Hey guys! Been quite a while since we’ve made an episode. Enjoy!

EDIT: Sorry about the April Fool’s joke, guys. We actually do have a new TZ series in the works which we plan on getting started this summer. Hopefully that’ll make up for it.

A bit of history on Steadicam... it was invented by Garrett Brown in the early 70's and was first used on production for Stanley Kubrick's The Shining. It was later used in Hal Ashby's Bound for Glory, which was released before The Shining. Garrett was awarded an Oscar for his invention in 1977 and continues to invent and work at his company to this day.

This Monday I just so happened to be driving on San Fernando Rd. in Burbank, CA. I was there for a quick meeting with Vicente, but I was 30 minutes early, so off I went location scouting. Driving around, I quickly spotted a sign that said "Steadicam" so I checked it out. Lo and behold it was the Steadicam headquarters, where I was invited inside for a tour!

For those of you who don't know, Peter and I own a Steadicam Merlin, which we highly recommend to anyone who shoots with a DSLR or small camcorder. Check out our recent test with the Merlin, a pair of Rollerblades, and our Canon 7D.

Making a movie is a lot like learning a language.

Remember Spanish in high school? How much of it do you actually remember now? Or more importantly, how much of it have you forgotten? When you learn a language, if you don't use it every day, you'll forget words, you'll forget grammar, you'll forget conjugation (oh man, I hated conjugation). If you go live in Spain for a year, you'll learn the language almost instantly because you'll be using it every day.

Lesson of the day? You need to keep shooting to become fluent.

That said, I should mention that Peter and I are back. Yes, it's been nearly 7 months since our last episode. Where the heck have we been? It's quite a long story, but here's the gist:

Remember back when we "quit" our jobs? (watch the intro in this episode) Well, we figured that would be a good time to start up our own production company. We were right, though we went through some pretty hard times and ended up having to sell some of our equipment and software. We're almost back on track now. We're shooting actor demo reels and are about to embark on doing music videos with our friend Vicente.

As for our website, we were happy with the way it previously looked and functioned, but we weren't happy with Movable Type. So, I sat down for a couple weeks and designed this new WordPress theme in my spare time. If you look through the archives, every single episode is now available to watch. Just don't go back too far, our earliest stuff is pretty awful.

It's been a long summer. We got to work with and meet so many great people. Jaemin Yi, Mike Sun, Andrew Oh, and Teri Whittaker just to name a few. As a "practice short" with Mike and Jaemin, we took our 5D Mark II to LACMA and shot "Mike & Jaemin Make a Movie":

Our goal for the summer was for each of us to shoot a short film per month. It didn't end up happening, but we had a goal for ourselves and we pushed each other and had meetings and for a while it really felt good because we were actually doing something.

If you're a filmmaker, the best thing you can do is collaborate with other people. If you already collaborate with someone, find new people to collaborate with. It really gets you motivated. I actually wrote an entire script, cast actors, found a location and shot part of a short film called "Pizza":

Anyway, Peter and I are back for good. But don't expect too many updates just yet. We have a lot going on at the moment, I'm sure you guys understand.

:heart:, :sean:

Be sure to watch Sustaining a Story Idea: Part 1 before this one!

Now we all have stories to tell. Sort of. Most of it is a mish-mash of abstract scenes and imagery, stranded in the murky depths of our minds. According to Will Eisner, a story is not a story until it is "told in an arranged and purposeful order." This means that those abstract scenes in your mind are not stories at all; they are just ideas and nothing more. To prematurely call them stories is not only false, but dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that you've overcome the hardest part.

Step 1: Want

No sustained character can exist without a desire, a want that permeates the story. It is the carrot dangling before their nose, and they will chase it till the end. If there is no carrot, there is either no story, or little reason for the story. They must want something; and as a twist, that something will not always be precisely what they expected. There is the external, material Want, which is more obvious; and then there is the internal, personal Want, the discovery of which is usually a major "point" of the story. A summary of the above video would go like this, sandwiched by the external and internal Wants:

A lonely writer who wants to tell a story about love goes on a drunken journey and ultimately realizes he wants the real thing.

