StoryFirst collaborator Michael Nie has been one of my best friends for many years, ever since we worked on an independent feature together in Madison, Wisconsin in early 2004. More recently, he has worked on a myriad of major film productions, including Peter Berg’s The Kingdom, Michael Bay’s The Island, Paul Greengrass’ The Bourne Ultimatum, Joe Carnahan’s Smokin’ Aces, Clint Eastwood’s Flags of Our Fathers and J.J. Abrams’ Mission: Impossible III.

He was director of photography on my thesis film in film school, as well as many StoryFirst Media projects, including work for clients Herzing University and the Wisconsin Milk Marketing Board. In 2008, however, Mike experienced the dream of every young boy and girl who dreams of one day making movies. He got to work on a Martin Scorsese picture – Shutter Island.

Mike was kind enough to share his memories and what he learned on the set with us and all of you here.

First of all, for all our readers out there trying to get gigs on a Scorsese movie, how in the hell did you get the opportunity to work on Shutter Island?

My involvement on Shutter Island was the result of quality relationships I had established, my status as a member of the International Cinematographers Guild, and good timing.  If one of these elements was missing, I would not have found myself on the set of a Martin Scorsese film in the Spring of 2008.  The relationships I speak of harken back to the fall of 2004, when I started work as the assistant to the director of photography on Michael Bay’s The Island.  It was then that I was introduced to the first assistant on the “A” camera and the Panavision prep tech for the film.  I kept in touch with both of them over the next several years, and once I joined the union, worked with them periodically.  At the start of 2008, I was in search of my next project.  I caught wind that the first assistant from The Island was hired by Bob Richardson on Shutter Island.  The prep tech from The Island was now the “A” camera second assistant on Shutter Island.  I knew them both.  I was looking for work and when I called, it turned out they were looking for an additional camera assistant.  I boarded a plane for Boston, and so my work began on Martin Scorsese’s Shutter Island.

What was it like the first time you saw Martin Scorsese in person?

Epic.  My first day on set, the company was on location, shooting an exterior flashback sequence involving a hoard of prisoners and a firing squad.  It was cold.  I could barely feel my toes and there was ice on the slate.  I first met Bob Richardson, perched atop a camera dolly on 200 feet of track.  With no sign of Martin Scorsese, I remember rolling the camera on several takes.  There was an enclosed tent where video village had been set up.  It wasn’t until the assistant director called cut on the final take that I saw Scorsese for the first time.  With his signature glasses fogged over, he emerged from the tent wearing a black russian ushanka, a black wool trenchcoat, and black shoes.  It was as though a general had emerged to survey the battlefield in winter during World War II.  A historic moment, no doubt.

Does Scorsese sit by the camera near the actors during takes or does he stay back by the monitors?

You will always find Martin Scorsese glued to his monitor at video village while the camera is rolling.  It is worth noting that Scorsese often shoots with a single camera.  His singular focus is on the performance that plays out on the frame in front of him.  His time in front of the monitor allows him to evaluate all aspects of a given shot.

Did you get a chance to see him direct the actors? What is his method with them as you could observe it?

His time with the actors is spent during very long, private rehearsals.  By the time camera rehearsals occur, the actors are extremely prepared.  Scorsese will give small notes to an actor while the crew is present, but if there are any substantial adjustments, the crew is excused for a short private rehearsal.  The assistant director serves as the channel of communication for the crew.

Your boss on the film was two-time Academy Award winning Director of Photography Robert Richardson (JFK, Kill Bill, The Aviator, Inglourious Basterds, Django Unchained). What is he like?

With the demeanor of a mad scientist, Robert Richardson is a genius in the world of cinematography.  The man knows his craft.  His work speaks for itself.  Richardson is in constant communication with members of the camera, grip, and lighting crews via a one-way transmitter dubbed the “Bob Comm.”  Often demanding, he produces exceptional results.

How does Scorsese direct his cinematographer?

