Chapter 7

Sharing the Vision

Let’s say you are a freelance director, coming in to direct an episode of a show. You’ve never worked there, you don’t know the people, and you have a limited understanding of the show itself: its tone, storytelling requirements, logistics. Yet in just seven days, you are supposed to be the leader on set. You are supposed to know everything there is to know about the show, including its history and internal power dynamics, and you are expected to be successful in creating an above-average episode—hopefully, a great one. How do you do that?

First, you will have done your homework before you even arrived. If there are episodes available, you will have viewed them, taking note of the show’s style and content. You will have looked up the producer’s credits on IMDB.com (Internet Movie Data Base), a website that lists all television and film credits. You will have talked to anyone who may be able to give you some advance press on the working conditions and personalities. You will have called the production office and procured and read any scripts available. You will have done an advance scouting trip to the office to introduce yourself, find out where you’ll park, get a crew list if it is available, and get your security badge. It’s just a bad first impression if you’ve done none of that and you bumble into the office late on the first day because you got held up by security, couldn’t find your parking space, and don’t know what anyone is talking about as you commence the first concept meeting. You can do better than that, and you need to make a strong first impression, because within ten minutes of your arrival, the phone tree is working, with everyone asking, “What’s the new director like?”

So you get there early. You know where you’re going, and you walk in with head held high, a smile on your face, a firm handshake for everyone you meet. Your 1st AD will introduce you around, and you should make eye contact and mentally register names and job descriptions as quickly as possible. Pay special attention to those with whom you will have a close working relationship in prep: the line producer, the UPM, the production designer, the costume designer, the prop master, the location manager. You will be spending a lot of time together over the next seven days in group meetings, location scouts, and one-on-one department-head meetings. You don’t have to be instant friends, but respectful, positive energy should inform your dealings with them.

THE SHOWRUNNER (YOUR BOSS)

The advice we’ve given you goes double for the most important person you will meet: the showrunner. This person is usually the writer who conceived the show’s idea, sold it to the buyer or network, wrote the pilot, and who now oversees the writing and production of subsequent episodes. Sometimes, if the creator of the show is a relatively new writer, a more experienced showrunner will be paired with him. Or if the show has been in production for several seasons, the original showrunner may have departed and a new one hired by the network. The network is always the ultimate authority because it is the buyer, but the person at the apex of the production pyramid is the showrunner: in short, the boss.

The showrunner may be in your day 1 concept meeting but is not usually there. He is probably in the writers’ room, breaking stories for upcoming episodes with the staff of writers who create the scripts. Every show is run differently, but the basic concept is one of brainstorming, in which the plot lines are discovered in a group environment: “Hey, I got an idea. What about this?” And then the next writer breaks in with, “That’s great! But what if we take that and twist it a little, with this complication I just came up with?” The showrunner is the ringmaster for the writers’ room—the final authority. There is some version of a whiteboard on the walls of the room, where the plots for future episodes are outlined. After a particular script has been broken, and each plot point summarized in outline form, the showrunner will assign it to a particular writer, who will go off and create the dialogue for each scene. After the first draft is written, the showrunner will take a pass at the script, sharpening the story points and making sure the dialogue is true to each character’s voice and as smart and funny (if applicable) as it can possibly be. You may receive this writers’ draft before your first day of prep, depending on the showrunner’s comfort level with letting the story ideas be available outside the writers’ room.

Whichever version of the script you receive, the contents of any script are not for public knowledge. Some shows guard the storylines more closely than others, but regardless of whether the new plot line is treated as a state secret, you are part of the creative team and confidentiality must be maintained.

At this point, the script is sent to the studio and network for approval. The executives assigned to the show will usually call the showrunner with their notes, or comments, and after discussion the showrunner will incorporate the notes that were agreed upon. Then the script coordinator will issue a production draft, which is the script that (hopefully and ideally) is distributed the day before your prep starts, so that all departments can read it and process it mentally prior to the first day’s concept meeting. As we said, the showrunner will probably skip the concept meeting because it is a preliminary discussion and his time is better spent dealing with the fires that need to be put out that day in the writers’ room, in production, dealing with the network, or in postproduction. The showrunner has a crazy, intense job that requires him to work 12 hours or more a day. He is expected to be the father/mother figure, the sales person (to the network), the taskmaster, and the point at which all roads meet. He is expected to be everything to everybody.

