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Features

Gravity and Captain Phillips

Recording Captain Phillips and Gravity

by Chris Munro, CAS

It sounds somewhat ungrateful to complain about being nominated for two films in the same year. Though I was honored to receive both BAFTA and Academy Awards for Gravity, a part of me was disappointed that Captain Phillips has not been equally recognized.

These are two very different films with different challenges for production sound. Gravity was completely different from anything I had done before, whereas Captain Phillips is a prime example of how drawing on previous experience enables us to be better at what we do. Having worked with Paul Greengrass on United 93, the film about the terrorist takeover of a passenger jet on 9/11, I knew that Paul likes to shoot in a documentary style, with no rehearsal and a lot of improvisation, and to cast non-actors in key roles. When I came to work with Paul again, on Captain Phillips, this experience was vital but we now had the added issues of shooting at sea on a container ship, a lifeboat and in the Somali skiffs.

Having worked on five James Bond films, I was no stranger to action sequences involving water, especially the boat-chase sequences on Quantum of Solace filmed in Panama. On Captain Phillips, I needed waterproof lavalier microphones that also sounded good out of the water so I chose to use Da-Cappo DA04s (now Que Audio performance series in the USA). These are very popular in theater because of their very small size but have great waterproof qualities due to the inlet size being smaller than a droplet of water. I mounted them upside down so that no water settled on the microphone. I had to develop a system for getting longer range reception for recording in the high-powered pirate skiffs. I used Audio 2040 mini-tx radios in aquapacs on the pirates. The receivers were built into secret compartments in the skiffs where audio was recorded and re-transmitted to the bigger boat that we were all on. We were regularly recording up to 16 tracks and feeding a mix to Video Assist, the Director and Camera Operators. I recently wrapped on Heart of the Sea, with Ron Howard where again I was able to use what I had learnt. Months before I started on the film I said to the boat builders, “I need you to build these secret compartments…”

On Captain Phillips, we were based in Malta on a container ship, which was our studio for much of the film. Each department had a base in one or more of the containers to store equipment and carry out any maintenance. We still needed to be highly portable as we would shoot inside the ship, perhaps in the engine room or cabins while heading out to sea and returning to port, and shoot on decks and the bridge when at sea. There were a lot of stairs, and some passageways were very narrow. Generally, we were shooting multi-camera without rehearsals and all with improvised dialog, sometimes with the scene playing out between several groups in different parts of the ship.

We were limited in the number of crew on the ship, but I was very fortunate to have a great crew with my usual UK Boom Operator, Steve Finn, and tech support from Jim McBride. Tim Fraser recorded 2nd Unit in Malta and in Morocco, and Pud Cussack looked after Boston and Virginia.

Oliver Tarney was Supervising Sound Editor. I had also worked with him on United 93 and the two Sherlock Holmes films with Guy Ritchie. One of the best things we were able to do was to get Oliver to spend a weekend with us on the ship recording sound FX. Not only did he get the FX that he needed, but he also got to experience the ship and to understand how it should sound at sea and its geography. He also got to experience being in the lifeboat—known by us as the vomit vessel—certainly not a pleasure craft!

 

Chris Burdon and Mark Taylor were Re-recording Mixers; I’ve worked with both on previous films.

Gravity was a completely different experience from anything I had previously worked on. When I first got the call and was told that there were only two actors in the film and that there is no sound in space, it sounded like the perfect job! Then when I met Alfonso Cuarón and he started to talk about his ideas for the film, I was hooked and immediately knew that this was going to be something special. Every few years there is a film that breaks the technological boundaries— this year it was Gravity. The first issue was that both the cameras and the actors could be on robotic arms. I had recently shot a small sequence with these and knew that, although the arms could move with not too much noise, the associated power supplies and controllers were very noisy. So the first job was to negotiate that these could be extended and built into blimps far away from the action.

We had a very comprehensive previz of the film that we worked to. The previz helped us keep the VFX elements, still being designed, in sync with lighting, camera moves and sound. I had originally thought that we might be able to lock everything to the same timecode but, for a number of reasons, timecode wasn’t always practical as the controller. Touch Designer was used to control the robots and as a visual platform, sending midi triggers for us to sync to.

Alfonso Cuarón originally had a plan for all of the radio conversations and OS dialog to be live, and we had planned to have different rooms in the studio for those to be performances. However, due to artist availability and other issues, this proved to be impractical so we prerecorded as much as we could. Most of the pre-records were guides that were re-recorded as ADR in Post Production.

 

 

Will Towers was our Pro Tools operator. He made loops of the lines that we could play from a keyboard. The idea was that each line was on a separate loop, and there were alternative performances available for the on-screen actor to react and interact with. We would use different performances and adjust the timing for each take to create spontaneity while still having to be sure that certain lines were occurring at the correct frame space allocated in the previz. All film is a collaboration, but on this film I was collaborating more with VFX and the actor than ever before. It was also necessary for us to work very closely with Editorial as the film took shape and timing parameters or dialog constantly changed.

Here was another opportunity to use the Da-Cappo microphones— this time because of the very small size. The microphones used were a mixture of a Da-Cappo capsule that Jim McBride, our tech support engineer, had fashioned to an arm connected to the inner helmet and a latex shield that we made for both visual accuracy and to reject noise from outside the helmet. A second Sanken COS-11 was sewn into the inner helmet as were earpieces for communication. We also had in-ear molds made for some scenes. Each different piece of headgear that Sandra Bullock wears in the film contained practical microphones and earpieces. Even the classic Russian headset that she uses at one point has a built-in transmitter and receiver. We achieved this by borrowing bare 2040 mini-transmitter boards from Audio Ltd. and building them in to headsets.

I used a Cedar DNS1500 during shooting to reduce some of the fan noise from the LED lighting rig and the robotic arms. This was only on one mix track. The iso tracks and another mix track were left unprocessed.

The communication system could rival NASA Mission Control at Houston. In addition to feeding scripted lines that the actors would respond to, we also played atmospheric sounds to Sandra to set the mood for each sequence. Additionally, we played loops of her breathing from the preceding or following shots so that she was able to get the correct breathing rhythm for the shot. Often the shot could start at one pace but finish with breathing at another pace so it was important that we were able to give the correct breathing rhythms throughout the shot.

The Director and the 1st AD needed to be able to communicate with the actors and DP, Camera and other departments without distracting the actors when giving technical cues. The costumes and helmets so completely isolated the actors that they needed an audio feed both to hear each other and also to hear their own voices. Allowing them to hear themselves, but at a reduced level to avoid distraction, required a second layer of IFB feed to each.

Sandra Bullock and George Clooney could often be in rigs for hours on end so, as well as providing a system for them to communicate with each other, I also ran a kind of mini-radio station to play music, YouTube clips or anything to keep them entertained between shots. Sandra Bullock has often said that she had never previously had such interaction with the Sound Department yet we were at opposite sides of a dark stage for weeks on end. It was during one particular break during shooting that I discovered that both Sandra and George knew all the words to “Rapper’s Delight” and could sing a pretty good version!

You could be forgiven for thinking that most of Gravity was created in Post Production but, in fact, much of the shooting was oddly conventional. We had six weeks of pre-shoot, 12 weeks of principle photography and two weeks of additional photography, all with sound. Some of the sequences were shot on actual sets and boomed! For every shot, the DP concentrated on the camera angle and how the actor was lit. The Director concentrated on getting the performance that he needed and the Sound Department concentrated on capturing that performance the same way that we all do on every movie.


Glossary of highlighted words

Previz Essentially an animated storyboard, a previz video shows a rough rendition of all the elements and special effects in a sequence so every department can see how it all fits together.

Touch Designer A software program that facilitates production of animated videos and graphic sequences.

P-Cap, MoCap and All That Jazz

P-Cap, MoCap , and All That Jazz / Part 1

by Jim Tanenbaum, CAS

As sound people, we live in (according to the old Chinese curse) interesting times. Our technology is advancing at an exponential rate … with a very large exponent. The analog Nagra ¼-inch reel-to-reel tape recorder was used on almost all of the world’s movies for more than thirty years. Then DAT (Digital Audio Tape) cassette recorders (though more than one brand) held sway for another ten. Hard-drive recorders (I beta-tested a Deva I) led the race for five years, then DVD optical-disc recorders (albeit still with an internal HDD) for only three. Sony’s magnetic minidisk unit never made significant inroads in production recording. Now we’re using flash-memory cards, and I’m surprised they’ve held on for more than a year, but the original choice of CF cards seems to be giving way to SD ones (except for Zaxcom). Next year?

But it is not only the technology that is changing—so is the product. Made-for-Internet drama or documentary shows aren’t that much different from their predecessors, but reality shows certainly are a new breed: dozens of radio-mic’d people running around, in and out of multiple cameras’ view, and in and out of multiple Production Mixers’ receiver range. Fortunately, we have Zaxcom transmitters with onboard recorders. Still, things aren’t that different.

But “capture” shoots are. Almost entirely different from anything that has gone before. And capture for Computer-Generated Image (CGI) characters (sometimes called “virtual characters”) is different than capture for live-action shoots. Also, Motion Capture (MoCap) is different from Motion Control (MoCon), though these two techniques are sometimes used together, along with Motion Tracking (MoTrac). And then there is Performance-Capture (P-Cap). They will be described in this order: CGI MoCap, P-Cap, live-action MoCap, MoCon, and MoTrac. Following that, working conditions and esthetics for all types will be discussed.

So now, for those of you who have yet to work on a capture job, here is a primer (pronounced “prim-er”; not “pry-mer”). The rest will be on-the-job training.

CGI MoCap

For starters, the capture stage is called a “volume”—because it is—a three-dimensional volume where the position and movement of the actors (often called “performers”) and their props are tracked and recorded as so many bits. Many, many bits—often terabytes of bits. You can expect to record many gigabytes of audio per day.

The stage containing the volume has an array of video cameras, often a hundred or more, lining the walls and ceiling, every one interconnected with a massive computer. Each camera has a light source next to, or surrounding, its lens, which special reflective markers on the actors will reflect back to that particular camera only. This is known as a “passive” system, because the markers do not emit any light of their own. The camera lights may be regular incandescents or LEDs, with white, red, or infrared output. More about that later.

The cameras are mounted either directly on the walls and ceiling, or on a latticework of metal columns and trusses. WARNING: It is vitally important not to touch these cameras or their supporting structure. If you do, you must immediately notify the capture techs so that they can check to see if the volume needs to be recalibrated.

The actors/performers wear black stretch leotards studded with reflective dots. The material is retro-reflective, which means it reflects almost all the light back in the direction it came from, in most cases utilizing tiny glass spheres. Scotchlite™ is a typical example, used on license plates, street pavement stripes, and clothing. For use with the capture suits, the reflective material is in the form of pea-sized spheres, mounted on short stalks to increase their visibility from a wider angle. The other end of the stalk terminates in a small disc of Velcro™ hooks, so it can be attached anywhere on the capture suit’s fabric.

As an aid in editing, the capture suit usually has a label indicating the character’s name. Hands and/or feet may be color-coded to distinguish left from right.

The markers in the image above are glowing because a flash was used when the picture was taken. The camera was very far away, and the stage lighting completely washed out the light from the strobe on the people and objects, but the markers reflected most of the flash back to the camera lens.

Capture cameras mounted on more rigid
columns, but still subject to displacement if hit. [Formerly Giant Studios, now Digital Domain’s Playa Vista, California, stages]

If MoCap is to be used on the actors’ faces, smaller, BB-sized reflective spheres are glued directly to the skin, sometimes in the hundreds. When too many have fallen off, work stops until they can be replaced, a process that takes some time because they must be precisely positioned.

Props and certain parts of any sets or set dressing (particularly those that move, like doors), also get reflective markers. Unlike “real” movies, props and set dressing do not have to look like their CGI counterparts, only have certain dimensions matching. They are often thrown together from apple boxes, grip stands, and “found” objects, and may be noisy.

Here is a description of the mechanics of MoCap.

The floor of the volume is marked off in a grid pattern, with each cell about five feet square. This array serves two purposes: 1, it allows the “virtual world” in the computer to be precisely aligned with the real world; and 2, it allows for the accurate positioning of actors, props, sets, and floor contour modules.

The capture process is not like conventional imaging—there are no camera angles or frame sizes. The position and motion of every “markered” element is simultaneously recorded in three-dimensional space. Once the Director is satisfied with the actors’ performances in a scene, the capturing of the scene is finished. Later on, the Director can render the scene from any, and as many, POVs and “focal lengths” as he or she wishes.

But for this to be possible, every actor must be visible to (most of) the capture cameras at all times. This means that there must not be any large opaque surfaces or objects to block the cameras’ view. If there need to be physical items in the volume for the actors to interact with, they must be “transparent.” But glass or plastic sheets can’t be used, because refraction will distort the positions of markers behind them as seen by the cameras. Instead, surfaces are usually made out of wire mesh or screening, e.g., a house will have thin metal tubing outlining the doors and windows (to properly position the actors), with wire mesh walls (so the actors don’t accidently walk through them). In the virtual world, seen from a POV at some distance from the house, the walls will be solid and opaque, but as the POV is moved closer, at some point it will pass through the “wall” and now everything in the room is visible. Tree trunks can be cylinders of chicken-wire fencing, with strands of hanging moss simulated by dangling strings.

Props need only to be the same size and overall shape, and weight, to keep the actions of the actors handling them correct. They will have a number of reflected markers distributed over their surface. Live animals, if not the actual living version, are made as life-size dolls with articulated limbs and appropriate markers, and puppeted by human operators. This gives the actor something “living” to interact with.

Since the motions and positions are captured in three dimensions, if the ground or floor in the virtual world is not flat and/or level like the volume’s stage floor, the bottom of the volume must be contoured to match it. This is done by positioning platform modules on the grid squares to adjust the surface accordingly. (More about this later.)

It is necessary to precisely align the real world of the capture volume with the CGI virtual world in the computer; otherwise, parts of the CGI character’s bodies may become imbedded in “solid” surfaces. The first step in this process involves a “gnomon” (pointer) that exists in both the real and virtual worlds.

As an aid in editing, the capture suit usually has a label indicating the character’s name. Hands and/or feet may be color-coded to distinguish left from right. The gnomon has three arms at right angles to each other, tipped with reflective markers to allow the MoCap system to create its CGI doppelganger in the virtual world. To align the real table with its “twin” in the virtual world, the gnomon is placed at one of the real table’s corners, and then the table is moved in the volume until the virtual gnomon is exactly positioned on the corresponding corner of the CGI table. This is usually the simplest method. Another possibility is to go into the virtual world and mouse-drag the CGI table until it lines up with the virtual gnomon. The entire virtual world could also be dragged to position the table, but this might throw other objects out of alignment. Global position shifts like that are limited to adjusting the virtual ground with the volume floor after the contour modules are in place.

Real-world alignment gnomon and “transparent” table with wire-mesh surfaces. (Photo: ‘AVATAR’ ©2009 Twentieth Century Fox. All rights reserved)

Multiple conventional HD video cameras are used in the volume for “reference.” These cameras cover the scene in wide shots and close-ups on each character. This allows the Director to judge an actor’s performance before the data is rendered into the animated character. A secondary function is to sort out body parts when the MoCap system gets confused and an arm sprouts out of a CGI character’s head. Looking at the reference shot, the Editor can figure out to whom it belongs, and mouse-drag it back into its proper place. In most stages, the cameras are hard-wired into the system so they have house-sync TC and do not normally require TC slating. They may use DV cassettes and/or send the video directly into the system.

Until a few years ago, it was not possible to see the CGI characters in real time, but now Autodesk Motion Builder™ software allows real-time rendering, albeit in limited resolution. Warning: The flatpanel monitors on the stage have cooling fans that may need to be muffled or baffled. Video projectors’ fans are even louder.

Lighting in the volume is very uniform, soft and non-source, to ensure that the reference cameras always have a well-illuminated image. In addition, having no point-source lights ensures that there will be few, if any, specular (spot-like) reflections that might confuse the MoCap system’s cameras.

To capture motion effectively, the system must measure the marker positions at least twice as fast as the temporal resolution required. For 24-frame applications, this means a minimum 48 Hz rate. Currently, much higher rates are used, 120 Hz to 240 Hz. If “motion blur” is desired, it can be created in Post.

P-Cap

Motion Capture was developed first, and initially captured only the gross motions of the actor’s body. The facial features were animated later, by human operators who used mouse clicks and drags. Then, smaller, BB-sized reflective balls were glued to the faces, in an attempt to capture some of the expressions there. Unfortunately, this process couldn’t capture the movement of the eyes, or the tongue, or any skin wrinkles that formed. And since the “life” of a character is in the face, these early CGI creations failed the “Uncanny Valley” test.

It turns out that human beings evolved a built-in warning system to detect people that weren’t quite “right.” Back in the “cave people” days, subtle clues in a person’s appearance or actions were an indication of a disease or mental impairment that could be dangerous to your continued good health or even your very existence.

Multiple hard-wired HD reference cameras (although these have DV cassettes as well). (Photo: ‘AVATAR’ ©2009 Twentieth Century Fox. All rights reserved)

A graph of the “realism” of a character versus its acceptability starts at the lower left with obvious cartoon figures and slowly rises as the point moves to the right with increasing realism. But before the character’s image reaches a peak at the right edge, where photographic images of actual human beings fall, it turns sharply downward into the valley, and only climbs out as the character becomes “photo-realistic.” Even an image of a real human corpse (possible disease transmission) is in the valley, as would be that of a super-realistic zombie.

When you watch a Mickey Mouse cartoon, you know the character isn’t “real,” so its completely “inhuman” appearance is not a problem. Likewise, when you watch a live-action movie, the characters are real, so again there are no warning bells going off in your brain.

Current computer-animated cartoons like Despicable Me or Mars Needs Moms don’t have a problem because their “human” characters are so obviously caricatures. The trouble began when CGI characters developed to the point of being “almost” human, and started the descent into the uncanny valley. The 2001 video-game-based movie Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within was the first attempt at a “photo-realistic” CGI feature movie using MoCap. Although an amazing piece of work for its time, it didn’t succeed visually or at the box office. But it didn’t quite fall over the precipice into the uncanny valley, either. The characters’ faces all had that “stretchy rubber” look when they moved, the motion of their eyes and mouths weren’t close enough to human, and most of their exposed body parts (except for hair, which was quite good) were rigid and doll-like, moving only at the joints. It still was “only” video game animation, and back then, nobody expected that to be real.

The stylized 2004 feature The Polar Express had an intentionally non-realistic, stylized look to its settings and characters, but since the MoCap process was used, their now, much more realistic motions caused a slight uneasiness among some viewers.

It wasn’t until Beowulf (2007), that the CGI capabilities increased to the “almost photo-realistic” level and a larger portion of the audience was disturbed by their being in the uncanny valley, albeit subliminally. It was mainly that the characters’ eyes were mostly “dead,” moving only on cue to look at another character, and never exhibiting the minor random movements that real, living eyes make continuously. The interior details of their mouths were also deficient.

Interestingly, the same capture volume that was used for The Polar Express and Beowulf was also used for Avatar (2009), but only after James Cameron spent a great deal of time and money to upgrade the system. Avatar successfully crossed the uncanny valley because the facial-capture cameras worn by the actors allowed for the recording and reproducing of accurate eye and mouth movements, and the formation and elimination of skin wrinkles. “Edge-detection” software made this possible. Thus was born the “Performance Capture” version of MoCap.

P-Cap volumes have the same soft, non-directional lighting as MoCap, plus additional lights mounted next to the facial capture cameras to make sure the face is never shadowed. Avatar used a single CCD-chip mounted on a strut directly in front of the performer’s face, and many systems still use this configuration. To avoid having the distraction of an object continuously in the actor’s line of sight, by the time AChristmas Carol went into production in 2009, four cameras were used, mounted at the sides of the face, and their images were rectified and stitched together in the computer.

At the beginning of the production of Avatar, Cameron used a live microwave feed from the face camera to “paint” the actor’s human eyes and mouth onto the CGI Na’vi’s face as an aid to judging performance. But after a while, this proved not to be that useful and was discontinued.

Face-Only P-Cap

For certain action scenes, the actors cannot safely wear a camera head rig. For these situations, only the body markers are used, and conventional MoCap is employed. Sound is recorded with a boom mike or wireless mike with a body-mounted lavalier, but will (normally) serve only as cue-track. Afterward, P-Cap techniques will be used to capture the face and dialog. If the director does not automatically ask for it, I recommend that you suggest he or she have the actors attempt to reproduce their body motions from the MoCap sessions as accurately as possible, because this will induce a form of realistic stress to their voices. These setups should be mic’d in the same manner as the rest of the project.

Alternate Techniques for Face-Only P-Cap

The capture infrastructure is continuously evolving, and several new technologies are emerging. Unfortunately, because of NDAs (Non-Disclosure Agreements), I cannot describe the projects I worked on in any detail. The information here comes from public sources such as Cinefex magazine and Wikipedia.org.

Real-time LIDAR (LIght Detection And Ranging) scanning is used to measure the shape and position of the performer’s head, down to sub-millimeter resolution. (This technique is also used to capture GCI data from large motionless objects like buildings, statues, vehicles, etc.)

Real-time multiple-camera, multiple-angle views are used to compute 3-D data from the different 2-D images of the performer’s face.

For both of these, you must usually keep the mike, the boom, and their shadows out of the working volume.

Live-Action MoCap

Live-action scenes, often shot against green- or blue-screen backings, need to have dramatic, sourced lighting. There are also many shiny wardrobe items and props, some of which even emit light themselves, and all these would confuse the passive MoCap system. Exterior scenes shot in direct sunlight can completely wash out the reflected capture-camera lights. For all these reasons, the reflective marker passive system cannot be used. Instead, “active” markers are used. These are larger, ½- to 1-inch cubes, with an LED array on each visible side. The markers emit a pattern of light pulses, either red or infrared, to uniquely identify each individual marker. Externally mounted markers that are visible in a shot can be eliminated with “wire-removal” software in Post. Infrared markers may sometimes be concealed under clothing to avoid this extra step, along with its attendant time and cost.

MoCon

Motion Control was developed long before any capture processes. A camera was mounted on a movable multi-axis platform that ran on tracks, and had sensors to record its motion, position, and lens settings. The initial shot was made by a human operator, then the subsequent ones could be made by playing back the recorded data and using it to control servo motors that moved the camera in a duplicate of whatever dolly, pan, tilt, zoom, focus, etc., moves were made the first time. This allowed “in-camera” compositing of multiple scene elements without the need for optical film work in Post, with the attendant problems of generation loss, color shifts, etc. A typical use would be to shoot a night scene of model buildings with illuminated windows using a large outdoor model city street. To get uniform illumination, the tracking shot past the buildings is shot in daylight, with the camera stopped down to reduce the exposure. This would require impossibly intense (and hot) lights to illuminate the windows brightly enough to read in direct sunlight. Instead, a second, matching, pass is made at night with the lens opened up, so that low-wattage bulbs will provide the proper exposure. The original Star Wars movies used this method extensively. While this system is still in use, it is now possible to use markers to track camera position, particularly with handheld cameras.

MoTrac

Motion Control requires a large amount of expensive equipment, but now that computers have become so much more powerful, digital manipulation can accomplish some, but not all, of the tasks formally done with MoCon. And of course, many that were impossible with MoCon. And sometimes MoTrac can be used instead of needing MoCap to record camera positions and moves.

MoTrac has two main applications. First, green- and blue-screen work where there will be camera moves that must be coordinated with an added background plate. To do this, an ordinary non-MoCon camera is used, and visible “fiduciary” marks are made on the screen as a reference for how the plate image must be shifted to have the proper parallax for the moving camera. Usually, the mark is simply an “X” made with pieces of contrasting color tape. Enough marks are placed on the screen to ensure that some of them will always be in frame. The computer tracks the motion of these Xs and then adjusts the position of the background plate to match.

Second, smaller marks, often ¼-inch red dots, are stuck on real objects that will have CGI extensions added on to them. The moving ampsuits used in Avatar existed in the real word only as torsos on MoCon bases. The CGI arms, legs, and clear chestpiece were attached later in the virtual world. If you are planting/hiding microphones, be careful not to tape over or otherwise occlude any of these marks.

While not commonly used at present, it is possible to put fiduciary marks on a mike boom as an aid in removing it Post. And the recent Les Miserables used them to help remove the exposed lavaliers that were mounted outside the wardrobe.

MoTrac MoCap

This hybrid has limited capabilities, but is often used for liveaction shoots on real locations or sets, with CGI characters that are human-shaped and slightly larger than the human performers. No reflective or active markers are used because the scenes often involve action and stunts, and the markers could injure the wearer or be damaged or torn off. Typical examples are the Iron Man suits and the humanoid droids in Elysium.

This method does not capture 3-D position information directly, and is used to simply “overlay” the CGI image on top of the capture performer’s on a frame-by-frame basis. Perspective distortion of the shape and size of the marker squares can be analyzed by the software to properly rotate and light the virtual character.

The actors wear grey capture suits with cloth “marker bands,” consisting of strips ranging from ½ to 2 inches in width having alternating white-and-black squares with a small circle of the opposite color in the center. The bands are fastened around the portions of the actor’s body that are to be captured: head, torso, arms, and/or legs. Only gross body movements are captured with this system; not details such as fingers or facial features.

If wireless mikes are used, there is no face-cam mounting strut available to mount the microphone, but neither it nor the transmitter has to be hidden. Like a regular shot, boom shadows have to be kept off anything visible in frame, except for the capture suit. (The shadow will not be dark enough to be mistaken for black makings.)

Editor’s note: Jim Tanenbaum’s explanation of P-Cap and MoCap practices will continue in the next issue of the Quarterly with specific guidance for sound technicians working these projects.

Text and pictures (except Avatar set pictures) © 2014 by James Tanenbaum, all rights reserved.

My Wild Ride: Booming in the ocean

My Wild Ride

by Coleman Metts, CAS
All images courtesy of Coleman Metts

My friend and colleague, Scott Harbor, who was having a scheduling conflict, referred me to the movie Ride. He thought, “Coleman surfs and stand-up paddleboards, so he’ll be great for it.” When the Producers initially contacted me, they said, “We are keeping it simple, but we want the actors, Helen Hunt and Luke Wilson, to talk to each other as they’re going out through the waves and catching the waves.” Well, I thought, perhaps the new wireless microphone transmitters from Lectrosonics might work. I told them it would be an experiment, but I felt pretty good about being able to pull it off.

My initial plan was to cut holes in the wet suits and have the microphones exposed but removed with computers in Post. The Producers responded they could not afford to do that for every shot. After considering a range of alternative options, we eventually agreed to cut small holes in the wet suits and attach the microphones behind each hole with tape. We then began an exhaustive process of trial and error in an attempt to mount the microphones. We could not find any tape that would effectively work in saltwater! Eventually, we settled on using Velcro to mount the microphones. However, it was not long before we learned that the Lectrosonics waterproof transmitters are not saltwater proof!

Lectrosonics was very cooperative about minimizing the L&D expenses, but the wireless transmitter failures forced my crew to capture all the sound sequences, both on the ocean and in the surf zone, with an old-fashioned overhead boom microphone. On the water, I used a Sennheiser 60. We got basically traditional coverage, so we were very lucky in that respect, and the microphone worked perfectly. I used the Lectrosonics plug-on transmitters to get the sound from the boom microphone back to me. My recorder for the movie was the Zaxcom Fusion. Working in this environment is incredibly hard on every piece of equipment. I am still finding sand in various places among my sound gear, months later.