The best stories veer toward an unexpected ending. Give the protagonist the present they never knew they wanted...or deserved.

A very old man wants to be left alone after the death of his wife and becomes a recluse. He is evicted and is forced to live with his grown daughter, an executive struggling against the void of a corporate career. Because she inherited her mother's ambitious personality, he begins to enjoy her company. She finds him to be a burden and plans to send him to an old folk's home, the same thing her mother did to her grandparents. Father and daughter squabble. The old man, too proud, stops taking his medication and passes away, to be with his wife.

Regardless of the quality of the story I just made up, notice how the old man's Want (to be left alone) transformed into something far more insightful and less obvious (to literally be with his wife). The "story" is the order of events that took place for him to reach that realization, and for the audience to empathize. Any sub-plots and supporting characters are there to reinforce and justify the main problem. Just remember that what the old man wants is what gives way to the rest of the story. If he did not want anything specific, the story could not easily exist, at least not in such a tight order of events. An unintentionally loose order of events is a common symptom of or being unsure of what your character wants.

Johnny Protagonist must want something, else he will be bored, along with the viewer.

Ah, but you say that this Want = Goal formula is too "Hollywood?" Hold it right there. Even the most rudimentary elements of life are formula. Every minute a person wants something. I want a drink; I want a candy bar; I want to read; I want to listen to music; heck, I want to sleep (it's five o'clock in the morning). Life is a series, a succession, of wants. Good stories are merely more focused, and amplified, than the real thing.

Step 2: Extrapolate

A story is what. A plot is how.

People have this misconception that plot and story are two very different yet still identical things, like maternal twins. They're more like co-workers. Ray Bradbury described it like this: Story is Point A, and Point B, and so on; 'plot' are the footprints in the snow the characters must tread to get there. Don't worry about plot until you have the story. After all, you must know where you are going before you can figure out how to get there.

So if a character wants something, why not just let them have it and be over and done with? Because then there would be little plot and less drama than what a solid story would entail. It would not even be a narrative. It would be a skit. A skit dwells on a single problem and is resolved for the audience's amusement. Sketch comedy comes to mind, as well most of the material on YouTube; though they tend to be mislabeled as short films.

A narrative is focused on the telling of a problem from a reinforced perspective. Whether or not it is solved becomes irrelevant. It is how the problem is solved that peaks our interest. And once you learn to ask why it needs to be solved, why anybody should care, viola! you have a narrative.

Assembling and plotting the story, beginning-middle-and-end.

One mistake is to view your story as a giant slab of concrete. Break it down into blocks to build a structure. "Ah, here is when we meet and get to know the old man." "Oh and here is when he gets evicted and the story really starts." Each part is an individual snapshot that has a purposeful function. None of it is window dressing, and none should overstay their welcome. As a rule, it is said that one scene of conflict should not carry itself directly into the following scene, because the point has already been made. It would feel redundant and used up. So move on. The plot should contribute to a forward-moving momentum. Toy around with the arrangement of your plot and of the events in your story. It is the DNA, and its varied arrangements will yield fascinating effects on the audience. Is the beginning supposed to be fast or slow? Should the audience acknowledge the ominous desk drawer before it is opened, or not? And so on.

In the case of the episode, the plot is constructed of, first, a flashback montage of Sean's problems; then it slows down and takes a detour to review his problems; then we finally see that they were not, in fact, problems. They were his unforeseen solutions. Finally, we learn of his newly solved problems by a second flashback montage that casts new light on what went before. It is a circular plot, structured to recall the beginning.

And So...

The episode scripts were outlined in an hour. They were also written in an hour and shot the next day, off-and-on (we were at the mercy of rain and weather) in a period of five days. I came up with the admittedly shallow story by first coming up with a problem, arriving at a logical solution, and then backtracking for a Want. In the end, it's what led up to the cheesy ending you have before you.

