I lit the spit out of a white cyc the other day. Top notch. Great work.
Still, despite the beautiful promenades awaiting our love, I had to shove the talent back against the cyc and vomit camera movement all over them.
It still gives me the shivers.
I shot Billy Joel the other day. Not since high school have I been less wanted. His handler had her hands all over the breathing part of our throats. I was watching the footage last night. I suffocated. Again.
We shot one take. “You got it,” she told us. Eh.
Then the B roll. You can’t shoot B roll if there’s no A roll.
If I moved or breathed or smelled, the beasts grew ready to pounce.
A vignette of elephants ready to smash through the frame on their way away from me.
Watching that footage gave me the grimace.