We did not make any technological leaps on this movie; it was just persistence, and positive attitude, that solved our problems.

The initial schedule showed us on and off the water a lot, so I had a small ENG-type package built for the ocean, and my main rig I left built for filming on the land. Even at sea, I managed to send an IFB feed to video village and, particularly to Helen Hunt, who was directing as well as acting. I also supplied signal to the Script Supervisor and the Video Playback Operator, fellow 695 member Anthony Desanto.

We did not have a lot of prep for this project, so we had to improvise and figure it out as we went along. A nice benefit of the show was that I was able to bike to work every day for three weeks. Also, I got to wear my sandals at work every day for about a month.

So began my two weeks out on the water. I was placed in everything from zodiac-type boats to the back of wave runners. I eventually spent much of my time on a large stand-up paddleboard as no motorized craft were allowed in the designated surf zone which, in the Marina Del Rey/Venice area, extends from the beach out three hundred yards.

My Boom Operators, Johnny Evans and Jim Castro, also operated from large stand-up paddleboards for significant portions of their time on location. When not on a stand-up paddleboard, the Boom Operators were standing directly in the surf zone. Doing so, however, required the use of Watermen/Stuntmen who would position themselves directly behind my crew and grip them tightly to prevent them from being knocked over by the oncoming waves. My Utility, Ace Williams, did a phenomenal job in these trying conditions. Oftentimes, I was texting Ace what resources I needed sent out on the next supply boat.

It was not long before I realized that working on the water is very different from playing on the water. Being out on various watercraft all day was pretty fatiguing. Communication was limited. In the beginning, we also had a failure in the transfer process when the facility transferred all the tracks for dailies. That added some stress at the start of the show. Eventually, we got it all sorted out—just about the time when we moved off the ocean and started filming on dry land.

What did I learn from this project? Well, I guess I learned that when they say it’s going to be simple, it’s not. And I learned that you need more than one plan to deal with any eventuality plus enough resources for almost any scenario.

The process of filming on the beach, on the water and on multiple locations throughout Venice made Ride the hardest show I’ve done by far. But the amazing people I worked with made it a memorable and positive experience. The Director of Photography and his crew, the Key Grip and his team and our Stunt Coordinator and the Waterman were outstanding. They solved amazingly hard challenges every day. They all displayed the best positive attitude and everything seemed easy for them. After eighteen years in the business, I’ve learned not to take these things for granted. Ride restored my enthusiasm for making movies; it was a bright spot in my career.

Jim Webb: A Profile

Jim Webb: A Profile

by David Waelder

“ He was the most perfect Sound Mixer I ever worked with.”
–Chris McLaughlin

“ I would say that Jim was the father of multi-track. I really would.”
–Harrison “Duke” Marsh

“ He seemed to field a lot of curveballs very elegantly.”
–Robert Schaper

“ He was a great educational source to learn from.”
–James Eric

“ Jim Webb is a crusty old pirate of a man who has a heart bigger than words can describe.”
–Mark Ulano, CAS

James E. Webb Jr. is justifiably renowned for his work developing multi-track recording on a series of films for Robert Altman. He captured the dialog from multiple cast members and interlocking story lines on such iconic films as Nashville, Buffalo Bill and the Indians, 3 Women, and A Wedding. He pioneered the multi-track process.

The scenes were so complex, so intricate and so audacious that Altman himself parodied the style in The Player.

And yet, this was really just the beginning of Jim Webb’s career.

He studied film in college, first at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, and later at USC in the Department of Cinema. In 1962, he was drafted into the Army and, after training in radio and as a radio teletype operator (RTTY), served in Germany at an Army Aviation Repair Company that occupied the old Luftwaffe hangars on the military side of Stuttgart’s main airport.

Discharged in 1964, he worked for about a year at USC and then took a job, first at KTLA and then at the CBS station KNXT. The stations had contracts with IATSE and he got his IA card at that time.

ROCK & ROLL

Work in feature films was the goal but opportunities were scarce for recent film school graduates and new members of the union with limited contacts and seniority. Seeking to create their own work opportunities, he formed an independent production company with Pierre Adidge, a friend from Northwestern, and Bob Abel.

The newly formed production company did music specials for PBS and also documentary concert features. The Joe Cocker film, Mad Dogs & Englishmen, was the first feature, followed by Soul to Soul (as a consultant) and Elvis on Tour. These projects taxed his technical skills to keep everything in sync and sensibly organized. He was well aware that Woodstock required a full year of work to get everything synced and worked strenuously to avoid a calamity of that sort. He insisted on shooting regular slates and on assigning one track on the eight-track recorder to a sync pulse. His commitment to good protocol was not always adhered to but his efforts were at least partially successful and the films were all released in a timely manner.

ROBERT ALTMAN AND MULTI-TRACK

His Army training and experience with radio mikes and multi-track music recording on concert films gave him a good foundation in skills needed to implement a production style that Robert Altman was developing. Traditionally, films had treated their subject matter as if they were stage plays seen with a camera. Close-ups and tracking shots provide changing perspective but the action unfolded as a linear narrative. Altman saw the world as a messy place where events didn’t always proceed in an orderly way. Sometimes everyone would speak at once. Sometimes, with multiple participants, it wouldn’t be clear who was driving the action until the event was over. He wanted to bring some of that messy uncertainty to his film projects.

Altman used a loose and improvisational style in films like MASH but encountered difficulties with sound for McCabe & Mrs. Miller. Without precise cues to know when each character might speak, it was difficult for the Sound Mixer to deliver a suitable track, especially when action was staged in authentic locations with hard floors and other acoustically difficult features. Having multiple microphones, and assigning the outputs to isolated tracks, was the obvious solution. Altman brought in Jack Cashin to design a system of multi-track recording that might be used on location. Most of the equipment then available was designed for use in a studio and it required some ingenuity to adapt it for location use. But assembling the hardware is only part of the equation; someone must operate it effectively and this presented challenges to the Production Mixer.

The system Cashin developed used a Stevens one-inch, eight-track recorder. With one track assigned to a sync signal, seven tracks were available for discrete audio. No multi-track mixing panels that could work off DC were available at that time so 2 eight-input, four-output consoles were linked to supply the needed signal feed. The whole business ran off a 12-volt motorcycle battery with a converter circuit to provide the higher voltage needed by the recorder.

Paul Lohmann, Altman’s Director of Photography, recommended Jim Webb for the multi-track skills he had demonstrated on the concert films. And that was the beginning of collaboration among Robert Altman, Jack Cashin and Jim Webb on a series of films.

Jim Webb:

They had everything together but they didn’t have any idea about how to use it. And I said, “Well, the only thing that makes any sense is to put radio mikes on everybody.” You can’t have open mikes because if you add those back in the pre-dub, the background is going to be astronomical—you won’t be able to tell anything. You have to do a lot of close mic’ing to make this work. So my contribution was radio mikes.

The first picture made with this multi-track technique was California Split. It was a fortuitous choice because it made good use of improvisational technique but was less ambitious in that application than subsequent projects. It provided an opportunity to shake out the system.

By the time we got to Nashville, we pulled out all the stops and went blasting our way through it. We shot that film in eight weeks at a dead run.

Putting radio mikes on each performer and assigning them to discrete tracks was an obvious approach but there were also limitations. Post work required an additional two weeks to deal with all the different tracks. There was also an inherent lack of audio perspective. Jim Webb explains it best himself:

There’s no perspective. We ran into that immediately on Nashville. There’s this scene that opens the movie which is where they’re all in a recording studio and I went about putting radios on everybody, even the ones behind the recording glass. And I went over to Altman and I said, “Are you sure we’re doing this right? We’re throwing perspective just completely out the window.” And he said, “Yes, yes, of course we are.” I went back to putting radios on. About twenty minutes later, he comes over and says, “Are we doing this right?”

A little late to change the action now. And it worked out. I would have people come up to me and say, “That was the most realistic sound I’ve ever heard.” Well, there was nothing real about it. You’re not hearing people shooting through a double-plate glass and hearing all the conversation inside there, as well as what’s going on outside.

But it was primarily designed for overlapping dialog and improv and things of that nature where you never knew what anybody was going to say.

And you can’t possibly listen to it all because it’s just a Tower of Babel. So once I previewed all the radios and made sure they were working, you were just watching the meters.

Capturing the dialog with individual radio microphones was a complex undertaking that required all of Jim Webb’s skill but it accomplished what Robert Altman needed to fulfill his vision for the film. According to the Supervising Sound Editor, only two lines weren’t recorded in the original production track. One was a failed radio on Henry Gibson and the other one was an added line of Allen Garfield’s back as he was walking away from us. That was it; the rest was all stuff that we did.

THE ULTRASTEREO MIXER

Very little was available in the way of a portable mixing panel at the time Jim Webb was working the multi-track pictures with Robert Altman. The specialty mixing panels that Jack Cashin adapted for those pictures had liabilities that make them cumbersome for use on most pictures. He and Jack Cashin set to work to address this need with a capable mixer.

In the late to mid-fifties, [Perfectone] had a little threepot black mixer that was very popular in the studios; it was a little rotary pot thing and everybody used it. And it was around a lot. And then they updated their little portable mixer with a straight line. And they had six in and one out—it was still a mono mixer. And I liked the straight-line faders because you could handle them a lot easier than trying to wrangle three rotary, four, five rotary pots. So I said to Jack [Cashin], “Can we modify this and make it two track?” And we looked it over and said, no, it’s going to be simpler to make our own version of this. And he designed it and I built it. I built a dozen of them, maybe 12 to 14 of them. Sold them all.

ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN AND A RETURN TO BOOMING

Right after Nashville, Jim Webb was hired to do All the President’s Men, largely because his multi-track skills were applicable to situations where actors might have to interact with video monitors playing in the newsroom. He was also particularly skilled at recording telephone conversations and there were many of those in the script. Although he had his own working prop phones, the Special Effects Department supplied the multi-line key phones used in All the President’s Men. Webb provided a phone tap to record the phoneline conversations on a separate track from the on-camera dialog. He would supply an audio feed to actors brought in just for their off-screen dialog. Because everyone heard everyone else, either through the phones or via a specially provided feed from the mixing panel, overlaps were possible and could be recorded naturally. It was expensive because of the need to bring in actors who didn’t appear on screen but freedom from the pace-killing process of having lines read by a script supervisor allowed the filming to fly and yielded more natural performances.

When we rehearsed it, it went like lightening. And when we got through, Bob [Redford] said, Holy cow! … He was shocked at how fast it went and that’s how we did the scene.

It’s not often that the Mixer gets a chance to dabble in how the scene plays.

All the President’s Men was more tightly scripted and allowed a more normal recording technique than the Altman pictures. It came at a good time:

I remember going into an interview one time and I said, “I’ve done this Altman this and that.” And the guy looks at me and says, “OK. What else have you done besides that?” And I didn’t have anything so I was thinking to myself, it’s better to work around; it’s better to do different formats and utilize them when you need them.

Chris McLaughlin was his Boom Operator on the film but the newsroom scenes presented particular challenges. The Washington Post set was gigantic, consuming two linked stages, and lit naturalistically from overhead fluorescent lights. Fortunately, due to the heat they generated, the ballasts for all those lights were mounted in a shed outside the stage so there wasn’t a serious problem with hum. Director of Photography Gordon Willis favored up-angle shots that showed all the lights in the ceiling. When Jim Webb asked if it would be OK to boom, Willis held out his hand, casting multiple soft shadows and said, “I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t make any shadows on my set.” “That was the end of that conversation,” says Webb. Chris did manage to boom the picture using primarily a Sennheiser MKH 815 from below, flitting in and out of the performer’s legs.

According to Chris McLaughlin, Webb entrusted the microphone selection to his Boom Operators. But the big Sennheiser was clearly a favorite. He describes using one on The Long Riders. The Keach brothers were fitted with wireless mikes when Jim Webb learned that they intended to ride into the Chattahoochee River at the conclusion of the dialog. Concerned about immersing the radio packs in the river, Webb resolved to boom the scene. Chris McLaughlin thought that he could capture the dialog with a Sennheiser 815 off a 10-foot ladder. He turned the mike back for maximum rejection of the sound of the river and they accomplished the shot. At the end, the Keach brothers did ride into the river and Webb didn’t lose any mikes. “So I have a lot of respect for the 815,” he said, “it got me through a lot of tough places.”

It’s key to an understanding of technique that there was no agenda, no rules about how each scene needed to be recorded. Jim Webb approached each project with an eye to achieving the Director’s vision and capturing the elements needed for the picture as a whole. Duke Marsh says: “I think with Jim it was, if I’m [Post] mixing this thing, or I’m going to do the Post work on it, what do I want to hear?”

And Jim himself says, “You just gotta do what you gotta do, you know. And I never worried, pretty much at all, about what people thought about what I was doing. If I saw a way to do it and it felt right, that’s what I was going to do.”

Each project presented its own set of challenges to test his skills and preparation.Noises Off presented a particularly complex situation. Originally a stage play, it concerns an acting company rehearsing and presenting a play on an elaborate set. Come opening night, everything goes awry, cues are missed, props misplaced, and the comic errors pile one atop the other. The two-story set mirrored the set that would be on stage. To accommodate the perspective of the Stage Manager, a key character, the entire set was built ten feet above the sound studio floor, complicating any work from the stage. Peter Bogdanovich, the Director, intended to shoot the entire film using a Louma crane that had the ability to swoop in on individual performers, further complicating efforts to capture the audio with a boom microphone. Moreover, the script took the actors up and down stairs and through doors at a frenetic pace.

The actors hoped to avoid using radio mikes, in part because there was often little costume to conceal them. But they needn’t have worried as the pace and frequent costume changes made that an inconvenient choice.

The original plan was to distribute plant microphones throughout the set and go from mike to mike as the action required. After a rehearsal, Webb said, “Guys, I don’t know.”

McLaughlin thought he could capture the dialog using Fisher booms and had a plan for how to accomplish it. They would use two of the big Fisher booms and, to get them high enough to work the elevated set, they would replace the regular bases with purpose-built scaffolds and mount the booms to the top rails of the scaffolding. Wheels fitted to the scaffolding allowed moving the booms into position as needed.

Jim Webb was open to the idea and brought in Fisher booms with 29-foot arms fitted with Neumann KMH 82i microphones. Randy Johnson joined Chris to operate the second Fisher and Duke Marsh was brought in to work from the greenbeds with a fishpole to catch anything that fell between them. After hearing a rehearsal, Jim Webb said, “This is the way to go. Pull those plants.” They did use a few of the plants to pick up dialog occurring well upstage, under the set overhangs where the booms couldn’t penetrate, but using the big Fisher booms simplified the plan considerably. The plan still demanded considerable mixing skill to blend the two main booms, the fishpole operated by Duke and the occasional plant mike, but there was logic to the operation and the team successfully recorded all the dialog.

Other films presented challenges of their own. The Bette Midler films, The Rose and For the Boys, each presented playback challenges because of the large audiences or the complex shots envisioned by Mark Rydell, the Director. Webb worked with Re-recording Mixer Robert Schaper on For the Boys to build modern elements into period microphones so they might accomplish live-records at the highest quality levels. Robert Schaper recalls:

We ended up stealing vocals off of those mikes in the playback situations. One of Bette’s songs to her husband, when she is reunited with her husband, had a very silky, lovely, studio playback [of] “I’m Going to Love You Come Rain or Come Shine.” And she had a very silky rendition of that. [But] it didn’t match her acting performance at all because she was crying, overwhelmed with seeing her husband that she hadn’t seen in months and she was very worried about it and everything else. And we had planted … a Shure 55 with a rebuilt Shure capsule in it. Even with playback coming at her, the isolation was good enough on her actual live vocal—and she always actually sings all of her lip syncs. And she performed the heck out of the song … I ended up compiling all of that and using her live vocal—rather than the pre-record … from the plant that we had out there … and it turned out to be a really great acting performance.

CREW RELATIONS

“ He left a lot of it to the boom man. He walked on and said the boom man was the money-man, the boom man, he believed, controlled the set. ”
–Duke Marsh

“ He put great trust and faith in his Boom Operator. It was a collaborative effort. ”
–Chris McLaughlin

Over the course of a career, every Sound Mixer works with many Boom Operators, Utility Technicians, and Playback Operators. All who worked with Jim Webb praise his skills, his concentration, his commitment both to the project and his crew. A few brief stories from Duke Marsh illustrate:

[From Beaches] I would go and grab the snakes at wrap and he comes up behind me with gloves on and he said, “No, I do that.” “But I’m the cable guy; that’s a cable.” And, instantly we were buddies. And he’d go, “But, Duke, you gotta understand, those snakes are for me so I can work off the truck.” And in my whole career with him, in the rain, in the mud, in the snow, he’d always come off that truck. And there were days when I would say, “But you’re the Mixer.” “Well, you got other stuff to do. Go do that, come back, give me a hand.” That was Jim. He would always back his crew.

And then, in 2001 when he was receiving the CAS Lifetime Achievement Award:

I get a phone call and Jim says, “I want you to come. You’ll be at my table.” Well, he invited Doug Vaughn and Chris McLaughlin. [He delivered a speech accepting the award] then he says, “Those three guys at that table are responsible for a lot of this in my career. If it wasn’t for the boom man, putting that mike in the right spot, I wouldn’t be here.” And he had us stand up and we got an ovation. And I’m thinking, how many mixers pay attention to the guy that’s out front?

AWARDS AND ACHIEVEMENTS

In addition to the CAS Award, Jim Webb won the Academy Award for All the President’s Men in 1977 and the BAFTA Award for Nashville in 1976. He received one other Oscar nomination and three additional BAFTA nominations.

Nashville and All the President’s Men are each featured in both the Criterion Collection and the Smithsonian List. While Robert Altman and Alan Pakula, respectively, are recognized for their vision, Jim Webb shares in the accomplishment through his skill and inventiveness in facilitating that vision.

It’s also instructive to note the Producers and Directors he’s worked with multiple times. The list of three or more film collaborators includes Robert Altman, Francis Ford Coppola, Garry Marshall, Walter Hill, Bette Midler, and Paul Mazursky. Mark Rydell is one of several directors who employed him twice.

For each of these directors, Jim Webb contributed a sense of the role of sound as part of the whole and adjusted his technique to meet the needs of each particular project and the vision of that particular filmmaker. In talking with him, it is apparent that he has taken great pleasure in the process.

Jim Webb: “Good production sound has production value! Don’t give up. Be consistent and do the best you can.”

 

Mic’ing the Instruments

In the course of interviewing for this profile, Jim Webb shared many great stories that didn’t fit neatly into the narrative. This is one of the stories rescued from the trim bin.

In California Split, it started there and at the end of the scene there was going to be—and I found out this about two minutes before we were going to shoot it— there was a piano with tacked hammers in the bar and there was a lady that would play the piano and sing. Elliott Gould was going to be sitting there and they were going to talk a bit while she was playing the piano—and eventually they were going to sing “Bye Bye Blackbird.”

And I said, oh my God, it would be nice to know about this a little bit earlier. So I ran back and the only things I had around in those days were the old ECM-50s which were some of the first electrets from Sony. And I had a bunch of those. So I ran over to the piano, raised the lid and put one taped to the cross bar pointed down and the other one pointed up to the top end. I connected cables from the mixing panel, closed the lid, put a radio on each performer, ran back, turned the equalization all the way up – all I had – and prayed. So I laid down four tracks and it worked pretty well. In fact, they couldn’t duplicate it.

The scene didn’t really make the film but the song is in there, at the end, over the credits.

Anyway, they discovered that I could do that. So, in the smaller scenes in Nashville, where there were just the two gals singing in a place and the piano and whatever, I would do that mike, if it was an old upright, I would stick a couple of mikes in there … and as long as I hadn’t filled up the eight tracks, I could do that.

Well, they decided that I had so much dialog going on that I couldn’t cover all the music too; I just didn’t have enough tracks. So, they hired a guy named Johnny Rosen to come in and they had a sixteen-track truck and they hired him to do the Opryland stuff and all that. And their mixer, I think his name was Gene Eichelberger, was shadowing me just to see what I was doing. And he saw me doing this lavalier routine and I’m thinking to myself, I can’t tell anybody in Nashville that I’m using lavaliers to mike instruments because they’re going to laugh me out of town. Next thing I know when I get to Opryland, Eichelberger is over borrowing every ECM-50 I’ve got and he’s taping them to fiddles and everything in the orchestra he can find. So, I thought, well, OK, that’s how we’re going to do this. And that’s how it all kinda went down.


Interview Contributors

These colleagues of Jim Webb assisted in the preparation of this profile by making themselves available for interviews:

Crew Chamberlain was Webb’s Boom Operator on several films including The Milagro Beanfield War, Legal Eagles, and Down and Out in Beverly Hills.

James Eric knew Jim Webb from his days working the microphone bench at Location Sound. Later, he served as Utility Sound on Out to Sea.

Robert Janiger is a Sound Mixer and friend who collaborated on further development of the Ultrastereo mixer.

Harrison “Duke” Marsh worked with Jim Webb on seventeen films including Pretty Woman, For the Boys and Noises Off. He worked variously as Playback Operator, Utility Sound and Boom Operator.

Chris McLaughlin boomed twenty-one films for Jim Webb starting with California Split and continuing through Noises Off. Among others, he did Nashville, 3 Women, The Rose, The Long Riders, and Hammett.

Robert Schaper was Supervising Music Engineer on For the Boys.

Mark Ulano is an award-winning Sound Mixer who considers Jim Webb a mentor.

Ray Dolby

A Tribute to Ray Dolby

by Scott Smith, CAS and David Waelder

To be an inventor, you have to be willing to live with a sense of uncertainty, to work in this darkness and grope towards an answer, to put up with anxiety about whether there is an answer.

–Ray Dolby

The Dolby name appears so often on films that it has become like Kleenex or Xerox, a generic for noise reduction. But the many innovations of Dolby Labs are largely the work of Ray Dolby, a man of prodigious ingenuity. He died of leukemia on September 12, 2013, at age eighty, at his home in San Francisco. Born January 18, 1933, in Portland, Oregon, Mr. Dolby was hired straight out of high school by Alexander Poniatoff of Ampex Corporation. At the time, Mr. Dolby had volunteered as a projectionist for a talk that Mr. Poniatoff was giving. Impressed by his talents, Poniatoff invited the young Mr. Dolby to come to work with him at Ampex, where he contributed to the design of the first quad videotape recorders.

After completing studies in electrical engineering at Stanford and physics at the University of Cambridge, Ray Dolby invented a system of high-frequency compression and expansion that minimized recorded hiss. He formed Dolby Labs in 1965 to bring this noise reduction system, called Dolby A, to market. Mr. Dolby later turned his attention to the problems of sound recording for motion pictures, which still relied on decades-old technology. His endeavors would lead to the introduction of a surround sound system that could be duplicated using traditional optical soundtrack printing techniques. It replaced the expensive and cumbersome printing techniques previously used for big-budget films.

At Dolby Labs he is remembered as much for mentoring a new generation of scientist/engineers as for his particular innovations. He was a scientist who expanded creative horizons for artists.

His contributions are covered in greater detail in Scott Smith’s series “When Sound Was Reel” in the Summer 2011 and Winter 2012 issues of 695 Quarterly. There is also a very fine video tribute available on the Dolby website. These are available at:

https://www.local695.com/Quarterly/3-3/3-3-when-sound-was-reel-7/

https://www.local695.com/Quarterly/4-1/4-1-when-sound-was-reel-8/

http://www.dolby.com/us/en/about-us/who-we-are/leadership /ray-dolby.htm

Nashville

Nashville

by Anna Wilborn

When Joe Foglia rang me up to offer me a spot as the Utility Sound Tech on ABC’s Nashville, I fell on the floor laughing. Move to Nashville? I had a new house, a new baby, a three-year-old and a husband who was neck deep besting a new VH1 show. I’d already heard the stories of ungodly hours, the daily multiple locations, the stake beds, the stairs, the tiny costumes, the non-soundstages, the lack of a great Thai restaurant … “I’m fine thanks,” I chuckled to Joe, as I tossed my kid a toy. I got in my car and headed to Costco. Forty-five minutes later, I pulled in to the parking lot. It’s a mile and a half away. Had to get some diapers at Target. That was another two-hour ordeal complete with honking and expletives (not from me of course!). Six weeks later, my whole house was packed up, boxes shipped, and I was bouncing my baby on my lap as my flight to Music City lifted up out of the smog.

It had been over two years since I’d worked with Joe and, thankfully, nothing had changed. Except the recorder. And the monitors. And the sound reports. And the media. And some of the microphones. And the timecode boxes. And the IFBs. And the follow cart. I soon realized the only thing recognizable was Joe’s smile. Even the boom guy, Scott Solan, was different. He hails from an Irish, hockey-playing borough of Syracuse, NY, with a long list of credits, including the new Star Trek features,Transformers: Dark of the Moon and Thor. Scott is a thoughtful perfectionist. He forgets nothing and leaves no stone unturned in his drive for a quiet, locked-up location. Scott has the unique ability to up everyone’s game, both within and beyond our department. Our very first scene up on starting the new season was indicative of the next ten months to come: 6 earwigs, music playback, live stage microphones, PA system, 4 wires, 50 extras and 3 RED cameras. I suddenly yearned for a forty-five-minute drive to Costco with a toddler and a teething baby. I pondered the validity of the lease agreement just signed by my new tenants back in Los Angeles. I suppose I could get a lawyer … Joe just smiled and shrugged, “Welcome to Nashville!”

Matt Andrews is at the helm of our music playback. He is the Chief Engineer at Sound Emporium in Nashville and a bona fide Grammy Award winner (I know ’cause I kinda stole it off his mantle one night when we were shooting down the street from his house). Matt’s credits include Playback Tech on Walk the Line and 2nd Studio Engineer for the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack. Joe and Matt are a match made in heaven. Watching them together is like a Martin and Lewis film. There’s nothing better than seeing the two of them behind the racks, heads down in a flurry of cables and connectors, troubleshooting and finishing each other’s sentences. They are the yin to each other’s yang. Given that Joe spent his formative years at Criteria Recording Studios in Miami Beach, it’s no surprise.

Each episode offers up four to five musical numbers with anywhere from one to a dozen performers. Matt’s playback paraphernalia includes a Pro Tools 10 rig in a small, red, rolling rack, closely followed by Playback Utility Cassidi Spurlock, dragging The Biggest Pelican Case In The World. Seriously. If Nashville ever floods again, we can just ditch the cables and all hop in. He runs the Pro Tools via a Quad-core Mac Mini with a Focusrite Rednet 2 interface. He typically comes armed with twenty-four tracks of music all broken out in stereo pairs from vocals to cowbell. Matt is all about the Dante matrix system. Over the next few months, we plan to fully integrate Dante so both he and Joe can pull any track they choose out of a thin little Ethernet cable. It will also drastically cut down on the cabling which, in turn, will reduce the propensity to pick up hums and ground loops along the way, a typical nuisance of our large-scale music venue locations.

