Two coats!

We're really starting to hit some kind of stride with this new idea of moviepainting. George and Michael headed up some soundpainting sessions the other night, which I lit (eh) and shot (a little less eh). Needless to say, it's a really amazing thing to watch, and I can imagine to participate in. The great thing is the amount of improvisation granted to both the director and the actor; there's room for experimentation on both sides, but also enough reliance on each other to avoid feeling too responsible for the success of the exercise. Mutual dependence is really what frees both participant and guide to do what comes naturally because of the imposed structure.

Needless to say, we needed to transfer this over to movies, and I think it's been pleasantly surprising how well it works. The first go was a very simple scene: Erin and Michael lay on a bed, Erin trying to write a list, Michael trying to go to sleep. They engage in a conversation as each tries to turn the light on or off. The painting in this case used very simple symbols: George sat at the foot of the bed in the offscreen space, squeezing for the action (turning on/off the light) and tapping for the delivery of a line. The result was not only visually beautiful, it was also poignant and totally hilarious. And, best of all, the timing and pace were spot on. This is the biggest advantage in this method; the painter has the ability to craft a rhythm and remove that burden from the improvisatory actors. They can now focus on doing the tasks and delivering the lines that they need to without getting hung up on when to execute. When working with actors like us, this turns out to be the missing element to making scenes workable, I think.

This quick experiment revealed a lot. First off, it's clear that good scenes can be slight affairs. I've always thought this, and I think everyone else has, as well, but it's good to have some pudding for the proof. Second, the director in these scenes really becomes the painter, who is really more of a puppeteer. That terminology is a better fit for this style of tapping and squeezing and physical contact than painting, primarily because it allows the actors to remain engaged in the scene without looking for the cues. Third, this technique tends towards the funny. Can we do a serious scene? Sure, but when humor's your big challenge, it's great to have a shortcut to laughter. Fourth, the method has a big effect on how we shoot. Offscreen space suddenly becomes very important, because the puppeteer needs access to each actor without being seen. Framing, sets, and scenarios have to be thought of and developed to an extent before shooting begins, which is a good thought experiment. Fifth, the most successful scenes seem to be those that have an inherent opposition. Or rather, something that forces the actors to engage with the space and actions undertaken by the other actor. By having Erin and Michael turn on and off the light, there is a conflict and a tension that inevitably grows without the director having to provide the exposition, or even the scene description in full before filming commences.

Our most important finding, though, is that this technique is infinitely malleable and expandable. There's a few technical elements that always need to be taken into account, but there is no limit to the complications and twists that can be added. Multiple puppeteers, a number of cues, more intricate conflicting action sets; all these things are possible. But it requires a lot of practice, not just for the actors, but for the puppeteer, as well.

In our most advanced experiment yet, I figured out how little control the puppeteer has beyond the actual cues. Riffing off the need for everyone to go home last night, we developed a three-person scene where they each had one action command and one speaking command. Joe's action was actually a series in which he had to do a number of things to leave: unlock the door, put on his sweater, put on a scarf, put on a coat, get one last drink, walk out the door. Aurora had a dependent action: she had to undo or obfuscate Joe's last action; if he unlocked the door, she locked the door, if he put on the sweater, she pulled off the sweater. Erin's action had a different type of dependence: she had to repeat the last line of dialogue delivered, no matter who delivered it.

I liked this scene a lot because of how much each of the characters had to engage with each other, even though Erin was just sitting in a chair while Joe and Aurora continually countermanded each other. The series was so great because Joe could not advance to the next action until he completed the first one without it being cancelled out. If he unlocked the door, and then Aurora locked it, the next time he was cued for his action, he had to unlock the door again. Only once the door was unlocked could he advance to putting on his sweater. And even then, if Aurora was given two consecutive action cues, she would have to remove his sweater and then lock the door again. The absurdity was unbelievable, and despite the actors' expressed discomfort, these scenes are among my favorite this month.

Shooting two cameras, one on the actors, one on the puppeteer is the most satisfying. Because you really see how much fun, and how funny, the whole experience can truly be.