The Producers’ Corner

Our audience always sees the results of our work, but gets no glimpse of what goes into that final product. From time to time, we will be sharing with you our take, for better or worse, on our experiences working as filmmakers in the world of multisport.

Endurance Films en-route to the race

4/30/2011, TUSCON, AZ – It’s 5:30pm on the day of USA Triathlon’s Duathlon National Championship. My phone rings and my first thought is to kill it. Pulverize it. I want it dead. I want it to go by way of Luca Brasi and sleep with the fishes. Why? I’ll get to that. Just need a bit more set up…

The race is over. I’m exhausted, dehydrated, grimy, smelly and a bit slap happy. Mind you I didn’t even race. I filmed the race. Well…me and my biz partner, BFF and owner of Endurance Films, Eric Feller (No, I don’t feel emasculated using “BFF,” it just gets the point across. I even like musicals). So why am I tired? Well, for those of you who have seen us shoot a race, I’m the stedi-cam guy. That means I run around the entire race trying to keep up with athletes…even the ones on the bike. I must’ve put in a good 12 miles today. Did I mention we’re in Tuscon and it’s 92 degrees with seemingly negative humidity? Anyway…

The race awards ceremony starts in half an hour and our cell phones are ringing off the hook. We’d ignore them, except for the caller I.D. reads “Chuck Menke.” Chuck is USAT’s Marketing and Communications Director. Now we like Chuck. We like him a lot. He’s very creative and a great resource to us. He bought us drinks at the hotel bar the night before. But in this moment we feel like…well…picture how you feel when your Mom has called you six times in the last hour reminding you to send your grandmother a birthday card. Why such a visceral reaction to a call from a friend? Even though the race is over, we’re still working. We have been given what amounts to about an hour and a half to cut a highlight reel of the race that will open the awards ceremony. We must set the tone. We can make or break the mood of an audience of 600 athletes and their families. The reel has to be kick ass. It has to be dynamic. It has to be exciting. It has to capture the entire spirit of the event. And it has to be finished or we don’t get paid. We don’t need any more motivation.

“Hey, Chuck,” Eric says in an amazingly affable tone, given the fact that he’s gritting his teeth and snarling at the phone. I walk out on the hotel room porch and close the door, knowing before it happens the gist of the conversation. Chuck wants the video in hand and Eric must explain that we need a bit more time. Now, you tell me if it’s logical to think that the longer Eric spends on the phone, the less time we have to work. I would say it is. And as I re-enter the room Eric is saying just that, “Well, why don’t I get off the phone so I can get back to work.” He said it pleasantly in that voice you use when you’re dead serious but want it to sound like a joke.

The reel is looking awesome (If I do say so myself). We’re cutting amazing shots and sound-bites to a music bed of Katy Perry’s “Firework.” This thing is exciting! From the athletes’ arrivals to their finishes, the story this thing tells is one of competition, camaraderie and triumph. Still, we cannot afford the luxury of sitting back to give it one good watch. Time to put it out to encode for DVD. This is probably self-explanatory, but it just means we are now at the mercy of the computer’s speed. We can’t sit or stand still. Our eyes tick from the clock to the DVD program’s progress bar. Is there anything in the world more frustrating than a progress bar?

Ring, Ring goes the cell phone. Gotta love Chuck, his timing is impeccable. “Just burning the DVD now,” Eric says, his jaw tight. I think a bit of his ground tooth hits me in the face.

“C’mon,” I say to this inanimate thing we put thousands of dollars in Steve Jobs’ pocket for. “How much blank-ing longer? You just said 5 minutes left, now it says 6?!”

Finally, the computer screen reads, “Writing lead-out data,” which basically is software speak for, “I’m done, I’m just wiping.” Now, Eric and I are both aware we can’t go to the ceremony in our present state of personal hygiene. That is unless we wish to clear the room in one big waft of dude stink. I go first. I rip off my clothes and hit the shower like Clark Kent hitting a phone booth. And I can only afford the same amount of time to wash as C.K. usually has to save Lois. (By the way, for a guy who could get any woman in the world, Supes really picked a high-maintenance one.)

Jump cut to five minutes later and as Eric pulls on his socks, I wait for the computer to spit out the DVD like I’m taking a relay baton. BUZZZ…the disc pops out. As I reach for it, ready to run it heroically to our dear clients, Eric snatches it from my hand, “We have to make sure it plays,” he says. I quickly calculate the ramifications of hitting by best friend and boss…not worth it. And he’s right. We’ve experienced before a blank jumbo screen in front of an audience caused by some kind of computer error. Sort of feels like thinking tomorrow is Sunday only to learn that it’s Monday.