Six years ago, Joe looked at his shiny new eight-channel Sonosax mixer and thought, what am I going to do with all these inputs? Now he knows. Problem is the board is continually maxed out with all the live vocal microphones, booms, wires and music. An upgrade looms in the near future. For now, the new addition to the family is a Dante-compatible Soundcraft Si Expression digital mixer. It has fourteen faders with four layers for up to fifty-six tracks. “It’s great,” Matt says, “we just hit a button and the board instantly switches to a whole different mix.” To it we input the Shure handheld wireless stage microphones and Matt’s music and timecode tracks. It allows instant accessibility to all audio on Matt’s playback rig as well as all live stage microphones. From there we feed customizable mixes to the QSC PA and the actors’ Ultimate Ears custom molded in-ear monitors. Our actors sing aloud to their pre-records, and are then recorded by Joe. (Y’all following this? There will be a quiz at the end.) This gives our Music Editor, a more precise way to sync, rather than relying solely on timecode.

Joe’s primary recorder is the Sound Devices Pix 260i. It is capable of up to thirty-two channels and is also Dante compatible. It carries a 250 gigabyte solid-state hard drive and a compact flash card which gets turned in for dailies. He backs up to a Sound Devices 788T which simultaneously mirrors to a one TB hard drive. We mostly use Sanken COS-11 wires with Lectrosonics SMV and SMQV transmitters, matched to a six-channel Lectrosonics Venue receiver. Schoeps CMIT shotguns are used with Cinela mounts, K-Tek boom poles and Lectrosonic HM plug-on transmitters. Scott and I use Shure P9RA receivers to listen to Joe’s mix. The clarity is remarkable and the channels are mixable so we can have boom in one ear and wires in the other if we choose. These are the same receivers we use on our actors for their in-ear monitoring.

In the early days of Season One, the performance playback music was fed only to the actors via in-ears, Phonak earwigs, or small stage monitors. Famed music producer T-Bone Burnett noticed during a performance shoot that the audience wasn’t getting as excited about the music as they could be. He wanted speakers blasting the crowd with music. Joe then contacted Ray Van Straten at the speaker company QSC in Costa Mesa, CA, about a possible relationship. A love affair was born. We now receive both practical and mock-up KW series speaker arrays to pump music to the crowd for a real concert look and feel.

Normally, being this far away from Los Angeles would spell the usual equipment and expendables headaches. Thankfully, in Nashville we have Trew Audio right in our backyard. When Joe arrived in town, he wheeled the carts right into the middle of the shop like a sound pit stop. Software updates, new cables, batteries, fluids, tires pumped up, and we were off and running. Rob Milner has been a big part of our crew and it goes something like this: “Hey Rob, I need a sevenfoot cable to run from the Zaxcom wireless to a split XLR with a four-pin.” An hour later, we send the drivers. Having them here has made the transition to the South seamless. Glen Trew was the Sound Mixer on the pilot and the first three episodes before Joe took over. He still comes in from wherever he is around the world (last time it was Amsterdam) to do our 2nd unit days. He’s like a rock star around here. It takes him a half-hour to get from crafty to the cart with all the hugs and handshakes in his way.

Nashville has been the best thing to happen to my little world in quite some time. We’re having a blast both on-set and off. Our hours are sane, the people are jaw-droppingly friendly and there’s never a lack of fun things to do with festivals and concerts every weekend. I can say the road signs are more confusing than anything I’ve ever seen (even the locals admit that), but when people actually let you merge with a friendly wave and a smile, all is forgiven. The other day, my husband found himself stranded in the rain with a dead car battery and a flat tire, and yes, two very disgruntled kids in the back seat. Before he could find his AAA card, someone had pulled over, jumped the car, fixed his flat (with a plug!) and bid him a good day. Don’t you have a pretty picture of that happening in Los Angeles? Gotta love this sweet Southern country livin’! Viva La Nashville!


 

Glossary of highlighted words

IFB Interruptible Fold Back: A system for supplying audio as it is being recorded to artists and technicians. The signal path from the microphones is “interrupted” before going to the recorder and “folded back” so it may be heard by the people involved in the process of making or supervising the recording.

Focusrite Rednet 2 The Rednet 2 system is the premium line of audio interfaces for network distribution over Ethernet cable manufactured by the Focusrite company.

Dante A system of hardware, software and network protocols for delivering digital audio through Ethernet cable.

QSC A manufacturer of speakers, amplifiers and signal processing equipment.

Ultimate Ears A manufacturer of speakers and custom-molded, in-ear monitors.

Glee

The Road to 600: The Evolution of Playback on Glee

by Phillip W. Palmer, CAS

Pilot and Run of Show

When I got the call asking if I was interested in mixing a pilot for Ryan Murphy and Fox Television, the Producer asked an interesting question. He asked how comfortable I was doing a musical pilot, and whether I could manage the production side of things for a group of Producers who, while experienced, had never done this type of project before. Looking back now, almost five years to date, I had no idea what I was in for.

The pilot had elements of several processes: live-record, live-record to playback, playback only and combinations of all three. What we learned from the pilot, and how our company and cast operated, set the tone and process for a long journey. Soon after we started work on the pilot, we knew we were in for something special. Since October 2008, we have produced close to one hundred episodes and nearly six hundred musical numbers.

The music production and playback for the pilot was a completely different situation than the run of show. The music had mostly been prerecorded earlier, giving us time to figure things out and adjust our production process accordingly. For the run of show, music production has been a race against the schedule.

Glee still remains bound by the network episodic schedule, which we attempt to hold to eight days per episode. When the script is released, the music team goes to work immediately arranging and composing anywhere from five to as many as eleven musical numbers per episode. The temp versions are sent back and forth to our Executive Producers for notes and preliminary approval. Then the cast members are brought in to record their specific vocal tracks. The completed music mix is then sent back to our Producers. Upon final approval, the music goes to David Klotz, our Music Editor, for preparation of playback on set. The Pro Tools sessions he builds are specific to our purpose, which include timecode as an audio track, click, thumper, music mix, any specific and special music stems, vocal and vocal effects, and background vocal and vocal effects tracks. The playback session track count will frequently be upward of twenty-five or more stems.

Live-Records vs. Playback

The advantages of live-records are obvious on camera. The drama of the moment and the nuances of the performer yield an authenticity that is often undeniable. What we learned on Glee is that this works for us only sometimes. We discovered early on that repeated live performances, especially when sung “all out” take after take, have a detrimental effect on the performance as time went on. Essentially, after ten or more takes, the moment was lost, as well as the performer’s ability to continue to work through the day and into the next on a TV production schedule. We had to decide which songs needed to have this live performance effect, and plan our production accordingly.

In the pilot, all the Glee Club student auditions were recorded live on set including the piano, with the exception of “On My Own,” performed by Lea Michele. Her audition intercut with her singing the same song in several locations, and was prerecorded for playback and lip sync on set. The shower scene with Cory Monteith singing, “I Can’t Fight This Feeling” a cappella, was recorded live as well. Our vocal coach gave Cory a pitch and then we ran a thump track for tempo. The thump track is essentially a 40 Hz click track played at a low level through an eighteen-inch subwoofer. The 40 Hz thump can be removed later in Post by the use of a notch filter, leaving the vocal recording unaffected. The artist can feel and maintain a tempo and Editorial can easily cut back and forth between takes of live recording. The remainder of musical performances in the pilot were prerecorded and played back for lip sync.

Pro Tools

While there are many Digital Audio Workstations available to the Production Sound Mixer today, we use Pro Tools for several reasons, foremost among them being that the music production team uses Pro Tools for their recording process and we can easily modify their sessions for our use. We have found that the use of Pro Tools on the set has been an invaluable tool to our playback workflow. We can easily manipulate any session to match what we are currently filming and, if need be, send that same session back to the Music Editor so he can prep it accordingly for Editorial. We can easily do things such as change level and volume to match camera angles, or make music edits at the request of the Director. The Music Editor can then load our session files to see what we’ve done on set.

There has been an evolution to our playback Pro Tools sessions since the pilot. In the beginning we simply had a mix, essentially the Producers’ approved demo, with a click track added. As the seasons have progressed, we have added regular stems to our sessions that we find very useful. Our Music Editor adds a thump stem, which matches the click track, so we can assign a separate output for the thumper. We can do it on the fly, or program it in the automation to dump the music at any point and go to a thump to record dialog during the song. We also add a timecode stem as an audio track, which comes in very handy when creating any offspeed versions of the song. The timecode will always stay locked at any speed if it is an audio track and part of the session. We have the music stems combined as a mix, unless there is a specific stem that needs to be split out, such as a piano track. The vocal stems are all separated by lead vocal and effects. If there are six lead parts in a song, there will be six stems and six effects stems. We have the background vocals combined, but sometimes it’s difficult to distinguish the background vocals in the overall mix. Having the ability to boost the background vocal stem by 4 dB to 6 dB during playback helps our cast follow their cues. When the sessions are completed and sent to us, there are frequently dozens of stems to manipulate.

Playback Equipment and Installations

For the pilot, our playback gear on set was a simple Pro Tooks Mbox Mini audio interface and a MacBook. We made the most out of it, but quickly knew we had to improve on our rig to handle more complex playback situations. After the first season, we built a cart that had a dedicated Mac Mini, twenty-inch monitor, Pro Tools Mbox Pro audio interface, a backup Mbox Mini, Command8 control surface, Mackie 1402, Comtek transmitter for earwigs, Sennheiser receivers for VOG, and video monitors. This rig stayed fairly unchanged until an overhaul this past summer for our fifth season. The current playback cart has a new Mac Mini and monitor, MOTU Traveler audio interface, Lectrosonics Venue for VOG, Black Magic Smartvue Duo HD monitors, and the Mackie 1402 and Comtek base station from the older rig for audio distribution,earwigs and monitoring. Our mobile speaker complement consists of two JBL EON10 speakers for small sets and two Mackie SRM450 speakers for larger sets and exteriors. We built several lengths of custom speaker snakes so both power and signal can be run from the playback cart. Also included in the speaker arsenal is an eighteen-inch powered subwoofer for both thumper and low end when needed.

As we progressed through the first season we began to see the need for speaker installations in our main sets. Speaker placement became difficult as we battled with multiple camera angles, Steadicam 360’s, set walls and crew. We found the only good place to put them was up in the air. The first set to get this dedicated installation was the McKinley High Choir Room. This set saw the most playback by far, and still does to this day. For the Choir Room we mounted four JBL EON10’s surrounding the set. They are permanently hung and wired to a space just off set where we park the playback cart for 99% of the music on that stage. From that position we have “drive lines” to several places on the stage where we can drop a speaker and tie right in. This makes the music playback in the hallways very easy, as we are able to place speakers at either end of our long hallways without dragging cables through the set.

Season Two saw the construction of the McKinley High School Auditorium on stage. With this construction build, we installed six Mackie SRM450 speakers, two on each stage wing and a pair in the house, plus an eighteen-inch powered subwoofer for thumper. They are all wired, both power and audio, to a distribution amp and power control rack placed above the Stage Manager’s desk on stage right. They exist as a functional part of the set decoration. Both the playback and the main cart are set up in the same spot each time we work this set, so all the cable runs, including power, audio, video and bell/light, are permanently run underneath the set.

For Season Four, we built a new set for the storyline set in a New York dramatic arts school called NYADA. This new set is a dance rehearsal space, large and open, with high ceilings and giant windows that look out to Manhattan. We faced the same issues as with the McKinley Choir Room, and chose to suspend a pair of Mackie SRM450’s from above the greenbeds aimed down through the fabric ceiling and into the set. As with all previous installations, they are prewired with both power and drive lines to one central spot for the playback station.

The most recent set construction has been a New York City diner, built for Season Five on the backlot of Paramount. This was an incredible undertaking for the construction department, both in scope and speed. They used an existing space in the backlot but expanded up to create a two-story, high ceiling, Broadway performance diner. For this installation, the speakers are incorporated into the set design and mounted on the set’s west wall as part of the set decoration. We used a pair of the new QSC K10 speakers with the QSC yoke mounts for a permanent installation. We ran power and signal wires through the set walls to a drop point to facilitate connecting to the playback cart.

Playback Process

Most of the music scenes on Glee happen within a normal scene of dialog. Occasionally we have a stand-alone music piece but, for the most part, we fold the music playback into the dialog as best we can. The playback volume is often so loud it is at rock concert level. As we go from dialog recording to music playback, the transition is often abrupt and becomes difficult for Editorial. Anything that may happen within the song is lost due to the high playback level. We attempt to bridge this transition between dialog and music with a blending element.

 

The key to making this work is recording the elements we see during the playback as wild sound so Editorial and Post Sound can add these tracks to play under the prerecorded music. Due to our very tight episodic television schedule, Editorial doesn’t have the time to build the background noise and Foley for our multiple music scenes. To do this we make every attempt to do a “Foley Pass” of things like laughter, whistles, footsteps, hand claps, crowd applause, set pieces moving or falling, or anything that makes noise during the musical number. We record this wild track with the music playback at a very low volume. For the Editor, the Foley Pass becomes an important element in making the musical number feel real.

When we choose to record a performance live, we often prerecord the music stems and record the actor singing on set. The music is fed to the actor via earwig and we record the vocal as usual, with a boom microphone. We try, not always successfully, to leave the temp vocals in for the wide shots, and go into the live-record when we get into close-ups. In our experience, it saves the actor and the performance. I do my best to create a mix in the Comtek public IFB for the Director to get a feel for what we are recording. For the IFB feed, to the boom operators and set crew, I leave the playback track out or run it at a low volume. I split tracks one and two as a post-fader mix for Editorial, track one is the live microphone and track two is music. Everything is ISO-tracked pre-fader so it can be adjusted or rebuilt as needed.

Often we are tasked with strange and challenging playback situations. Midseason Three, we had a scene and musical number that took place at a swimming pool with synchronized swimmers. Having a beat to follow underwater is one thing, but having to do lip sync is another. Luckily, after some tests, we found the synchronized swim music equipment “Oceanears” worked very well for our needs. The swimmers and our cast were able to hear the playback feed from the underwater transducers. I was quite impressed by the clarity and the distance the music could travel underwater at nominal levels.

One script called for a musical number being sung from a golf cart while moving. That works well if it’s traveling a short distance, but that wasn’t the plan. They wanted to load down the golf cart with cameras and drive the entire length of the song, some twoplus minutes. We negotiated for an additional golf cart, placed a speaker with wireless receiver in the picture cart and transmitted from our “sound golf cart,” which slowly became the “everyone else” golf cart. We essentially did two angles several times, first leading then following. The playback rig was somewhat simple, a MacBook Pro, MOTU Traveler, and a Lectro UH transmitter. The speaker on the cart was a battery-powered Sound Projections SMP1 fed from a Lectro UCR411. We had a good time with this one. Certain musical performances call for special shots that require playback manipulation—specifically, off-speed filming for incamera effect. Frequently, we speed up both camera and playback by as much as three times normal. When the image is played back at normal speed and the music is laid back in, the artist appears to be singing in sync while everything moves in slow motion. This is achieved by speeding up both the music stems and the timecode stems. We transmit the high-speed timecode to a slate and roll camera, then playback as you would in a music video. Post can then manually sync the music to the displayed timecode as it’s locked in the session as an audio stem.

The Crew

Commitment and cooperation from the entire shooting company from the beginning has been the key to making this all work seamlessly (or what appears so). I can’t imagine what this would be like if the crew didn’t understand how challenging it is on a daily basis. It’s difficult for each department in their own way, and we respect and strive to work together to make it happen. We have had three Directors of Photography for the run of show: Christopher Baffa, Michael Goi and Joaquin Sedillo. Each one of them has worked with us to get what we need to achieve our goals, both with sound recording and the music. It’s a cooperative effort, as always, and I’m grateful for our working relationship. When our needs impact the way the show is shot, we have to have a plan and options. I can’t stress how important it is to have multiple plans of operation. My sound crew has undergone some changes since the pilot, but for the most part, has remained constant. Patrick Martens has been my Boom Operator for the entire run. Devendra Cleary was Utility Sound Technician and Playback Operator for the first two seasons, and then moved up to Playback only in Season Three. Mitchell Gebhard joined the crew as Utility full time in Season Three. After Season Three, Devendra moved on to mixing full time, and Jeff Zimmerman joined us as Playback Operator beginning Season Four. Without the unbelievable ability and flexibility of these people, I would be completely useless as their Sound Mixer. They show incredible professionalism on a daily basis and shine in their abilities to do the job. I provide the guidance, but they get the job done.


Glossary for highlighted words

Click Track A series of audio cues in time to a piece of music. Typically, the click track is generated in a DAW and used by musicians or dancers to keep time to the music.

Thumper A playback system to reproduce the beat of music as a series of low-frequency thumps. The tones are typically about 40 Hz so they may easily be removed from a track without harm to recorded vocals. A special thumper speaker system optimized for low-frequency reproduction is used to play the track. The thumps permit performers to follow the beat of the music without musical playback that might interfere with dialog recording. Originally invented by Hal and Alan Landaker for Warner Bros. Studios. (See 695 Quarterly, Volume 2, Issue 1, Winter 2010)

Stem A mix of multiple audio sources. Example: A blend of music and effects, without dialog. The use of a stem allows complex source material to be treated as a single unit in the final mix or as a temporary part of the process of editing and recording audio.

Mbox An audio interface manufactured by Avid for use with its Pro Tools software.

Command8 A mixing panel control surface manufactured by Avid for use with their Pro Tools audio editing software.

VOG Voice of God. A portable public address system that allows a Director to address groups of performers and technicians with an authoritative voice.

MOTU Traveler The Traveler is an audio interface for connecting multiple microphones, and other audio inputs, to a computer. It is made by MOTU (Mark of the Unicorn), a manufacturer of hardware and software for computer recording

Black Magic A manufacturer of speakers, amplifiers and signal processing equipment.

Earwig A miniature monitor designed to fit within the ear canal like a hearing aid.

Greenbeds A series of catwalks above the sets in a studio.

Foley Pass An alternative to the studio process of Foley recording. The Foley Pass is recorded on-set at the time of principal photography. At the completion of the shot, the AD, at the request of the Mixer, calls for a Foley Pass and the performers go through all of the motions of the scene but without dialog and either without playback or with the music played very softly. This makes it possible to record all the natural sounds as an element separate from the music and speech. The Editor can use these sounds to add a natural background to the scene. It is an expedient alternative to the more elaborate process of the Foley stage but it also can preserve some of the immediacy of the scene.

IFB Interruptible Fold Back: A system for supplying audio as it is being recorded to artists and technicians. The signal path from the microphones is “interrupted” before going to the recorder and “folded back” so it may be heard by the people involved in the process of making or supervising the recording.

File Formats for Music Playback

File Formats for Music Playback

by Gary Raymond

I was asked to discuss optimum file formats for Music Playback (PB). This is an important topic that continues to evolve. Traditionally, the media and file parameters have mirrored the Production Sound Mixer’s formats.

When I started in the ’90s, most Mixers were using Nagras. As a result, the spare Nagra ended up being the logical (convenient) machine to also use for playback. As a result, tape speed was typically the same as the Mixer’s. There were definite limitations to the two-track format. When I worked on For the Boys in 1990, we had several large master shots that Mark Rydell, the Director, decided he wanted to shoot from scene beginning to end. Unfortunately, no one told Editorial as they had prepped all the reel-to-reel tapes as separate beginning, middle and end segments. To make matters worse, they didn’t know what combination would be desired so we had tapes with Orchestra-L, Bette Midler Vocal-R; Orch. & Bette-L, Jack Sheldon Trumpet-R, Orch. without Vocal-L, Jack-R and about a half dozen other permutations. I remember the

Editor bringing down this big box of about 50 seven-inch reels and us sorting through them. Then Mark announced he wanted to do the master shot all the way through. Duke Marsh, who was doing the playback with me, grabbed a second Nagra and we loaded the first part of the desired mix of the song on Nagra 1, the middle of the same song on Nagra 2, and stood by holding the pinch roller ready to let it fly on Playback. As Nagra 1 was playing, we had to start Nagra 2 at the correct spot and then, while it was playing, reload Nagra 1 with the end of the desired mix. I remember Mark Rydell came up to us after our successful playback day and said he wouldn’t do that job if someone held a gun to his head.

Keith Wester, who I worked with on Never Been Kissed, told me he started as a Playback Operator and, in those days, it was off a record. He’d find the groove (literally), mark it with a piece of white chalk and hope the needle didn’t bounce when he dropped it.

In the late ’90s, there was a flirtation with DAT (introduced by Sony in 1987). This was limited to the DAT formats. The DAT was more convenient in some ways than the Nagra (you could auto cue to preset markers) but it still suffered similar problems of any tape-based system. One was that the position coding information would actually get worn off with 20–30 repeated rewinds. Another unique disadvantage of the DAT relative to the Nagra was the fact that it couldn’t be edited the way reel-to-reel tape could be (with razor blade in hand). All editing had to be done “off line” and retransferred.

For this reason, in 1993 I switched to Pro Tools, a nonlinear computer-based system. If we had been using Pro Tools in 1990 when we did For the Boys, we could have loaded all the various playback combinations into one session and been happy clams. Pro Tools (computer-based recording, editing & playback) was vastly superior to tape systems as far as “function” (ability to manipulate the audio), although not necessarily “performance” (sound quality). It took a while for the computers to catch up with the sound quality of a Nagra; however, for playback applications, the tradeoff between function and (audio) performance was decidedly biased toward function. This is why the computer-based system (Pro Tools or similar) has become the de facto standard.

There have been many shows I’ve worked on where I had to do on-the-fly things that would have been impossible with an analog or digital tape-based system. This includes pitch shifting; I transposed the playback songs on the Britney Spears movie Crossroadsthe first day on set when it was determined the songs had been recorded in the wrong key.

On House, I used Pro Tools to provide PB for a slow-motion scene. This was a helicopter crash scene with dialog that the Director wanted to play in slow motion but not pitch shifted. The scene was shot in real time at twenty-four frames per second and then I did some tests at various frame rates to see how fast the actors could lip sync to their playback. Interestingly, it’s a function of the complexity of the particular spoken words. In this case, forty-four frames per second was the fastest the actors could sync convincingly. So, camera matched that frame rate and we shot the playback version of the scene. In post, everything was slowed down to normal twenty-four frames so, when viewed, it looked like the actors were talking in slow motion but with their voices’ normal pitch (something that would have been impossible with tape).

On Drag Me to Hell, a séance scene required reverse playback of the actors’ live lines. These effects could not have normally been done on set with a tape-based system.  

This brings us to the key issue, which is often either:

1) The PB material is not prepared for what is eventually desired on the set or, 2) more frequently, a live-record is used as the playback master.

In both these cases, the frequency sampling rate and bit depth must be decided.

When performing a live-record (as I did on Almost Famous, Rock Star, 8 Mile, or The Hangover), I usually match the Production Mixer’s settings. This is important if timecode will be used. That’s pretty straight ahead as it’s a “closed information loop system” between the Mixer and me.

When using straight PB tracks or files prepared by someone else, I also will usually consult with the Production Mixer and match rates.

However, even when you ask, you don’t always get what you requested.

The evolution of current Music Playback is that half the time I get music tracks from the Director’s Assistant off their iPhone five minutes before they want to roll. This is often the case even when I ask for a better format a few days in advance. They may provide me something in advance, but often it’s not what they ultimately want to use on set.

We are seeing a revolution in technological information acquisition that is being driven by computer media and smart cellphone capabilities. The ability to send information on a personal smartphone is conditioning the population to expect any bit of information to be instantly produced. The misperception is that all information is equally available. To a person who does not have to create information but simply download commercially available product, there is a lack of appreciation of the technical creative process. As a result, creative decisions that used to be decided weeks or days in advance are now made “on the fly” to suit the creative process

The good side is that this has allowed more spontaneous creativity on the part of the Director. The bad side is that there is an expectation that anything can be ready on the spur of the moment. So, in this sense, with regard to prepared material provided by others, we have de-evolved to the point where probably half the playbackonly projects I work on now are iPhone downloads. The first thing to suffer is audio quality, of course.

When prepping a film, television or commercial, I still ask for WAV or AIFF files when possible and an audio CD backup. A good conversation with the Editor (if there is one at that point in the film) can also be valuable.

If timecode will be used, I will match the desired rate which, of course, is dictated by camera format and, if no TC, the Mixer’s preference. With the aforementioned “iPhone” transfers, I’ll convert them to the preferred formats.

In live-record situations, the same pretty much applies. Obviously, the higher the sampling rate and bit depth, the better the sonic quality. However, conversion transfers with digital must be considered because converting from one sampling rate to another, whether up or down, degrades the sound quality. For that reason, I’ll normally record at the highest sampling rate that I think will be ultimately used. Getting the highest quality sound verses the convenience of various formats will continue to be an issue.

I’m expecting the next stage of this evolution to be direct brain scan downloads off the call sheet.

Happy Playback.


Glossary for highlighted word

Live-Recording The process of recording a musical performance on set rather than having the players mime to the playback of a studio session. Sometimes a live-recording will be used to generate a playback master that is immediately put into service to shoot alternate angles and closeups.

Music Playback and Live-Record

From My Perspective:
Music Playback and Live-Record

by Joseph Magee, CAS

As a Local 695 professional, we hear a lot of crazy things at work and no, I’m not talking about that sick old generator staring at you fifty feet from set.

Have you ever heard one of these gems?

• Your Producer says, “I have a friend who knows Pro Tools and should do playback,” the Music Supervisor says, “Right on man.”

• Your Producer appointed to watch over the musical scenes in the film wants it all recorded live, with no tempo glue for editorial. He says, “That’s the only way to have a real performance, no click ever, live pre-records and live on the day. Our Editor will make it all work in Post.”

• The Director has a relative with an amazing home studio (in his garage) for pre-record. “The tracks will rock for sure. They will prep everything.”

• The UPM tells you, his faithful Sound Mixer, that music playback needs to happen the next day without a hitch; we don’t have a track yet. “Also, we don’t have a budget for a music playback person so you guys figure it out. Remember, you have a whole trailer full of gear I’m paying for.”

• The Music Supervisor has an MP3 they will email you sometime soon; it’s all good.

• And last, but not least, the Film Editor wants you to get playback timecode on the slates because that’s how he used to do it when he was doing music videos.

Oh brother!

I’ve been privileged to work on production music for feature films for more than two decades now. Before coming into the world of on-camera musical performances, I recorded classical and jazz records and broadcasts, worked as an orchestral scoring mixer for features and mixed front-of-house live sound for large venues including the Hollywood Bowl. Over the years, I’ve developed a keen sense of the procedures that facilitate a smooth production and the elements that enhance an artist’s ability to give a great performance. My projects have given me the chance to work in feature film pre-production, prerecord, production and post with many acclaimed music producers, composers, musicians and recording artists all facilitating the filmmakers’ vision. I do believe I have a unique perspective that starts from the very beginning and extends to the bitter end in final Post.

Although every project is slightly different, each usually starts with the music team, Director and Producers visualizing how the scene will play and then planning so that all the elements are in place on the shoot day. This is essentially the same as with any other scene in a feature film, except that a music performance has the complexity of managing creative work in three separate periods of work: the initial music composition/rehearsal/pre-record, the on-set performance to camera and through to creation of the scene in post. However, different than the rest of the feature film, these three distinctive periods are tied to the element of synchronous performance locked to the established timeline of the music track. This makes the music scene full of its own technical and artistic challenges.

