The job of the camera operator has many facets but in the end it can be distilled into two pretty simple ideas: can you accomplish the shot, and can you make it better. This is how I approach every shot I do and the way I break it down is to start with looking for assassins and opportunities.

Years ago, when I was still a young pup steadicam op, we had a newer director come in on a very very big show I was working on. After about the second scene I noticed that I simply wasn’t landing frames well or wasn’t landing them at all. It was the strangest thing because while I had been an operator for quite some time I felt like I didn’t know how to use the equipment anymore. I secretly wondered if I’d been drugged or was sick.

Younger operators often ask me what they can do when they aren’t working (which is most of the time at that point in their career) so they can continue learning. It's tough to be starting out, to want to get experience but to not have the ability to be going to set every day and learning. Here’s what I tell them:

Nowadays in this digital realm that we work in (or at least when we went digital it seems like that was when sliders first started showing up), there are no sets that I go on that dont have a few sliders for the operator to use. For those of you who don't know, a slider is a rectangular unit that sits below the head on top of the dolly or a set of sticks, and with the help of some rails, ball bearings and unicorn tears, allows you to slide the camera from one side to another, or forward and back if set differently, extremely smoothly.

If you haven't figured it out yet, everything you do as an operator revolves around story. So, the best way to do your job is to know the story like the back of your hand.

As an operator, it is clear what your job is. Frame the story, move the camera, understand storytelling through the lens, be a part of the team. Underlying all of that are other concepts that you should start considering, ones that will only make you better. One of the big ones is to think like an editor. Sometimes, doing so can be the difference between being a good operator and being a great operator.

One of the first rules you will need to master as an operator is the line, that magical imaginary line that connects two people in a scene that you cannot cross with the camera or all life as we know it will cease to exist, the universe will implode and time itself will end. I kid of course, but I know directors, DPs, script supervisors and beyond who cannot fathom crossing the line for any reason, and feel it should never be done. I know one director who actually has to maintain the line when shooting people in separate rooms on phone calls (at least as far as which way they are looking) and I always ask him “Do you really think if she looks the other way people aren’t going to know she is still talking to the guy on the other end of the phone?”.

Seriously? 

Primes.

I’m not saying zoom lenses don't have their place, but zoom lenses should be used to tell the story with an in camera zoom. Anything else makes for lazy filmmaking.

By my estimation, stand-ins are both the most underrated and one of the most crucial part of any operator's experience. A great stand-in can save your ass and a poor stand-in can make your job extremely tough. I always try to make it a point to introduce myself to them on day one, and engage them in the process. Their job can be truly tough, as standing still while people look at you is not the easiest thing to do, and the more you let them know how important what they do is (it really is), the more involved they will be. 

Concept shots are larger than normal shots that generally require a bit more planning. They can involve 100s of extras and take days to shoot, but they really aren’t dictated by length, size, scope, or anything else. In my mind, these are shots that simply stand out for their ability to tell a large part of the story and are different from simply master and coverage shots. 

When you are operating, everything is about the frame and the camera movement, all of which are dictated by story. As a result, any body movement required of you to get the shot is going to have to be ‘operated’ out of the shot so that it is not seen.

A friend called me a ways back freaked out about his first gig as a B cam operator. After getting off the phone I put this together and sent it. Some things I wish I had known when I first started out but by no means complete.

There are no perfect shots. Forget that idea. There are shots that work and shots that dont but EVERY shot can always be improved on.

If there was one singular idea, one key ingredient to being a great op, one unquestionable skill that anyone wanting to be an operator needs to know, it's this:

Know the story.

You are a storyteller–not a person who points a camera. 

When you are operating, everything is about the frame and the camera movement, all of which are dictated by story. As a result, any body movement required of you to get the shot is going to have to be ‘operated’ out of the shot so that it is not seen.

Don’t judge a book by its cover. All that glitters is not gold. The cowl does not make the monk.

We all grew up hearing these sayings and know what they mean. (Well, not that last one; I looked it up, but I like it.) Don’t judge someone by how they look, judge them by who they are.

The best camera operators are there - listening, offering thoughts, being part of the team - without being flashy or showy. They blend in to the crew in a way that still keeps them present but doesn’t draw attention to themselves.

A few years back, I was working on a show where we had a scene that took place on the top floor of a parking structure. It was the tallest structure in the area and the director picked it because you could see most of the city. I can’t recall why, but we had a little bit of a delay and, as we sat there, I noticed that we were in the flight path of a local airport and planes were flying past us, somewhat low, from left to right every two minutes or so.

This will be a little esoteric without a specific example, but hopefully the idea comes through. When you are doing a shot that requires a lot of physical movement–handheld, a huge pan on a head where you need to walk around the dolly or sticks, even a steadicam shot–walk through the motions and set yourself up so that you make the hardest part of the shot as easy at it can be.

Film sets can run the gamut as far as how crazed they are, but, in the end, especially as the sun is setting, they generally resemble some form of mildly controlled chaos. Everyone has a job to do, everyone’s job is important, many jobs are dependent on other people doing their job first, and, through it all, the clock is always ticking. It's ironic, because, in the end, everyone is trying to achieve the same goal but no one wants to be the one who gets short-changed when it comes to time, so everyone is hustling all the time, interspersed with periods of intense boredom. It's an odd world, that’s for sure.

From the moment I got into the camera department, there was this very clear sense, although never stated, that the sound department and the camera department were at odds with each other. I’ve never understood it, to be honest, and as the film industry evolves and younger members come in, thankfully, it seems to be fading. But there is still a weird animosity that many of us can sense.