings online (for a list of other online resources, see www.runningtheshowbook.com and Websites and Other Resources at the end of this book). There are film co-ops, alliances, independent film associations, and even film schools that need people willing to pitch in. Either way, get in the door, work your butt off, and word will go out that youâre worth hiring. Eventually youâll get paid.
You then work your way up the ladder: production assistant, known as a PA (or trainee AD); Second Second (or Third in the United Kingdom); Second AD; and finally First. The only odd thing about this career ladder is that being great at one job doesnât necessarily mean youâll be good at others. I hated being a Second AD. Detailed paperwork is really not my strong suit; Iâm worse still supervising makeup, hair, wardrobe and nervous actors, and luckily for the industry I did only one job as a Second (unless you count one where I was fired). Being a Second Second, however, really is the step below being a First and requires similar skills, so you can learn everything that can be learned from watching in this role. The important thing is not to be impatient about your progress; once you make the step up, it can be harder to step back, so a general suggestion would be to upgrade when someone offers you a job in that higher grade, as will inevitably happen if you prove yourself in the one youâre in.
A job on a film crew is an invitation to the most exclusive party in town. There are no passengers on a set, and everyone is depending on you, regardless of whether youâre the director or a PA. The job youâre doing is the most important job youâll ever do, not a means to an end but the end in itself. Ultimately, what we all want is to make a good show â whether weâre running coffees or calling action isnât the issue â the idea is to serve the ultimate good of the project and leave your own agenda at home.
Getting the job
Once you get to be a First of any description, you may be well-known and sought after; however, no matter how good you are, you will still need to audition for the director. This is sensible; a certain amount of chemistry is required for this to be a successful relationship, and a director should get to choose â or at least approve â the First AD or there will be one immediate excuse for things to end in tears.
This audition (or meeting, as theyâre euphemistically referred to) is important to get right. Ideally, the First will have been able to read the script beforehand and prepare notes on it to have to hand at the meeting, which the producer and/or an assistant may also attend. Even if you donât have the script, you can trawl the Internet and anyone you know for information about the director and producer. Any details you can get are important, especially their work style, their previous work and how it was received. They may ask what youâre working on or what your last job was; even if it was a real stinker, find something positive to say. Donât be negative, as this shows disloyalty, and no one wants to think you might go on to badmouth them all over town.
What I usually try to do once the small talk is out of the way is to actually begin the working process by asking questions. Not tough questions that are going to put the director on the spot (for example, how do you plan to shoot the ghost sequence?) but general questions ranging from how they like the mood on the set to whether theyâve worked with the cast before to general ideas about anything tricky in the script (generally, tricky involves stunts, special effects, children, animals, etc.). Again, youâre not expecting them to have all the solutions at this stage; for various reasons, many decisions may not have been made yet. Ideally, youâre encouraging the director to share their ideas with you and offering thoughts and options about what might work. If you can give them useful information, youâll be perceived as valuable. You can casually mention the way you like to have the extras supporting the main action of the scene and how strong the team is that you bring with you. At all times, you are to be positive about the script. Youâd be surprised how much it means to the people hiring you â everyone is still insecure about how good (or not) the material is, and even when they donât expect much from the script, itâs reassuring to have someone being positive about the possibilities. Even if itâs a turkey, there must be something you can find about the project thatâs good, or else why work on it? As Joan Holloway in Mad Men once said, âAn interview is the chance to be intelligently enthusiastic about the job and convince them that youâre the right person for it.â If youâve already begun the process of eliciting the directorâs desires and discussing ways to put them into practice, youâre potentially much further down the road of actually working together than the other candidates. Toward the end of the interview, the conversation will probably turn to dates, and you should make it clear (briefly) if you have recently had a meeting with another production and if there could be a clash. Donât rule anything in or out at this stage â itâs all just talk for now, and dates do sometimes shift.
Assuming you get the job, only then will you discuss the exact dates and the money. Because Firsts generally donât have agents, itâs down to you to negotiate these things yourself. If during the follow-up conversation (which will happen with either the producer or production manager) you should discover that you have a scheduling conflict, you should let them know the second this becomes clear. One thing that will get you blacklisted is jumping ship: committing to a project, and then bailing out. Itâs not just rude, itâs infuriating, and I have refused to work with people after theyâve done this to me. It erases your reputation for being trustworthy, and in such a trust-dependent business that can be fatal. If a First canât be relied on, theyâre no good to anyone. The rule of thumb is to be completely honest and transparent about what your previous commitments are, and then you wonât end up in a muddle. My strategy is to behave as I would if I were invited to two dinner parties on the same night: I donât jump ship; I just go to the one I was invited to first. I may miss out on some fun, but my conscience is clear.
This transparency extends to your salary negotiations; trying to play one job off against another financially will lead to big problems. For one thing, production managers talk to each other, and even if theyâre not friends, they commonly pick up the phone and confer over what theyâre both offering you. No matter how big a city youâre working in, in this business itâs a small town. The other aspect to this is that if youâre dealing with a respectable PM or producer, the figure theyâre quoting you will be what they have budgeted for, and they often have very little leeway. Other crewmembers such as sound or camera technicians may bring gear with them that can provide a little wiggle room in relation to their rates (âbox feesâ or âallowancesâ theyâre sometimes called), but ADs donât bring equipment with them (unless they own their own walkies, which is unusual and would probably be a separate deal), so the rate is the rate and probably wonât change by more than a hundred bucks at best.
If you really canât work for what theyâre offering, say so and walk away. If you sign on for that rate, thatâs the end of the conversation. One thing producers hate is any crew member trying to renegotiate deals later on. Whatever you commit to stands for the whole job, unless some unforeseeable major change affects the entire shooting structure.
Itâs important to agree in this conversation when overtime, if any, kicks in. (This will feature strongly later for the First when creating the schedule; for now, weâre only talking about personal conditions.) ADs are often classified as being in the production department, but even when theyâre not, theyâre expected to work long hours without additional pay for extracurricular meetings or other requirements. ADs generally work from at least an hour before call time, through lunch, and for a short time after wrap (unless thereâs an additional recce or meeting planned) â all-inclusive.
Once you have an understanding, you enter that charmed era when you have a job lined up but havenât started it yet. This is the time to pack as if you were about to embark on that wonderful ocean cruise. Do all your laundry, say goodbye to your friends and family and stock up on foodstuffs â itâs going to be a bumpy ride.