How a production approaches the pre-record sessions influences the success of the whole venture. A good pre-record session should take place with awareness of how the scene is to be shot and the pace of the performance should mesh with the demands of dancing, screen action and other visual elements. Ideally, the same singers who appear on camera should record their own performances for playback (PB) tracks. It’s more natural for actors to match their own performances rather than a hired studio singer. The transition from dialog to music to dialog is more believable if the voice is the same throughout. And, if done well, the pre-record functions as a first rehearsal for the scene. It should be executed long enough in advance so that the musical performance can “season” in the actor’s brain for at least a few days.

The ideal scenario is to execute pre-records that will make it to final dub. During my many features with Disney, this also proved to be financially prudent. Yes, the tracks will be sweetened, edited, fixed to picture and stem mixed in the film’s final theater presentation. But the musical, artistic content will be set and adhered to, creating the exact intention of the musical moment, the storyline and the actors’ performances.

A synth track mock-up will not achieve this; it may get you through the day but that’s about it. The mock-up has a very good chance of not feeling the same, or sounding anywhere as good as the final track. The hastily assembled temporary track does a poor job of conveying the emotions of the scene for cast and crew—a sure recipe for a lifeless performance. Even if the track exactly matches every beat and every note, music is a “feel” thing and if the performers don’t feel it, the audience in the theater likely won’t either. The substitution of better music in Post might improve the scene technically but won’t do anything to breathe life into the unmotivated performances during production. I’ve found this to be a common theme—time spent in preparation makes filming go better and lessens the need to spend time in Post fixing mistakes.

A well-prepared playback should have vocals that are dry and relatively free of compression or processing. Vocal FX should be available as separate stems and mixed to the environment on the day. A believable music scene requires natural bridges between dialog and music. The performer can best deliver these transitions when every syllable from the recording can be easily heard in the playback. Pro Tools is the industry standard software/hardware for feature films. The sound FX, dialog and music teams all use Pro Tools. It is the standard for the dubbing stages as well. So it saves a lot of time if Pro Tools is also the software of choice for on-set music playback. The technical sound platform software for communication from beginning to end of a production process should be a standardized. When someone chooses to use different software, it just creates conversion issues. Fortunately, Pro Tools is easily accessible on many levels and with many types of hardware. The one exception to this standard is often the music score composer’s personal studio, but this can be worked out by conversion to Pro Tools before the score leaves to see the outside world.

The Pro Tools session that goes to set for music playback should have the music locked to a bars/beat grid. This will enable very quick edits if you are called upon to create magic while a 1st AD waits, not so patiently. The grid is easily achieved in advance, not so quickly on set at the last minute. I also believe in using your prep time to print a click and thump track, beginning to end. Even though your grid is functioning and your click is a plug-in firing off the grid, it is easier to show and cut a visual region when folks are at the rig trying to work out cues. We are lucky today that most choreographers and music folks all have a common ground in Pro Tools and are able to use the visual aide of the screen to communicate with each other. I also have my memory locations already set for song structure before anyone steps to my screen to talk cues. Another detail most often missed for the prep of the sessions is that PB timecode should advance to a new hour for each different song. This will help Editorial in the long run.

I believe that a music-intensive show should not rely on PB timecode on an audio track. An Avid Sync HD I/O should be used on films with music-intensive scenes. This device should be synchronous to a video sync reference. Good news is there are a few ways of setting up this requirement, which now makes the on-set hardware compliment much lighter.

In many situations live-music-record is very important. Combinations of music playback and live-record performances, if executed properly, are often worth their weight in gold in Editorial. Even a few words of live-record cut into the pre-record in Post enables the audience to believe the musical performance in the final cut.

On the other hand, a show built from all live-record can be a disaster in Post. Folks giving their accounts of “all live-record” shows don’t always tell the whole story. Often these shows require extensive editing and pitch work to correct meandering tempos and modulating keys. I have worked on a long list of projects with well-meaning Directors who have gone down this road from the excitement during production to frustration in Post.

If you do have to go “all live” during production, you’ll need to provide the performers some sort of mapped tempo either using a click track through earwigs or a thumper or both. If the singing is a cappella, you’ll also need to play a pitch reference at the right moments. Even so, some key modulation and tempo variations are likely to occur.

Modern earwigs are very useful although limited by volume and low fidelity. I started doing this on-set work back in the days, first with earwig inductance loops taped into the set, and then with neck loops. So I am comfortable explaining the current limitations to talent and creating an environment that helps the devices do their jobs. For example, when transitioning from speaker playback to earwigs and back to speakers, I like to leave the thumper running at a very low level the entire time. The pulse helps provide the “rhythmic glue” to tie the separate moments into one seamless feeling. A thumper quietly pulsing away also helps to keep the full range speaker volume level lower throughout the day.

Active eighteen-inch subwoofers today are very affordable and do a great job. The source of the thump is also very easily tuned on-set in Pro Tools. The sample used for the thump can be highly tuned prior to arriving to set. I have used the same sample for thump for many years. With the current state of the art in active loudspeaker design, I think everyone should take advantage of better fidelity playback on set. A speaker system with higher than average Total Harmonic Distortion (THD) and poor crossover points is fatiguing to the cast and crew. When music plays on set and sounds great, the day goes by more smoothly. It’s easier for performers to follow lyrics that are clearly articulated and better fidelity helps them “feel” the music and translate that energy to the performance. New, high-quality designs are affordable and durable. Passive speakers with amp racks on set and drive racks with crossovers and EQs are basically a thing of the past. I worked through those days and am happy not to use that gear anymore. If a production requires very high sound pressure level (SPL) playback or on-set monitor mixing becomes critical, I then recommend employing a professional touring company to join the team.

The Playback Engineer should try to coordinate his efforts with both Editorial and the Production Mixer. A conversation with each before the assignment starts can sort out issues and make the process smoother. This is the best time to bring up the issue of playback timecode. Having both time-of-day (TOD) code and playback code married, available in burn-in windows for Editorial is the best way to load and edit synchronous music playback scenes. When loaded correctly, endless hours of sliding sync or making on-the-fly corrections will be completely avoided for the editorial team.

This production workflow is easily accomplished. For the Production Mixer, it’s only necessary to print the PB timecode on one analog track on your multi-track and the mono music playback reference on another track. Your multi-track is already synchronous with your TOD code.

The media management company contracted for dailies and editorial workflow can then easily meet the need for PB code in a second window, if requested. On a show where Editorial is taking your tracks directly, they can create the second code window on their own. Either way, it will save numerous days of questionable sync work.

The relationship between the Avid assistant and the Playback Engineer is vital to maintaining sync in the music scenes. The initial conversation between Playback and the Assistant Editor responsible for loading each day’s work into the Avid will set the tone between departments.

The Playback Engineer should provide to Editorial a master playback 48 kHz, 24-bit stereo interleaved file for each musical piece performed. The file should be created from the exact playback session and have the positional timecode reference identical to the day’s playback work. This file with the correct timestamp will enable the correct loading of all of the takes with music playback timecode. Sent at day’s end, the file labeled PB Edit Master, should go directly to the Avid assistant editor; I deliver this file via Aspera, with explanations regarding the use of the playback in the scene.

I’ve found that it takes a complete team effort to pull off a complicated PB, live-record, earwig, thumper day on set. Technology has gotten more complicated and offers more production possibilities, but increases workload. Personally, my favorite shows are a team effort with playback integrated into the sound crew. Coordination of cable runs, speaker and thumper placement, music edits and session maintenance, music cues with the 1st AD and earwigs to talent is all very doable when executed by the whole team.

In my experience, the most effective way to operate PB is to coordinate with all the departments responsible for the creative process, before stepping onto set. The Playback Engineer can act as a bridge between Production and Post Production on the music scenes, assisting workflow and maintaining accountability. From my perspective, an effective Playback Engineer is always prepared before coming to set each day. Wise colleagues in Production and Post should bring him aboard early enough to make those preparations.

 


Glossary for highlighted words

Stem A mix of multiple audio sources. Example: A blend of music and effects, without dialog. The use of a stem allows complex source material to be treated as a single unit in the final mix or as a temporary part of the process of editing and recording audio.

Live-Recording The process of recording a musical performance on set rather than having the players mime to the playback of a studio session. Sometimes a live-recording will be used to generate a playback master that is immediately put into service to shoot alternate angles and closeups.

Earwig A miniature monitor designed to fit within the ear canal like a hearing aid.

Thumper A playback system to reproduce the beat of music as a series of low-frequency thumps. The tones are typically about 40 Hz so they may easily be removed from a track without harm to recorded vocals. A special thumper speaker system optimized for low-frequency reproduction is used to play the track. The thumps permit performers to follow the beat of the music without musical playback that might interfere with dialog recording. Originally invented by Hal and Alan Landaker for Warner Bros. Studios. (See 695 Quarterly, Volume 2, Issue 1, Winter 2010)

Aspera A company making software to facilitate transfers of large data files.

Cinegear Expo

Cinegear Expo

Paramount Studios hosted Cinegear Expo for three days this year from May 31 to June 2. More than 250 companies set up booths along the New York street sets and in half a dozen soundstages.

Although primarily a camera and lighting event, Trew Audio had a booth and Sound Devices was also present to show their recorders and their new Pix 220(i) and 240(i) audio/video recorders.

There were also many companies whose products are useful for professional sound and video techs. They included Filmtools (tools and accessories), G-Technology and SanDisk (hard drives and digital storage). IDX (batteries), Insurance West and Insure My Equipment.com, Marshall Electronics and Nebtek (video monitors), Packair Airfreight and Global Express (cargo expediting), Studio Carts and Innovative (equipment carts).

Exhibitors of interest to people involved in video assist and data asset management included AJA Video Systems, BlackMagic Design, Codex, EVS and Light Iron.

The Annual J.L. Fisher Barbecue

A Boom and a BBQ

by Laurence B. Abrams

The Fisher microphone booms that we use in production today are the evolution of a design first manufactured by James L. Fisher in 1951, when he was working in the shop at Republic Studios in Studio City.

So successful was his design that it is the only one to survive that era … and after evolving somewhat since then, it is the only major studio boom in use today.The studios needed microphone booms that could hold the heavier mikes in use at that time and that would also permit the operator to swing and extend the arm and cue the mike as needed. These studio booms used a system of sliding weights to keep the boom arm balanced as it was extended or retracted to follow action. Mole- Richardson and several of the sound shops at the motion picture studios, such as Paramount and 20th Century Fox and Republic, had each developed their own proprietary studio booms. Thinking he could do better, Mr. Fisher began working on his own design in his spare time and came up with a boom that turned out to be lighter and more functional than the competition.

After a long career developing and manufacturing sound and camera booms, Mr. Fisher passed away in 2005. But more than 60 years after its introduction, his booms are still in use today and were on display at Fisher’s annual Open House and BBQ Lunch, held this year on May 18. Now in its eighth year, this all-day free event was conducted at the Fisher facility in Burbank and featured product displays from a variety of camera, grip and lighting equipment manufacturers along with Fisher’s complete product line, including of course, the full selection of Fisher microphone booms.

As in the past, Local 695 Microphone Boom Operators Andy Rovins and Laurence Abrams were on hand to demonstrate the 23-foot Model 7 boom arm and Model 6E base. Lots of Local 695 members came by during the day to chat, share production stories, do a little networking, and jump up on the boom to give it a quick run. Some of the folks who stopped by were experienced Fisher boom ops from way back and some were seeing it for the first time. Plenty of camera operators and grips and electricians came by, as well, and got a chance to try out the boom for themselves and gain some new insight into what we do. More often than not, they’d jump down and say something like “Hey, this isn’t as easy as it looks!”

The company’s current president, Jim Fisher, son of the boom’s designer, offered guided tours of the facility and machine shop. Fisher sales reps Frank Kaye and Cary Clayton were there to answer questions … and there was plenty to eat and drink, with food trucks and BBQ grills serving burgers and dogs, chicken and steaks, and our personal favorite … BBQ pizzas.

If you missed it, watch for next year’s announcement and when you’re there, be sure to stop by to say hello. If you still need to learn how to use the Fisher boom, be sure to take advantage of Local 695’s unique Fisher Microphone Boom: Oneon- One Intensive training program. To sign up for a personal training session, see www.local695.com/mbr/edu-fbt.php for details.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

By Jim Tanenbaum CAS

Editor’s note: An abbreviated version of Jim Tanenbaum’s story about his recent journey to Viet Nam appears below.  Jim’s complete, lavishly illustrated 150-page journal, detailing his encounters with poltergeists in two of the three hotels, and the novel recording techniques invented by a Vietnamese videographer which Jim has not yet dared to try is available to read in PDF format. (If photo reproduction is poor, save the downloaded file to disk and view in Adobe Acrobat.)

In 2010 and 2011, I spent autumn in Beijing, China, at the BIRTV (Beijing International Radio and TeleVision) trade show, courtesy of John and Nina Coffey and some of the companies they represent. I was looking forward to going back again in 2012, but alas, it was not to be. Probably because of my telling all and sundry what a great time I had before, the owner of one of the companies that defray my expenses decided to go himself instead of sending me.

Of course, I was not happy about this turn of events, as I love traveling, especially when someone else foots the bill. To me, the most interesting aspect of being in another country is the people there. Second is the food, and a distant third are the museums, palaces, and all the other touristy stuff. I do go to see those places, but they’re at the bottom of the list. However, I was looking forward to seeing the Great Wall this time.

My disappointment was short-lived, however. Soundman Steve Miller was looking for a replacement to take over his teaching position in Viet Nam, and Laurence Abrams (who creates the great diagrams for my 695 Quarterly articles) recommended me. The client was VTV (Vietnam TV), the government-run national TV network. The rest, as they say, ispho (Vietnamese rice-flour noodles, pronounced more like “fuh” than “foe” or “poe”).

My travels and adventures are far too extensive to fit in the print version of the Quarterly, but will appear here soon in the unabridged version.  Check back to find out what happened when I asked for a “hot dog” in Viet Nam or my attempt to climb the “Stairway to Heaven” to see the Buddha.

Here are a few brief excerpts:

1. The wrap party for my Da Nang class was held at a local restaurant. When I arrived, all the students were there, seated at a long table. I was greeted by a large poster with my picture, and my name spelled correctly (unlike China, where a large red banner read “James Tanen Baum” and my exhibitor’s badge had yet another misspelling).

This dinner lasted much longer than the one in Ho Chi Minh City, with courses separated by just enough time that I was never sure if there would be another one.  

Finally, the meal was over, but I wasn’t taken back to my hotel. Oh no, now there was going to be a “Karaoke Party.” My protests that I only worked “behind the microphone” were to no avail. The karaoke unit did have songs with English lyrics, but the remote control was malfunctioning, and even with repeated banging by the operator, it failed to produce any songs I was even remotely familiar with. I had to make do with an a cappella rendition of…

2. My teaching style was “foreign” to the students in several ways. I use elements of Zen in teaching, and also real-world examples to aid in understanding what would otherwise be sterile academic concepts.

“Imagine you are at the beach, and the tide is coming in. If you stick a surfboard in the sand and stand behind it, will your feet get wet? Of course they will, because the water will simply wash around the narrow obstacle, just like low-frequency sound will. And when the waves crash against the board, they will knock it down even if you try to hold it upright, just as low-frequency sounds will push and pull on a flimsy wall to pass through it. (Actually, the original sound waves will be stopped by the wall, and new ones generated on the other side, but you get the idea.)

“Now imagine that kids are throwing rocks at you. Will the surfboard protect you if you hide behind it? Yes, because it can easily stop the small rocks, which cannot go around it, just as the small highfrequency sound waves are blocked. And you can hold the board upright when the rocks hit it, just as even a lightweight wall will stop high-pitched sounds.

“Another point: imagine there’s a small hole in the surfboard—a rock can pass through without losing any of its energy, but only a small amount of the water in a wave can get through. A large amount of high-frequency noise can enter through a small opening, but only a small amount of low frequency can get in, providing the wall is rigid enough to prevent flexing.”

This not only teaches about acoustic shadows, but also gives the students the meta-knowledge to handle any specific noise infiltration problems I haven’t mentioned in class, when they are out shooting in a practical location.

3. Sunday was my last day in Viet Nam. I chose to walk south from my hotel, rather than north as I had the Sunday before. I wanted to check out the large lake near the hotel, and the interesting bridge and island temple.

On the way there, I stopped at a small park with a large statue. There are many of these scattered throughout Na Noi and other cities. While I was taking pictures, a young woman approached me with large sack of what had to be tourist merchandise. I motioned her away, but she was persistent. She thrust a “Viet Nam” cap at me and waved it. “How much?” I asked automatically.

“150,000 dong.” The dong is the Vietnamese monetary unit, equal to 1/20,000 of a U.S. dollar, so the cap would cost me $7.50.

“That’s too much. No thank you.” I went back to my picture taking.

She was not to be gotten rid of that easily. I should never have spoken English. Usually I speak gibberish (“bohg pretzam etza eesh”), because these peddlers know a great many languages well enough to be a nuisance. But I was distracted watching kids on skateboards with only a single wheel fore and aft, and spoke without thinking. (Maybe they have these two-wheelers in Los Angeles and I never noticed.) She removed other colors of caps from her bag. I had seen them in stores and from other street vendors, and the going price was $5 American … after you haggled them down from $20.

“How much you give?” Never, never, speak a recognizable tongue to a street vendor.

“50,000 ($2.50).”

“Too little. You give me 100,000.” She opened and closed the cap’s Velcro strap to demonstrate this valuable feature.

“No, 50 or nothing.” I put my camera away and turned to leave.

“What color you want?”

I picked out a red one, checked to see if the seams were good, and stuck it in my (very large) pants pocket. I deliberately paid her with small bills, which I keep in a separate place from the big ones like 200,000s or 500,000s.

Never, never, never buy something from a street peddler. She held out the remaining caps.

“You buy more.” It was not a question.

“No, I have only one head.” She didn’t get the joke. She put the caps back and drew out a stack of guidebooks for various Vietnamese cities. In English, but I’m sure her sack held copies in all the major languages. But even at a distance I could see they were bootleg photocopies. I spread my hands out. “No thank you.” Postcards and picture books were next.

I gave up and walked away. She followed me for a quarter block, calling out “CD … DVD … SIM Card,” then went back to her spot in the park, like a spider in the center of its web.

Jim

Nagra Memories

Nagra Memories

Editors’ note: With the invention of the Nagra recorder, Stefan Kudelski made high-quality recordings possible without the need for a truck full of equipment. He enabled location recording in the same way that the substitution of film for glass plates enabled photography. Moreover, his commitment to quality in both design and construction helped define excellence in our profession. In a continuing tribute to his contributions, we are printing accounts of first experiences with the recorder. We’ll continue to feature stories of working with the man and his inventions as they become available to us.

Jerry Zelinger:

I was starting to write my experiences with the Nagra and was thinking only of the model III and then it occurred to me that my earliest experience was with the Nagra II. I had just graduated from high school and was working at the new listener-sponsored FM radio station in Los Angeles, KPFK.

I was producing programs for children, among other things, and one day the production manager showed me this portable wind-up tape recorder that was donated to the station. He called it a Nagra. I had never heard of such a thing … made in Switzerland.

It certainly beat an Ampex 600 with a very long extension cord. He asked me if I could use it for any of my programs. After thinking about it for a couple of days, I came up with a concept for a man-onthe- street radio program I titled Street Thoughts (not a children’s program). At the time, man on the street or M-O-S (not to be confused with “mit-out-sound”) shows were a question by an interviewer and then the answer by whomever and then the question repeated and then an answer. My show was to be the “big question” and then a montage of answers occasionally inserting the question re-phrased. It was only 5-10 minutes long but took hours cutting and splicing. Boy, would Pro Tools have helped then.

That Nagra II served us well. It had great sound quality and the spring never failed me.

One of my first experiences with a Nagra III was back in 1965. I didn’t own one yet but I had a friend, Flynt Ranney, owner of Spectra- Sound Recording Studios who did, and he was generous to loan it to me when I started out making films with my friend Bob Abel. I was making a little documentary with Bob about Christmas in Los Angeles.

We were shooting a Christmas Mass at the Greek Orthodox Church in downtown L.A. and for some odd reason, I had to rewind the roll of tape. I had my earphones on and didn’t realize that I was rewinding with the speaker on. Parishioners around me were smiling and nodding at me (which I thought “how nice”) but I was unaware until I took my earphones off that everyone around me could hear the “chipmunks.” I turned red with embarrassment and immediately turned off the speaker.

On another early Nagra outing, I was making another film with Bob Abel about drag racing called Seven Second Love Affair. We were at Lions Drag Strip in Long Beach and we wanted to capture the incredible sound the dragster makes as it accelerates when you’re sitting in it. No wireless mikes could do the job (not then), so I put the Nagra in the nose of the dragster and used an Altec 21-BR-180 high-level condenser mike capable of the 150 db sound levels (I had to build a battery power supply for the mike). The dragster roared out of the starting line and we all prayed that it didn’t crash or blow up (We didn’t have the $1,800 to replace the Nagra).

I still remember that sound like a rocket and then the parachute is released and just silence and the sound of the tires on the gravel.

Obviously, I didn’t tell Flynt about putting his Nagra in such a precarious situation. And I still have the recording.

I eventually bought a brand-new Nagra III from Ron Cogswell at Ryder Sound. I do remember that I had to put something like $200 for a down payment and that it was several months before it arrived. Ron said not to worry; if I didn’t want it when it arrived, someone else would be standing in line to buy it.

It served me well on a lot of documentaries, commercials, TV shows, some features and even some music records.

I still have it.

Kirk Francis:

It was late 1968 and I had been working for about nine months at a big L.A. ad agency, running their small recording studio— voiceovers, radio spots, etc., on big old Ampex 351 ¼” recorders. I had no real idea what I was doing but, compared to what those ad agency folks knew, I was a damned genius—some things never change. Anyway, I quickly grew tired of that and began looking for other gigs. I recorded a few bad rock and roll bands at various studios around Hollywood, but even at that young age, quickly burned out on the late nights and long hours spent indoors. Someone suggested that I get into movie sound—often done in the daytime and outdoors, every shot being different, and the pay wasn’t too bad either. Before I knew it, a trusting fellow from New York named Jim Datri handed me an elegant-looking metal box called a Nagra III, a converted Bolex mono-pod with a Sennheiser 404 on the small end plugged into a KAT-11 preamp, and a set of Beyer headphones which seemed to weigh about 13 pounds. To my studio-inured eyes, the whole rig looked like some sort of arcane scientific testing apparatus. Suddenly, I was in charge of recording sound for a motocross documentary, lugging the thing over hill and dale someplace in the depths of Orange County—and tethered to a 16mm Arri S by a sync cable, like the ass-end of a donkey at a costume ball—as dirt bikes roared around us menacingly. Good thing I was only 21 years old…

I still love those old recorders, in no small measure because they remind me of what the job I have been doing ever since used to be but sadly isn’t anymore: The crew would assemble, the director would actually make a plan, and then we’d all shoot it—usually in well under 10 hours (!). The sound crew’s task in this process was to create, as best we could, a one-track representation of what it all sounded like. A big day might involve three mikes, as radio mikes were yet to be “perfected” and the idea of shooting both a wide and a tight shot at the same time was considered to be very bad manners. Now, we have got to the point where our job is less like that of a framing carpenter and more like that of a clearcut logger. The Nagra III, IVL, and then the IV-S, were the rocks upon which our livelihoods were built. We depended upon them, and they always delivered. In my eyes they remain to this day iconic, soulful works of practical art.

 

Behind the Candelabra

There’s No Place to Hide Behind the Candelabra

by Javier M. Hernandez
(Photos by Claudette Barius/HBO)

The scene started in a wide shot and we planted two mikes just in case they started early. We hadn’t seen the rehearsal, so we needed to be ready for any possibility. In the tub, Douglas and Damon’s close-ups were shot at the same time so we covered them with two booms. A mirror behind Damon reflected most of the bathroom so we had to work from below and our mikes were almost touching the bath bubbles. Even the camera needed to be wrapped in a towel. The one thing we had in our favor was that the Jacuzzi wasn’t actually running this time.

How I ended up on my knees in Liberace’s bathroom is a tale.

I first worked with Sound Mixer Dennis Towns on the HBO series Unscripted, produced by Steven Soderbergh’s company. We then worked together on some movies Soderbergh directed including The Informant, Haywire and Contagion. Over those years, a movie about Liberace was always in the air. When the call came with an official start date and the news that Michael Douglas would be playing Liberace and Matt Damon his young lover, Scott Thorson, we all knew it would be a special project. To make it even more special, Soderbergh announced this would be his last film.

I had been casually looking at clips of Liberace on YouTube since I first heard that Soderbergh was interested in making a movie about his life. The numerous challenges this project would present quickly became obvious.

Soderbergh has his own style of filmmaking: most importantly, he likes things to be real. With this project, that meant many practical locations and sets full of mirrors. And not the “set mirrors” that you can gimbal; they would be real. And often quite large. And reflective surfaces would be the norm for almost every scene. Even Liberace’s piano and clothing were reflective. Oh, and there would be musical numbers, some involving complicated vari-speed playback and other fancy tricks.

When you work with Soderbergh, the days are short but intense. Soderbergh knows exactly what he wants to shoot, his preparation and vision are clear from the moment he starts describing the setup. Everyone on set knows what is expected of them and he hires the kind of people who can work with minimal need for explanation.

Unlike working with more conventional directors, you can’t assume with Soderbergh that you’ll get it in coverage if you miss a line or two in the master. There are also not many takes. If he likes the first couple of takes, why do it again? If he likes the way the scene plays in the master, why not play it in a oner? This often means having everyone on wires and booming only when possible.

Knowing the challenges we would be facing, I recommended to Dennis Towns that we hire Gerard Vernice as our utility. I had just worked four seasons with him on Chuck. I knew he was a master with wires, that we worked well together and that he would fit in perfectly with the pace and style of a Soderbergh film.

From day one Candelabra was a challenge.

Everything in Liberace’s wardrobe was silk, polyester, and various unknown fabrics, topped off by tons of sequins, rhinestones and noisy jewelry. It became apparent that Gerard would need to wire Douglas in his dressing room as he had to come up with something new and inventive for every outfit.

I thought I had the easy job, as I ended up with the responsibility of wiring Damon. Once we solved the dilemmas of the day with our principals, we would wire the rest of the cast. They weren’t exactly easy to wire either, as they were also dressed in period garb. Skimpy costumes, noisy fabrics, bare chests and lots of gold chains were the norm. I had it easy for a while but, as the story progressed, Damon’s wardrobe became more difficult. His character started to wear polyester shirts unbuttoned to the navel and more of those damn gold chains. Sometimes he wore nothing more than a speedo—not many places to put a wire!

We got very lucky: I was able to work a boom for most of the scenes where the wardrobe was noisy or nonexistent. But getting a boom in often meant crawling on my knees, popping up and down and even jumping over a couch in one scene. For the scenes where the boom couldn’t be in the room because of reflections, we made the wires or plant mikes work. Sometimes in this business, you just have to have luck on your side.

And that was just an average day at work.

