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MillimeterOnce Upon a Time in Sylmar
Oct 1, 2003 12:00 PM, By Scott Billups
Day in the Life of Red Riding Hood: Vipers, Visualization, High Hopes.
It's a hundred degrees at 6:45 a.m. in a remote slice of Los Angeles' San Fernando Valley. Winding through the dusty, deserted streets of Sylmar, I finally pull my truck into the parking lot of the Lone Star Studio facility. On their backs, two electricians struggle in vain to bring the carcass of an aging air conditioner to life. It will be a long, hot day of shooting, but the coffee is good.
 Crew films actress Morgan Thompson against a bluescreen for a scene that will eventually show her character, Red, riding across a long bridge. An on-set compositing system permitted filmmakers to see the actress juxtaposed against a CG background during production. Photo: Brian To |
My old friend, Sean Fairburn, took the day off to shoot a car commercial, so I'm covering his slot as B camera operator on a movie called Red Riding Hood. The story is a contemporary, musical version of the classic children's tale, directed by Randal Kleiser (Grease, Blue Lagoon, Big Top Pee-wee, Honey I Blew Up the Kid), with Dave Stump (X-Men, Blade, Mars Attacks, Stargate) stepping up from his traditional role as a visual effects DP to the top DP job for the project.
Working under Stump, the camera team was charged with operating twin state-of-the-art Thomson Viper cameras. Veteran operators Joe Di Gennaro and Sean Fairburn ran this new technology, except for this day, when I filled in for Sean.
These days, my time on set is usually spent as director, DP or visual effects supervisor (Krakatoa, Bend it Like Beckham, Mulholland Drive). It had been far too long since I was behind the camera on a big set, and despite the sweltering heat, I was looking forward to the gig.
Vipers, Visualization
Red Riding Hood is one of those surreptitious little projects that sneaks in under the radar and then rises out of obscurity. In this case, the initial reason for that rise is a digital one — a development with potential to have a major impact on the conventional motion picture manufacturing process. Nearly all of the live action for this movie was shot bluescreen, with realtime, on-set compositing work done to precompose and visualize the entire piece. The action shot by the Viper cameras will later be combined with 3D sets and environments at online resolution.
In particular, the project is notable for its use of the Vipers to record all images to a combination of RAM chips and HD tape (D5). Unlike most HD cameras, the Viper doesn't have a dedicated tape-based acquisition format. With a top data rate of 1.5Gbps, it simply creates more information than conventional tape-based systems can record. The way around that for this project involved reducing the data rate and using a Panasonic D5 recorder to record to tape for certain sequences. For others, filmmakers used a disk recorder or RAM recording system and got full bandwidth.
“We recorded a number of critical shots to a working prototype CineRAM Digital Recorder in 10-bit RGB 4:4:4,” explains Dave Stump. Unlike conventional hard disk-based systems, BayTech's CineRAM uses lightning-fast, solid-state RAM to record the data stream. “It worked like a charm, but since it is in such early developmental stages, we just couldn't get the capacity to shoot the whole show with it.”
 One of two accessorized Thomson Viper cameras used during production of Red Riding Hood. Photo: Sean Billups |
Red Riding Hood is believed to be the first feature-length movie ever produced with this new camera technology. During the shoot, the two Vipers sent 23.98 progressive images to D5 tape at 4:2:2 in HDStream mode (via the camera's SDI Port) and also, for certain sequences, to the CineRAM Digital Disk Recorder in 10-bit RGB, 4:4:4 in FilmStream mode (via the camera's RGB port).
The Vipers are linked to an encoded tracking system that Stump co-developed, winning him and three others a Technical Achievement Academy Award Certificate in 2000. The data signal from the encoders was then sent to a tracking system developed by Norwegian graphics company Vizrt, which used it to simultaneously drive low-resolution versions of the 3D sets and environments that were being generated by workstations run by SandMan Studios, Orem, Utah.
The show's big gamble was the fact that it was shot almost entirely on bluescreen, with nearly all sets and locations precomped in realtime, live on set. To accomplish this, an engineering station takes a downconverted feed and, using a conventional switcher, overlays the image with on-set, 3D CG backgrounds, which it pumps back out for viewing reference. Although this has been done for certain sequences on feature films before, this is probably the first movie to make such visualization procedures a common practice throughout the entire production.
“Obviously, the production environment that we've created here is very advanced,” says Kleiser. “Many of these systems have never worked together or at this resolution, but everything seems to be holding. Now all we need to do is tell a good story.”
