PAs that Act Like EPs: Can a Good Work Ethic Be Learned?
I watched him get out of his car, leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Hipster glasses, slicked back hair, tight jeans, and leather shoes. This must be a new executive producer, I thought to myself with surprise. They’re rarely the first ones to arrive at a film set — they usually shuffle in a few minutes before cameras roll. I watched as he hovered while the crew set up cameras and lights and took a seat while everyone around him hustled by with their hands full. Maybe he’s a supervising producer? I thought as I grabbed a stack of posters to art decorate a wall and he didn’t even lift his gaze from his iPhone. “Can I ask this guy to help?” I kept asking myself as I shlepped around tables and chairs for half an hour. My fear of offending an EP won me over, and so I continued to work alone. Later on that day, I learned that this hipster EP guy was, in fact, a brand-new intern/production assistant. I was floored. Not to sound like one of those “back in my day” types–but back in my day– I remember my first day on a film set. I was waiting tables at the time for cash, and I was so in awe that all the people around me got paid to be on a film set. They didn’t hate it, they loved it — AND it paid their bills. I was so eager to get into that club. I so badly wanted to get experience, prove my worth, leave an impression, and make a career. Sitting down was a cardinal sin, except at lunch — and half of the time, I only had half my butt on the chair so I could spring into action in a split second. When I see a new production assistant sitting around, clueless on their iPhone while the world around them is busting ass, I have a hard time holding my tongue. Is it possible to teach someone how to anticipate? Can a good work ethic be learned? In my experience, the answer is usually No — this line of work isn’t for everyone, and it’s best to let them down early. Day Two The following day, I was in charge of taking all shot media back to the post production house to begin the digitizing process. There were several boxes full of tapes and hard drives. On past shoots, I’d hauled and handled all the media by myself, but when my boss insisted I borrow a PA to help, I didn’t object. My assigned PA ended up being the hipster EP, much...
On Production Assistants That Are “Usually Producers/Directors”
The Setting It was a fast-paced, high-profile commercial shoot; one of those .com companies that fly in entire teams of people from Los Angeles and New York. As a result, you’re usually working alongside the most talented producers, ADs, and crew members in town. While your days are filled with long hours and taking an obscene amount of Starbucks orders, it is a great opportunity to showcase your work ethic, get noticed, and get hired for future gigs. The Main Character: The Deluded Production Assistant For these large projects, you need an army of production assistants, and maybe you try out a few new people. I was working alongside a girl who’d obviously never PA’ed a day in her life. She was bewildered easily, and wasn’t grasping that 90% of a PA’s job is anticipation. About halfway through the second day of filming, this PA did have enough sense to tell that the production team was getting frustrated with her. During some down time on the shoot, the girl clarified to the commercial’s producer, Brittany, why she was having a hard time living up to the PA standard. “I don’t usually PA,” the girl explained. Brittany nodded knowingly, but in sympathy. Like any good producer, she wanted this girl to be in the department where she felt most comfortable. “That’s fine. What do you normally do?” “I usually produce,” the girl said, without missing a beat. Brittany blinked in surprise, and almost laughed out loud. The girl didn’t know the back end of a grip truck from a honeywagon, and she wouldn’t know a sandbag if she tripped over it. “Uh…okay. What have you produced?” “Well, I just did a music video, at Watkins,” she bragged. WATKINS! THE FILM SCHOOL. AND SHE WAS SERIOUS. Apologies for the use of caps, but I had to convey how absolutely absurd that is. I don’t mean to belittle experiences gained by going to film school, but film school projects do not equate to real world projects, period. I never saw that girl on a film set again. The Antithesis There’s a flipside to this Watkins music video story: The director of that student music video. He’s a good work comrade of mine, and we got into the business at the same time and PA’ed together for a couple of years. He is a film snob, and has seen every movie ever made and is quick to offer his professional opinion… but it’s because he’s passionate and he knows his stuff. The difference is, even though he was more than capable and was often frustrated by the menial tasks – he did his time as a production assistant. And never in the two years...