One of the most difficult scenes started with Douglas and Damon in the hot tub. They got into a fight, got up out of the tub, walked through the bathroom to a dressing area, went into a closet, and then crossed to a mirrored vanity. Often for sensitive scenes they had private rehearsals, meaning we couldn’t see the blocking and had little time to work out any possible issues. In this case, after they privately rehearsed, Soderbergh walked us through the scene pointing out the four different spots in the bathroom and dressing area where he planned for them to talk. He said it casually, but Soderbergh knew this wouldn’t be easy for us. He trusts his crew to get the job done with minimal fuss or delay. No biggie: just wire two naked men in a tub or get a boom in without a reflection in a bathroom filled with shiny objects.

As I described at the beginning, we had two plants to cover the wide shot and worked two booms from the soap suds for the matching close-ups. When Douglas got out of the tub, I was still on my knees, booming from underneath as we were still limited in where we could be. Then we cut to the shot of Damon in the tub with the champagne bottle in the foreground. The huge mirror behind Damon required him to be on a plant mike. Douglas then crossed into the closet to put on his robe where Gerard was waiting with a boom to get his offscreen dialog.

Douglas then re-entered the bathroom and went to the vanity. As he made the cross, I came in underneath to get his lines. And then things got interesting: the rest of the scene played out in one take.

At the vanity, we were shooting into the mirror and Douglas was speaking into a plant mike while Damon’s off-screen lines were on the plant mike by the tub. Damon then crossed to the closet where Gerard was still waiting to boom Damon’s lines as he got dressed. Damon then walked back into the room where his lines were picked up by a plant mike by the doorway. As Damon walked toward Douglas at the mirror, I picked him up on the boom, still from underneath, and then the camera panned from the mirror reflection into an over on Damon. At this point, I was able to boom both actors from underneath as the camera moved from the over on Damon, past Douglas’s back and more mirrors, into another over, this time on Douglas.

Although it’s only part of one scene, this shot required two booms and three plants.

Oh, by the way, did I mention that Soderbergh doesn’t use a video feed so Dennis had to mix all of this blind?

While the tub scenes involved the most mikes and presented some unique challenges, I still felt lucky to be able to boom at least some of the dialog, even if I was on my knees the whole scene. You see, as a boom operator, sometimes the hardest thing is to rely entirely on wires. There can be a helpless feeling in the pit of your stomach as the cameras roll because, if something doesn’t work, you’re not able to fix it on the fly.

On Candelabra we dealt with this on a regular basis. Sometimes it was due to wardrobe, sometimes the sets and sometimes because Soderbergh wanted to shoot a long scene in a wide shot oner.

Liberace’s wardrobe presented unique challenges with every different shirt, cape or wig. Each change of wardrobe required Gerard to go to Douglas’ dressing room and come up with something new and inventive. The “backstage” scenes would be the first time Liberace was in full performance wardrobe. We had a chance to look at the wardrobe the day before but, frankly, seeing it didn’t help much; it just added to our concerns. Gerard went to off to wire Douglas, not really knowing what the solution would be, but he was smiling when he returned to the sound cart. At first he was having trouble finding a quiet place to put the mike. The jacket was quite tight fitting and made of a very noisy material. Then a brooch was added and Gerard quickly put a Countryman B6 with a small amount of butyl gum adhesive behind the brooch. The butyl served two purposes: it held the mike in place and isolated the mike from touching the brooch itself. Instead of trying to work around all the necklaces, jewels and sequins, Gerard decided to use them in his favor. Often he threaded the B6 mike through one of Liberace’s many necklaces, and placed the element within a link or charm, leaving the mike concealed, yet out in the open. Doing this helped us achieve the cleanest audio by allowing us to place the mic in a perfect spot for dialog while minimizing clothing rustle and rubbing.

We shot many scenes at the LVH in Las Vegas. The set designers and their crew meticulously dressed Liberace’s penthouse to look as it did back in the 1970s when it was called the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas. Did I mention Liberace’s love of mirrors yet? The very last scene we shot in the penthouse was another of those of those scenes where we would have no choice but to rely mostly on the wires.

It was a Friday night and we had been having a good day. Most of the scenes were in the bedroom and we had been able to get it all on the boom. Looking at the sides, I knew we had an almost three page scene coming up in the living room area. I was just glad it was no longer playing in the Jacuzzi area as it had originally been written. They had planned a small party after wrap. After shooting in Liberace’s penthouse, we were going to get to socialize and relax and enjoy the view from the top floors of the LVH. The party was scheduled to start at 9 p.m. It was about 7 p.m. as we set about blocking the scene. This gave us about two hours to set up, rehearse and shoot a three-page scene. The living room was in typical Liberace style: mirrors and windows and a ceiling covered with recessed lighting. (see video clip below)

As Soderbergh started walking with the actors and talking about the scene, it became apparent that most of the scene would be done in a oner. A wide oner. The scene was set up as follows: Douglas and Damon would walk into the penthouse arguing, with dogs barking at their feet, and then walk over to the bar where Douglas was to make a drink. Then they would both walk over to the couch where they continued arguing as they sat down. At the end of the scene, Douglas would come over and give Damon a hug. Soderbergh then confirmed to me that he planned for the scene to be a oner until the end, at the couch, where he intended coverage for the last couple of lines.

While bringing in food for the party which would be held at the penthouse next door, one of the guys from craft service asked me, “So, how we doing?” I told him we had a three-page scene left to shoot and he replied, “Well, I guess we are not starting the party at nine.” I asked him why. Did he think we couldn’t finish three pages in an hour and a half? And then I reassured him. “I’m sure we will done in time for the food to stay fresh.”

Since the shot would involve a big dolly move throughout the penthouse, the camera guys rehearsed the move a few times while Gerard and I wired our actors. Damon’s shirt was made of polyester, but he only had one chain for this scene, so I knew I could make it work. I used a vampire clip and a little piece of moleskin to help lift and isolate the mike from the shirt. Gerard also needed to use a vampire clip on Douglas but, being Liberace, he had a bigger chain. The rehearsal went perfectly. It sounded so great that Gerard and I walked over to Dennis, who was hiding in the hallway behind a statue, and we started high-fiving each other. We were  ecstatic that it was going to work on the wires, knowing full well that there was zero chance of getting the boom in for this wide, constantly moving shot. During our celebration I noticed a discussion going on around Damon, so I walked over to see what was going on. They were adding more gold chains. I knew it had been too easy. After wardrobe had added those extra gold chains, “we” were ready to shoot, but I needed a couple of minutes to find a way to make Damon’s wire work as well as it had in the rehearsal when he had only the one chain. The rehearsal had been so good, but now one of chains was right on the mike and I didn’t have many options. I moved the mike higher, fitting it between the chains. I then put the vampire clip behind a button, using a white mike and a white clip in the hopes that it wouldn’t be seen on the white shirt. It was right on the edge. As Gerard would often say: “We are flirting with disaster.” As I was walking along with the dolly, I realized what a great shot it was. The camera dolly was seamlessly following Damon and Douglas through the beautiful penthouse, with its mirrors and large windows. It’s another example of the kind of shot that Soderbergh is so good at designing: a shot where he can create dynamic action and allow three pages of dialog to just flow naturally. And all I could think was “We better get it. This is a great shot.” It was sounding great, and the whole time I couldn’t take my eyes off Damon’s shirt, looking for any chance that mike might become visible as he moved. Douglas sounded great; even though his chain moved a little bit, it wasn’t on his dialogue. Everything was working. When we cut there was a long beat and Soderbergh said: “That was great. I have it.” Douglas and Damon had a little conference. Soderbergh was happy with the take and so were we. Personally, I didn’t want to do it again. It was perfect. It was like tempting fate. They decided to do one more, for protection. The second take was OK, not as good as the first as I could hear a little bit of the chains. It wasn’t bad, but not as good as Take One. Unlike many directors who might “chase the dragon” in search of another perfect take, Soderbergh realized he had what he wanted in take one, so we moved on. We did a couple of closeups for the last lines. And that was it. The three-page scene was done. It was 8:45 p.m. and the party would start on time.

The last scene in the movie (see video above) was also the last scene we filmed. It involved Douglas flying up to a piano high on a platform where he would sit and sing a song. Since it was a fantasy, there was no handheld mike, unlike in the other performance scenes. He would then stand up from the piano, say good bye, and fly away. This was a complicated scene involving a big dance number, a flying rig, and recording Douglas singing live. On our day off we spent the day rehearsing the scene. It was great to get to see Douglas in his wardrobe in advance. Unlike some of his other performance outfits, this one didn’t have a brooch that might hide the mike and yet it couldn’t go on the jacket. Douglas would be wearing a flying harness and the chances of the mike picking up clothing noise were too great. We all looked at each other and said, “It has to go in the hair.” Going into this project, we had thought that a mike in the hair would be something that we would use a lot, but it never worked out before because Douglas’ hair was too short in the back and you could see the cable. For this outfit he had a Dracula-type collar that stood up and would hide the cable for us. Gerard had a quick word with the hair department and they agreed to help us put the mike in Douglas’ wig. Having a day to rehearse was a great luxury; it gave us time to spot the problems and work them out without being under the stress of shooting. We had the time to work it out that Gerard would wire the wig and the hair department would help hide the cable. They were out of New York and had the kind of theater experience to do a great job. The mike was hot, Douglas was put in the flying rig and away he went. When he got to the piano and started singing, I was so relieved that it not only worked but it sounded great. It had to work. There would be no adjusting the wire or getting a boom in and a plant mike just wouldn’t work. We had tried to use a plant mike in the piano, but it was too noisy and it was picking up the “clink” of piano keys being pressed.

It was an emotional day for everybody. It had been a challenging show and the end was near. Would it be Soderbergh’s last film? As Douglas soared up into the air, I was able to step back and enjoy the magic of movie-making. I just felt lucky to be a part of this film. Despite the crazy day-to-day problem solving, this was the most fun I’ve had on a job in a long time. And none of this even mentions shooting in Palm Springs and Las Vegas in weather so hot the cameras had to be wrapped in ice packs. I went home exhausted every night but proud of the work we were able to do.

The Nagra Recorder – Stefan Kudelski Tribute

A Tribute to Stefan Kudelski and the Nagra Recorder

by Scott D. Smith, CAS

Long considered the “gold standard” for location sound, the Nagra recorders established a level of technical superiority and reliability that to this day is unmatched by almost any other audio recorder (with the possible exception of the Stellavox recorders, designed by former Nagra engineer Georges Quellet).

With the death of Stefan Kudelski in January of this year, this would seem an appropriate time to look at the history of the Nagra recorders and the man responsible for their huge success.

The Early Years

It should probably come as no surprise that Stefan Kudelski would be destined for great works. Born in Warsaw, Poland on February 27 of 1929 to Tadeusz and Ewa Kudelski, it would become clear to those around him early on that he possessed a level of intelligence and ambition exhibited by few other young men his age. His father had studied architecture at Lvov Polytechnics, but later went into chemical engineering. His mother was an anthropologist. Despite this, his childhood years were far from idyllic. With the imminent Nazi attack on Poland in September of 1939, at the tender age of 10, Kudelski and his family fled Warsaw, first to Romania, then to Hungary, and finally to France. He resumed his high school education at the Collège Florimont in Geneva, and later studied electrical engineering at the Ecole Polytechnique in Lausanne, Switzerland.

Like most successful endeavors, Kudelski did not originally come to the idea to create a portable tape recorder directly. His initial interest was sparked by the terribly inefficient work he saw being done at a machine shop in Geneva, where each piece was turned by hand. Realizing that much of this repeatable work could be done by automation, he set about designing what would have been one of the first CNC machine tools. However, he lacked a method to record and store the data necessary to control the motors, and began to look at magnetic recording as an possible medium for data storage.

After dismantling an old recorder to study its design, Kudelski then set about designing a new recorder from scratch. This recorder would be destined to become the Nagra I. However, as the son of a poor refugee family, he was unable to interest anyone in his CNC machine tool project, so he turned his focus to designing a recorder suitable for broadcast use.

Working from his apartment in Prilly, he managed to scrap together enough money to design a prototype machine. It was an instant success, and he sold his first machine for the sum of 1,000 CHF. (While this only amounted to about $228 USD in 1952, it was still a significant amount of money for the young Kudelski). This initial sale was followed by orders from both Radio Lausanne and Radio Geneva.

In May of 1952, on the heels of interest from some well-respected European reporters, he receives an order for six Nagra 1’s from Radio Luxembourg, which convinced Kudelski that he is on the right path. It was at this time that Kudelski left the Ecole Polytechnique and pursued development of the Nagra full time. (Years later, he would receive an “honoris causa” degree from the Ecole Polytechnique, in recognition of his work in developing the Nagra recorder.)

By the end of 1953, Kudelski had established manufacturing operations at a house in Prilly (west of Lausanne), and employed a staff of 11. Toward the end of 1954, improvements were made to the machine (now called the Nagra II), with printed circuit boards being implemented for the audio electronics. The orders continue to roll in, virtually all from word-of-mouth, and by the end of 1956, the staff numbers 17. Despite this success, Kudelski recognizes that there are still improvements that need to be made, especially in the area of the drive mechanism. He continues development of the machine, but opts for a ground-up redesign, as opposed the incremental changes between the Nagra I and II. The result is the Nagra III, introduced in 1958.

The Nagra III Makes Its Debut

The design of the Nagra III marked a significant departure from the Nagra II. Gone was the spring-wound drive mechanism, replaced by an extremely sophisticated servo-drive DC motor. Also absent was the tube-based amplifier circuitry. In its place was a series of modules, each encased in metal, which contain the individual components of the machine. It also sported a peak reading meter (the “Modulometer”), which set it apart from most of the other recording equipment of the period, which still relied on VU meters. It was designed for rugged operation conditions, and could be powered from 12 standard “D” cell batteries.

Acceptance of the Nagra III was almost instantaneous. 240 machines were built in 1958, and in 1959, the Italian radio network RAI (Radio Audizioni Italiane) ordered 100 machines to cover the Olympic Games in Rome, paying cash in advance. With this rapid expansion, larger premises are acquired in Paudex (near Lausanne). Since the Nagra III relied heavily on custom machined parts, a significant investment in machine tooling, along with skilled machinists to run them, was required to keep pace with orders that were now coming in from networks around the world, including the BBC, ABC, CBS, NBC and others. By 1960, there were more than 50 employees working in Switzerland, and a network of worldwide sales agents was established to support the sale and service of the machines.

Nagra Enters the Film Business

The application of portable sound recording to the film industry was not lost on Kudelski or his agents. In 1959, French director Marcel Camus used a Nagra II to record part of the sound on the feature production of Black Orpheus, shot on location in Brazil. Sensing that this could be a burgeoning market, Kudelski quickly set about designing a version of the Nagra III that could utilize a pilot system for synchronous filming (referred to as the PILOTTON system).

This early version of this system was based on technology initially developed in 1952 by Telefunken and German Television, which consisted of a single center channel pilot track about .5 mm wide. However, it did not have HF bias applied to it, which caused the distortion to be rather high, and bled into the audio track. Realizing that a better solution was needed, Kudelski invented the Neopilot system to replace the PILOTTON system. This design consisted of two narrow tracks, recorded out of phase with each other, which resulted in the signal being cancelled out when reproduced by a full-track head. The addition of HF bias helped reduce distortion, which resulted in minimal interference to the program audio.

A companion synchronizer (the SLP) was developed at about the same time, which provided a method to resolve synchronous recordings on the Nagra III. The design of the DC servo motor system provided for an elegant approach to this task, making the AC motor drive systems of the day look archaic in comparison.

The first of the Nagra III’s equipped with the new Neopilot system were delivered in 1962, resulting in a huge increase in sales. Lead times for the Nagra III now grew to 6–8 months, requiring yet more space for production. Also, there were restrictions placed on business by the Swiss government in regards to how many workers could be hired, which hampered the growth of the company.

In 1964, additional office and production space is rented in Renens, with further premises acquired in 1965 in Malley. By the end of 1965, the decision was made to purchase a factory in Neuchâtel. Finally, a huge tract of land is purchased in Cheseaux-sur-Lausanne, which allowed for the construction of a dedicated factory.

Nagra IV Debuts

By 1967, the sale of the 10,000th Nagra III is celebrated, and in 1969, the company moves into their new facilities in Cheseaux-sur-Lausanne. 1969 also brought the introduction of the Nagra IV recorder, which marked yet another significant improvement in analog recording technology. While the basic transport design mimicked that of the Nagra III, the new machine now used much more reliable silicon transistors and sported two mike inputs. The pilot system was also improved, with the flux level on tape being standardized, regardless of the voltage present at the pilot input. The signal was also filtered which significantly reduced the amount of noise that could bleed through into the audio track. Approximately 2,510 of the new machines were built in 1969.

Not content to leave well enough alone, one year later, Kudelski introduces the Nagra 4.2L recorder. While the 4.2L offered a few improvements over the IV, they were not as significant as the changes seen between the model III and IV. If some industry observers were of the opinion that Kudelski had begun to slow down further development of analog recorders, they were significantly underestimating his ambitions…

If One Channel Is Good, Why Not Two?

Seeing further opportunities in the sale of machines to the broadcast and film markets, in 1971 Kudelski introduces a stereo version of the Nagra 4.2, called the IV-S. Built on the same platform as the 4.2, the machines offered many of the same features, but with two channels of recording in the same footprint as the mono recorder. It also marks the introduction of a new pilot system, called NagraSync FM, which records a FM modulated pilot signal at 13.5 kHz between the two audio tracks. This allows for synchronous recordings, without having to reduce the width of audio tracks, and neatly solves the problem faced by trying to use the older Neopilot system for twochannel recording. It also allows for a limited bandwidth commentary track to be recorded on the same channel, which aids in slating for production situations where a standard “clapper” slate can’t be used, without interfering with the program being recorded. While  stereo recorders were certainly nothing new at this point, all the commercially available machines were bulky AC–operated recorders, giving Kudelski yet another significant entry into the audio recorder market.

1971 also saw the introduction of the unique SNN recorder, a miniature recording using 1/8” wide tape, but in a reel-to-reel configuration as opposed to a cassette. Like its predecessors, it also had the ability to do synchronous recording. Although Kudelski had begun development work on the SNN about a decade earlier, he waited until 1971 to bring it to market. This year would also mark the introduction of equipment destined for applications outside of the traditional film and broadcast arena.

Diversification

Whether driven by the need to invent or recognizing that the market for portable audio recorders would eventually become saturated, it was about this time that Kudelski begins to design and manufacture equipment destined for applications outside of the traditional film broadcast market. While he had designed a recorder for military applications as early as 1967 (called “Crevette”), 1971 would mark a significant departure in the direction of the company.

Fresh off the heels of the Nagra SNN and IV-S recorders, in 1972 Kudelski introduced the Nagra IV-SJ, a two channel instrumentation recorder aimed at scientific and industrial markets. Recognizing the application of the SNN recorder for law enforcement use, Kudelski also introduced the SNS, which was a half-track version of the SNN recorder. Recognizing the need for a more economical ¼” mono recorder for broadcast, in 1974 Kudelski introduced the Nagra IS, originally designed to be a single-speed mono recorder aimed at reporters. With a footprint and weight that was almost half that of the 4-Series recorders, this machine gained rapid acceptance by broadcasters who were looking for a high-quality, economical recorder. Like other Nagra products, variations of the basic recorder were soon to appear, which could provide Neopilot sync for film use, as well as two-speed operation. Two year later, the Nagra E was introduced, which was a further simplification of the IS recorder.

Despite the simplification of these products, both maintained the unique trademark characteristics of Kudelski’s design approach, and would never be mistaken for some mass-market cassette recorder.

Just the FAX Ma’am

While Kudelski was known worldwide for his unique audio design talents, somewhat less well known was his keen interest as both a sailor and aviation buff. In fact, Kudelski established “Air Nagra” in the 1960s, which operated a few Cessna twin-engine planes, used primarily to transport businessmen in the local area. Ever aware of the opportunity to bring a new product to market, in 1977 Kudelski would introduce the “NAGRAFAX,” a unique portable weather facsimile machine aimed at the maritime market. While the military had a similar system in use, the NAGRAFAX was aimed at the commercial and private yacht market, and also saw use in airports, ski resorts and coast guard stations. This product would mark Kudelski’s first departure from recording equipment.

1977 saw the introduction of yet another instrumentation recorder, the Nagra TI, which offered four channels of recording (as opposed to the two channels of the Nagra IV-SJ). It also boasted a unique dualcapstan transport, which minimized disturbances in the tape path, a critical design component when the recorders were employed in military operations. This transport would become the basis for the Nagra TA recorder introduced in 1981. Essentially, a two-channel analog version of the TI recorder, the Nagra TA had the unique ability to chase timecode in forward and reverse, and was specifically aimed at the telecine post market.

While the T Audio recorder boasted the most sophisticated transport design of any of the Nagra analog audio recorders, its complex logic circuits caused many users to shy away from it, except for telecine applications, where it had no rival. Despite this, it is still highly prized among audiophiles for its stellar tape-handling features.

Nagra and Ampex—Strange Bedfellows

The year 1983 would see an unlikely alliance take place, with Nagra and Ampex embarking on a joint venture to introduce a portable 1” Type-C video recorder aimed at the broadcast market. While Sony already had a small 1” video recorder on the market, in predicable fashion, the design efforts of Kudelski raised the bar significantly. Employing a lightweight transport and surface mount devices, the new recorder (dubbed the VPR-5) brought a level of sophistication to the broadcast video recorder market that has never been seen since. While the VPR-5 enjoyed a brief period of popularity (with 100 machines ordered for use at the 1986 Mexico World Cup), the everchanging “format wars” brought a premature end to its use.

Nagra and the Cold War

In yet another somewhat unlikely alliance, soon after the introduction of the VPR-5, Nagra joined with the Honeywell Corporation with the intent to produce a highly specialized recorder designed expressly for military use. However, this venture, which utilized all of Nagra’s R&D operations, never brought a product to market. The project was quickly abandoned after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. The only remnant of the effort is a prototype recorder called the “RTU.” This would be the last project that Stefan Kudelski would be engaged with directly in an engineering capacity.

Despite this misstep, much was learned during the development of the RTU, and in 1992 Nagra introduced the Nagra D, a unique (and proprietary) four-channel digital recorder aimed at the film and music recording market. While the Nagra D gained some adherents, by this time Nagra had unfortunately begun to lose its dominance in film sound to DAT technology, which had begun to make inroads in the market while they were still distracted by the Honeywell venture. (In fact, Nagra never did produce a DAT recorder, moving directly from the Nagra D open-reel digital recorder to the introduction of the ARES-C tapeless digital recorder in 1995.)

Despite losing some market share in traditional film sound recording to new players, Kudelski continues to design and innovate. In 1997, they introduced a line of high-end audiophile components, starting with the PL-P vacuum tube preamplifier, and later incorporating the VPA mono-block tube power amplifier, as well as the MPA 250-watt MOSFET power amplifier.

Even further afield from the original focus of the company was establishment of a division devoted to pay-TV set-top boxes for CANAL+ in 1989. This would turn into a very successful growth operation for the company, and continues to be the main business of the firm.

Nagra Today

In 2002, Nagra introduced the Nagra V hard drive recorder, which was intended as the replacement for the Nagra 4 series analog recorders. However, despite the excellent design, by this time Nagra had some of its footing in the film recording market, overshadowed by the development of DAT recording in the 1980s, and the introduction of the Deva hard drive recorder in 1997. Nonetheless, Nagra still enjoys a significant share of the broadcast journalism market with products such as the ARES series solid-state recorders. Currently operated as a separate entity located in Romanel under the moniker of Audio Technology Switzerland, the firm continues to pursue the film recording market, with the introduction of the Nagra VI hard drive/CF card recorder in 2008. Stefan Kudelski’s son, André Kudelski, continues as CEO and Chairman of the firm.

Despite the changes in technology that have taken place in the intervening years since the introduction of the first Nagra recorder, every sound mixer “of a certain age” I’ve spoken with can still recall the first time they used a Nagra recorder. Likewise, the stylistic contributions made to the film business by Kudelski’s introduction of the Nagra are immeasurable. Films such as D.A. Pennebaker’s Don’t Look Back would have simply been impossible to do without the aid of lightweight cameras and recorders. The entire French New Wave movement, led by directors such as Francois Truffaut and Jean Luc Godard would arguably not even have existed without the aid of the Nagra recorder and Éclair camera. Thank you Mr. Kudelski for your marvelous invention.

The author wishes to thank Omar Milano for generously sharing the transcript of an interview he conducted with Mr. Kudelski. I am also grateful for the opportunity to have accepted the Wings Award on behalf of Mr. Kudelski at the Polish Film Festival in America in 2008. It was an honor.

© 2013 Scott D. Smith, CAS

Editors: We will present other articles in coming issues to explore the accomplishments of Stefan Kudelski. We invite members to submit stories and anecdotes of their experiences with the man and his recorders. Please send your anecdotes to: nagra@local695.com

Recording Les Misérables – Part 2

Recording Les Misérables – Part 2: Implementing the Plans

by Simon Hayes AMPS
Photos by Laurie Sparham/Universal Pictures

Beginning my assignment on Les Misérables, I had some enviable, even unprecedented, advantages. I had support from the producers at Working Title Pictures and the Director, Tom Hooper, to use every resource available to achieve live recording of all the vocals without any ADR. And I had a crew of seven skilled associates to help achieve this goal, all handpicked from the best technicians I know, all excellent choices for their ability to work together as a team. But it still remained to coordinate with other departments and develop a plan for how this goal might be accomplished.

Meeting Supervising Music Editor Gerard McCann was the next step and a defining moment in the planning stage. Right away we agreed to join forces and merge his four-man department with my seven-man team. Whatever demarcation had existed, we relegated to history and agreed that the teams would share all the tasks of the daily technical grind including rigging, cabling and loading gear.

Music Supervisor Becky Bentham was also part of this first meeting. She is a legend in the UK film industry. Both Gerard and I had worked with her before and had great respect for her abilities.

The three of us discussed the project in detail and worked out a plan of attack. We would have two live pianists on set at all times. Both were part of Cameron Mackintosh’s team and had years of experience with the orchestrations of Les Mis. One pianist would work with the shooting crew and the other would be available at all times for warm-ups and rehearsal. Whichever one was on set that day would work inside a soundproofed plywood box fitted with ventilated Perspex windows so that the mechanical sound of the Korg electric keyboard would be confined. The player would wear headphones with an IFB feed of the vocal mix in one ear. The pianist was also fitted with a radio mike for direct communication with the actors via their “earwig” feed.

The piano would then be routed both to Pro Tools Rig #1 and also to the sound cart for transmission to the actors’ earpieces. Says Gerard McCann: “We had our live piano performing and three Pro Tools systems, operated by Music Editors Rob Houston, John Warhurst and myself. Simon was able to route that live piano feed into earpieces worn by the actors who were then able to sing to live accompaniment. Our Pro Tools systems had three roles: one was dedicated to playback for tracks that required a fixed tempo, like chorus material. For the larger crowd songs, we would record a rehearsal of the ensemble cast on set on the day, and use that as a playback for shooting so that the crowd could follow along singing in the correct tempo, and this live singing recorded by Simon. This was to allow Tom maximum freedom to use as much of this sometimes rough, raw, but very real sounding live chorus as he chose, together with additional layers he might record later in post. A second machine was dedicated to recording the live vocal and piano mixes from Simon, and the third was used to turn around this recorded material almost instantly for playback.”

