A Pursuit Race

I was very excited to get back to shooting yesterday. We had a good day and got lots of really great stuff. Performances were very good. Everyone did a fantastic job. Joey not only did a great job on screen but he jumped in and helped with breaking down locations and loading gear. I liked all of our shots yesterday. We did some frenetic dolly shots, a very tranquil and oblique long shot and a couple of very slow dolly moves - a push in and a glacial crab. The crab was so slow that you couldn't tell the camera was moving. My hope is that it is akin to the moves in Goodbye South Goodbye where you think the camera hasn't moved and then you realize the frame has shifted during the shot.
We had a good day. Yes, I said it again. When you get your shots and take the time to make sure you give everybody a chance to do their best work beyond a usable take, you've had a good day. Especially when you have a tiny crew and jump to four locations. I need to remind myself we had a good day because I have some remorse about it. I felt like I was fighting the clock all day. Someone was a half an hour late - during which I took deep breaths and promised myself not to look at my watch until they showed up. First shot was at my place, so I slowly set up equipment and reminded myself that everybody was doing their best. However I only have so much stamina for that patience crap. I noticed that patience got thin as one thing after another went wrong - car crash on Hawthorne, wardrobe miscommunication, ran out of batteries for sound, fight choreography, tricky camera move (I was operating camera), specialty props, babysitter took forever getting the kids out of the house, random duder wanted to talk about learning to direct, neighbors' home improvement projects, et cetera. All the while I felt like we were racing the clock - in a pursuit race with time.
My ideal when things go wrong is to say and feel that I'm glad it happened, remembering Aurelius: Anything that happens at all, happens as it should. But sometimes I can't meet calamity with serenity. I feel my stress level spill into the way I talk to actors, to the way I direct them. It makes them want to do a good job, so as to be one less stressor to their director. It brings tension to their perfomance and ignores that they are not responsible for my stress level nor should they even sense it. I say shitty things like, "Acting 101, don't blah blah" What a dick. How about, "Hey guys, that was great. Remember your blocking basics and shift if someone gets between you and the camera."?
The bottom line is I'm asking a lot of myself on this one. Maybe it's not supposed to feel good the whole way. Maybe that's expecting too much of myself. Maybe I have to live and learn like the rest of the human race. Maybe. I get really caught up in worry that I'm letting people down emotionally, my own behavioral performance anxiety. It's a downward spiral. Without making excuses for untoward behavior, I don't have the opportunity to decompress much between shots or setups. I'm going to have to trust that the cast and crew realize this, yet still feel my support. That's really the key, that we're all supporting each other. It feels like all eyes are on me sometimes, and they are, but it's a two way street. A street that we're paving as we go. I want to experience those rough patches with a smile. Not only for the people that are essential to realizing this vision, but for myself as well. We all deserve it. Being able to do this is a gift. A glorious, wonderful privilege.

!viva!
Signore Direttore