4/15/2003
- First of two commentary recording sessions with David Fincher at
POP, Santa Monica.
So I'm sitting in a tiny recording booth at POP with David Fincher
going over the disc configuration. It's after the session and I
bring up a point about the number of discs we've been planning.
Fairly early on I had pitched him the idea of a four disc set, with
each disc representing a different phase of production
(pre-production, principal photography, post, and the film itself),
with each disc represented on the menus by one of the four floors of
the brownstone. He liked the idea and that's what I'd been working
toward. But as the supplements neared completion, I realized that we
didn't actually need four discs to fit everything in. I was torn
because I really liked the cleanliness of the layout: I thought it
was elegant; but as an end user, I didn't want to require any more
getting-up-off-the-couch than necessary. Now I was positive I'd
mentioned this to the Sony executives, but Michael Stradford was
sitting in the adjoining room and could hear everything we were
saying over the two-way speaker system and a moment later his voice
came over the com saying: "Two discs, right? We're talking
about two discs." For a moment there I thought we there was
going to be trouble, but Fincher, who can be disarmingly calm and
forceful at the same time, said: "Well, no we're trying to
decide if it's going to be three or four." And that was the end
of that.
Which reminds me, I have a little rebuking to do. As the Panic
Room: Special Edition drew closer to release, a lot of
internet chatter sprung up suggesting that the film didn't deserve
such comprehensive treatment, that three discs was too damn much and
why didn't studios devote their time and resources to worthier
movies? There was a surprising lot of that, actually, more than I
expected, and I expected some. And I have one thing to say to these
righteous complainers: Quit your bellyaching, you ungrateful
bastards. Apart from the irritation of listening to criticism from
people who hadn't even seen the final product, many top-level
executives are convinced that DVD would sell just as well with no
supplements at all (hell, they're probably right), and complaints
from the public about too much content don't help. It also betrays a
complete ignorance of how these kinds of decisions are made. Nobody
calls a meeting and says: "Well guys, we have five gigantic,
multi-disc special editions to do this year. Which are our five
lousiest movies?" Panic Room
was a big, ambitious project because I wanted it to be and Fincher
and the studio supported me. That's it. Dropping a disc worth of
material from Panic Room would
not have meant an extra disc for Experiment
in Terror, no matter how much it may deserve it. Susan
King in her L.A. Times capsule review praised the supplements as
intelligent and thorough, then proceeded to brand the whole
enterprise as "DVD overkill," which I suspect is just a
lazy way of saying "I don't care." Well if you don't care,
it's not for you. And if you're not interested in American history,
don't read Stephen Ambrose. But if you're interested in the craft of
filmmaking, especially highly advanced craft carried out under
extreme pressure, then there aren't many films more worthy of study
than Panic Room.
9/4/2003 - Meeting at Pixel
Liberation Front about the creation of the menus.
Fincher had the smart idea of using the same company who did the
previsualizations on the film to do the menu animation. Nobody was
too keen on the menus from the previous release, so a fresh
perspective was required and PLF was perfect. Not only did they
already have the entire brownstone set in 3D, but they'd never done
menus before; it's a lot easier to think outside the box when you
never knew there WAS a box to begin with. It reminded me of
Fincher's decision to hire Dust Brothers to do the score for Fight
Club precisely BECAUSE they'd never done it before.
If I had it to do over again, I would have two menu systems. I love
the menus as they are, but after you've seen them a couple of times,
navigation gets a bit irritating. I had wanted to create a simple,
stripped-down, non-animated menu system that you could elect to use
instead, so that if you're revisiting something on one of the discs,
you can get there faster. In the crunch to finish, though, it's just
one of those things that got away.
PLF actually ended up creating too much animation. I had an idea for
an interactive tour-the-brownstone feature that would allow the
user, via their remote control, to take a self-guided tour through
the virtual set. But when all the navigation was laid out, we
realized we'd need an entire disc just to hold the extensive
animation. So... exit the tour-the-brownstone. A lot of animation
had been done, however, and it seemed a shame to waste it, so for a
while it became a tour without the interactive element. That seemed
thin though, not enough somehow. So I hit on the idea of combining
it with the DVD credits so at least it served a dual purpose, and
might give people a reason to WATCH the credits in the bargain. As
it stands though, it comes off as the world's most grandiose credit
list. Alas, you can't win 'em all.
5/12/2003 - Interviewed Joe Viskocil.
Geeked out.
Joe Viskocil was one of several late replacements on the Panic
Room crew. The special effects had been prepped for
fourteen weeks by another supervisor before Joe was brought in to
complete the show. For those of you who don't know, Joe made his
name as a miniature pyrotechnician - he figured out how to scale
down explosions for miniatures. He worked on Star
Wars and blew up the Death Star. I repeat, he blew up the
Death Star. He blew up the Death Star and he was sitting on my couch
drinking a Diet Coke and chit-chatting about blowing up the Death
Star, and other stuff. You may have noticed that some of his
interview was a tad out of focus. That's because I was shooting it
and I was too busy talking about blowing up the Death Star to check
minor technical issues like focus or whether the camera was turned
on or not.