In working out the production sound methodology, I was keen to stick to a comfortable workflow; this wasn’t the time to be introducing new or untested equipment into the recording chain. I needed to be using equipment that was second nature to me so my attention might be on capturing performance rather than technical issues.

I chose to gang together two Zaxcom Devas, one the Deva 16 and the other a Deva 5. This would give us 26 tracks. I would give the picture editor two mix tracks to use on his Avid timeline: Mix-1 had the vocals and the mono piano; Mix-2 had the vocals only, without the piano. This gave the editor the facility to adjust the blend of voice and accompaniment as needed.

We linked the two recorders together so they would have identical timecode. The Deva 16 had the two mix tracks plus isolated mikes on tracks 3–16. Machine 2’s ten tracks were all assigned to ISOs.

The two linked machines gave us a total of 24 tracks. Since we might need to use radio links for the two mono booms and the stereo boom, we were limited to 20 radio mikes. I already had two fantastic Audio Developments’ mixers with eight channels each. They were modified to supply either analog or digital signal on all the outputs so we were well equipped for 16 tracks. We reasoned that we would not need all available tracks recording the solo performers, only when recording the chorus, so we could connect directly to the Devas and use the front panel faders on those occasions.

I also ran a safety copy of the mix tracks on a 24-bit Nagra V in case of a hard disk failure on the primary machines. That covered us in the event of an equipment failure on a magical “perfect take.”

Running 20 radio microphones without any inter-channel modulation or interference is not easy. Luckily, the UK was in the middle of switching the legal film industry channels from one band to another to make way for digital television, and we took full advantage of the temporary window available to us to use both channel 38 and channel 69. As Gerard worked out the need for five different Comtek feeds—that’s right, five mixes—our special good fortune became more apparent. Our plan called for Mix-1 to be piano and vocals while Mix-2 would be piano only for members of the music department who needed to concentrate on that element. (Quite a few members of the music team kept two receivers on their belts so they could swap between these two mixes as they wished.)

Mix-3 would be vocal only for use by dialog coaches working on accents. The pianists also used this mix while listening to a direct feed from the electric piano in the other ear.

Mix-4 was a special mix that Tom Hooper and Danny Cohen required for themselves and the camera crew. The music was such a large part of the tempo and timing that the camera crew needed to hear the piano and voices to motivate their action. We added a talkback mike—a Shure SM58 with a transmitter—to permit Tom to communicate with camera operators and grips even during the takes.

Mix-5 was the boom operators’ headphone feed, much the same as Mix-4 but with my voice alongside the singing and piano instead of Tom’s. I was, of course, using the onboard talkback mike on my mixer rather than a handheld SM58. This permitted me to talk to the three boom ops throughout takes about lens sizes, shadows, etc. With the 20 radio mikes, five wireless headphone feeds and Tom’s SM58 transmitter, we would be using up to 26 separate frequencies at any time. The responsibility for wrangling all these frequencies fell to 1st Assistant Sound Robin Johnson. Without his skill and experience, I doubt we would have been able to run that many channels.

All of this equipment would live on two sound carts that could be moved around on location. We were becoming technically ready. The next step was to consider the “in-the-ear” monitors for the actors.

We considered several in-ear monitors and made a decision early on to use a traditional induction loop system over the newer radio systems. To fit within the ear, all of these systems are limited to a very small driver that severely limits sound quality. None of the present designs sound very good. Since the units with a built-in radio receiver offered no audio advantage, we couldn’t justify their extra expense particularly considering the number of units we would need. We concentrated our efforts into finding the best induction loop amplifiers and in optimizing the performance of the traditional design.

We confronted two problems with the available earwigs: their small driver size severely limited bandwidth and they were not very loud. An orchestra with a broad mixture of bass and high frequencies would confuse the tiny driver and the output became muddled. We found the problem was less acute using the Korg electric keyboard as its output is simpler and tends toward the midrange. The pianists were a great help with this by adjusting their play accordingly. We also adjusted the EQ settings on the keyboard to suit the earwigs.

The loudness issue was not so easily resolved. These earpieces were originally designed to assist people with hearing difficulties, not to be used as a reference while singing “Who Am I?” or “I Dreamed a Dream” at the top of one’s voice. We contacted the manufacturer and they were very helpful and supplied us with louder units. We also had them come out and make ear casts of each principal actor to supply them with custom-fitted earpieces both left and right. This helped in several ways. The custom earwigs fit deeper in the ear canal and were less visible to camera. Also, a precise fit ensured that the earpiece was optimally positioned, and its tiny outlet hole unblocked, so it could deliver its maximum output. Having both left- and right-fitted earpieces also gave the option for using both if an actor were struggling to hear. This was really a last resort because it would interfere with the actors hearing their own vocals.

We decided early on not to feed vocals into the earwigs both because of the frequency response issues and also because we would forever be discussing individual preferences on the balance between vocals and piano. This would present an impossible situation because we could only provide one earwig mix on the induction loop. But there are always exceptions—on “I Dreamed a Dream” Anne came to me after the first take and asked to wear both earwigs with the piano as loud as possible and a tiny amount of her own vocal added. Since she was singing a solo, and we didn’t need to provide earwigs to others, we were able to accommodate her.

For a couple of monumentally challenging sequences, Tom staged two actors at locations hundreds of yards apart, harmonizing together in real time but shot with separate cameras. In those instances, we fed their vocals to their earwigs so they could keep pace with one another. This created much hilarity on set as Hugh and Russell realized they could communicate with each other and began comparing progress on the setup and which camera crew might be ready first. There were other exceptions to our no-vocals-in-the-earwigs rule but we generally tried to keep the playback practice as simple as possible.

With recorders, track assignments, piano accompaniment and earpiece distribution worked out, Gerard McCann and I had a good plan for recording the vocals. But we needed to meet with Orchestrator and Music Producer Anne Dudley and her team to confirm that our efforts would meet her needs. We met her and Music Supervisor Becky Bentham at the famous Abbey Road Studios in London. They told us that their engineers would like to hear the mikes we intended to use so we set up some test sessions. The Neumann U87 is the standard condenser microphone in a music studio. Its accuracy is unexcelled and its large diaphragm produces a smooth response to rapid transient changes. The music studio also offers acoustic excellence and the ability to place the microphone in optimum position. No location recording plan we might devise would ever be able to equal that performance. But the live recording offers the advantage of immediacy and an emotional link to the acting so the operative question was whether the fidelity of our system would meet listening expectations.

I chose the Schoeps Super CMITs for our boom operators. These new microphones use DSP noise-canceling technology to reject off-axis background sound. This capability is a great advantage but demands a high level of skill from the boom operator. When the Schoeps were used in testing it became clear that, if they were in an optimum position, the kind possible while shooting a close-up, they could compete on a level playing field with the music studio mikes.

We also tested the DPA lavaliers and Lectrosonics radio mikes. In my opinion, the DPA matches the Schoeps Super CMIT more closely than any lavalier I’ve heard. During the demo at Abbey Road, the engineers, despite initial skepticism, were suitably impressed. They felt they were getting approximately 60 percent of the quality of a Neumann U87 when I believe they were expecting much less. When you consider that the studio mike is placed on a stand in the best possible position while the DPA is rigged on the actor’s chest, that is an excellent result.

Paco Delgado, the Costume Designer, was extremely helpful and collaborative in this process. To hide the lavalier mikes, he and his team supplied us with the necessary cuts of fabric from each costume and also allowed us to make the holes needed to hide cables. He encouraged us to take the lavalier rigging to a level that enabled us to record absolutely clean singing with no clothing rustle. As we started shooting, it became clear that the process of mic’ing the cast was far more time-consuming than on a “normal” film not just because of the need to match fabrics but also because there were so many radio mikes used.

It’s always my aim to deliver as natural a dynamic range as possible so I was in full agreement with the engineers’ request that we not use any compression or limiters in the recording chain. To make the full 24-bit dynamic range available, this meant not only refraining from using or tripping limiters in the equipment but also not riding gain during the take. We used the Lectrosonics transmitters at a very low-gain setting to ensure that limiters would never be engaged. Historically, the higher gain setting needed with radio mikes to stay above artifacts meant that limiters were needed to prevent overloads with louder signals. The ability of the current generation of Lectrosonics’ gear to capture clean signal at lower settings, even with whispered delivery, was impressive and a key reason we were able to take on the project. By agreement between the Music Department and the Sound Department, we used no limiters or EQ anywhere while recording Les Misérables.

With everyone in agreement on the methodology, we turned our attention to the challenges of recording live singing on a movie set. We had to consider the scale of the Paris street scenes and how to manage them. Tom asked me if I would prefer to shoot the exteriors on a soundstage or on location. I knew that Tom wanted to shoot the scenes, some as long as 14 minutes, from start to finish without a cut. I didn’t see how this would be possible outdoors in a modern, aircraft-infested environment but the only stage large enough for the planned scenes, the 007 stage at Pinewood, is not really a soundstage and has poor acoustics. Just a few weeks into preproduction, Tom contacted me to tell me about a new stage being built in Pinewood—the Richard Attenborough Stage—that would be the biggest in the UK. (After our good fortune with the transitional availability of radio frequencies, we began to think someone upstairs was smiling on our project.)

Eve Stewart, the Production Designer, asked me about ways that set design could help with Tom’s vision of a live musical. I commented that for live sound we wanted reality. If they are in shot, the cobbles should be real cobbles, the oak door frames should be real oak, so that any sounds we picked up would be as authentic as possible. She took my suggestion and filled every inch of the 30,000-square-foot stage with sets built with the characteristics of permanent structures.

Our interest in solid oak and stone applied only to areas seen in the shots; outside what the cameras saw we tried to make the set and crew sonically disappear. Our efforts extended even to fitting rubber shoes on all the horses’ hooves.

For Eponine’s number, “A Little Fall of Rain,” we faced the additional challenge of recording the entire number in the rain. We worked with the Special Effects Department to get the best possible rain that would show on camera without drowning the mikes or making too much noise. We covered every part of the set not seen by the camera, every rooftop and every piece of floor, with rubberized horsehair to deaden the raindrops. We had an entire truckload of horsehair delivered to Pinewood. We also had a horsehair cover to provide quiet protection for the camera and asked the camera technicians to wear black “Bolton” cloth (Duvateen) ponchos over their Gore-Tex to soak up the sound of the water hitting. We even had a second boom operator shadow the primary boom with a horsehair roof on the end of his boom pole to shield the primary mike. That was the attention to detail that we exercised and it was possible because of an outstanding seven-man team. With a truck full of rubber-backed carpet, this team padded every dolly track and every walk-and-talk to keep the set as quiet as possible and recovered the carpets as soon as the shot was completed so they never held up the shooting. These efforts paid off not just by reducing noise from footfalls but they helped to deaden sound reflections throughout the set and augmented the many sound blankets we hung for that purpose.

Wind to flutter hair and costumes is a necessary element to create the illusion that players are outside and not on a set. Traditionally, large fans or wind machines provide this but they are quite noisy and compel ADR whenever they’re used. We coordinated with the FX Department to place the wind machines outside the stage and pipe-in the wind through flexible air-conditioning hose. The mikes didn’t pick up the sound of the electric motors at all, just the sound of moving air that mimicked the sound of actual wind. And, since its frequency fell outside of normal voices, it could be effectively removed in post.

After all the technical planning, we were ready to put our methodology to the test. The film had engaged the actors for an eightweek rehearsal period directly prior to shooting. Such a lengthy rehearsal period isn’t the norm but Les Mis was a complex project. I felt it important for the whole sound crew to be involved from the beginning but there was a move to exclude us. I can certainly understand the budget implications of adding a large sound crew for an extra eight weeks. And, the performers can be self-conscious as they develop their performances. Working with playback or with a piano accompaniment will mask errors in pitch or delivery but singing a cappella leaves every performance mercilessly exposed. I could understand the reluctance but I felt it important that everyone become committed to the live recording protocols from the beginning. I worried that, after eight weeks of rehearsal with the blanket of protection afforded by an amplified piano, the cast might balk at the introduction of the earwigs on the first day of shooting. If they felt they couldn’t work without the live piano, the whole plan of live recording would founder. We needed the collaboration between Cast and Sound to begin on the first day of rehearsals.

I also felt that the long rehearsal period was important to more than just the cast. I wanted to use earwigs and radio mikes on every rehearsal so that the Pianists, Roger Davison and Jennifer Whyte, could become comfortable with the process of working within a sound booth and following the pace of the singers from their own headphones. And, I wanted the practice time for the Sound Department so that we might become familiar with the songs, the staging, the head turns, the extremes in dynamics, and work out solutions to the challenges in advance. Sometimes a single performer would need two mikes, one on each side or one close to the mouth and one lower, to handle these variables.

Even more important than the technical issues was the opportunity to become acquainted with the cast and earn their trust that we would deliver quality recordings of their live performances. I pressed these points with the producers and with Tom and eventually we were invited to participate.

By the end of the rehearsal period, the cast was completely unfazed by using the earwigs and having direct communication with the pianists through their lavaliers. They would arrive at our sound carts upon entering the rehearsal stage to ask for their mikes and earwigs before proceeding to the set and enjoyed being able to communicate directly with the pianists without raising their voices to draw the pianists’ attention.

It was going well but we were developing a new process and everyone, Tom Hooper, the Producers, the Music Department and our own Sound Department, wanted a test to confirm that it would all work through editing and mixing to a final product. The “Red and Black” number performed by the students in the café was a good selection for our test. With multiple solo lines from the cast and an ensemble of about 20 students, it provided a taste of most of the circumstances we would encounter throughout the film. From the beginning, I had requested that rehearsals take place in the proper acoustic environment so that we might make test recordings and check the results later through studio monitors. Consequently, our rehearsal space was a proper soundstage at Pinewood that was suitable for a film test. Tom decided to shoot the test with a full camera crew and three 35mm cameras.

The test shoot proved challenging, exciting and interesting. Although Tom had discussed the visual style he had worked out with DP Danny Cohen, nothing quite prepared me for his singleminded enthusiasm for shooting every take all the way through from beginning to end. For the sake of performance and energy, Tom would shoot numbers in their entirety so I needed to be ready at all times. For me this meant multi-tracking and mixing 20 mikes on every take from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. It was mentally demanding; I had to find a zone and stay focused. My own mixing improved with the constant practice but that was a small benefit as we always intended to remix from the ISO tracks in post. More importantly, the boom operators thoroughly learned the intricacies of every move by both cameras and cast members and became adept at following the singers exactly. Since the long takes forced a camera reload for nearly every take, my crew had an opportunity to act on every little problem revealed by the previous take. Carpet placement could be optimized, a cast member standing on a squeaky floorboard could be shifted slightly and chorus or extras that were whispering when they should have been miming, could be advised. (Many members of the chorus ensemble came from a theater background where ad-libs would enhance the performance. It took awhile before they became comfortable with the understanding that film editing needed consistent, i.e. silent, backgrounds.)

Silencing the ad-libs and background action was a huge undertaking that continued throughout the movie and was a constant negotiation with Tom. He liked the way the ad-libs tended to increase energy in the performances and used them to motivate the soloists to project their singing to rise above the clutter. But I maintained that working this way would force ADR when the adlibs and chatter didn’t match in the cuts. Tom understood; while he encouraged active participation in the rehearsals, he recorded the takes with mimed background action.

We finished the test shoot and I was mentally and physically wiped out. It had been the most challenging day I had ever recorded and it dawned on me that we had 70 days of this in front of us, many without the comfort and acoustic security of a soundstage. Every single day would require immense focus and energy from all of us. We got word very quickly as the test was edited and orchestrated that the vocal recordings were a complete success. Everyone was incredibly euphoric that our workflow had been proved not just possible but hugely successful. There were lots of extremely happy producers after the test.

I’m glad I experienced the test before we started shooting because it gave me a chance to prepare myself for an incredibly demanding shoot. The first part of the shoot was a reduced unit in the French Alps shooting Valjean (Hugh Jackman) traveling on foot from the port to the Bishop’s chapel. We arrived and the 1st Assistant Director told me Tom had chosen a location on the highest mountain peak and it was impossible to access it in vehicles. He asked me to go ‘handheld’ because carrying the kit up the mountain would be impossible. I told him that I wasn’t prepared to compromise sound quality in any way and we set about carrying my 180-pound sound cart up the mountain. It took four men nearly an hour to make a 20-minute trip across the boulder-strewn pass. It was a Herculean effort but we arrived at the summit with all the equipment—the proper D/A converters, the big mixing panel, the high-gain antennas—we needed to do a first-class job. It was just this kind of single-minded purpose and resistance to compromise that got us great production tracks.

Quickly, we learned from Tom and the 1st AD exactly where Hugh would be walking and singing and we set about running a battery-powered induction loop under the rocks. With Tom and Hugh’s permission, we had prerecorded the piano track in rehearsals. If Hugh was comfortable setting a pace in rehearsal, we could run playback from a Mac laptop using Audacity rather than take a piano and Pro Tools up the mountain. Valjean was to walk across the summit covered by a single handheld camera. Arthur, my Key 1st Assistant Sound, asked if he could work with a radio boom to help with the uneven surface at the summit. I asked that he remain on a cable for every shot apart from a 360-degree pan so we might minimize radio electronics in the boom signal chain and maximize sound quality. We fitted Hugh with two radio mikes, one tight and one slightly wider. Tom asked us to shoot the rehearsal so I had no idea of the volume to expect. As Tom, Arthur and the camera crew tracked with Hugh and he began to sing, it became clear we were capturing something magical. I quickly listened to the ISO tracks and decided that Arthur’s boom with the Super CMIT was the best sounding track. Due to the tight headroom Tom was maintaining, it was in a perfect position 10 inches above Hugh’s head. I concentrated my attention on Arthur’s boom track in subsequent takes. There was no background noise apart from Hugh’s wooden clogs and his walking stick tapping the granite. They were not compromising the vocal performance and I decided not to bother Hugh about them so he might get on with his acting.

I should add that before shooting, I spoke with Tom, the DP and the camera crew and told them, “Guys, I know you aren’t going to like this and I know we are in freezing temperatures up a mountain but, if this is going to work, I need you all to take off your Gore-Tex trousers and, if you are tracking with the action, just wear your jeans. Otherwise, all I am going to record is the swooshing of Gore-Tex.” This was one of those moments where all the talking about the importance of sound quality and performance was truly put to the test and it was time to see if the crew really understood what that meant. One by one they duly removed their Gore-Tex trousers.

When we arrived home from France and started setting up to shoot in Pinewood Studios, I went to watch dailies at Editorial. I viewed on an Avid machine through near field studio monitors. It was just the raw mix track which in this case was the boom only. As I saw Valjean walk wearily across the mountain range and into a close-up, I could hear his breathlessness due to the altitude and see the fog from his breath on screen. As he started to sing with such fragility from the effect of the altitude, it sounded so real. I was completely spellbound and I knew in that moment that we were creating something special. Never before had I experienced such a connection while watching a musical. As we shot, it became clear to us that we needed to be flexible and use the best method available to record each scene. Scenes like the factory women singing “At the End of the Day” were staged with multiple solos and hard light that made swinging booms to each player difficult. Those scenes were best recorded on radio mikes with the booms playing a secondary role and the stereo boom serving to add dimension to the radio mikes used on the chorus. That was also the technique used for “Lovely Ladies” but for Hugh Jackman’s “Who Am I?” and Anne Hathaway’s “I Dreamed a Dream” and Eddie Redmayne’s “Empty Tables and Empty Chairs,” the boom was the primary recording device.

On “I Dreamed a Dream,” we were shooting with three cameras and, from the first take it became clear that Anne was going to clutch her chest during the emotive parts of the performance. Of course, that was right where the lavalier was placed. To ask her not to do this action, a part of her instinctive body language during the scene, would have been to stifle the truth and honesty in the performance. After the first take, I told Tom that we couldn’t rely on the radio mike any longer and had to get the boom closer. The “A” camera was shooting a close-up, “B” camera was shooting a wider close-up with the same top-line but “C” camera was shooting a classic wide with three feet of headroom. I reasoned that it was unlikely the wide shot would be used for long and the boom could be painted out if necessary, so I asked Tom if he would permit us to bring the boom into the wide shot. The VFX supervisor was present and instantly said, “The shot is static. If you just keep the boom out while the clapper board is going on before the performance starts, we will get a clear piece of the background needed to matte the boom out.” It was this kind of instant answer and collaborative teamwork that enabled Tom to make quick decisions and keep shooting.

The boom was also invaluable on all the sewer scenes where the radios would have become waterlogged. One of my favorite songs in the movie, “Empty Tables and Empty Chairs,” sounds beautiful on the boom and that was possible because all three cameras were shooting close-ups from different angles so the headroom was the same.

Recording singing differs from recording dialog in that the acoustics on singing need to be the same throughout. It would be wrong to have the wide shots sounding “wide” and the close-ups sounding “close” because when the orchestral music is added, the balance of music and vocal would change shot by shot. This would draw attention to the shifts in camera angle. Yet while recording dialog, it is generally accepted that an acoustic change matching shots of differing sizes actually helps a scene to sound real to the audience. For singing, whatever mikes are used must be in a close and uniform position throughout the song.

It is possible to use slightly different widths of mike placement as long as there isn’t a noticeable acoustic shift. We often used two radio mikes on an actor if their performance required extreme dynamic range and I would rig one lavalier close to the mouth to get a very closely mic’d performance on the whispers, but another lavalier five or six inches further away to pick up the louder pieces while sounding a little more open. Of course, the mikes were recorded on separate tracks so the dialog editor had a choice depending on what sounded better in the final context of the scene, once orchestration had been added.

Another break in filmmaking tradition was bringing a dialog editor, the extremely skilled Tim Hands, aboard just a few weeks into shooting. He was based at Pinewood while we were shooting and I was in constant contact with him daily explaining how we covered scenes, which tracks I thought were best and pointing out any issues I thought he needs to know. It was his job to clean and edit the vocals on Pro Tools. He was extremely subtle in his work and mindful of Tom’s admonition to not remove anything that would diminish the audience connection to the actor. He concentrated on removing background noises that had nothing to do with the on-screen performance. When a scene was starting to take shape in the Avid, the Picture Editing Department would give Tim the EDL and he would give them a bounce back of the edited audio from my ISO tracks. This meant that Tim was often working on a scene many times as the picture editor and Tom made changes but it also had the valuable ‘knock on’ effect of immersing Tim in the material so that he became completely familiar with all of it. When Alastair Sirkett joined him in the post-production process, this intimate familiarity helped him get the best from the recordings and the pair of them delivered an outstanding finished product.

After the film techniques clean up, the tracks pass to John Warhurst, the Music and Sound Editor. He went through them using music industry technique to make them sound their best going into the final mix. This process exemplifies the special collaborative workflow for this movie. Supervising Music Editor Gerard McCann pointed out at the beginning of our planning that the skills and objectives of a film dialog editor and those of a music vocal editor are very different. For instance, a music editor would be working out of his usual skill set if presented with generator noise or lighting hum while a dialog editor would not be at home adding reverb to enhance vocals. An oversimplification but because the vocals on Les Mis were essentially a crossover of both mediums, we needed to make sure they benefited fully from each methodology.

Although Re-recording Mixer Andy Nelson’s main contribution comes at the very end of the process, his involvement began at the conception. He has extensive experience in musicals including work on Evita and Phantom of the Opera. Tom Hooper was familiar with his work on Alan Parker’s The Commitments, a project that featured some live recording to a prerecorded backing track, so he sought out Andy when he was first considering live recording for Les Mis. Andy confirmed the success of the live recording on The Commitments and encouraged Tom to take on the larger challenge of Les Misérables.

Tom encouraged me to contact Andy Nelson when I was first hired. Gerard McCann and I had a long conference call with him to discuss workflow and methodology, check that he agreed with our plans and receive any advice he might offer. We kept in contact thereafter and he regularly listened to and commented on material as we worked.

Andy was particularly keen on not using EQ or compressors and limiters in the recording chain. He also asked that processing done by the dialog and music editors be “virtual” so that changes could be reversed and the material returned to a raw state at the touch of a button. He wanted to have complete control at the final mix where all the elements of score, sound effects, Foley and vocals could be evaluated together and judged as a whole.

For instance, he wanted us to avoid using plug-ins to clean up camera noise because they often have a slight effect on the vocal tone and he thought that the orchestration might effectively hide the camera noise.

Jonathan Allen, a Re-recording Mixer from Abbey Road Studios, was also generous with help and advice throughout the project. He worked on the orchestrations in Post but also joined me on days with big chorus ensembles and assisted both with advice and mike placement.

The whole project was a collaborative project from the outset. It set out to bring to the audience the in-the-moment emotions and the live singing of the cast. The success of that endeavor demonstrates what can be accomplished with everyone working together.

Cameron Mackintosh offered daily support and input for the project. He commented that “Music, if used correctly, should pull the heartstrings.” I believe that the filming of Les Misérables, as envisioned by Tom Hooper and with the support of Producers Eric Fellner, Tim Bevan, Debra Hayward and Sir Cameron Mackintosh, and each and every crew and cast member, really does “pull the heart strings.” It was a fantastic piece of work.

The Cable Connection: Checking for crosstalk problems

The Cable Connection: Part 4
CHECKING YOUR RECORDING CHANNEL FOR CROSSTALK PROBLEMS

by Jim Tanenbaum CAS

When you have finished configuring your sound cart, begin checking for problems. You will have to repeat the tests several times, monitoring from your recorder, backup recorder (if used), and mix panel. When you have finished with this first round of testing, check all your sends: Comtek, feed to video assist, etc., for crosstalk in them.

You will need a battery-operated tone generator, with 100 Hz, 1 KHz, and 10 KHz sine wave frequencies, both mike and line-level outputs, and adapter cables to allow you to connect to whatever type of audio input connectors (XLR, TA, etc.) your equipment uses. “Dummy” loads to terminate open cables or inputs are also helpful in tracking down the more refractory cases, but you may not need them. I made male and female XLR connectors with metal-film resistors (low internal noise) soldered between Pins 2 and 3: dynamic mike = 150 Ω, condenser mike = 2 KΩ in series with a 100 mfd NP tantalum capacitor, line = 600 Ω, and hi-Z = 20 KΩ. All the shells are connected to Pin 1.

Without getting too deeply into electronic theory, capacitive crosstalk is characterized by an increased proportion of higher frequencies— it sounds tinny, like a really old-fashioned telephone. This type of crosstalk increases as the distance between the two wires decreases. Furthermore, it requires only a source voltage, not current (e.g., the headphone feed in a duplex cable when the boom op’s phones are not plugged in). The type of insulating material separating the two wires doesn’t make too much of a difference.

Inductive crosstalk is the inverse of capacitive in that low frequencies couple more easily than high ones, but here the surrounding material makes a difference: ferrous material couples a magnetic field much more effectively than air for low frequencies. However, you will not encounter this situation often because there is seldom any iron or steel involved. Inductive crosstalk requires current to be flowing in the source circuit, so in the example above, if the crosstalk increases when the boom op’s phones are plugged in, you now have a contribution from inductive coupling. (Or not—the current drawn by the headphones will increase the IR drop, so there will be less voltage to capacitively couple.) In addition to an increased level, you may notice a greater proportion of lower mid-range frequencies.  

