Before quarantine, I had the honor to direct a video to one of the most beautiful tracks imaginable. It was also the first time I would work with full-size real steadicam on a project, which is mesmerizing craft in and of itself. The balancing act and masterful footwork of an operator (kudos Jose Figueroa-Baez for nailing it) who can make or break the shot with any and every footstep.
“I Fall in Love” – KayBe Seiler
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AnRa21pKUic
Early inspiration for the video came from my favorite film of last year – 1917, so visually stunning that it raised the bar for large-scale practical filmmaking. For those that haven’t seen, or aren’t familiar with the gimmick behind much of its early hype, the story is depicted in “one shot,” except for a single edit when the hero is knocked unconscious. Director Sam Mendez of 007 Skyfall and newly Oscar-winning cinematographer Roger Deakins of Blade Runner 2049 show the real-time covert operation of two World War I soldiers initially sneaking through “No Man’s Land,” the area between opposing trenches, now hauntingly known for mass casualties.
To achieve that kind of continuous fluid shot, a steadicam is needed. In some cases, that’s a torso-mounted, over-the-shoulder outfit the operator wears to move and support the camera with their entire body. There are similar, smaller tools designed for more compact cameras and cellphones, sometimes on gimbal sticks or with dual side grips to level out shot on-the-go, but oftentimes those result in video with more of a mechanical or fixed perspective. The subtle fluidity of this large suit made it the perfect tool for the job for the intimacy of the moment.
After seeing 1917, I immediately wanted to do ‘a oner’ for the next project. Thankfully, my longtime music video muse KayBe Seiler had just finished her latest track “I Fall in Love” and it needed a video. But like most movies you make, there’s three versions… the one you plan, the one you shoot and the one you edit. That third version lives on now forever, with little glimpses at the middle courtesy of BTS photos from set, but that initial concept is only in the imaginations of a few people. I thought the idea was pretty clever, so maybe another music video producer reading this can try, in case another perfect track doesn’t just fall out of the sky right when I’m looking for it.
Our steadicam operator Jose Figueroa-Baez even gave me a whirl with it on after wrap, so I can attest it is nowhere near as simply smooth as it appears on-screen. Balancing that device and a heavy camera dangling right in front of you is a delicate weave of sturdy core and nimble fingers, the latter which I’d never expected, thinking it was more akin to shoveling than playing a violin. Make no mistake about it, steadicam operation is a precision craft. Wirelessly paired with him at video village, the video’s Director of Photographer Drew Ganyer was pulling focus on the camera lens, keeping KayBe in crystal clarity while Jose kept her in frame, evolving the composition as the song progressed.
The idea behind contemporary editing, at least in the narrative sense, is that you don’t really notice it. But there’s a subconscious awareness of when a shot keeps going and going… and going… usually for the better, as it can elevate the gravity of the moment you’re seeing, in some cases really pitting you in the trenches of the war zone. Needless to say, our music video was a bit more upbeat.
We were going for one-shot the whole way, however it was still going to “cut” in the middle, for an outfit change, then it would “end” back at the piano as the song would finish and the artist (KayBe) would step out, letting the pianist (Michael Coleman) sit in. The camera would hold on the close-up of fingers on the piano, one person to the next, as the song restarts and marks the point where the video actually begins – and the shot finally ending half way through. Looking back at the idea now, I still can’t decide if it was a nifty idea or just tacky obstacle that we wrestled a little too long over.
The immediate future of video and film production is hard to predict in a global pandemic. Doubtful there will be another massive scene with so many extras as in 1917 for at least a year, let alone actors in such close proximity. But major union production covid regulations notwithstanding, down the line I anticipate more of these ‘oner’ films to be produced in the years ahead.
The orchestration that goes into pulling that kind of steadicam shot, whether with the half dozen people we had or the hundreds on something like 1917, almost feels like theater meets theatre. But even on the scale of a small music video, the steadicam still kept us holding our breaths after getting past those second and third marks, pressing the court for cinematic glory.
Needless to say, just like Rope, Birdman and a few others before it – 1917 cleverly hides its edits and is not just two shots like it appears. The longest takes were reportedly seven to eight minutes long. Check out this BTS video and article for a much more in-depth analysis of how the steadicams shots were produced in 1917:
https://www.insider.com/how-1917-was-filmed-like-one-continuous-shot-wwi-2020-1?fbclid=IwAR0NRhYLY6W5IJ_bq51zEKPkeZLmDo-NPkrXAvRRodP5Akpre1B0FNPknv4
The shot’s dozen or so takes reminds me of a notorious shot back in film school, on the RIT SoFA episode feature project Project 9, impressively by Dan Sullivan while most of us were still manages to get through our theses. I wanted to try a dolly-jib-rotation, heading down a hallway at the cusp of a pandemic… ironic looking back at it.
What’s a dolly-job-rotation? We depending on who you ask, they’ll call it a pan. But to be a little more specific, a dolly shot is when the camera moves horizontally across the space, usually horizontal on a fixed focus pane, whether for aesthetic or just to avoid another mechanical complication of racking focus. When the camera goes closer or further way from the subject, that’s a push. The jib refers to a jib arm, kind of like a crane, where the camera rises or lowers. You might see this often accompanied by a tilt, to keep the camera fixed on a character, or perhaps flat in “going upstairs through the floor” kind of visual. I don’t know if there’s a difference between a jib and a crane shot, so if you do, please let me know in the comments. Lastly the rotation is the camera going sideways, still fixed at the base, for a good ol’ sideways flop when the hero reaches the bed.
I wanted to do a dolly-jib-rotation because it was senior year and why not. I think the final count was 37 takes – we ended up using #13, but #27 was pretty good too. Ultimately the performance was better early on, which is to be expected when you realize actors aren’t props. We all had fun, though. Have a look!