Bob Richardson and Martin Scorsese have a unique relationship.  They have collaborated on several projects in the past.  Like any member of the cast, Richardson is prepped thoroughly by Scorsese before either of them arrive on set.  They are on the same page from the out set and much goes unsaid.  As with any director/cinematographer relationship however, there has to be a channel of communication on set.  Because Scorsese is glued to his monitor and Richardson is glued to his camera, the assistant director is the go-between.  If Bob Richardson did not operate his own camera, I would suspect that he would join Scorsese at his private video village.

Did you have any personal interaction with Scorsese?

No.  The only individuals to interact with Martin Scorsese on set are the assistant director, cinematographer, script supervisor, and Scorsese’s assistants.  Occasionally, he would have a discussion with one of the producers or his editor, Thelma Schoonmaker.

How did your perspective on Scorsese change through working on one of his films?

Martin Scorsese is a human being like you or I, yet he is certainly unique in his own right.  I imagine I would have said the same about Albert Einstein.  More than anything, I would say that Scorsese lived up to my expectations.  My perception did not change so much as it was confirmed.  When it comes to the craft of filmmaking, Scorsese IS a genius.

You told me earlier that editor Thelma Schoonmaker made an appearance on set – what was your impression of her and Marty’s relationship?

Having met at NYU, Martin Scorsese and Thelma Schoonmaker have worked together for over 35-years.  Their relationship is one of mutual respect.  They are similar in the way they work and I have the sense that each person often knows what the other is thinking.

Tell me about the experience working so closely to the cast with Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Kingsley and Max von Sydow.

The cast of Shutter Island is perhaps the most talented cast I have ever encountered.  Each member that you mention brought vastly different backgrounds to the project and had much to contribute to each of their characters.  Aside from their work on the film, they all were extremely gracious as individuals.  They were all are very approachable and good conversationalists.  I am honored to have worked with each of them.

Describe your average day on set.

In my hotel room, my alarm would go off before sunrise each morning.  I would check the weather report and dress accordingly.  Shortly thereafter, I boarded a van full of sleepy crew members that drove us to the set.  After a quick stop at catering for breakfast, I would meet the crew at the camera truck.  We would unload our equipment and arrive on set in time for a blocking rehearsal of the first scene that day.  Following the blocking rehearsal, the actors would head to the make-up and hair trailers while we would build the cameras and lighting took place.  When lighting was finished, the actors would return the set and we would run a camera rehearsal.  Once all the elements were in place, Martin Scorsese would arrive and we would roll cameras.  When we had the shot that Scorsese was happy with, he would return to his trailer and the whole process would happen all over again.  At the six hour mark, we would break for a half-hour lunch.  Our days would average about twelve hours.  At the end of the day, we would break down the cameras, load the truck, and catch a van back to the hotel.  Often very tired, I would find myself asleep an hour or two after getting off work.

If you could sum up your experience on Shutter Island into a few sentences, what would you say?

Shutter Island is perhaps the most difficult yet most rewarding experience I have ever had on a film set.  The story largely takes place during a hurricane, and there was plenty of water, wind, and debris employed to simulate that phenomenon.  The making of this film was not for the faint-hearted.  I would do it again in a heartbeat.

What, in a nutshell, did you learn about the craft of cinema through your experiences working on a Martin Scorsese picture?

Many talented and creative filmmakers are required to tackle a project of this nature.  While a visionary director is essential in telling an inventive and compelling tale, the contributions of the cast and crew are equally important.  Hundreds of decisions are made each day by members of the filmmaking family that affect the outcome of the picture.

The post On Set with Martin Scorsese appeared first on StoryFirst Media Website.

In 1994, astrophysicist Kip Thorne wrote the book “Black Holes and Time Warps: Einstein’s Outrageous Legacy”.

The title of the book sounds daunting. One would assume it to be filled with scientific theories and language that would surely alienate any readers without a degree in astronomy or cosmology. So Mr. Thorne opened his first chapter with a story.