THE LINE PRODUCER (THE MONEY GUY)

Because of the demands on his time, the showrunner delegates to a couple of right-hand people who support him. In production, that’s the line producer. Though she may have an executive producer credit, which is often the domain of writers, the line producer’s background and experience will be in production. That person probably got started in the business as an AD, then moved up to UPM and then on to producing. Her expertise is in knowing how to “put the money on the screen,” or getting the most production value for the least cost, which means getting the most bang for the buck visually. That’s often a process of bartering, in a sense: “We’ll do this scene in our own parking lot so that we can save the money and pay for the big expensive location.” The line producer will also make sure that the show looks consistent, even though many directors are coming in to do the episodes. Line producers oversee a budget of between $3 and $5 million per episode, the money for which is provided by the license fee given to the production company by the network. (Cable networks provide a lower license fee; therefore, their shows have an extremely tight budget.) The concept meeting—and all future production meetings—are overseen by the line producer (even though the 1st AD does most of the talking and keeps the meeting on track), and the main order of business will be to discuss how to meet the requirements of the script that are beyond the pattern budget, which is the cost of a typical episode.

The pattern will dictate what the usual demands are; for example, does the pattern provide for any camera toys, like a technocrane or a Steadicam? How many background artists are expected to be employed over your eight days of production? What is the pattern for the location department? The art department? The costume department? If the writers have delivered a script with a set piece outside the pattern—that is, some scene that requires additional manpower or equipment—then the line producer and the UPM will be looking to cut costs in one department in order to provide the extra money that a different department needs.

FIGURE 7.1 A Steadicam is sometimes part of a show’s camera package or it may require specific ordering and additional cost, depending on the show’s visual style and budget.
Photo by Paul Snider, NCIS

You will be expected in the concept meeting to share your preliminary ideas about your visual approach to the script. The line producer will let you know whether your thinking corresponds to the pattern budget. We encourage you to start big because every budget request gets whittled down gradually—and it almost never goes the other way. It’s similar to the process of buying a car, in which the first announced cost is the largest and is negotiated downward from there. So be bold. Say what you think (on first reading) that you’ll need to bring this script to life. At the end of your prep, when you have reached the various compromises required by the budget, you will hopefully retain the minimal necessities that will allow you to achieve your creative vision.

Sometimes there will be an additional producer, a producer/director, who will be present during all the meetings in preproduction with the express intention of helping you to achieve your vision while maintaining the show’s consistency in tone and visual representation. He generally directs the first and last episodes, and maybe one in the middle of the season. In between, he supports your decisions while guiding you to best fit in with the series’ established look.

The first day of prep consists of the concept meeting and free time. Sit down with the line producer (and the producer/director if there is one) and find out if you have similar sensibilities because you’ll be working together closely. You will have the opportunity to walk the sets with the production designer and begin to think about how the scenes in your script might play out. If you’ve had the time, you may choose to come in before your first prep day like Julie Anne Robinson, who “always arrives a day or two early to explore the sets on her own, examining their nooks and crannies and viewing them from different angles for creative ways to block the scenes.”¹ You’ll probably meet with the location manager to look at pictures of possible locations, so arrangements may be made for you to scout them on day 2. Talk with the 1st AD about the scheduling for the week and how you prefer to approach the demands of prep. If the previous episode is shooting on stage, you can watch for a while and be introduced to cast and crew. And hopefully, you’ll get to meet the showrunner.

ASKING FOR SCRIPT FIXES

Your first meeting with the showrunner will probably be a quick meet and greet, a chance for you to connect personally. He’ll ask what you think of the show and of the script you are assigned to direct. Both answers should be energetically positive. Remember, you need to make a good first impression, and this is how you play the game. If you can be authentic while you’re being enthusiastic, great. That means you got a good script. And we all know a director can make a good script great. But you can’t make a bad script good.

The showrunner has put a lot of time and energy into creating this show and your script, and it will not make a good impression if you waltz in and blithely criticize his work. Instead, say something specific and positive. So that you don’t sound like an inane cheerleader, you can mention that you “might have a couple of script notes, but they’re no big deal and we can get to them later.” Then it’s up to the showrunner. If he says, “Great, let’s hear them now,” you’d better be prepared. If he says, “Great, it was nice to meet you,” then smile, shake hands, and depart.

Remember that you are dealing with the production draft. This script has already been through many incarnations, and a lot of careful thought went into it. Moreover, it’s already been approved by the network. So at this point, you are no knight in shining armor, riding in to rescue the day. You are here to shoot this script in the best way possible. So if you have questions about things that don’t make sense, articulate that. If you have a suggestion that is easily implemented, mention it. If you think the intent of a scene can be achieved in a way that is more production-friendly, say so. Other than that, say what you did like, say you’re grateful for the job, and get out of his office.

