So here I am sat in a TV studio. The producer's here in the gallery (the room with all the technical gizmos) and has just gone ape shit down talk back (posh walkie talkies).Why? It's not because the set looks like it was painted by school children; it's not because all the rehearsed camera shots are constantly changing; it's definitely not because we're running way over rehearsal time; nah, it's because the presenter burped. I shit you not. The presenter burped while he was (surprise!) on mic. Ho-ly shit. My best friend looked over at me from his place in front of the tape machine and the expression on his face had all the tell tale signs of someone who has no idea how we can be LOWER in the managerial ladder than a television producer who has more concern over etiquette than budget and time.
Before last year, I'd never used a camera bigger than a Gameboy, yet I could in all seriousness do a better job repositioning a camera and getting a shot, while zooming and focusing respectively, than these people on the studio floor. There's a thirty year old on camera who doesn't know the difference between left and right. LEFT AND RIGHT. We're rehearsing a game show that's being shot as live, and our camera operator on camera two doesn't even know what directions are? Nice one. I'm amazed there's not a suicide booth in this place, but then again, there is NOTHING of value in Immingham, other than this studio and my car.
The director of this particular episode (I'm directing the RX3, but this is RX1) has just gone on a marathon of telling every single person that their shots are poor. I know he's picky, but he actually has some decent people on the studio floor being unnaturally dense, like a bad soup, or a lead weight. I don't understand how people can screw up so much in the space of five minutes. “I'm just not used to the zoom control...” just fizzled through the talkback. See what I mean?
Another giant mould on the pudding of today is the gentleman on camera for RX1 and 2 who forgot he never got the director job. “[Mr. X] are you on your camera yet?...Is he there?” “No, he's sorting out the desks.” “That's not his job.” (X comes on talkback) “I was sorting out the desks mate.” “THAT'S NOT YOUR JOB!”, etc. Pretty damn stupid to be honest. You do the job you're given, especially if it's perfectly reasonable; I'd much rather be behind the camera than be a “scenic supervisor” (you tell me). Our director favourably compared him to a studio floor director, a euphemism for a back seat driver. A back seat driver who belongs in the boot. And the car is under water. The water is acid. Yes.
I should mention that during this rehearsal being a scenic supervisor, I've been asked to stay up in the gallery (I should be on the the studio floor supervising the set and props) to make note of the shots because my show and this one are being shot the same. Conveniently forgetting, of course that I already have noted the shots from the rehearsal we did at college two days ago. Nobody has any faith in my creative ability as a director, yet they're blind as to how bad the format of the show is, how bad it's lit, been designed, shot, produced, organised and hamfistedly fucked up the arse by the horrifying lack of budget.
I actually brought a NaturalMotion stress ball shaped like an American football. One might decode this as a reminder of better times, perhaps looking forward to the future, such as the release of NM's Backbreaker. Those people would be utterly incorrect. I brought it to squeeze the living daylights out of, because I'm not allowed to Falcon PAAAWWWNNNCCCHHH almost everyone on the crew.
The school children arrive at half one. Did I mention there were school children involved? We're filming them exerting themselves physically and mentally. That's not weird, is it? Fortunately for us we're not Glitter Fritzl and not paedophiles, henceforth they're here because they're the ones playing the games and being the audience, not to be locked in the Sports Dungeon.
What a joke.