The story put the reader in the role of captain of a spacecraft commissioned with exploring the black hole called “Hades”. Your mission: study the black hole and radio back your findings.

As your spacecraft approaches the black hole, your sensors detect evidence of the hole’s presence. “The atoms of gas that sparsely populate interstellar space, approximately one in each cubic centimeter, are being pulled by the hole’s gravity. If something isn’t done, your starship too will be sucked in.”

Kip Thorne didn’t decide to open his book with a story just because it’s fun (though it is!). There is very deliberate purpose behind this. By opening with a story where the “reader as spaceship captain” is teetering on the brink of a black hole, he has put the audience in the position of needing to know how the story ends – how the captain maneuvers around the black hole. In essence, the reader is now asking for the science of black holes.

This is the essence of purposeful storytelling. By telling stories, we create a gap – a void – that the audience desperately wants to fill in, and the answer to their call – the thing that will satiate their desperation – is your data, features, messaging, facts, etc.

In Thorne’s book, the power of drama compels the audience to seek out how black holes work in order to find out how the story ends. Without the story, many readers would have a hard time just dryly learning the facts. The story gives the facts meaning – a place of momentary priority in their lives.

As brand storytellers, we spend a lot of time talking about the differences between traditional advertising and storytelling. Sometimes it’s easier to articulate what storytelling is not.

Storytelling is not:

–       a list of features and benefits

–       product specs

–       data

–       a mood

–       a style

–       a sequence of events

–       a slice of life

–       your brand messaging

In business, storytelling is the art of making your data, features, benefits and messaging vital to the lives of your audience. This is not a foofy, soft, or intangible thing. It’s grounded in a series of straightforward, practical principles and human psychology.

You want your audience to care about your message, your product specs, or your data. Fair enough. Ask yourself, “When in my day-to-day life do I crave information?”

Human beings seek out information when there is a gap of understanding, resources, or knowledge that they need to fill. So as storytellers, our job is to create that need – a carefully crafted absence of information that begs a solution.

In storytelling, you craft a narrative with a turning point that causes the audience to subconsciously ask for your information. So what is a turning point?

World-renowned storytelling guru Robert McKee believes there are four components to a turning point:

–       Surprise (“Wow! I didn’t expect that to happen!”)

–       Curiosity (“Wait… why did that happen?”)

–       Insight (“Ahh… that is why it happened. And here is how I can avoid this obstacle in the future.”)

–       New Direction (“With this new information, I will take this new action moving forward to make sure I avoid this obstacle in the future.”)

If we revisit Kip Thorne’s short story, what if in the next moment, the starship is sucked into the black hole and everybody on board dies? The reader would first experience surprise. “Whoa! I didn’t expect that to happen!” The very next thought would be, “Why did that happen?”

And with that question the reader is right where Mr. Thorne wanted them. They are now asking for his scientific theory.

This is the major boon of brand storytelling, for how else do you get your audience to consciously ask for your data?

The post How Storytelling Creates a Need for Your Data appeared first on StoryFirst Media Website.

Back in 2011 when I was deep in editing for my documentary Last Day at Lambeau, I realized the movie didn’t work and I was mere weeks away from film festival submission deadlines.

The movie was about the relationship between sports fans and their heroes through the prism of Brett Favre’s separation from the Green Bay Packers. Through the telling of that story, I was hoping to reveal something about the human condition and what it means to devote yourself to an activity that you have zero control over.

At that time, the movie opened with a 5-minute or so history of Brett Favre’s time in Green Bay and establishing why he meant so much to the state of Wisconsin. But when I screened the film to trusted colleagues and friends, it just didn’t feel like the opening was strong enough.

To a certain extent, who cares why Favre meant what he meant to Wisconsin? All that mattered (from a storytelling perspective) was that Wisconsin loved him. That’s it. Every member of the audience had had an idol at some time in their lives and they could easily recognize themselves in that concept. The facts that he threw so many touchdowns or started so many consecutive games weren’t as compelling as the relationship itself.