“We knew about all of these different technologies out there and that all the pieces had been developed and used in various combinations, but the projects were all very small,” adds Jack Serino, the show's production executive. “Commercials mostly, maybe a music video or two, mostly one-day shoot type projects. There was a lot of talk about how this type of project could be done on a limited budget, but no one had tried it. These Viper cameras were so obviously the next great thing that we started working with Plus 8 Digital [Burbank] on developing a post system that supported it. A little backwards maybe, but we ended up with an incredible crew that put together a really great system.”
With a techno-panorama of 30 screens displaying camera image, computer elements, or control interfaces, the view at the location becomes a cacophony of components that all contribute to a greater whole. In my view, this is possibly the most advanced production metaphor to hit our industry since David Wark Griffith decided it might be nice to move the camera.
“This shoot differs from a conventional production in that we're essentially bringing all of the locations to us,” says D. Scott Easton (XXX, The Rookie, Stuart Little, The Lost World: Jurassic Park), the film's line producer. “There is a great economy with respect to conventional production methodology, but the new technologies have a learning curve that not only includes lots of new equipment and personnel, but an entire new glossary that everyone needs to be familiar with.”
Time Delay
Emile Razpopov is sound designer on the project. He has worked with Kleiser since the days of Blue Lagoon and Grandview U.S.A.
“Considering how fast this show went together, and how many systems, with different standards and requirements now all working in concert, I'd say that this was a very successful venture,” Razpopov says. “The biggest problem, as nearly anyone will tell you, is the time delay.”
Indeed, the time-delay issue is the primary sticking point of the methodology chosen to make Red Riding Hood. It's highly impractical to pump high-def video around the set for viewing and reference, so the image coming from the Vipers is downconverted to 29.97 using two Evertz HD9155Q Afterburners. Of course, this makes the viewing screens a crowded jumble of timecode and metadata burn-ins.
“At least no one can possibly lose their place in the post process,” says an optimistic Stump. “The problem is that the Afterburner adds a substantial delay to an image that is headed for even more delays as it makes its way around the set.”
Razpopov gestures broadly around the stage, which is packed with a variety of workstations. “Look at all that equipment,” he says. “Everywhere you look, more computers, more machines, and every one of them slows the video signal down just a little. For camera crew, it is not so bad because they have that little Astro monitor hooked on the side, and for departments, such as CG that is working with a six-frame delay, it isn't so bad because the camera moves aren't that fast. But for sound, this is a musical! Just look at the delay that we're dealing with.”
Sure enough, during a typical scene, Red Riding Hood sings and dances her way through CG woods with a delay that aligns almost every word with the preceding mouth movement.
“It was originally 16 frames, and now were down to eight,” adds Emile. “I guess I should be grateful, but still, this is a musical.”
Looking at Emile's monitor, Red Riding Hood is happily dancing her way through the CG forest. Looking up at the set, the realtime actress, Morgan Thompson, is doing the same across a huge, blue swath of stage. Comparing real life to the image on screen, the full impact of the delay becomes even more evident.
When asked to explain the advantages of this seemingly endless hodgepodge of technology, Stump smiles wryly. “Since we're encoding data from both cameras on every axis of movement, the actors are free to move naturally without the need to follow a pre-programmed path,” he says. “It might not sound like such a big thing, but I've shot a lot of movies where the actors were forced to hit an extensive series of marks, and it always seemed to affect their performance. With a musical such as this, I think the added freedom is appreciated by people on both sides of the camera.”
Stump then kindly reminds me that one of my shots is up next, and its time to stop playing journalist, at least for a while. The temperature outside is pushing 110 degrees as the aging air conditioner finally gives up the ghost with a loud, mechanical death rattle.
Joe Di Gennaro mans the dolly-mounted Viper (Chapman hybrid dolly, boom and track, Sachtler fluid head). My camera is attached to an AeroHead at the end of a 30ft. Aerocrane arm. Both cameras were fitted with a pair of Canon HD 4.7mm to 52mm zooms, the Preston FI+Z MkII three-axis wireless lens control system (commonly called Preston FIZ remotes), and multi-axis encoders, which the Vizrt system reads to drive the Softimage-created CG sets in synch with camera output.
I had run through the system with Sean Fairburn the day before, and his parting words kept running through my head. “You've got three monitors in front of you, all pumping image with different delays, and none of them are in synch with the action that you're covering,” Sean told me. “Your signal is going out to six different stations that are each tracking, adding, or com-positing something to it, and they're all counting on you. Don't screw up.”
