The best part about creating personal projects is the opportunity to grow in a pressure-free environment. I just finished shooting such a project with a couple of friends, and the lessons I learned at “play” turned out to be the kind I’ll be sure to use in my work.
The goal is simple. Rather than waiting around this year for bigger projects to materialize, I have a personal goal to fill as much time as possible shooting smaller projects. Intentionally small. Not out of fear of scale, but because practice makes us better as artists. And, especially when talking about filmmaking, even practice can come at a debilitating cost. So, I’ve committed myself to filling the time between big projects by using my resources and connections to just keep shooting projects—big or small—in an effort to get better at my craft.
This past Monday, I got to shoot such a project. Originally, it was something I’d put together at the last second to test out a lens for a review. But when the fires in my hometown of Los Angeles came and disrupted a lot of folks’ plans, I had to send the loaner lenses back, and my early January shoot ended up getting pushed multiple times until March.
I’d written a script for the project and cast three actors I knew with a gift for comedy. Since the objective of the project was growth as an artist, I really wanted to push the comedy this time around. I primarily make romantic comedies with an emphasis on the romantic part. This time, I wanted to focus solely on making people laugh. Hopefully, I succeeded. But honestly, the success was in the process, not the end product. And in the course of making this fun little project, I ended up with three serious lessons that I thought I’d share with you today.
Lesson One: Work With What You’ve Got
Part of the motivation for doing these mini projects this year is to remind myself that greater budgets don’t necessarily mean greater results. Despite me having to write about gear in this publication more frequently than I might like, gear really doesn’t matter much when it comes to creativity. Budget can matter—specifically, being able to afford more time to execute your vision. But the gear itself? Well, let’s just say that it’s highly likely you have all the gear you need right this instant to make something special. Sure, maybe you can’t shoot everything. But you can still create something good. And this project is just another instance of reminding myself of this very simple advice.
So, to make this project, I limited myself to the basic tools in my own collection: my little mirrorless camera, a bit of diffusion, and a zero-dollar rental budget. Don’t get me wrong—I wouldn’t mind having an Alexa at my beck and call. But because these mini-practice projects aren’t intended to return my investment, I can’t spend big on locations, creature comforts, or elaborate production design to boost production value. I had to shoot with the tools I already had and in places I already had access to.
But despite keeping things intentionally DIY, I was still happy with the result. Certainly, there are some nitpicky things I would have changed had I had a bigger budget to work with. But this wasn’t about crying over what I didn’t have—it was about maximizing what I did have.
Lesson Two: Be Open To Collaboration
I am a writer-director who does his own cinematography and edits himself. In other words, I am a control freak. There are many reasons for this, at least according to my therapist, but as I’m often fond of repeating, “Filmmaking is a team sport.” Even if you are capable of doing everything yourself, you probably won’t end up getting the best results.
Of course, given the constraints mentioned in the previous section and the fact that my focus was on the performances this time rather than the pageantry, I did end up working solo on this project—at least behind the camera. But in front of the camera, I was gifted with three of the best actors I know: natural performers with the intelligence and instincts not only to remember the lines I’d written for them but to elevate those words, add a few of their own, and take my punchlines from paper to performance.
Now, were I to go by Alfred Hitchcock’s old adage that actors were mere “cattle” meant to follow commands, I still would have had an occasionally funny project. There are plenty of jokes on the page. But to actually make the comedy work, I needed more than just what I could come up with alone. I needed to be willing to hand over control of the characters to my actors. I needed to step aside and give them room to create.
The best way to elevate your project, whether it be a film or a photography project, is to hire really great folks and then give them the room to bring the talents you hired them for to the table. It’s not like great ideas don’t count unless you came up with them. Great ideas and impulses can—and should—come from everyone on set. It is critical that you work with your collaborators, not against them. It’s not always about getting your way. It’s about what’s best for the project.
Lesson Three: Take Risks
Like I mentioned earlier, the particular brand of outlandish humor I was going for with this project is not something that was previously in my wheelhouse. This was a calculated risk to expand my scope as a director.
But beyond my contributions, watching my performers is where I truly understood the meaning of courage. To be a comedian, you have to be willing to have other people laugh at you—not just with you, but at you. Not everything you try is going to work. Not every joke is going to land. Sometimes, you’re going to flat-out make a fool of yourself on a take. But really funny people understand that this is just part of the process.
It’s the main reason why most people aren’t really that funny. Sure, anyone can drop a one-liner now and then when they’re teed up by a certain situation. But most human beings don’t like the idea of being embarrassed. So, we play it safe. We stay within comfortable boundaries and do the things we are already good at. That way, we don’t have to worry about humiliating ourselves. Like Edmund Gwenn famously said, “Dying is easy. Comedy is hard.” Even the greatest dramatic actors can feel wooden when they fear embarrassment.
The problem is, playing it safe also guarantees that you’re never maximizing your potential. To maximize your potential, you have to be willing to push things right up to the edge. You have to try things without being afraid to go too far. This means that, from time to time, you will go a little too far and end up falling flat on your face. It’s scary. But it also means you are giving yourself a chance at greatness.
Whether or not my actors and I achieved greatness on every take was beside the point. But what all three of them were willing to do was push the envelope every time. They were absolutely fearless. Not everything worked. But when it did, it was magical because they weren’t holding anything back.
Because of their courage, the mini project turned out far better than my initial ambitions (in my humble opinion) and is thus not yet publicly available as it awaits festival submissions. But here’s the trailer if you’d like to get a taste of my actors’ fearlessness:
Obviously, most people reading this aren’t actors. Yet the lesson is the same whether you are an actor, a photographer, a writer, a director, or just someone wanting to be a really good teacher. You have to push boundaries if you wish to grow beyond your current limits. You have to be willing to fail if you hope to have a big success. You can’t let financial limitations limit your creativity. And sometimes, making your best possible work means stepping back and allowing other creative people to contribute their best.