(Or not—it depends on how tightly the two wires are twisted, and how evenly.)

Follow the procedure below to check your gear for crosstalk or interference pickup:

1. To begin, be sure all equipment is switched off.

2. Disconnect all cables from the mixer’s channel inputs. Turn on the mixer and push all the faders to full open. Turn the headphone volume all the way down, in case there is a routing problem and the full-level tone goes directly to them. Plug your headsets into the mixer’s jack and slowly turn the volume all the way up. You should not hear anything except a faint hiss. Turn down the volume (to avoid any transient pops) and switch on all the other cart-mounted equipment, one unit at a time. Raise the headset volume to listen as each new unit is powered up. If the hiss or any other sound is noticeably louder, investigate the reason.

3. Make sure the headphone volume is down. Set the tone generator to 1 KHz at mike level, and plug it in to the mixer’s Channel 1. Adjust the channel fader and trimmer to give a 0 dB (full scale) reading on the mixer’s meter. Solo all the other channels and listen for crosstalk, turning the headphone volume up to listen and then down again for each channel. You will hear a certain amount of crosstalk, perhaps -55 dB to -70 dB down. It should be the same on all the other channels, or slightly louder on the adjacent Channel 2. Repeat this procedure with the generator set to 10 KHz. The crosstalk level may be somewhat higher. Then repeat with the generator at 100 Hz. The crosstalk should be noticeably lower. Now move the tone generator to Channel 2. Listen for crosstalk on all the other channels. Continue to move the tone generator through all the remaining channels. Finally, pull all the faders down and listen for any tone bleed-through. This sequence of tests establishes the baseline crosstalk level for all the following tests.

4. Repeat these mixer crosstalk tests with line-level inputs. Be sure to use the separate line input connectors if provided, instead of simply padding down the mike inputs. You may notice slightly more crosstalk because of the increased voltage entering the mixer’s internal wiring, especially the faders-closed test. This is normal, if the increase is not excessive.

5. NOTE: The above tests are extra-sensitive because the inputs are open-circuited. When a mike or other device is connected, the residual noise floor will be lower. You could check this by connecting the appropriate dummy load, but at this stage it is probably not necessary.

6. Connect the radio mike receiver outputs to the mixer inputs. As a general practice, use the receiver’s line-level outputs and the mixer’s line inputs. Depending on the type of radio mikes you have, they may produce more hiss or other noises when the transmitters are off. Turn on the transmitters (without a mike plugged in) to ensure that all the receivers mute/squelch properly. After you have checked for noise in every receiver, move the transmitters around your cart to see if their RF gets in anywhere. When finished with this test, switch off all the transmitters and disconnect the receivers.

7. Make sure your mixer is connected to the recorder in whatever arrangement you use (e.g., mix to Ch 1, ISOs to Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4…). Turn the recorder’s headphone volume all the way down, then move your headphones to the recorder. Use the mixer to send a 0 dB tone to the recorder’s Channel 1, and then listen to all the other recorder channels for crosstalk. Turn the headphone volume up slowly each time. Next, connect the tone generator to the mixer input that will send a tone to the recorder’s Channel 2 and listen for crosstalk on the other recorder channels. Finally, check all the other recorder channels in the same manner.

8. If you use a backup recorder, perform the same tests on it.

 9. Check all the external feeds, starting with the Comtek (or whatever wireless monitors you use). Use closed-cup headphones to reduce bleed-in of outside sounds. Be sure the Comtek receiver’s volume control is all the way off. Start with all the faders down on the mixer. IMPORTANT: You will need to calibrate the Comtek receiver’s output level to match the mixer’s. Temporarily reduce the tone generator’s output to -30 dB, and open the corresponding channel fader to give -30 dB on the meter. Slowly raise the mixer’s headphone volume to maximum, raising or lowering the tone generator’s output level to give you a comfortable SPL (Sound Pressure Level) in the headphones when the volume is full up. Now alternate plugging in your phones from the mixer to the Comtek receiver, adjusting the receiver’s volume control until the tone levels match. At this point, the control should be near maximum. If you can’t get the tone as loud with the control all the way up, you will have to make a mental note of how much lower it sounds, and judge the test results accordingly. If you reach the same loudness with the control well below maximum, especially if it is below the point where it is usually set, there may be a problem with the level of the signal going in to the Comtek transmitter—check it. It is also possible that the sensitivity and/or impedance of your headphone is markedly different from the lightweight phones you use with the Comtek—compare them.

10. If you have found no crosstalk or interference problems, give thanks to Murphy and take a break. But if you do have trouble, keep your headphones on and check the following:

11. Is the trouble in only one device? (e.g., in the recorder’s headphone monitor but not the mixer’s?) Unplug the audio, video, and timecode cables from it one at a time. If the problem persists, power it from another source. (e.g., if you have a common 12-volt supply on your cart, unplug the equipment and run it from a separate battery.)

12. Can you tell from the sound what kind of crosstalk or interference you have? (e.g., if the problem is TC bleed from recording  TC on one audio channel of the recorder, have you used an external pad to drop it 20 dB or 30 dB?) If you can identify the culprit, start with that piece of equipment.

13. If you have an AC hum/buzz problem and are not running anything from AC, make sure it’s not sneaking in somehow. Are you using an AC-powered worklight whose metal parts are touching your cart? Have you left a cart battery charger connected? Have a plugged-in electric drill on a lower shelf? If you unplugged a feed from video assist, is the metal shell of the plug still touching something metal on your cart?

14. If you are running on AC, is everything plugged in to the same outlet? A surge-protected outlet strip is a good start. Is there continuity for the third (grounding) pin all the way to the power source, including any extension cords? Is the third pin receptacle in the wall outlet properly grounded? (Using an AC voltmeter, measure the voltage from it to a known ground. Cold-water pipes are good, unless plastic water pipes are involved.)

15. If nothing specific is indicated, perform a general check.

16. Are all interconnecting cables firmly seated? If they are twistlock types, are they secure?

17. Wiggle each end of each cable at the juncture with the plug to see if that affects the problem. Cables usually fail at the strain relief, and the shield often fails first.

18. Loosen the cable clamps and separate all the cables in the bundle.

19. Isolate the power source of each piece of equipment in turn. Run it from a separate battery or AC supply.

20. Make a ground jumper from a length of 10-12 gauge stranded hookup wire, and connect one end to a solid ground point on your cart. Touch the other end to every connector shell, equipment housing, metal portion of the cart, etc.

21. It may help to make a sketch of your setup and look for unexpected current paths. Remember that any current flow will produce a voltage “drop” that, in fact, raises the voltage at the far end with respect to “ground,” and this voltage will look for any way possible to get there.

SAFETY CONSIDERATIONS: SAFETY FIRST, LAST, AND IN BETWEEN

If you connect AC power to your cart, there are several precautions you can take.

1. Only connect to 3-prong grounding-type outlets, and check them beforehand with a plug-in 3-lamp tester to make sure they are wired correctly and properly grounded. NOTE: These simple testers are quick and easy to use, and will unambiguously indicate the presence of a connection to the safety ground socket. What it cannot distinguish is whether the connection is properly to the ground wire or incorrectly to the neutral. While either will provide the necessary safety shunt in the event of a powerline short to a 3-wire “grounded” equipment housing, the wiring reversal can cause massive AC ground loop problems.

WARNING: 2-wire power cords have “polarized” plugs, with one blade (the neutral) slightly wider than the other (the hot phase). Modern receptacles, whether 2- or 3-prong, have one slot wider to match, but older 2-prong outlets have both slots narrow. Some individuals have been known to file, saw, or cut down polarized plugs so they will fit these older outlets, and either way in the newer ones. Applying the hot phase to the neutral side of any device is never a good idea, even if the housing is plastic and/or “double-insulated.”

ANOTHER WARNING: If you absolutely must use a 3-to-2 adapter, be sure the grounding lug or pigtail lead is connected to the screw between the two outlets, and then check with the tester, because in some locations the receptacle mounting box is not grounded. Be very afraid if this is the case—run a 3-wire extension cord to a known good (tested) outlet.

2. Use only 3-wire extension cords, and check them at the far end with the tester. WARNING: On a non-union show I was given an extension cord by the electric department. It had a 3-prong plug and receptacle, but failed the test. I opened the plug to see if the ground wire was disconnected, and found to my horror that the electricians had made all their “3-wire” extension cords with 2-wire cable because it was cheaper and lighter.

3. You can buy a plug-in G.F.I. (Ground Fault Interrupter, also G.F.C.I.), and this is particularly important if you are working outdoors or on a damp concrete floor. In addition to providing overcurrent protection like an ordinary circuit breaker, it senses any current differences between the current going out on the hot wire and returning on the neutral. If there is more than a 5 mA difference (such as current flowing through your body to ground instead of the neutral wire), the unit shuts off the power. 5 mA will give you a nasty shock, but (hopefully) not induce ventricular fibrillation in your heart. WARNING: G.F.I. receptacles haveTEST and RESET buttons. Test them every time before use. IMPORTANT: Some G.F.I. units will trip if there is an interruption in the AC power supplied to them, so they cannot be used on the camera truck for overnight battery charging if the truck will not be plugged in until it is driven somewhere or if the AC supply to the truck is disconnected when it is moved during the night. (NOTE: This is also true of some “automatic” battery chargers.)

4. You can buy an AC power 1:1 isolation transformer in various sizes, from 100 W to 1 KW or more. If you need to run on AC during the day, and are working in damp or exterior locations, this will isolate the power sent to your cart completely from ground, so in the event of a leakage problem, what would have been a fatal shock will be only a tingle. You can feel a tingle from less than one-thousandth of an amp (< 1 mA). WARNING: “Tingles” of any sort are a warning sign that must not be ignored. Locate the problem and fix it before you or someone else is electrocuted.

ANOTHER WARNING: Stepdown “transformers” used to lower foreign 220 V AC power to 110 V are often not true transformers with separate primary and secondary windings, but rather autotransformers with a single, center-tapped winding. While these units will halve the voltage, they do not provide any isolation, and the full 220 V may appear in the event of an internal short, including to the case. Many of them do not provide proper grounding through the third pin as well. With the unit disconnected from both AC power and 110 V equipment, use an ohmmeter to check for continuity between any of the output terminals and any of the input terminals. If there is none, you have a true transformer and not an autotransformer. Also check that there is continuity between the input and output ground terminals.

5. Always plug all your AC power cords into a single outlet (or both outlets of one duplex receptacle), unless the total current draw would overload the circuit. Most sound gear (except for things like playback amps) requires very little current, so using cube taps is acceptable. (I have extension cords that terminate in duplex outlet boxes, providing six heavy-duty 3-prong receptacles.) There are two reasons for this practice: 1, all the safety grounds will interconnect at just one point, avoiding power source ground loops from different ground potentials; and 2, in the U.S., consumer 110-V power is usually distributed as 3-wire 2-phase 220-volts. While the 2-phase wires are 110 volts with respect to the common neutral wire, there is twice that voltage between them. A typical building’s internal wiring has half the branch circuits supplied by one phase and half from the other. If you happen to power some of your gear from one branch and the rest of it from another branch fed by the opposite phase, their hot 110-V power conductors will have a 220-V difference. This increases: the chance of fireworks if there is an error in your cart’s internal AC power wiring; the potential severity of a shock from leakage between two pieces of equipment, particularly with those having 2-wire power cords; and amount of AC hum and buzz that can be induced in audio circuits.

6. When using AC outlets provided by the electric department, especially when supplied from a generator, there is another potential danger. The outlets boxes are connected with runs of 4-0 heavy cables that use color-coded pin connectors. In the event that there is a mis-wiring, 220 volts (or 208 V for 3-phase) can appear on the “110-V” outlets. Even if the cables are connected correctly, if the neutral wire becomes disconnected anywhere between the load and the generator, all the loads connected to one phase will be connected in series with all the loads connected to the other phase, with the result that the full voltage will be applied to the combination. Unless both total phase loads happen to be exactly equal (unlikely), the greater load group will get less than 110 volts and the smaller load group more than 110 volts. Sometimes a lot more.

If you use external batteries to power your equipment, there are different precautions to take.

1. WARNING: Batteries, even small ones like alkaline AA cells, can produce surprisingly large short-circuit currents. A shorted battery can get hot enough to melt plastic, and may rupture and spray corrosive chemicals all over. Short-circuit currents (often over 100 A) can heat wiring to incandescence and start fires. SLA (Sealed Lead- Acid) batteries are especially dangerous. If you don’t want your cart to disintegrate in a shower of sparks like things do in the movies (think Star Trek, where they never invented fuses or circuit breakers … or seat belts either), you need to fuse each battery directly at its terminals. Auto parts stores sell in-line fuse holders that are ideal for this purpose. A 20 Amp mini-blade fuse is a good choice for a small battery (30 Amp-Hours or less). If you use a larger battery, get a fuse that is rated for 2-3 times the maximum current draw of all your equipment.

2. WARNING: Unlike AC current, which passes through zero twice every cycle, DC current is much harder to interrupt. If you wire up your own cart (or have someone else do so), be sure to use fuses or circuit breakers specifically rated for DC. (Typical 5 Amp 3AG/AGC glass fuses are rated 110 VAC but only 32 VDC, so check your selections carefully.) Automotive fuses are all designed for at least 12 VDC. They should still function properly at 15 VDC or 18 VDC, but 48 VDC may be too much for them. Many years ago, when stages and theaters still had wall outlets with 110 V DC, a mixer (not me) mistakenly plugged his cart into one. The current continued to arc through all the blown AC fuses and melted down much of his equipment before the smoking power cord was yanked from the wall.

3. The “hot” center contact of many coaxial low-voltage DC power connectors is flush with the end of the plug, and can short out to grounded metal surfaces if the plug brushes against them. I have installed in-line fuse holders in each of these power cords, with readily accessible 5 A fuses (rated less than the 20 A main fuses so only that particular branch fuse will blow).

4. Many fuses have a “time” rating as well as a current one. Fast (usually marked “F”) fuses provide the maximum protection, but may blow unnecessarily with loads that draw a larger initial current. Motors and incandescent lamps are prime offenders. Delay or Slo- Blo (marked “T” for time-delay) fuses can carry current in access of their rating for a short time and should be used for these applications. Unfortunately, modern microelectronics can be damaged by current pulses too brief to be stopped by conventional fuses. Tiny Micro- and Pico-Fuses, which look somewhat like 1/8-watt resistors, are usually soldered directly to the circuit board because they are designed to limit the spread of damage rather than prevent it. If you happen to have a piece of equipment that uses these, and they do occasionally blow without any other damage, you can avoid unsoldering them and soldering in replacements by installing two single-lead sockets on the circuit board and then simply plugging in the fuse’s wire leads.

5. Another new fuse type is the “thermal fuse.” These fuses will open above their rated current like a regular fuse, but they will also open if their temperature exceeds a certain value. They are designed to protect components such as motors, which can get too hot if they are overloaded for long periods. Some thermal fuses are one-shot, and must be replaced if they blow. This is difficult because not only are they are soldered in, but they have to be located next to the motor’s windings where they can sense the temperature. Twelvevolt air compressors (used to inflate sound cart tires) are a good example. If you have to replace one of these fuses, you can get an equivalent unit that is self-resetting, and it will automatically restore the connection after it cools down.

CODA

In closing, let me warn you that the goat’s blood trick that works so well with radio mikes is useless for ground loop problems. You need blood from a cute little puppy or kitten.

Text and pictures ©2013 by James Tanenbaum. All rights reserved.  

Archiving on Flash Media

by David Waelder

After 150 years, the negatives that Timothy O’Sullivan exposed for Mathew Brady at Gettysburg still yield prints. Many of the glass plates were recklessly discarded after the war, but those that survived still hold images and the pictures have become part of our cultural legacy.

There is no format for digital storage that can match that performance, no gold standard for archiving audio information. Reel-to-reel magnetic tape is generally considered fairly stable but it is vulnerable to emulsion shedding and delaminating after only 10 years. With careful storage, tape will usually have a life expectancy of at least 30 years and is often playable after more than 50 years.

Experience with digital files on magnetic or flash media is still so brief that any advice must be flagged with an asterisk. Hard drives all fail eventually but a RAID storage on multiple drives seems to be reasonably dependable. Flash media is very promising as there are no moving parts, no spinning disc and floating head that might collide, no lubricant to dry out and no layers that might lead to the delamination that is a vulnerability of optical discs.

Until someone devises a universally accepted archival format, we will have to be satisfied with pretty good performance. And, by any reasonable standard, long-term storage is the responsibility of the producer, not technicians who may be hired on a day-playing basis. Still, when turning in the day’s work, one wants to be sure that its important content will be more permanent than a drawing on an Etch A Sketch.

​SanDisk first developed the Compact Flash (CF) in 1994. It originally used the Intel NOR flash memory design but later changed over to Toshiba’s NAND memory management protocol. The Toshiba protocol incorporates a “memory leveling” operation to evenly distribute writing among the sectors for even wear.

Flash memory is comprised of two elements: the matrix of memory cells and a separate controller circuit that manages the flow of data. Manufacturing irregularities may produce bad sectors in the memory cells but the controller circuit is programmed to identify and map those sectors and remove them from active use. This provision to permit some compromised cells makes it possible to economically manufacture a reliable product. Since manufacturers are all getting their memory wafers from the same few sources, the design and construction of the controller circuits is the primary distinction between a cheapo and a premium memory card.

In practice, the CF cards have proven to be remarkably resilient, surviving accidental trips through the washing machine, exposure to magnetic fields and extreme environmental conditions. Even the standard cards operate in temperatures ranging from freezing to more than 120ºF and the range for safe storage is even wider.

There are some known issues that can cause memory loss. Most of these are related to errors in writing protocol, like removing the device before properly closing down. Flash memory can also be damaged by static discharge and by writing with a failing power source such as a discharged battery. Although they seem to shrug off airport X-ray machines, the cards are vulnerable to the more powerful scanners used by the post office and should not be mailed unless contained in a shielded pouch.

When a memory card loses data without any identifiable cause, like a static discharge, it is almost always a failure in the controller circuit rather than a failure in the memory cells themselves. This is an important distinction as it means that the data is really still on the card and available for recovery. Sometimes recovery can be accomplished with software programs but, with a cataclysmic controller failure, it may be necessary to send the card to a specialty company that has the equipment to bypass the bad controller and access the data matrix directly. This may not be cheap or convenient but it’s an argument in favor of flash memory storage that it is almost always possible to restore the original files.

Estimates of archival storage capabilities run the gamut from cards that lost data almost immediately to cards that have been stable for many years. General consensus is that cards that accept formatting without incident are likely to be reliable for many years. The market is infested with counterfeit cards and this may explain some of the premature failures. For use as an archival master, it is especially important that cards be purchased from a reliable source. Location Sound, Trew Audio and The Audio Department all take pains to get their flash media from reliable suppliers. Favored brands are Delkin Devices, Transcend and SanDisk.

Nikon and Canon continue to use Compact Flash as the primary storage medium in their high-end cameras and Leica uses it in their new medium format camera. This is significant because photography has been one of the primary applications for Compact Flash; continued use in professional and semi-pro equipment assures that the format will be viable for the foreseeable future.

For very long-term storage, magnetic media in RAID arrays with regular data transfers is preferred to any flash media. SanDisk does offer a Memory Vault they claim to be suitable for storage “up to a century” but the product is too recent to have any track record and, in any event, is not configured for direct connection to recorders. For very long-term storage, users will have to encode their data onto wet-plate collodion emulsions on glass.


CF Cards As Masters

by Thomas Brandau

While I’d like to thank Scott Smith, CAS for starting the conversation about digital asset management, I’d like to revisit that oft-heard saying that “In Hollywood we don’t plan, we just do it, then spend whatever time necessary to fix the problem, then declare ourselves expert at something else.”

Recently, the post supervisor on a network series came down to the set with a list of WAV files to ask if we could get him copies from three episodes ago. They were handed in and went through the dailies process so, if they had been missing on the day, we would have heard about it long before. No reason was given for the request, but I have to assume “something happened to them.” They were either on my 788T or on the other unit’s record machine. No problem really, we just needed to know who shot these files and on what day of the episode. Of course, the timecard question came front and center, that being: when was I to look for these files, at wrap or lunch? And, of course, there was the problem.

In another situation, a feature film this time, the picture had been locked and, as sound editorial was conforming the sound, several days’ work had gone missing from the drives. Again, picture editorial had received the files, dailies discs had been struck and distributed, but at the last stage, now a problem. It’s simply amazing how quickly and how hot it got. “Where are your backups, how did this happen?” etc. The incident went up the chain to studio management in a day.

 In this case it turns out that the DIT guy had the whole show on his drives and, as he hadn’t worked since the shoot, he hadn’t formatted and erased the sound or picture files. They were recovered and it only remains to troubleshoot how and at what point these files disappeared from both a primary and backup drive.

Lesson learned: Compact Flash (CF) cards are relatively cheap. In the old days, we’d turn in four or so 1/4-inch master tapes each workday, easily $300 a week. Why are we reformatting this media? The current workflow is for sound to give the Compact Flash cards to the DIT guy or gal (or to whoever is downloading the picture files) to be included with the picture files on the same shuttle drive going to post. The original files remain on those CF cards and on the internal drive on my record machine.

Again, why would you erase the “master cards”? With good file management, sound will fill four or five 16GB CF cards every week. Or two 32GB cards, assuming you fill those cards and make daily files for editorial to track. Personally, I like 16GB cards. If one is lost or destroyed, there’s less on it, and then there’s the time required to format and load 32GB cards. You can argue however that 32GB cards are a bit more cost-effective and you’d be right.

Which brings us to the subject of the speed and quality of the media itself. Of course, you want the best quality and a reliable product, goes without saying, but it’s also true that a machine running all eight tracks will only need 133X or 166X cards. This comes directly from Sound Devices. Poly WAV files are just not that large or complicated to require faster write speeds. With every reformat you are asking the card to overwrite the data. I know of no one taking the time to lo-level format, so when you “erase” the card you are simply telling the directory to overwrite the sectors. This is where the digital errors come in to play.

There is so much talk about digital permanence that I contacted some manufacturers directly. It’s interesting that the story is the same wherever you go. Flash and SSD memory “wafers,” as they are called, are pretty much like LCD screens: identical, all coming from the same factory. It’s the build and the video amplifiers that make the difference between television brands and the same is true with memory.

The controller on the card or drive determines accuracy and permanence. SanDisk and Delkin make their own controllers, and Transcend, Kingston and others outsource theirs. Also, there are “industrial” and “consumer” controllers. A German company, Hyperstone, makes bulletproof industrial controllers for single-layer Compact Flash cards. These are used in all the mil spec and medical applications where failure or loss of data is not an option. Single layer, write once, cards are about $300 for 16GB. We are all using MLC, multi-layer media, but that doesn’t mean we can’t treat our cards like SLC media.

So, I’m arguing for good-quality cards, written once and held as a master library, for what, $150 a week at retail?

It’s also astounding to me that what is essentially the camera negative, as a common QuickTime file, is being copied drive to drive without any real thought of longevity and security. With a 7200rpm G Drive, it’s not if, but when that media will fail. And just think of the rental Avid workstations or the DIT guy with your camera “negative” and sound masters in his garage after the shoot.

A subject for another day, but how can the studios and producers allow this?

Recording Les Miserables

Part 1: The Challenge

by Simon Hayes AMPS

“The only way I feel we can make this movie is to record all of the singing live”

Tom Hooper, the director, dropped that bombshell on me in our very first meeting and those are the words that would intrude on every waking thought for the next 12 months.

I have always worked very hard to capture original performances and never rely on ADR; I believe that performances captured on a movie set are rarely bettered in the isolation of a vocal booth, without the presence of other cast members, and months after the movie has wrapped. By then, the actors may be shooting another movie and be immersed in completely different characters, accents and mindsets. Of course, if a director feels he can find a better performance in ADR, it is a very useful tool, but it is such a shame when the cast and director think they have all really nailed a performance on the set, to re-record because of poor sound quality.

I had previously recorded musicals where small elements of live production sound were incorporated into the musical numbers. The last and best known of these was Mamma Mia!, starring Meryl Streep. Many musical numbers were lip-synced in the conventional fashion to a pre-recorded track prepared months earlier in a music studio. But there was a particular number that Meryl specifically asked to sing live. The action required her to climb a steep wall and she felt that the tracks prepared in the studio would not permit her to match her expressions with the action.

We kept a pre-recorded music and vocal track on standby but instead of playing the vocal and music out of a high-power amplified playback rig, we fitted her with an “earwig” and played her the music minus the vocal. This is a tiny, wireless, in-the-ear speaker that, once fitted, is difficult to see unless you are looking directly into the ear. Originally designed as hearing aids, they have been adopted by security professionals and other industries that require sending audio discreetly to personnel.

The recording we made on Mamma Mia! was successful. This experience gave me confidence that, although risky in comparison to going the pre-recorded playback route, recording live singing on set is achievable. It gives a vocal performance that more closely matches the on-screen visual performance.

So, in that first meeting when Tom asked me if I thought it was possible to shoot the whole of Les Misérables live, without hesitation I answered, “Yes.” As Tom and I spoke, he told me of earlier experiences in his career that had resulted in him gaining a respect for production sound and a dislike of committing performances to ADR.

We began to formulate a plan to serve as a rudimentary workflow for the film. He said to me that he knew there had been major technical advances in recent years, not just in the equipment we use to capture sound in films, but in every sector of the movie industry and within the wider electronics industry. His next comment really shaped my own opinion and confidence in how seriously he was committed to recording the film live when he said, “I want you to use every single piece of modern technology available to us to record the performances on the set live with high-enough quality that will ensure we won’t need to return to an ADR studio to re-record performances because of poor sound quality.” This was the backing I needed to realize his vision and take on a unique project that had never been attempted before.

Let me take a moment to qualify that last comment: In the early ’30s before modern production and post-production techniques, singing was recorded live on movie sets. This was before the idea to pre-record vocals and lip sync to playback had been conceived, and before the ability to ADR performances in post-production existed. These very issues become the subject of the famous movie, Singin’ in the Rain.

However, to my knowledge, none of those movies had attempted a workflow that allowed the actors to set the tempo, with the timing of their acting taking precedence over the musical orchestrations. This was Tom’s revolutionary idea. Having agreed with him that it was possible to record vocals with high-enough quality on the set to use in the finished film, he then began to explain to me the next piece of his unique plan.

He asked me about other live recordings I had done using a prerecorded track for the talent to sing to. “What would have to happen if an actor wanted to take a moment to reflect on something within their vocal performance?” My reply was that it was possible to take tiny moments but only within the strict confines of the pre-recorded music track being played to them in their earwigs. Tom went on to ask, “What if they want to take a longer break, a larger pause?” I replied it would be impossible because the vocal would become out of sync with the music. Tom said to me that was exactly what he wanted to avoid. It was his vision that actors would be able to reflect on emotive moments or take time to complete actions without being worried about falling behind the music. They would set the tempo and the orchestration would happen in post-production. The orchestra would play to the actors’ performance and the acting would drive the music, not the other way round.

At this point, I knew he was asking me to take part in a venture with huge risk, something that had never, to my knowledge, been attempted before. As Tom waited for my reaction, I thought carefully. He asked me if I was prepared to try this and I asked if there would be any pre-recorded music at all. He said no. He wanted the actors to be followed by an electric keyboard played on-set, with the pianist reacting to the actors’ performance rather than setting tempo in the customary fashion.