If the showrunner dismissed you without hearing your notes, take them to the writer who is credited on the script. (If the showrunner wrote the script, mention your concerns to the line producer, and she will schedule a meeting if it’s needed.) Sit down with the writer, compliment him specifically on the well-written script, and then go over your notes. Propose your pitch, which is a potential solution for every criticism you have. These may not be accepted, but you’ve shown that you put thought into it and that you’re not a complainer, you are a constructive thinker.

Remember that the script is basically in its final phase, and it’s not possible at this point (six days away from shooting) to overhaul story structure. We’re talking band-aid fixes here.

This writer, or one assigned by the showrunner, will probably be present on set during the production of your episode. The writer is charged with making sure that the intent of each scene is met and performances are what the showrunner expects. Because this is a totally subjective call, and because you are traditionally supposed to be “the buck stops here” creative voice on set, it is in your best interest to forge a cordial relationship of mutual respect with the writer, who will be basically hanging over your shoulder for 12 hours a day. If your point of view is that this writer is a valuable resource, a partner in achieving your vision (as is every member of the crew and cast), then you’ll avoid ego clashes that detract from your focus.

Sometimes the role of the director requires not only leadership and confidence, but humility as well. You will be required not only to accept other opinions but also to embrace them. During production, the writer may say, “The actor’s performance isn’t there yet,” but you think it is.

Look at the note, see whether there’s truth in it, and if so, go back to the actor and pull that performance out of him. If there isn’t truth in the writer’s statement, then it’s your choice whether to print and move on or go for another take. It’s a judgment call, taking into account factors such as your respect for the writer’s point of view and your desire to fit in (or not) with the culture of the show’s permanent staff (the writer/producers). As an episodic director, you have to live with this tradition of having a writer on set. Make that work for you, rather than against you. But we are definitely not advising subservience here. Stand up for yourself and your creative vision. Sometimes you may feel the need to justify your choices, sometimes you may feel that is unnecessary. Regardless, do not look for the writer’s approval before you announce that you are checking the gate and moving on. To do so is to accede the director’s authority to the writer, and that is not acceptable. Remember, you are hired as the director to be the one voice that determines how this script will be shot. On the other hand, you want to have a good working relationship with the writer so sometimes you have to give a little. This is one of those tough subjective/relationship arenas that require advanced people skills. The thing that takes precedence is telling the story in the best way possible.

Clearly, the role of an episodic TV director is different from that of a feature director, pilot director, or TV movie director. With those kinds of scripts, the director is more involved at an earlier stage than as a guest director of an episode. A feature director usually feels that he is the originator, or the auteur, as the French say: the person whose imprint is all over the film. In television, it is the writer/showrunner’s medium. (We talk more about that in Section Four.) Accept these limitations and work within them to create the best episode you can make. After all, you are still the one and only director for that episode. See the problems as challenges that propel you to creative solutions while staying within the style of the show. You were hired to deliver to the showrunner and the network the show that they have created. It is not your job to reinvent their creation. It is your job to meld completely with the tone and style you have inherited and to bring your individual creativity to support the structure, not tear it down. If you feel that this role is too constraining for you, then this is not your arena.

MEETINGS AND MAKING CRITICAL DECISIONS

Beginning on day 2 of prep are the scheduled events as proposed by your 1st AD and discussed in Chapter 6. In between those events (meetings, location scouts, and casting), you will be breaking down the script for story and character (see Chapters 1 and 2) and beginning to block and shot-list (see Chapters 8 and 9). All of this work is intended to get you ready to begin shooting your episode. But in every script, there will probably be an unusual challenge to meet—a set piece that requires extra thought, planning, and additional meetings. This challenge could be anything for any department. Following are just a few from Bethany and Mary Lou’s experiences.

For production design: On Touched by an Angel, which had no standing sets, every week was a challenge. But one of the biggest was creating a hotel in Jerusalem, the desert landscape surrounding it, including a cave and the chamber where the Holy of Holies was discovered. The solutions: the hotel was a location (a Masonic lodge in Salt Lake City stood in for a Jerusalem hotel!) and the chamber was a set. Bethany and her crew shot in an actual desert cave in the mountains on the border of Utah and Nevada to get the landscape vistas needed.

For costumes: On a TV movie of a Danielle Steel book adaptation called Mixed Blessings, there were three weddings in the first ten minutes of the movie that established the characters and their stories. That meant designing and planning three different weddings, each evoking a unique style. The solutions: Bethany and the production team designed three complete weddings as if they were actually going to happen, including locations, colors, flowers, and additional wardrobe for bridesmaids, grooms, and families. The three wedding dresses were designed and handmade for each actress.