“Quiet, Please” – Why PAs Don’t Win Popularity Contests
We want people to like us. It’s the human condition. The PA’s Primary Task: Keep everyone quiet while the camera’s rolling. We’re noisy Americans who blab on our iPhones while shopping for Greek yogurt and clogging up the aisle at Kroger. And even if we’re in the way, no one tells us to move, much less to shut up. Being told to “be quiet” when we’re in the middle of divulging may as well be an infringement on our constitutional rights. It’s hard enough to keep an entire crew quiet – that’s a lot of moving parts. You’ll get the occasional dirty look from someone, but they oblige, generally. But factor in egos, and the important people, and you can have a real problem. Do you do your job and shush ’em, or do you keep your job by letting them bust the take? …Really? Keep everyone quiet? You’re guarding the door that leads to a quiet, intimate sex scene. Only minimal crew – 4 or 5 people total – are allowed inside with the actors. Twenty feet away is craft service, which is being mulled over by a famous actor from that blockbuster hit you’ve seen 100 times since it came out 10 years ago. He strikes up an engaging conversation with BigWig Producer who’s wandered away from video village. The AD announces, “Rolling” in your earpiece – and you repeat in your friendliest and most official tone, maybe even staring at the HotShot actor- “Quiet please, we’re rolling!” But BigWig and HotShot keep yacking it up. You pray they’ll be quiet enough for the audio guy to not notice. (Impossible, they hear everything.) All seems to be going well, they’re maintaing beneath-the-radar volumes- until HotShot reaches the punchline to his non-exciting story, “…AND I’LL NEVER FLY THE RED EYE AGAIN!” You frantically make gestures like a captain losing a game of charades as his boat capsizes into the sea. You motion circles with your index finger over and over (to the rest of the world is You’re Crazy, but to us it means QUIET you idiot, we’re rolling), but you know its too late. The take is blown. The AD – your direct boss – screams “QUIET ALL AROUND” in your earpiece. This may seem like a very small dilemma when compared to the split-second decisions made by neurosurgeons and political leaders. But I assure you, it’s quite a pickle to be in, and can be very jarring. Do you tell the HotShot actor to be quiet, offend him, and get fired? Or do you not tell the HotShot actor to be quiet, and risk the wrath of...
The Time an Actor Picked a Fight With Me (Over Breakfast)
* Names and details have been changed to protect the guilty. The Setting I was working on a pilot, and we were filming on location. I was managing basecamp, making sure actors were getting ready, giving them their sides, getting any breakfast orders before the caterer stopped serving breakfast, and giving them estimations on how long until camera would be ready for them. The Story “Laryssa, please tell Jimmy that we don’t need him first off anymore, and that he can go get breakfast and hang out for a bit,” the 1st AD told me over walkie. “Copy that,” I chirped. No problem. I walked over to the trailer where Jimmy was, and knocked on his door. He swung it open hastily, looking down at me expectantly. I explained the situation to him briefly, but cordially: “Hiya Jimmy, a few things changed, and they won’t need you right away – so feel free to get breakfast if you’d like, the caterer’s still serving for another twenty minutes.” One of the mistakes I made in my delivery, apparently, was that I assumed both Jimmy and I were human beings. “Are YOU telling ME to get my own breakfast?” he scoffed, looking down from his lofty three-banger trailer as if he were Pharaoh. I was taken aback. I’d dealt with method actors before, but all-out drama was something new. “Well, no, I’m just letting you know you have the time, if you want to hang out, get some coffee-” This sent him out of the trailer, down to my level. “NO ONE has EVER told ME to get my own breakfast!” he retorted, the screen door slamming shut behind him. I feel it necessary to explain here that Jimmy wasn’t the main character. He wasn’t even really a minor character. He played the boyfriend of a minor character who might’ve had two lines in the whole script. However, he had contributed to a cult classic film of the 1990’s, but has failed to ever fully attain stardom. I wasn’t sure what to do as I stood there, with him staring at me expectantly. I knew he wasn’t my main priority. I needed to make sure the main actors were getting ready for their scenes, and that they had everything they needed. But, it’s never good to be the one responsible for sending an actor into a spiraling mood prior to 9am. “Um…well, I can get it, but I need to stay here, so it may take awhile-” “I’m trying to get ready for my scene.” He huffed, folding his arms across his chest, bothered that babying him wasn’t my main concern. “I know, and...
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I'm Laryssa, and when I'm not working in film or television, I'm attempting to travel -- or I'm here, providing resources for working in film or travel. Read more Elsewhere on the internets
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