I responded that I had the technology that would allow the actors to hear the piano in a hidden earwig so that microphones could pick up a clean vocal recording. If the music department and picture editor could support Tom’s vision to orchestrate afterward, I certainly had the ability to successfully bring this methodology to the movie set.

Tom then told me about his collaboration with Gerard McCann, his supervising music editor. Gerard had also worked with him on The King’s Speech and shared his conviction that allowing the acting to set the tempo of the music was a valid approach. He asked me to meet with Gerard as soon as possible so we might immediately begin collaborating on developing a methodology to achieve these ends. We had now been talking about two hours continuously and this was our initial meeting!

Discussing the technical challenges of recording the singing live, Tom told me he would need to cover the action with multiple cameras. If the cast made a perfect take, he would want to have it well covered with wides, mids and tights all at the same time. Being able to preserve a “perfect” take was only part of his vision for the film; he also wanted to allow his actors to freely overlap their lines. That technique can greatly enhance performance authenticity and vibrancy but it presents difficulties for the editor who must find a place to make cuts. It also necessitates that all speaking and singing roles must be recorded on-mike at all times, whether on-camera or not. If the sound mixer has both actors (on screen and off screen) covered, it is possible with a skilled picture editor and dialog editor, to preserve the on-set performances by carefully weaving in and out of the speeches, cutting on syllables and tiny pauses. Utilizing both multiple microphones and multiple cameras, it is possible to exercise control over the material. Adding to the complexity, Tom intended to extend this flexibility to interactions between the principals and the chorus. He and his DP, Danny Cohen, planned to use as many cameras as needed to ensure that every good performance would be captured sufficiently so that re-takes for coverage would not always be needed. This was his plan for filming Les Misérables.

I agreed wholeheartedly that this was the best way to bring the immediacy of a continuous theatrical performance to the film audience as I began to formulate the plan of how I might accomplish the task.

We discussed why boom mikes are traditionally the preferred method for capturing movie dialog and why radio mikes are generally treated as a secondary method. I explained to Tom that Production Sound Mixers usually favored boom mikes because radio mikes historically had three huge issues compromising their reliability. The first was range. It is only in recent years that radio mikes presented enough range to be able to be used on movies without indiscriminate splats, pops and hiss. The development of the Lectrosonics digital hybrid system has been a great step forward, yielding not only far greater range but also a significant improvement in sound quality generally. Results are practically indistinguishable from a cabled system. So, issue number one was covered and range was no longer a problem.

The second issue was that lavalier microphones have always been compromised by their tiny size. Their sound quality has always been a long way behind what was considered “studio quality” in the music industry. Performance on a set has been inferior to what can be accomplished with a well-placed boom microphone.

Calling again on my experiences on Mamma Mia!, I knew that there was now a better answer. I tested many mikes for that film and found that the difference between the various lavs on the market was just a matter of audio taste. There wasn’t one product that could really be called “better,” just many products each with their own audio voice. Some on my crew would prefer one and some another. During discussions about the small live element limitations of lavaliers, I met with Benny Andersson from pop group Abba and his longtime engineer, Bernard Lohr. They told me that when they first took Mamma Mia! onto the stage, they were presented with lavaliers for the first time, and coming from a music industry background, had no experience with them. They also tested products from many different companies and were consistently disappointed. Then they asked DPA (a Danish company whose studio products had already impressed them) if they could test the company’s range of lavaliers. Benny and Bernard both told me that DPA lavaliers were the closest tonal match to the mikes they used in the music recording studio and that the Mamma Mia! stage musical had benefited greatly from their sound quality.

To confirm the wisdom of this choice for the vocals in Les Misérables, I set up a test with the DPA 4071 against the three strongest alternate candidates and invited my crew to participate. This time, everyone was in immediate agreement that the DPA 4071 was the winner. It seemed to sound less closed, chesty and constricted than the other lavs and exhibited an openness previously heard only on good-quality condenser mikes used on a boom. It was a really transparent mike that, unlike the others, didn’t add its own “voice” to the recordings.

The other problem I had experienced with lavs was their inability to cope with high SPLs. When you most needed them on scenes that were challenging to boom, like fight sequences or exterior action sequences where the talent was likely to be shouting or screaming, they would often distort due to their capsule being tiny and ‘hitting its end stop.’

I was impressed that the DPA could handle amazingly high SPLs. Toward the end of the test, members of my crew were screaming into it while it was rigged on the chest, trying to get it to crack off and distort but it remained smooth. Yet when the vocal was brought down to the quietest whisper, an almost ‘breathed’ dialog, it was sensitive enough to capture the change in level instantly and without coloration.

Upon research I found out that DPA had designed the lavs not just with vocals in mind, but that they had created a tiny mike that could be used in music recordings when an instrument needed to be closely yet discreetly mic’d. This gave me enormous confidence in my decision to use them for live singing on Les Misérables.

So I knew that I had a good microphone candidate to address the issue of recording the singing with clarity and accuracy.

The third issue with radio mikes did not have such an easy answer. It is the primary reason that, even with huge advances in radio and microphone technology, most Production Sound Mixers still prefer to capture dialog with boom mikes and rely upon radios only when a boom cannot be effectively deployed. Lavaliers must be hidden underneath costumes. Whether the clothing will “sound good” or cause rustle over the dialog is often a gamble because the visual choice of costume generally takes priority over radio mike placement. If an actor is wearing a nice cotton T-shirt, it is possible to get really great sound quality but, if the costume designer needs to have the actor in a silk shirt, the dialog may be unusable. The “plug-ins” now available to dialog editors and re-recording mixers have become amazingly advanced and many background noises can now be effectively cleaned up but severe clothing rustle remains notoriously difficult and removal efforts will often remove some frequencies of the voice as well. On normal dialog a small amount of cleaning up of the voice may be acceptable but the artifacts of a ‘cleanup’ are much more noticeable with singing.

I decided to take up Tom on his challenge to use every advance in modern technology to enable us to record the best quality vocals possible.

I explained to him that the booms would have to be a secondary way of capturing the vocals due to the multi-camera cinematography. Sure, the booms would work fantastically on some shots but we could not completely rely on them. For radio mikes and lavaliers to be our primary method of recording voices, we needed a plan to effectively eliminate clothing rustle. My proposal to Tom was that we place the mikes on the outside! To his credit, he continued to listen to me although my suggestion completely broke with film industry tradition.

I intended to take advantage of advances in CGI to allow greater freedom in microphone placement. I proposed working closely with the costume department and obtaining swatches of matching fabric that might be used to cover the microphone mount. A small cut in the exterior of the costume would permit mounting the mike on the outside and a camouflaging piece of matching fabric would make it inconspicuous. Since the mikes would be attached using DPA’s recommended mount, and since no fabric would touch the grill, the application should be noise- free. Although the mike would be clearly visible to the human eye, on a wide shot and on a moving costume, it would be very difficult to see, and on a tight shot it would actually be beneath the bottom of the camera’s frame line. For the medium shots we would rely upon advances in VFX technology to paint out the mikes. Tom was immediately 100% receptive to this idea, commenting that the VFX department could spot the mikes that needed removal once picture editing was complete. At that moment I knew that not only had we formulated a unique plan, eschewing many ageold film industry traditions, but also that the plan placed an importance on production sound that I had previously only dreamed of.

At this point, Tom and I had been talking for three hours and he told me he had another appointment. I expected the meeting to end when he told me that Hugh Jackman was rehearsing with the Music Director, Stephen Brooker, Cameron MacIntosh’s longtime collaborator, and I was honored when he asked me to come and meet them both.

As I walked into the studio, Hugh was in mid-song and I was struck with the huge dynamic range of his voice and what an accomplished singer he was. At the end of the song, Tom introduced me to both Hugh and Stephen and explained I was the sound mixer who was going to record the musical live. Hugh looked at me warmly and told me how impressed he was that I had taken the challenge. I couldn’t have met two more welcoming individuals who would turn into friends and collaborators in the coming months.

Over the next few days, I began the task of technically planning what I would need to facilitate Tom’s vision.

I began to think deeply about the project and my previous experiences working on musicals. Since the singing was pre-recorded and the singing was generally lip-synced, the tempo had been set months in advance of the actors coming on set. Tom had explained to me that he felt live singing held an energy and truth that miming could never fully replace and he believed he could detect a falseness that disconnected the audience from the performance.

I considered this. His thinking about mimed singing closely paralleled my thinking about ADR in general. A few lines in an action scene might pass unnoticed but longer passages can be ruined by the need for dialog replacement. I began to think about normal musicals where a singing number might run for three minutes followed by dialog scenes and then by another musical number. The singing would be mimed to playback and the conjoining dialog scenes recorded live in the usual manner. I believe that the audience senses miming immediately but they are conditioned to accept it by other musicals and by MTV experiences. They can subconsciously accept the theatricality for a short while as part of the willing suspension of disbelief. Just as the acceptance is becoming ragged, the musical number ends and the audience again experiences live recording and forgets the distrust building during the mimed number and the cycle starts again. We accept this pattern of connect and disconnect because recording live singing is so difficult and time-consuming. To ask an audience to connect with a lip-synced mimed performance for more than 2½ hours would, I think, run counter to their instincts.

This led me to another subject I considered while planning Les Misérables: why do audiences not connect with ADR and miming?

In my opinion, we, as human beings, have incredibly sensitive instincts that stem from our beginnings and are deeply rooted in our genetics. When connecting with other human beings, we are predisposed to process and evaluate the subtlest facial expressions, changes in voice, mannerisms and body language. Why do we do this? To try and work out whether the person we are talking to is honest, whether he is worthy of our trust. This is an instinctive part of survival and taps into out most basic reactive quality: fight-or-flight. We do this subconsciously most of the time, only noticing a problem in our conscious mind if our subconscious has flagged an alarm from our continuous evaluation.

The more I thought about this, the more obvious it was that the cinema performances that engage us are the ones that our subconscious accepts as true. A truly great performance is one that keeps the audience in the moment and doesn’t allow any subconscious alarm bells to ring, bringing us back to reality and creating distrust in the performance.

Tom Hooper’s vision of a completely sung through Les Misérables would not, in my opinion, have kept an audience captivated for long if it been lip-synced from start to finish; there would have been an eventual disconnect for even the most ardent of fans. After all, who would go to see a stage play that was mimed?

Before commencing technical preparations, I met with the producers to explain my plans. I am fortunate to have an excellent working relationship with Working Title Films, having recorded several films for the company, and I’ve worked with producers Eric Fellner, Tim Bevan, Debra Haywood and production executive Sarah Jane Wright many times. I explained that to make the project possible I would need a much larger crew than usual. I always use two boom operators on my projects so I may record off-camera lines, giving the editors more options and reducing the need for ADR. So they were familiar with my preference for a larger crew but this project had even larger needs than usual. I intended to use two boom operators with mono booms to capture the individual singing lines and also a 3rd boom fitted with an MS stereo mike for the chorus and group ensembles. Members of the chorus would be individually radio mic’d but this track would add width and texture to the recording. I had also worked out that on most days we would be running as many as 20 radio mikes and 75 ear pieces so I would need two sound assistants just dedicated to rigging radio mikes and wrangling earwigs—a huge task in itself. To really be able to guarantee sufficiently quiet backgrounds for Tom to use the live on-set vocals, we needed a member of the sound team whose sole responsibility would be generally spotting background noise issues as they arose and dealing with them professionally and swiftly.

The need to have all the participants mic’d-up for rehearsals was a further complication. In a normal shoot, the cast can sometimes do early ‘block through’ rehearsals without being mic’d to save time and then be rigged just before final rehearsals. Our plan for Les Misérables called for the lead singers to take their own pace and a piano accompanist would follow them and provide a tempo for the chorus and other singers. Since the pianist was to be off-set to keep the piano clear of the recording, it was essential that he hear the performers through their mikes and that his piano track be fed to earwigs worn by all the actors. This meant it was imperative all the actors were fully rigged before the first rehearsal. This was nothing new to me and my team having just finished Ridley Scott’s Prometheus, where all the actors had to be mic’d inside their space helmets and fitted with earwigs so they could communicate with each other inside the soundproofed glass helmets. Of course, it took a while for the rest of the crew to realize it wasn’t possible to call a rehearsal unless the sound team had completed rigging the actors.

Debra and Sarah-Jane agreed that if Tom wanted to shoot the musical live, the sound team had to be employed in larger numbers than a regular movie. They understood that usual crewing levels in the sound department could cause schedule issues while shooting due to the far greater workload.

At this point, I could put together my dream team: a seven-man sound crew.

Arthur Turner and Robin Johnson, my boom operators, have been working with me since 1997. We’ve done more than 40 movies together and work as a tight team. We each know our roles and can work out complex issues quickly and efficiently with minimal discussion. For this project, Arthur and Robin held the titles of Key 1st Assistant Sound and 1st Assistant Sound, respectively. Since the project was unique, and their roles and responsibilities were so much more than pure boom operating, we thought it right to use titles more in-line with our colleagues in the camera department.

Joining Arthur and Robin would be Paul Schwartz, who has often worked with us as a 2nd Unit Boom Operator. He would be operating boom number three, the stereo boom and also help coordinate the production sound equipment and interface with the music department’s Pro Tools rig. His title was Sound and Music Maintenance.

James Gibb would be our 2nd Assistant Sound and would serve as chief radio mike and earpiece technician. He has worked with us on about 12 movies and is very capable. We brought in Andrew Rowe, another collaborator from 2nd unit work on other pictures, to assist James with radio mikes and earpieces. He would also be responsible for talkback systems and monitoring.

Duncan Craig was brought aboard as Sound Trainee. He has worked three films with us so we were privileged to have someone so experienced in that role. His responsibilities were carpeting the actors’ feet, soundproofing anything noisy and generally helping with anything sound-related.

So, we had a seven-man sound team in place—a bigger main unit crew than I had ever worked with before. They were all handpicked from the best technicians I know and all excellent choices not just for their individual skills but also for their experience working together as a team. As events would prove, this large crew was absolutely necessary for the job required.

Editor’s note: In Part 2, Simon Hayes will tell us about the implementation of these plans.

Beginnings of Local 695 Part 3

by Scott D. Smith, CAS

This piece is a continuation of the article from the winter 2011 issue of the 695 Quarterly, which examined the early beginnings of Local 695. For those who toiled behind the scenes at the various studios during the mid-to-late 1930s, times were tumultuous. With the economy still reeling from the effects of the 1929 stock market crash, and unemployment in the double digits, Hollywood was not exempt from the crisis that gripped the rest of the nation. With much at stake for both workers and producers alike, a fierce (and bloody) battle ensued for the control of craft unions engaged in film production. In the end, the studios would be the ultimate winners, but there was no shortage of embarrassing moments for both sides.

While much ink has been spilled pertaining to charges of influence peddling during this period, I have tried to steer clear of any conjecture. Any opinions expressed herein are those of the author, and should not be construed as representative of the IATSE.

1935

Still reeling from the effects of the strike actions of 1933, Local 695 (and the IATSE West Coast locals in general) continued in their quest to negotiate a contract with producers. It was tough going. IBEW Local 40 continued to be a thorn in the side of 695, and they had lost a significant number of members to IBEW as a result. With membership dwindling and the possible extinction of the West Coast locals looming large, the International played the only card they had left—bring in the boys from Chicago.

The Chicago Connection

George E. Browne began his show business career in Chicago, having been elected in 1932 as the head of Stagehands Local 2. His assistant and right-hand man was one William “Willie” Bioff, who had an illustrious career as a small-time criminal, running prostitution and minor protection rackets in Chicago’s Levee district.

In the early 1930s, after hitting up a local theater chain for $20,000 in exchange for labor peace, Bioff and Browne went to a local club to celebrate their coup. It was during this drunken outing they had the misfortune of running into a gentleman by the name of Nick Circella, a member of Frank Nitti’s gang, who, along with Al Capone, controlled much of the Chicago mob during the Prohibition years. With the end of Prohibition in 1933 causing a severe dent in their cash flow, the Syndicate needed to come up with some creative ways to keep their empire afloat. The film business suited their needs perfectly. Bioff and Browne were subsequently invited to join the organization. The only acceptable answer was “yes.” Using his position as head of Local 2, Browne was able to exert control over local theater owners by threatening action by the projectionists.

Industry cartoon from the 1930s. From The Story of the Hollywood Film Strike in Cartoons. Cartoons by Gene Price, book by Jack Kistner. From the collection of Dr. Andrea Siegel.

During this period, most of the major theater chains were still owned by the studios. In 1934, Browne, with the backing of the Chicago mob, ran in an uncontested election to head the International. Bioff, as his right-hand man, would accompany him to New York.

Having managed to seize control of the International, Bioff and Browne then went to the heads of Hollywood studios, threatening to disrupt the operations of studio-owned theaters unless they bowed to their demands.

Studio heads, having just lived through an expensive halt in production, were anxious to avoid any more labor problems. A previous, albeit brief, projectionists strike in Chicago had already cost the studios a significant amount of money and they didn’t relish the thought of further disruptions in either production or exhibition.

Studios Go Closed Shop Jan. 2

Thus read the headlines in the December 16, 1935, issue of Variety. After months of wrangling with the National Labor Relations Board and IBEW Local 40 over jurisdiction of soundmen, Local 695 and the International managed to regain representation of studio workers for most crafts.

This was a major coup on the part of the International, and brought at least 4,000 members back into the folds of the IATSE. While the tactics associated with this action would come back to haunt them, it did, at least for the time being, put the question of representation to rest. The move apparently caught many by surprise, including the cameramen, who just 10 days previously were still trying to sign members of camera Local 659 into the ASC guild.

However, the closed shop conditions did not remain in place very long. By April of 1939, the leaders of the International announced the return of an open shop policy on studio lots. This move was designed to head off a looming battle over charges that the IATSE was acting in collusion with producers to control labor rates and conditions.

1936—The Deal

In 1936, with the events the previous year still looming large in his mind, Joseph Schenck, head of 20th Century Fox, as well as the producers’ liaison for the Hollywood majors, was called to a meeting in New York with Willie Bioff and George Browne. At that meeting, Bioff declared that “I’m the boss—I elected Mr. Browne—and I want from the movie industry $2 million.” Schenck, astounded by the demand, began to protest, but Bioff warned him: “Stop this nonsense. It will cost you a lot more if you don’t do it.”

Two days later, at a second meeting, Bioff took him aside and confided: “Maybe $2 million is a little too much… I decided I’ll take a million.” In the end, Schenck agreed to pony up $50,000 a year from each of the majors and $25,000 from the smaller studios. Mr. Schenck later took a small bundle containing $50,000 in large bills to the Waldorf-Astoria hotel, dropped it on a bed, and looked out the window. Sidney R. Kent, president of Twentieth Century-Fox Film, came in and did likewise.

A year later, Schenck received another call from Bioff, and repeated the routine. This would continue until May of 1941, at which point Bioff and Browne were indicted and found guilty of extortion in federal court. They were subsequently given sentences of eight and ten years respectively, along with a fine of $20,000. Richard Walsh took over as President of the International. Joseph Schenck, for his part in the scandal, received a sentence of a year and a day, but received a Presidential pardon after serving four months. When faced with charges for his participation in the scandal, Nitti put two .32 caliber bullets in his head while standing in a suburban rail yard. Bioff, not long after his release, was blown up, along with his car, in the driveway of his home in Phoenix. Thus came to an end one of the most scandal-ridden periods in the history of the IATSE.

Local 695 Survives

While the actions of Bioff and Browne brought disgrace to the IATSE, the members of the individual locals continued in their fight for fair wages and working conditions. This effort on the part of the members would result in a new, more democratic IATSE Constitution. In addition, to their credit, some members spoke out against the rigged election of Browne as head of the International. For their trouble, they were frequently subject to beating by Bioff’s henchmen and “blacklisted” from working.

Tommy Malloy (no angel himself), who headed Projectionists Local 110 in Chicago, was one of those who had protested the influence of the mob during the wildcat projectionists strike of 1935. In response, his Packard, with him at the wheel, was riddled with machine-gun fire on Lake Shore Drive. The message was clear to both studio owners and union employees alike: go along with the program, or face the consequences.

With the issue of jurisdiction settled, at least for the time being, Local 695 went back to the task of organizing its membership, and signing up new members who worked in areas related to sound recording and reproduction. This included not only production sound and re-recording crews, but maintenance technicians and theater sound personnel, as well as those working at laboratory facilities.

One such group was the engineers and technicians who worked for ERPI (Electrical Research Products, Inc.), which was the engineering arm of Western Electric. Most of these men were part of the Western Electric engineering group which handled installation of sound equipment in studio facilities, and the installation and maintenance of theater sound equipment provided by Western Electric. Local 695 had previously signed many of the men who worked for RCA Photophone, and the signing of the ERPI engineers in June of 1936 further bolstered their ranks.

While these hard-won gains helped to establish Local 695 as the primary bargaining agent for production and re-recording soundmen, they would continue the fight for the representation of all soundmen working at theaters and laboratory facilities well into December of 1936.

1937

While Local 695 continued in its efforts to organize those working in sound-related crafts, the fight to maintain representation of soundmen was far from over. On April 30th of 1937, the Federation of Motion Picture Crafts (FMPC) staged a surprise walkout. The FMPC was essentially a coalition of unions under the leadership of Jeff Kibre and covered about 6,000 members in various crafts, including art directors, costume designers, lab engineers, technical directors, set designers, scenic artists, hair and makeup artists, painters, plasterers, cooks and plumbers.

Kibre was a second-generation studio worker. His mother, a divorcée who had moved from Philadelphia in 1908, worked in the art department of some of the studios. After studying English at UCLA, and failing in his bid to become a screenwriter, Kibre joined Local 37 and took a job as a prop maker. He was reportedly a likable man and had a talent for making those around him feel as though he understood their problems. He was also an avowed Marxist and Communist, but apparently did not follow the party line, preferring to make his own determinations as to the correct course of action. As such, the Communist Party leadership refused to support his actions, which left him on periphery when it came to organizing.

While the April 30th walkout against the studios eventually failed, Kibre was not totally out of the picture. With the help of attorney Carey McWilliams, Kibre reorganized under the banner of the IATSE Progressives, and began a campaign to investigate the mob ties of the International.

While Kibre’s efforts to clear the IATSE of mob influence may have been laudatory, his ties (however loose) to the Communist Party ultimately worked against him. To his credit, however, Kibre’s actions led to the resignation of Willie Bioff, and well as the end of the 2% assessment fee levied on all members of the IATSE by George Browne after he had been installed as head of the International.

In the end, Kibre’s attempt to organize various crafts failed amidst the continued allegations of Communist influence, which were picked up on and exploited by the media during the late ’30s and early ’40s. He also received numerous death threats during this period, to the extent that he required a personal bodyguard around the clock. Despite his failure at fully organizing studio workers, he did manage to negotiate a deal to leave town if the IATSE leadership agreed not to persecute the membership of the democratically oriented United Studio Technicians Guild. Upon his departure, Kibre went to work for the CIO fishermen’s union.

Unfortunately, the media attention surrounding Kibre’s Communist Party affiliation provided a further distraction for the studios to exploit, serving to deflect attention from their own role in influencing labor negotiations, as well as their mob ties. This unfortunate scenario played right into the hands of the producers, who were only too happy to instigate any unrest within the labor movement.

It was probably due in part to this unwarranted attention (along with Jeff Kibre’s continued actions against the IATSE) that the membership of Local 695 took the unprecedented position to vote against the autonomous local leadership during a meeting held on December 22, 1937. Apparently, members felt that they had a better chance of maintaining their current wage structure (paltry as it was), if they let the International handle bargaining with the producers.

It wasn’t until a contentious three-hour meeting, held nine months later on September 16th of 1938, that more than 400 members of Local 695 would finally nominate a new set of officers to the Local, thereby returning control to the officers and members (although the actual election was deferred until the 28th of the month). Likewise, three other key IA locals (Camera Local 659, Laboratory Technicians Local 683, and Studio Mechanics Local 37), also voted to return control of their unions to local leadership. Once again, Harold Smith was voted business representative for Local 695.

The question of certification of Local 695 as the exclusive bargaining agent for soundmen, which was initially filed with the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) on October 12th of 1937, would continue to drag on into 1939, with no clear resolution.

Keeping Score—A Look at Wages

Given the current economic times we are living in, it is instructive to make a quick comparison of wages during the late 1930s. Below is an illustration of what a sound crew might expect to make on studio-based productions after new wage scales were put into effect in April of 1937, with equivalent comparisons to 2010.

Clearly, nobody was getting rich at these wages, especially when one takes into account that only very few of those members working in 1937 would be fortunate enough to work 42 weeks a year.

In comparison, it was reported in the September 17th issue of Variety that director Frank Capra received a salary of $100,000 each for three pictures, two bonuses of $50,000 each, plus 25% of the profits. While Capra was certainly an exception, director Rouben Mamoulian was reported to make $50,000 per picture, which is still nothing to sneer at.

Likewise, it is interesting to note that in September of 1938, Technicolor reported gross earnings for the first eight months of $862,612 (approximately $13.2M in 2010 dollars), which was nearly double the earnings for the same period in 1937. Somebody was making money—despite a national economy that was still faltering. (The national unemployment rate in 1937 stood at 14.3%, rising to 19.0% in 1938.)

It is therefore understandable when stories such as these hit the press, some crew members who toiled long hours in production might begin to feel that they were being taken advantage of. A similar parallel exists today when comparing the salaries of corporate CEOs to those of the workers who produce value for their companies.

1939 and Beyond

After having just approved the return to autonomous control of Local 695 by its newly elected board in September of 1938, the members would reverse this decision six months later. Fearful of losing the gains that had been made over the past years in wages and working conditions, the membership felt that the only leverage they had with studio management was the threat of a walkout by the projectionists.

Therefore, the members of 695 (along with Business Agent and International West Coast rep Harold Smith) felt letting the International handle the bargaining for a new Studio Basic Agreement would offer greater leverage than what they might be able to muster on their own. However, in a nod to local membership, it was agreed that any contract negotiated by the International would be ratified by the membership of the individual locals.

While the tactic of having the International control the negotiations may have been a good move in the short run (it took a threatened walkout of projectionists on April 16th of 1939 to even get producers to agree to come to the table), ultimately it placed a lot of power in the hands of the International, which at this time was still headed up by George Browne.

However, despite the events that would take place in federal court two years later, it is probably fair to say that Local 695, as well as most of the West Coast IATSE locals, would have not been able to survive the union-busting tactics of producers without having the projectionists support them. While some of the tactics employed by IA leaders during this period may be questionable, one must also remember that the studios employed their own set of “goon squads” which were equally unsavory in their tactics.

Ultimately, the greed of studio bosses was the factor that forced the rank-and-file membership of craft unions (regardless of their affiliation) to vote for measures that they might otherwise think twice about. Surely, most members of 695 would not have willingly handed over control of their local to the International unless they felt that was the only option left open to them.

While both the International and individual locals have to share some of the blame for the events that took place during this time period, if studio bosses had come to the bargaining table instead of trying to circumvent the rights of workers, things may have turned out differently.

© 2011 Scott D. Smith, CAS

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