For props: On Grey’s Anatomy, the script called for a man to saw off his leg with a power saw. There were four elements for props and special effects to pull off: a fake leg, a gurney that would accommodate the actor’s real leg, the method of blood splatter, and a rubber chainsaw. The solutions: several rehearsals/trial runs were done during prep to help figure out the requirements and determine what looked real and what didn’t. When it was shot, though, it was all up to the actor to make his agony believable.

For art/set decoration: The murderer on an episode of Monk was a sculptor. His alibi was based on how long it would have taken him to carve a large nude out of a giant piece of marble. This nude, partially sculpted, appears in the artist’s studio when he is first interrogated and again later, completed, in a courtroom sequence. The solutions: Mary Lou worked closely with the production designer to assure that the foam versions of the marble sculpture were beautiful enough to make this sculptor credible as a successful artist, light enough to transport, and bold enough to make Monk uncomfortable in its nude presence. She also had the set decorator find gravel that matched the faux marble finish on the piece of art because the murderer “hid” the evidence (chopped up marble) in plain view on his rock driveway. This department also had to come up with enough sculptures to fill a gallery.

Any show that is a period piece will have many preproduction challenges to meet. On The Pacific, all of the weapons, wardrobe, cars, ships, and props of every kind had to look faithful to the period. And then there were American versions and Japanese versions. On Boardwalk Empire, there were an amazing number of vintage and operating 1920s cars, not to mention the same verisimilitude of the period necessary in every department. All department heads will be hired based on their experience and expertise in creating the make-believe world of the past. But you, as the director, will make the final decisions, and you need to do your own research.

During prep, there will be many meetings to assess the progress of each department and to approve each step, leading everyone closer to the shoot. Your efficient and effective communication skills will be critical in every meeting.

Here is an exercise to help you practice your ability to sequence and explain that sequence to someone else.

DISCUSSING TONE AND ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO BRING UP

The final aspect to completing your preparation is the tone meeting with the showrunner. This is the showrunner’s opportunity to acquaint you with his point of view about the show and give you the insider scoop on the internal workings of this production. As such, the “tone” of the tone meeting is based on that person’s personality. Bethany’s tone meetings have run the gamut, from a showrunner who said, “I hate tone meetings—let’s not have one” to a five-hour extravaganza that consisted mainly of the showrunner reading the script aloud. Somewhere in between is where most of these meetings fall. (The writer who is assigned to be on set during production may be present for this meeting as well, in order to also understand what the showrunner is looking for tonally. It is also helpful to invite the episode’s editor to this meeting so that she can hear the notes and sculpt the editor’s cut accordingly.) Generally, the two of you go through the script, scene by scene, and if you have a question about the intent of a scene, now is the time to ask. The showrunner will fill you in on actors’ personalities and caution you against things (“Actor X pulls on his eyebrow when he’s bored with a scene, don’t let him do that,”) and for things (“Actress X has really been going deeper lately, see if you can even bring more out of her,”) of which he is aware. The showrunner will also commun icate to you any studio or network notes he deems important for you to keep in mind. But all of your communication will be to and through the showrunner regarding those notes. Aside from the occasional social set visit, there is never any direct interaction between the director and the studio or network executives during the shoot of an episode. If, however, you are directing a pilot or TV movie, you will be included in all of the script and production communications from those buyers.

There will be others besides the showrunner who will whisper in your ear and give you their “take” on the culture of the show. They do it with the intention of being helpful, of pointing out the pitfalls that they, themselves, have encountered. The line producer, the AD, the DP—each of them, and many more, may take you aside for their tutorial. It’s all valuable, but take it with a grain of salt. As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “Do not require a description of the countries towards which you sail. The description does not describe them to you, and tomorrow you arrive there and know them by inhabiting them.”² In many ways, every film production feels like you’re on the Atlantic in a canoe as you are buffeted at every side by waves you can’t foresee.

Nevertheless, you will take up your oar and navigate it well, using your intuition and intelligence, as well as drawing upon any past experience you may have.

Ultimately, your success or failure is determined by the showrunner’s perception of the episode, which he is entrusting to you. As you finish prep and embark on the shoot, the showrunner wants to feel like you can read his mind and will direct the show exactly as he would have done, only better. It is your leadership and creative vision that will cause the actors to be better, the production design to be strong and specific, and the filmmaking to be more inspired than he ever could have imagined.

NOTES

1  Ann Farmer, “Life (and Lots of It) Behind Bars,” DGA Quarterly, Fall 2014, p. 34.

2  Emerson’s Essays, “The Over-Soul.” New York: Harper & Row, originally published by Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 1926, p. 200.

3  Barbara Deutsch, Open Up or Shut Up. Bloomington: Author House, 2006, pp. 111–112.