But my movie was still missing a human touch. A soul. A voice the audience could connect with.

I had not wanted to include myself in the film. Not because I was shy (I’m not) or because I’m not good enough (I am), but because I felt it would be distracting. I thought it would come across as me forcing my way into a story I wasn’t a part of. This was about fans and their team, not about me making the movie.

But what I was failing to see in that moment was that I was the fan. By attaching my own personal experiences growing up in a Packers fan household, going to Packers training camp and idolizing my heroes, that was a more specific and more human way to approach the film’s soul than any list of dates on a timeline.

So I read my own voiceover and I spoke in the first person. I made sure the audience knew that I was a fan, and as such, I was a part of this story, and by extension so were all of them. Whether you were a fan of the Packers, Yankees, Longhorns, Muhammad Ali or Barack Obama, you could identify to the concept of being passionate about something.

And that opened my film to a much wider audience than it ever would’ve had.

Don’t be afraid to be a central figure in your story. It is your story, after all.

The post You Are Your Story’s Hero appeared first on StoryFirst Media Website.

On January 24, 1978, Steven Spielberg was sitting in a writers’ room with George Lucas and Lawrence Kasdan. They were hard at work structuring a story about a pseudo grave-robber in the 1930s who searches for the Lost Ark of the Covenant.

That story would eventually become the first Indiana Jones film.

At one point in the conversation, the three filmmakers were struggling to craft a simple communication of an important plot point. The point they had to get across to the audience was how multiple broken pieces of ancient metal Indy finds could fit together to form a staff.

“One of the things is to demonstrate, not talk about it,” Spielberg remarked.

What did he mean?

Well, one way to communicate a complex idea to an audience is to literally talk about it, or have a character explain the thing in explicit terms. But Spielberg is a brilliant visual storyteller, so he knows that cold exposition is never very engaging.

So he proposed an example of how they could communicate this idea.

“Like a beautiful vase on a table, that is worth a complete fortune, and they’re all looking at this, and a man carefully puts his glasses on, looks at the vase, takes a hammer and breaks the thing. He divides the pieces up to be shipped all over the world, and sold. ‘I hate doing this. I hate destroying great art, but it’s a living.’ Bam. Crash. You realize this is what happens to all great works of art to make more money for the greedy bastards. And the audience realizes that is why the staff is in several pieces.”

Audiences will always respond better to demonstrations of your idea as opposed to explanations of your idea.

So, how does this figure into brand storytelling?

We encounter this all the time at StoryFirst Media. In an interview for a brand in the sales industry, the interview subject will complement his colleague with the following line:

“She’s great. If someone asks her a question and she doesn’t know the answer, she’ll find the answer.”

That’s all well and good as a complement, but it’s incredibly boring for an audience who very likely does not personally know the “great” colleague in question.

Instead of talking about the colleague in a positive way, what if the interview subject had given a positive demonstration of her efforts? What if he’d told a story?

“I remember this one time my colleague we presented with a very challenging question that she did not have an answer for. This question came from a client that needed an answer by the end of the day, and my colleague’s calendar was booked for the rest of the afternoon. By five o’clock, she had managed to clear her schedule just enough to find some extra time to investigate the issue and get the client what they needed on time. Also, the meetings she had to reschedule to make time ended up working better for those other clients than the originally scheduled time, so everyone was happy.”

While this is a vague hypothetical, you get the point. A story like this presents the audience with the dilemma the colleague was facing and forces them to acknowledge the professional manner with which she navigated her way through it.

Your audience will thank you for allowing them to make up their own damn minds about what your point is, and if you tell the story right, they will commit your message to memory far more frequently than a cold statement.

Don’t talk about things. Demonstrate them.

The post Demonstrate. Don’t Explain. appeared first on StoryFirst Media Website.