An 8-LED emergency light. There is no such thing as "pro" lights. Only lights that work.

And because someone asked in the last post, the Gazing-Up-at-the-Stars-On-the-Grass shots were lit entirely by this handy little thing (pictured above), twenty bucks at your nearest Target store. As for the majority of the shots, we used natural sunlight with reflectors and diffusers. The night shots at Drew's apartment were lit entirely by two utility clamp lights (the same ones used in the recent Low Budget Lighting episode).

Well, I think that about does it for Sustaining a Story Idea. It's partly practical and partly conceptual. What can I say? It's an idea meant to foster even more ideas. Perhaps next time we'll do Sustaining a Narrative. And so it goes, it is six o'clock in the morning. I better get on to bed. Or you know what? I might as well grab some coffee.

So one night at a Barnes & Noble I leafed through this Will Eisner paperback. You know, Eisner, the guy who helped define sequential narrative. In a single page he had this awfully simple definition of storytelling, illustrated in little dialog bubbles. It went like this:

Caveman: Tell me...Ol' Storyteller, where do stories come from?
Storyteller: Well, have you got something you want to tell someone?
Caveman: Yeah...a couple of things I'd like to tell. But, how?
Storyteller: Well, now...decide if you want to tell it as a joke or an adventure story. Invent a problem to illustrate the point!
Caveman: Okay!
Storyteller: Next you solve the problem, which will give you the ending. That, m'boy, is storytelling!
Caveman: Ahah!

This is what storytelling is, plain and true. I'm no authority to give vindication; but Eisner's telling is so straight-as-an-arrow, it penetrates pretension and arrives at some kind of holistic truth. A story is a problem. The ending is the solution. Got it? In the abstract, even an unsolved, downbeat ending is a solution in the requirements of the story, if not the dilemma. The bad guy gets away and the bomb goes off, but the story still ends.

If you dislike your story idea, you either have a problem nobody cares about, or you haven't the foggiest of how to fix it.

This is about writing, of any kind. Not just screenplay.

Some of you may be nodding your heads, "Of course that's what a story is!" But we all need to be reminded. The disease called Writer's Block is a cancer of thought: the story, when left unchecked, gorges itself into a tumor. Writers have the bad habit of treating their ideas as reflections of their expectations: they focus so anally on what their their story should be, that they don't allow their stories to simply be. The best ideas arrive naturally; as natural, perhaps, as the inclination to solve a nagging problem. Call it the two o'clock revelation. Call it the ego. Or, as Stephen King calls it, call it Pow! Pow is what happens when two polarized ideas collide to form one super magnet of a story. POW! Just like that. One idea is the neutron, the other is the charge. One is the vinegar, the other is the baking soda. Got it? The best way to go about this formula is to use ideas that contradict. They naturally incite conflict, which naturally makes the writer become Mr. Fix-It, and viola! You got your ending. Pow!

Lets take a step back. When is an idea not a story? Well, when it lacks a defining or unifying action. Some people confuse descriptions for stories. "My story is about a blind guy who lives alone." Interesting. But that, sir, is not a story. No doubt it could make a cool skit or an experimental character study; but a story for the sake of beginning-middle-and-end it surly is not.

A story is what happens. Don't worry about how it happens. That's plot. The first ingredient of a story, or at least an idea of a story, is what happens. Call it the problem, the inciting incident, whatever you like. Something just needs to happen that affects the outcome of the story, even if you have yet to arrive at the outcome. The thing that happens will interfere or impede directly with what the protagonist wants or needs to achieve. Discern the difference between an unclear background action (protagonist sees a car accident...perhaps has direct relevance to the story) and a foreground action (protagonist causes the accident...incites the story without a doubt).

Little tweaks in the thinking process, like the one in the above paragraph, can help to overcome writer's block. It may sound like redundant tripe, riddled with clichés, but this isn't in the interest of Hollywood formula. It's human nature. What may seem like a cliché can in fact turn out to be plain common sense. Just remember, a story is a problem.