With Sean's words ringing in my head, I tracked several rehearsals while trying to decide which monitor to follow. The Vizrt guys seemed happy with the tracking data that streamed out of the camera's encoder. The SandMan team, responsible for creating the virtual environment for the shot, seemed happy with the registration to their CGI. Then, I glanced over in Jay Nefcy's direction. He did not look happy.
Nefcy is the show's digital imaging technician (DIT). He was manning a substantial rack of gear that included, among other things, waveform monitors and the two Panasonic AJ-HD3700AE D5 machines that recorded the 4:2:2 SDI signals out of the Vipers.
To create NTSC dailies on set, the cameras had to be genlocked together so that all timecode references (23.8-29.97, etc.) would work in unison. Because the Vipers don't have “reference out,” Stump's crew wired a tri-level synch generator to the multi-pin dongle connection at the back of the cameras. As Di Gennaro put it, “It's like shooting with a garden hose attached.”
The tri-level sat at the top of a stack of Evertz timecode generators that linked all of the downstream activity, including the compositing switcher, Emile's audio DAT, and SandMan's CG backgrounds that were being driven by Vizrt's realtime tracking software. Everything needed the right synch and timecode in order to make Jay happy.
After a quick equipment scan and the flicking of many switches, Jay realized that something had come loose somewhere, and he shifted into a mildly controlled panic. The studio floor looked like free pasta night at the Olive Garden as Jay and I traced and retraced cables that wound off in every direction.
Joe Di Gennaro's camera crew was re-setting for another shot on another stage, so he came over to see how we were doing. I've known Joe for some time now — he was DP on Mid-Century, an HD indie film that I directed a few years ago — and he has as much experience with the Vipers as anyone. He also has a wry sense of humor that has the unfortunate habit of bubbling to the surface when you need it least, like this particular moment, for instance.
“Randal's on the way over and he's really anxious to shoot,” he said, squirting lighter fluid on a raging inferno. “I sure wouldn't want to keep him waiting.”
Two minutes later, with a simple half-twist of an errant BNC connector, one of a hundred tiny lights blinked on, and Jay settled back with a satisfied look. Disaster averted.
Turning Point?
Randal Kleiser pulls up a chair and asks to run through the shot. A few micro adjustments, a quick blocking rehearsal, and three minutes later the shot is in the digital can. While we waited for the crew to make a small adjustment to the lights for our next shot, I ask Randal for his take on this rather unique methodology.
 A composite monitor, run by technicians from Sandman Studios, shows computer models for a CG tree interacting with the Wolf character (played by Joey Fatone) during production. Photo: Sean Billups |
“Honey I Blew up the Kid was right at the turning point between optical and digital,” he explains. “We did most of the shots optically and a few shots near the end of production digitally because the industry had just started to change over. These days, you'd be hard pressed to even find a house that does opticals.”
Dave Stump notices a hot spot and moves the stand-ins a little farther from the wall. I crank the camera back a bit to accommodate, and Randal asks James Jensen, the visual effects producer from SandMan Studios, to put up a different backplate. Watching the “comp monitor,” Randal sees a plate he likes and asks for a slight alteration to match the lighting. “Three minutes,” Jensen says as Randal sits back down, resuming our conversation.
“So here we are, 10 years later, and we're at another turning point,” he continues. “Unlike the transition to digital, which was mostly about the recording medium, this one is about the basic approach to making movies. We're actually bringing a significant amount of postproduction onto the set and merging it with production. We are redefining the workflow, and I can only see it becoming more integrated as filmmakers realize the creative and financial advantages to working this way. Cutting and pasting the performances of two actors into the same shot, shooting an entire day at magic hour, sets and locations limited only by imagination, not budget: The list goes on and on.”
Almost three minutes to the second, the altered background pops up behind the stand-ins, interrupting our reverie. “That's it, that's the one I want,” says Randal. “Now let's shoot this thing.” Five minutes later, we've got the shot, and the boss is off to the other side of the huge stage to see what Joe's got for him.
Few people have a better vantage point from which to view the binary onslaught than the director's younger brother. Under the watchful eye of the legendary Harrison Ellenshaw, a young Jeff Kleiser painfully crafted digital frames for Disney's 1982 release of Tron. Most recently, he served as the senior visual effects supervisor for X-Men 2.
“I'm very excited to see Randal getting into this new technology,” Jeff says as we cool off in the breeze of, thankfully, a brand-new, roll-in air conditioner. “Realtime feedback on-set is so powerful; it's really quite impressive how quickly things are getting lined up and shot.”
Looking across the huge stage, we can see the small crew working away. “In the 10 minutes that we've been standing here, he's gotten off three shots,” he continues. “Two of them were first takes. Randal's a very efficient director, but I don't think that I've ever seen him move so fast with so much confidence.”