The DVD player boots up, the disc menu looks good, we press play and…it plays. Definitely would have made for better drama if it didn’t, but why embellish? This was stressful enough and we finally caught a break. I hit send on a text to Chuck that I had composed ten minutes before the fact…”On our way.”

I break into a sprint. “Dude, we don’t have to run,” Eric says as if I look a fool,  “We’ll make it. The auditorium is a one-minute walk” Meanwhile, I’m picturing a dark theater, a packed house waiting for us and USAT’s Tim Yount juggling plates to keep the audience warm as they wait for the promised highlight reel. But Eric’s right, I think, this is silly. Even if we run we’ll only get there 20 seconds sooner…the place is close to our room. Just as I resolve myself to this fact, out of my left eye I see Eric pass me, running full stride in his flip-flops while attempting to soften the impact on his perennially bad back. Let’s just say that there’s a reason he stays behind the camera in our running mechanics videos.

We round the final turn in the conference center hall. We anticipate that unforgiving, thunderous sound of the door opening to break the silence, all heads turning as we make the walk of shame to hand the hotel’s tech guy the disc (I’ll get back to the hotel’s tech guy). But no…the hallway is filled with jubilant athletes trading race stories and descending hard on the cash bar.

We head into the auditorium. The ceremony is running behind anyway. USAT is still working out final details of the awards. Eric and I look to each other, not even needing to waste the three calories it takes to roll our eyes. We see Chuck. “Sorry for getting on your guys’ asses,” he says genuinely, “Just needed to make sure we were on track.” We assure him it was not at all a bother. If he only knew…

Did I mention we really do love Chuck? In fact we love all the guys (do I have to include the implied and gals?) at USAT. In all sincerity, we are deeply appreciative of our partnership with USAT and never fail to enjoy and be inspired by all the amazing athletes and the work we get to do with them.

Of course, the stress is not over. We have yet to show the highlight reel. My mind’s eye jumps ahead to Tim’s introduction of the reel, announcing the responsibility for it clearly placed on the heads of Endurance Films, the picture rolling and then the audience’s reaction…crickets. I imagine the subsequent arguments between Eric and I…”I told you we should have opened with the other shot,” “I told you we should have used different music,” “I told you the transition package was crap,” “That was your idea,” “No it was your idea,” etc, etc….

Snap back to real time, which will soon bring me to the hotel’s tech guy.

The audience is seated. We double-check that the DVD is ready to play. As Tim begins his initial welcome speech, I decide to make sure the tech guy knows that the video will be the first thing up after Tim’s brief statements. The room is bright so, in a non-condescending way, I basically want to make sure that this nerdy looking guy in a goofy looking hotel-issued striped shirt knows how to turn off a light switch. He assures me he has it covered. Why did I believe him?

So, I take my seat next to Eric. As scripted, Tim throws the show to the jumbo screen, announcing a very special presentation from Endurance Films. Let me preface this next part by saying that the day before we left for the trip, Eric spent hours of his valuable time creating an amazing motion graphic that morphed USA Triathlon’s logo into one that read USA Duathlon and then animated that to turn into the logo for the race itself. But as this rolled, I couldn’t see it. Nobody could. Monkey boy did not, in fact, know how to turn off the lights. I knew I should have given him a banana.

Eric, being competent and resourceful leapt into action and handled the technical problem himself…this, without any knowledge or previous experience with the hotel’s technical setup. Luckily, he was able to darken the room just as the logos faded and the highlight reel kicked in. From the first shot, the audience’s reaction could not have been more rewarding. Even as the music started, I heard a woman behind me say, “Oh, I love this song!”

Every dramatic beat was rewarded with oohs and ahhs. Every comedic beat got a laugh. And every sentimental beat (that’s where we throw in shots of dogs and babies) got awws. And as the piece went on and our confidence was restored, Eric and I sat back and toasted each other with the wine we had snuck in inside the Gatorade sports bottles that had been given away at the finish line. All angst went away. Once again, we would welcome Chuck’s phone calls. We owe you a drink, Chuck. I even forgot about monkey boy at the light switch. Actually, no, that still pisses me off.