WHAT CONSTITUTES ‘GOOD ENOUGH?’

         I had an interesting discussion recently with a director friend regarding how far we should go in order to make our films appear convincing.  We happened to be watching a rotation of ’60’s-vintage movies at the moment, so there were plenty of examples to refer to.  One stood out in particular, not because of what it got right but because of how much was wrong.  Goldfinger (1964; Guy Hamilton\Ted Moore, BSC) features some of the most egregiously inept mixes of location and studio work within the same scene.  It also shows an equally poor use of rear projection for its time.

         And herein is the issue: Everyone seems to understand what’s not good enough. Unfortunately, there’s no common definition of what is.  Clearly, there’s a difference in scale between something made for YouTube and a Christopher Nolan extravaganza.  But I felt the discrepancies here were horrible, while my friend – a highly experienced guy whom I’ve worked with many times – thought they were fine.  He claimed I was biased by my professional eye and that general audiences don’t notice them as much as we think they do.  For the record, I’ve never had a problem turning off critical sensibilities when watching anything; I’m as much an average viewer as anyone.  But on the job, it’s a whole other ballgame.  If I’m not aiming for perfection (even though I mostly fail) why try at all?  Why not reduce everything to its lowest denominator and shoot it against a sheet of drywall – certain that no one will know the difference?  The opposite of that can turn a desire for satisfaction into mental illness.  I once shot a detergent commercial for a director who wasn’t happy until he had more than a hundred takes of each set-up.  It wasn’t fun and I can’t say that any one of them was better than another.

         My director pal and I have had a few testy moments over the years regarding this issue, mostly fed on his side by a desire to just get things done.  I understand the urge, but it’s counterproductive and disrespectful, not only of me but of the process.  Many still choose that path, forgetting that audiences do notice the details.  They may not be able to technically deconstruct what they’re seeing, but they instinctively know what works.  To deny that is to set up your camera on the most slippery of slopes.

         In fairness, there’s a flip side to this coin.  Few things are more annoying than a make-up or wardrobe person fussing with an actor standing fifty feet from a 17mm lens as the sun’s going down.  But then, that individual wants to do their best – to deliver more than good enough, too.  In that moment, sometimes I’ll think they’re hearing the same little voice that I am in the back of my head.  “Every time you say, ‘No one will notice,’ somebody does.”

         Now, if only my director friend would feel the same way.