sound is the filmmaker's achilles heel
Jon and I sat down and went through, point for point, where Amnesia Hotel stands for sound, and once he got things going for me, and gave me a bit of perspective on where it needed to go, I was able to begin.
I guess he went home about eleven o'clock, which means that over the last six hours I've sat here and pushed through, choosing halves of stereo pairs and trying as best as I can to bring volumes to reasonable levels. Hiding what I can't erase of that cursed camera noise, I have almost completed a first pass. I suppose, if you subtract about three minutes for the hotel dreams, I have averaged about one minute ten seconds per hour. I am up to minute ten, which also happens to be Scene 10, Scrabble. Always the roadblock, it seems.
So here I am, 5:00am, armed with a two-page list of unchecked check boxes and another two minutes or so of first-run to complete. I wanted to be heading home, catch some Zs with O, or at least bask in her Zs if I couldn't catch my own, but I need to push on. The next three days, it sounds like, are going to be filled up by some gig Jon and I agreed to do with Dallas for pay (though now it sounds like maybe the pay isn't going to be worth the job; well, whatcha gonna do, pay is pay), and if you do the math, that puts us at January 29th. I'm helping Wendy make the dubs on January 30th, which means that even exploiting every last hour of my personal extended deadline by virtue of being Festival Helper, I'm still running the fuck out of time.
None of this includes at least one or two shots I need to go back and look at in Shake, or the final touch-up of contrast/color I want to give it before signing off on it. No single short film should take up two years of someone's life.
I can't wait to move on past this beast. I don't know yet what the future will hold, but I just wish I was doing it already. It will hold less pain in my back and neck, and less sleepless nights watching the sun come up from the studio, that's for sure.
Even if only a little less.
I guess he went home about eleven o'clock, which means that over the last six hours I've sat here and pushed through, choosing halves of stereo pairs and trying as best as I can to bring volumes to reasonable levels. Hiding what I can't erase of that cursed camera noise, I have almost completed a first pass. I suppose, if you subtract about three minutes for the hotel dreams, I have averaged about one minute ten seconds per hour. I am up to minute ten, which also happens to be Scene 10, Scrabble. Always the roadblock, it seems.
So here I am, 5:00am, armed with a two-page list of unchecked check boxes and another two minutes or so of first-run to complete. I wanted to be heading home, catch some Zs with O, or at least bask in her Zs if I couldn't catch my own, but I need to push on. The next three days, it sounds like, are going to be filled up by some gig Jon and I agreed to do with Dallas for pay (though now it sounds like maybe the pay isn't going to be worth the job; well, whatcha gonna do, pay is pay), and if you do the math, that puts us at January 29th. I'm helping Wendy make the dubs on January 30th, which means that even exploiting every last hour of my personal extended deadline by virtue of being Festival Helper, I'm still running the fuck out of time.
None of this includes at least one or two shots I need to go back and look at in Shake, or the final touch-up of contrast/color I want to give it before signing off on it. No single short film should take up two years of someone's life.
I can't wait to move on past this beast. I don't know yet what the future will hold, but I just wish I was doing it already. It will hold less pain in my back and neck, and less sleepless nights watching the sun come up from the studio, that's for sure.
Even if only a little less.