Yesterday, anticipating a technical problem in the editing process – caused by a camera reset that appeared to start the numbering system for shots from scratch, making for the same number for different files – I set aside time to try to organize my computer files and backup HD’s. And, somewhere along the line of this protective measure I managed to lose one important shot, along with screwing up the order on the time-line of the edit I had. This put me in a lousy mood in the evening as I contemplated trashing the whole thing, all while my actors indulged in a very talkative dinner, and a party mood totally at odds with my own. They then, in oblivious self-absorption, moved their party to a couch five feet from where I was working, clearly agitated, and proceeded very loudly along. Until I lowered the boom and told them to get the hell out.
This morning they seemed duly chastened, though I was pissed enough to give them a patronizing (deservedly so) lecture on being socially and personally conscious and aware of what was going on around them, especially when it involved something they’re in and in which they have an investment of their own energies. Unfortunately it is the nature of actors to imagine themselves, as infants do, to be the center of the universe and to generally imagine themselves at the center of a stage, and, like actors on a stage, they’re blinded by the glare of the lights which obscure the audience from their view and consciousness, and they act as if nothing else existed. This tendency is amplified to the extreme when around other actors with whom they seem to compete unconsciously to grab the spotlight. This is a little Faustian bargain one must usually make with actors when one needs them. As an anarchist I believe people should be responsible for themselves, and to the social context in which they live. I dislike very much having to take on the role of daddy-figure, especially to full grown adults. It wasn’t a happy morning.
Despite that, we then managed to get 3 good shot/sequences from each of them. Or perhaps it was because of it.
This evening, having let Jim Benning know I may have his shot MIA, he wrote to let me know I shouldn’t stress out, and if I can’t find/salvage the shot he can do another for me down in SoCal. I figured as much, but it’s real nice to know. I seem to have found all the other scrambled items and must laboriously label them so as not to have them mixed up later. And the actors are moving me off the living room couch I’ve been on the last week, and into one of the beds.