More on this in the later posts.

The above video is nothing but problem (Sean needs help with a story). That's because it's split into three parts; this is essentially the first act, and so there's really nothing but exposition. The next episode will move it into the second act, which is solving the problem (Peter acts as mentor). It will touch a lot more on sustaining a story idea. And the third episode will simply tie everything up nice and neat (Sean discovers what he wanted).

And to anyone concerned, this is the format for part of the episodes from now on. This one's a little wobbly, like a newborn fawn trying not to fall. There will be more elaborate ones like this, which liberally touch on abstract ideas, alongside the more directly informational types. We wanna spice it up a little.

If lighting cannot be easy, then surly it can be uncomplicated. Bearing this in mind, anybody---from those with elaborate studio lamps, to those with low budgets and utility lights (or anything else lying about the house, right?)---can light a scene. And light a scene they should.

Because lighting is, ultimately, the heart of a lot of cinematography. If you disagree, well, you gotta admit it's pretty darned crucial. Yes, style does come into play; but for your own sake, figure out what you wanna do first (and don't always rely on Magic Bullet). And most importantly, figure out how you're gonna go about doing it. What makes lighting so time consuming, especially for amateurs, is the guesswork involved. Where does the Key Light go? Where the Fill Light? Where this, and where that? As this video shows, there is no right answer. And neither is this video meant to give an answer. It's more of a loose demonstration.

It is meant to show that custom lighting comes in all shapes and sizes; and unless the shot looks absolutely atrocious, then there really is no wrong way to arrange your lights. However, there are principles that help. The lighting in this video is a dark, Low Key setup (versus bright High Key, which is frequently used in Romantic Comedies). We formulated it on the spot, with modest lights. We decided to ignore our fancy-shmancy light stands and soft boxes, and did our best with these little guys:

One medium-sized utility "scoop," one small-sized "scoop," one utility work light, and one rusty desk lamp with a busted hinge. The small scoop provided most of the highlight on Sean's shoulders and hair, while the desk lamp lit a portion of the background. The medium-sized scoop got to be the Big Boy of the bunch and acted as Key Light, which lit up Sean. A cheap silver-sided reflector was used to bounce extra light onto his face. And way off camera the work light was aimed at the white panels of the garage door, bouncing enough diffused light to act as a Fill for most of the scene. Oh, and they're all nearly the same color temperature.

The resulting shot is definitely more dramatic, if not necessarily perfect, over the use of default indoor lighting. Greater emphasis is indeed placed on the subject/actor (Sean). Now, if only we had two more scoops to light the rest of the background. Ah well. Maybe next time.

Is it a community, a blog, an online film school? Is it spelled with an 'oh' or a zero? (hint: zero) Oh, we could go down that route and proclaim, "Take Zer0 is the hopes and dreams of everybody on planet Earth!"

Even Sean and I are stumped to give an answer. Stumped like a tree. I'm sure that question plagues me more. Or maybe it plagues us equally. With the involuntary free time we've been blessed with (i.e. we lost our jobs), I retooled the episodes and finalized the cuts to our old Halloween shorts. Yes, episodes are well on their way, and they've been retooled to be both faster to shoot and to watch. This is the internet, which is like a burly bigot: it'll tell you to go back to where you came from if you don't learn to speak its native language properly. And the internet speaks proper fast.

I made final cuts to "Thing at the End of the Hall" and Drew's "The Trick of the Treat." They're more polished, and encoded at a huge bitrate (if you're into that sorta thing). Back in Halloween, I had just a few hours to cut both by the deadline. Quality was tossed out the window of a moving car. I recently found it lying in the street (by now swept towards the gutter), picked it up, placed it in my coat pocket, and spent last week revising the two shorts, quality now back in my possession. At least a full minute has been excised from each. It was a Hallmark moment, full of an important life lesson: Less is more.

