“Look, Diana’s moving in so she gets a better angled shot,” instructor Rick Erwin whispered approvingly, after a taxi slammed to a halt on a River North street and the driver rolled down his window to see what was going on.
Welcome to “Make Your Own Documentary” class at Columbia College and the night’s assignment: Flag down a cab, approach with camera rolling and–on tape, with sound–pull away with some sort of interesting story.
It isn’t easy, as a dozen students found out last week.
The sound boom can get in the shot. Microphones can be too far away. A camera operator can be shy, staying back from the subject. Or, no one can think of anything interesting to ask. (Rule No. 1: Plan ahead.)
On the other hand, in quick-hit interviews, the class members found cabbies willing to talk about topics ranging from job dangers to embarrassing moments to long-distance bonanzas after 9/11, including one $880 fare to St. Louis.
“Four guys tried to jump me once,” one cabbie said. Another talked of his day job, as an interior decorator.
A third told of picking up a fare outside a Rush Street restaurant and asking her when her baby was due. It was, he said, “a bad guess”–but good grist for a documentary-maker looking for a demonstration of chagrin.
There was a time when those with an urge to report and assess the triumphs, failures or foibles of their fellow man would hop a boat to France, buy black notebooks and pencils and, following Ernest Hemingway, write in cafes.
These days, said Erwin, talking to a visitor before class, the tools of the trade are lots of tape, video cameras costing $50,000 or more, a sharp eye and the patience to do considerable research before a camera ever rolls.
“I like the Japanese maxim: `Tell me, I’ll forget. Show me, I’ll remember. Involve me, I’ll be changed forever,'” Erwin said, urging his class to remember the three elements of a good documentary–vision, concept and structure.
“It’s hard to do, to approach strangers, have an interaction, let them know you want to hear their stories,” he noted as he handed out quick observations to student crew members waiting to shoot on a chilly corner. “You’ve got to get in tight,” he said. “Notice the eyes. Feel the essence of the person. Draw stuff out of them.”
“Don’t get trapped into simply shooting information,” he warned.
The course, which ends next week, includes seven sessions, which cover equipment, editing, lighting and such nuances as making sure that lamp stands are secure and not getting knocked over when seated subjects stand up.
“We talk a lot about the invisible wall,” Erwin said, describing a protective zone people often establish around themselves. His students picked up his mantra. “You look at a person. You go beyond the surface. You find out what they’re all about,” said Eileen Bruckert, a corporate sales strategist, when asked what she had learned.
“It’s point-of-view stuff, seeing what you don’t usually see,” added Deborah Harper, a sociologist.
For Erwin–whose uncle, Larry Gianneschi, spent 20 years on the road with CBS journalist Charles Kuralt–“this is a great time for documentaries.” Equipment is getting better and cheaper, and “there’s an interest in real stories.”
One measure is the enrollment in his class. A decade ago, “for the first class I taught, I got one student. We had to cancel. Now, my limit is 10, that’s all I can handle–and it’s always filled,” right after registration begins.