We get our hands on a couple of iced Frappuccinos, and between sips Jeff continues promoting the notion that this type of production represents a fundamental change in the moviemaking process.
“We are watching an important change in moviemaking, where we are passing the point of diminishing returns,” Jeff says. “It's becoming more efficient to make this extra effort in production and reap heavy rewards in post. This methodology should shrink post schedules and budgets significantly.”
Echoing that thought is Steve Austin, president of the film's production company, Tag Entertainment. “We brought this project in for under two million dollars, but the methodology gave us 10 million dollars' worth of production value,” he insists. “Pretty soon, everyone will be using these technologies to some degree, and the playing field will get leveled once again. For now, and perhaps into the near future, I think that we have a significant edge, one that will give us a distinct advantage in bringing a full catalog to market more cost effectively.”
As far as Hollywood motion picture studios go, Tag Entertainment is really quite small. With a little more than 20 titles to its credit (Black Beauty, The Retrievers, Hansel & Gretel, Miracle Dogs, The Santa Trap), the company is unencumbered by the requisite baggage of flashy real estate. Austin runs the company, but he quickly credits Jonathan Bogner, Red Riding Hood's executive producer, for the company's ability to leap into the technology pool with such a cutting-edge project.
“Technology is the great equalizer,” says Bogner. “You can make a movie by throwing money at it, or you can make a movie by being smart. Either way, you end up with a movie. Obviously, there are some genres that will be slower to adapt than others. This method of production has so many advantages that even the simplest, contemporary dramas could use it to establish things, such as locations, and develop themes. Want your story to take place in London? Throw up the London plate. Don't like that? Throw up the New York plate. Since all the motion data is there, you can add fog, rain, and atmospheric effects in post. The only limitations are the ones you show up with.
“Red Riding Hood was a great project for this technology because the fairy tale and fantasy worlds give you so much latitude,” he continues. “Randal already had an idea about the look he wanted, so we did a few experiments and even printed some tests to film. The results were quite impressive. You can tailor a look to match the story, and I think that's what intrigued Randal about this project. If this was just a normal 35mm movie, I doubt that we would have been able to assemble such a high-caliber crew for this kind of budget. Everyone was so vested in the technology. They wanted to see it work. There were a few glitches here and there, but before you could even build up a good head of worry about it, someone had figured out a solution.”
Austin nods in agreement, glad for a chance to actually stand around and talk about the project for a change. “We made good choices and put a lot of faith in the people we chose,” he says. “Randal Kleiser, D. Scott Easton, Dave Stump: These are all people that you associate with budgets that have a lot more zeros than ours. They all went above and beyond the call of duty, testing, researching, and helping to design this system. The crews they brought to keep the whole show up and running were top-dollar craftsmen.”
Thompson, the show's diminutive lead, suddenly rides toward us on her bicycle. Pedals clicking, red cape flapping, she hollers, “Hi guys. Bye guys,” and whizzes past. Austin chuckles, but he also points out that the methodology made possible with the Viper cameras and the on-set visualization effort has allowed the production to work more efficiently with child actors like Morgan.
“As you know, there are a lot more regulations with regard to working with children [these days],” says Austin. “The hours they can work, on-set schooling, and such all has a significant impact on the efficiency of the production, which in turn affects the bottom line. This system is particularly well suited to working with those type of limitations, because you just put them on blue [screen stage], put them to work, and then move on.”
Someone from the production office walks up to Austin and hands him a paper to sign. “This technology has been so successful,” he mutters while scribbling his signature, “that we've purchased this stage.”
“You're actually buying this stage?” I ask, trying to keep from spitting out my Frappuccino.
“Apparently,” says Bogner with a wry smirk. “We want to develop an environment where we can further refine this methodology. We put this project together in 18 months, which is really quite amazing when you realize all of the disparate elements that we combined. It's like the United Nations of technology, with systems and components and crew from a dozen countries.”
“But this stage is huge,” I respond.
Austin smiles. “We need to reduce the number of computers that it takes to make this magic happen. Thirty computers make a lot of noise and take a lot of people to run. It seems as though there were a significant number of redundancies that can be combined to create a quieter and more efficient environment. Maybe we'll create a central computer control room and then run wires out to the stages.”
Scott Billups has had an extensive career in writing, directing, visual effects, and cinematography. His latest book, Digital Moviemaking, offers an in-depth look at modern digital movie production. He has also written extensively on digital production techniques and cinematography for a wide range of publications. Find out more at www.pixelmonger.com.
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