Yet in revisiting those shorts I found myself both impressed and depressed. Impressed because "Trick" was shot in three hours, all improv; and "Thing" was a last-minute germ of a story that made solid use of digital.

As to why I was let down...

Three months back I attempted something naive: to shoot a fifteen minute short inspired by The Twilight Zone...in one night, without a crew. Starring myself. Yes, through a long process, I managed to focus the camera on myself.

It was only a half-decent, half finished short film. I learned a lot; but I don't think I learned it in the easiest way possible. Yet I learned without a compromise. With each project in Take Zer0, I've come upon the revelation that we are not, in fact, teaching anything. We are demonstrating. We're not here to lecture; we don't know how.

But where would it all go from here? And what kind of content, and for whom?

I suppose for any and everybody who cares. About theory, about film, about random goals and dreams. Maybe our identity crisis is a freakishly good thing; because just like there is "no one way to make a movie" there is, likewise, "no one person to make a movie." Perhaps we shouldn't focus on just one quality.

More and more, I prefer to envision Take Zer0 as the guinea pigs of the online cinema scene. We're not quite the martyrs seen in The Lone Filmmaker; we don't quite know our target demographic like Wong Fu Productions; and we're not quite as all-seeing as IndyMogul. We're simply here to do any and everything all at once. Watch us demonstrate film theory; watch us fail; watch us succeed; watch us do it all over again until you get it yourself.

Ambition and persistence. What better model is there?

So Drew emailed me his first draft of "Father Time" (in Celtx format). That's the pilot for a webseries he wrote with a friend from Wisconsin. I am unsure if he would like the plot to be mentioned here, so I'll just say that the story is inspired from H.G. Welles' "The Sleeper Wakes." That's about the guy who falls asleep for two hundred years and wakes up in the future. Yeah, I know...Futurama twisted the formula. "Father Time" is at least way better than "Demolition Man." It's contemporary, with a sitcom approach; though it is in no way a straight-arrow comedy, with a bit of familial turmoil thrown in. I enjoyed it far more than I thought.

I wonder where he'll take the story arc.

I was inspired to open my beat-up spiral notebook, the one that I use to scribble notes for "Clip Show," my own semi-autobiographical webseries in-the-making. I ruffled through the crumpled sheets and discovered this odd little drawing I made. I can't recall if it was sketched in fun, in some coffeeshop, or if it's a genuine scene I took to heart.

And what has Sean been up to as of late? I think he's pursuing a full story for his short film, "Late Morning." He intends to cast the lead role obsessively. I think it's the real deal. According to his Twitter he purchased an album off of iTunes, as inspiration for writing. Hmmm. Could he have gotten it off AmazonMP3 for cheaper, with no copy protection, and at a higher bitrate? Yep.

S'true.

As for me, well, that drawing certainly gives me an idea...

A new year just rolled in, and so we tacked on an extended title sequence to briefly recap the past few days!

Anyway:

Like paintings and photos, movies are a two-dimensional medium. It can be argued that "good" cinematography is a matter of tricking the viewer's eye into thinking they're seeing a three-dimensional image on a two-dimensional screen. Otherwise, your shots can look unintentionally flat and uninteresting, with little depth and distinction. One easy way to solve this problem is to place an object in your foreground. Because when a foreground is implied, the middle ground and the background naturally follow suit. This instantly creates a sense of depth and dimension.

These tips should be especially useful to anyone without the ability to use shallow focus (i.e. users with lower-end digital cameras), and can at least make a shot look more interesting if not necessarily better.

When you make a movie, a big part of it is getting other people to see your vision. You have a story and in order to get others to see it how you imagined, you use lighting and sound effects to guide their eyes throughout the filmed version.

Typically, this means you should use manual focus and iris and gain so you have the most control possible. Unless, of course, you're going for a certain style or effect.

If you're confused about the ending, let me explain again. Were putting together a semi-viral video to advertise when we launch the new site. Were hoping to get about 50 people to send us videos of them saying Take Zer0″ in a whole bunch of different ways - then well compile them all together and maybe put some music in the background. It's gonna be funny.

