American Cinematographer

April Issue

 

President’s Desk

 

“Our responsibility is to the visual image of the film as well as the well-being of the crew. The continuing and expanding practice of working extreme hours can compromise both the quality of our work and the health and safety of others.”

    A simple, elegant comment from one of the most honored and respected figures in the business. When the late Conrad Hall, ASC made this statement in 2002, he had just endured (survived, more likely) an arduous – but no particularly uncommon – schedule on Road to Perdition. His purpose was to incite reform of a policy which had over time become a type of officially sanctioned abuse. Five years earlier, assistant cameraman Brent Hershman had been killed while driving home from a shoot in a sleep-deprived state. Countless others continue to avoid a similar fate merely by luck. It remains in the environment that leads to the working of excessive hours.

    If you’re unfamiliar with our habits, don’t dare chalk this up to laziness or lack of enthusiasm. No other occupation I’m aware of puts in the kind of time we do. We perform our work in any number of irregular, lengthy and changeable combinations, all while being subjected to every kind of weather condition.

    The medical, physical and mental effects of going too long without sleep or having one’s sleep interrupted are varied and well documented, and none of them is good. The human body is capable of staggering endurance, but no one should have to call on those reserves just to make a living. During “Hell Week,” Navy SEAL candidates routinely get fewer than four hours of sleep out of a 120-hour evolution. Most of that time, they are freezing cold and soaking wet. Trainees have been known to mentally collapse, to have visions, to hallucinate. This extreme regimen is part of the toughest military training in the world. It prepares men for war.

    We’re not going to war, but a parallel exists in our own world. It begins with a 7 a.m. call on Monday, and instead of finishing with an 8 p.m. wrap, it is followed by dailies and consultations for the next day with the director and producer. Then there’s travel home or back to the hotel, and perhaps a meal. No one jumps into bed the instant he walks through he door, so add at least another half-hour of decompression time. Before you know it, you’ve been awake and at it for 18-19 hours. Then gradually push that 8 a.m. call forward so that by Friday, this crucible begins at 5 p.m. and ends at 7 or 8 the following morning. Working on location? You’re most likely finishing your week on Sunday morning – and preparing to return to the set on Monday at 7 a.m.

    Now repeat that pattern for months on end. It’s like living in a state of constant, impenetrable jet lag. Health, relationships and quality of work suffer, and safety on set is compromised. Can you imagine asking an insurance salesman to maintain this pace? A grocery manager? An accountant? I promise you, the clerks who came up with this devilish design rarely approach a productive eight hours in their warm, dry offices. They probably don’t find themselves nodding off behind the wheel on the San Diego Freeway, either.

    ASC member Haskell Wexler screened his documentary Who Needs Sleep? to great acclaim at this year’s Sundance Film Festival. The film was seven years in the making and is extraordinarily well-researched and presented, and it verifies the conclusion Hall referred to in his seminal statement. When you strip away the emotional attachments and artistic pretensions surrounding what we do, the object of our passion is seen for what it really is: a job. How abusive hours became standard procedure and why it’s allowed to continue are of no significance. What is important is that this situation needs to change.

 

 

Richard P. Crudo, ASC

President