There was a bizarre reluctance to talk about the crew changes on
Sony's part. I had to really pare down the sections dealing with
Darius Khondji and Joe Viskocil because, even though the
replacements were well documented in print prior to the release of
the film, and none of it was a secret, and my treatment of it was
certainly not controversial, the legal department wanted no mention
of it whatsoever. From a documentarian's point of view, that
position was untenable. It turned into rather a big ordeal, in fact,
which Fincher had to come in and arbitrate. Everybody knows we live
in a pathologically litigious society. But I've always maintained
the only way to completely protect yourself from a frivolous lawsuit
is to hide in a cave somewhere and hope some Bedouin doesn't sue you
for squatting. If you're going to release something for mass
consumption, you risk getting sued. That's just reality. I remember
Fincher saying something along the lines of: "The only reason
big studios exist is to handle issues like this. If you're not going
to do that, why bother with anything?" God bless him.
10/10/2003 - Still editing
commentaries. One track falls by the wayside.
While I'm ultimately proud of the final disc, there were a few
things that got away, a few mistakes that were made that really make
me wince. There was an optional commentary for the Shooting
Panic Room doc, comprised of left over bits of Fincher
and Conrad W. Hall. I didn't find out it wasn't on the disc until
the first reviews came out and nobody mentioned it. There was also a
page of introductory text explaining the Habittrail
Film. For those of you who wondered what the hell that
little animation was all about, here's what should have appeared on
a sub-menu:
Habitrail Film
Usually chase sequences are conceived shot-by-shot, with the action
tailored to each specific angle. But David Fincher designed the
chase sequence following the break-in to be a continuous series of
actions, with the camera angles worked out after the blocking. This
approach created a more organic feel to the action, as though
cameras just happened to be there to photograph an
event-in-progress. In order to choreograph the chase, he had PLF
create a cutaway view of the brownstone and track CG figures through
the space. This animation was affectionately dubbed The
Habitrail Film.
Why isn't that on the disc? I don't know. But it points up a pretty
important issue: it's in nobody's best interest for the producer and
creative force behind the supplements to be dis-included in the
authoring and compression phase, especially on a highly complex
project like this one, which is what happened here. Authoring is the
producer's one chance to see the thing as a whole and make sure
everything works before it's too late to make fixes. And nobody is
in a better position than the producer to catch mistakes, whether
his own or the studio's. God knows, I've prevented more than a
couple of lawsuits in the past by pointing out where the authoring
facility had used the wrong revision of something. I'm sure nobody
was maliciously sabotaging the thing, but the imperfections on the
discs pain me enormously. It's like being asked to build a car but
not being allowed to test drive it before it goes to market, then
finding out nobody attached the airbags.
But before anyone accuses me of excessive whining, allow me to
acknowledge the people at the studio who deserve credit for sticking
with the project and making it happen. Michael Stradford at Sony
Home Entertainment was totally dedicated to getting the disc made.
April Olsen coordinated PLF and Creative Domain in pulling the menus
together. Jon Simon provided legal and research support. And
Gretchen Greaves stuck by me and fought a lot of battles on the
projects' behalf. Next to myself and Keith Clark, nobody worked
harder on it than Gretchen.
There are also some people at the studio who deserve an entirely
different kind of notice, and they're all in the marketing division.
It's been a while since I've seen a project so unceremoniously
dumped by the very same people who stood to reap the most benefit
from its success. Let alone print and broadcast media, there wasn't
so much as an internet banner ad announcing the DVD's release, and
after two years of struggle and hard work that's pretty insulting. I
guess it's true what they say about horses and water. On a much
smaller scale, it reminded me of how Terry Gilliam must have felt
when The Adventures of Baron Munchausen
was shot in the back of the head, execution style, by the theatrical
marketing people.
I suppose this has strayed a bit from a production journal and
turned into something more like a diatribe, but I warned you from
the beginning that it wasn't a true diary. There's a lot more I
could tell you about, like the gracious help of the post supervisor,
Peter Mavromates, or shooting the Digital Intermediate piece at
Technique, but there's no dirt there, nothing to complain about, and
who wants to read to a love-fest? Of course there's Tom Woodruff and
Alec Gillis, both of whom I feel an unwholesome amount of affection
for, but the less said about that the better.
If you're still reading this, I hope that it's given you some
insight into the rationale behind the production and maybe given you
some incentive to buy the disc and check it out. If you still think
three discs was too much, I hope you'll buy it anyway and exercise
your right not to watch.
David Prior
Editor's Note: Watch for our review of the
Panic Room: Special Edition, coming soon. |