Deadline for sending us videos is this Friday (October 24th)

If you want to participate, just record yourself with whatever youve got (even if its only a cellphone) and send your videos to esotericsean@gmail.com. Gmail supports up to 20 meg attachments, so most of your videos should be okay, but if theyre too big then you can use yousendit.com and email me a link. Be sure to include your name. And if you want a free button (were giving them out to everyone who participates), send us your address, too.

Is the establishing shot such a big deal?

Well, it sort of is, especially if a 180 degree shot comes after it. It's also one of the most efficient compositions, and it can minimize the amount of shots per scene. However, it does this at the expense of intimacy and detail. But within the context of, say, hitting a pedestrian in the leg with your car, it can make a shot look remarkably clear.

With this digital revolution sweeping the world of independent cinema, it seems that more and more filmmakers are out to emulate that film look of the past. Here we'll lay out the basics of what that "film look" consists of, and why your digital camera may have some difficulty reproducing it. We'll also tell you how to achieve that look...and then we'll strike you down for trying. Because, maybe, just maybe, this new digital look can be embraced.

Oh, and welcome to our new episode format. Excuse us, as we're still in the process of improving it within the next few episodes.

In a culture steeped in sponsored viral videos and SNL clips, we decided to turn our back on the "internets" and create a daring work of art. We dare you sit still for eleven minutes; we dare you to stop Stumbleupon; we dare you to forget about Pork and Beans.

Yes, YouTube generation, we dare you!

Just kidding, people. It was one o'clock in the morning and we had to post something. Here's part of the original film. But, yeah, ...anyway, we still dare you. If you want.

So, we're selling our camera. Bid high, guys! The money we get for this is going towards a new microphone.

Imagine the news when Drew told us he was moving back to Wisconsin. It broke our hearts. After being in two whole episodes with us, he will be sorely missed. When he invited us to the train station with him, we took the opportunity to record our goodbyes.

Then, Sean decided to take a little something from Drew, as a memento...

For our birthday, we decided to go to the beach and reflect. Reflect on a year of learning. A year of passion. And a year of self-discovery. Join us on our journey...

For those of you paying attention, our super secret episode ended up being so secret that it wasn't posted until today! Oh and don't worry about the title. We'll still be here; but as the video (and the playful subject matter) implies, we wanna have fun on small creative projects we've had in mind. It's only fair that, for all our tip-giving, we should get our own hands dirty...

This is only a temporary hiatus. And, yes, TZ v2.0 is still around the corner!

Lets keep this short: you can't control the sun, so it's best to adhere to (or slightly manipulate) it. The perk about natural, outdoor light is that it's free, and lights pretty well. (Oh, and please excuse the noisome, weekend ambient.)

Contrary to screenwriting gurus, voice-over can be a handy narrative device. By speaking directly to the audience, rather than dramatizing, voice-over cuts through the running time. It can also cut down on resources. Just don't overdo it. Overbaked voice-overs sidestep drama, and leave little to interpretation. Imagine if everything were explained to you secondhand, rather than witnessing it yourself.

For an excellent example of dramatic voice-over, look no farther than Goodfellas.

This is unrelated, but check out the trailer for Pineapple Express.

We contacted a man in Burbank who produces low-budget indie films. He gave us advice, and now we have not one, not two, but several sure-fire ways you can use to raise money for your film! How much money? Around $500,000. All it takes is a little common sense and effort, and the results have no strings attached.

The garage became stuffy, so we decided to head out and get some fresh air.

No, this isn't location scouting in the professional, industry term, where often paperwork and legal matters become involved. We mean it in the way that guerrilla filmmakers mean it: "We don't have a permit. Run!" (0:22). Not everyone can pay up to city hall or be insured. Sometimes the best way is to wing it without [official] permission, and hope nobody cares. This may sound like inept advice, but the realm of independent filmmaking is without many luxuries...