There Is No Perfect Shot

I’ve been an A Cam/Steadicam operator for 32 years now, and I can honestly tell you that I’ve done three shots that I am actually proud of (one was a lockoff).

None of them is perfect.

Every single one of those shots, and every single shot I have ever done, could be better. I watch the final product and notice a bobble, notice a frame choice, notice a decision to start or finish a pan, and there is always something I wish I would have done better. That’s because the simple reality of operating, and, really, of life, is there is no such thing as ‘perfect’; you can always improve. And that is, sometimes, the difference between being exceptional and simply being successful.

Years ago, I was doing a shot in NYC with a tremendously talented director that involved a steadicam shot mounted on a small electric vehicle called a grip trix. It's about the size of a very large golf cart but with no canopy, and there is room for about two other people after the driver and the operator. It was an extremely long tracking shot, a oner, and so he could see it, the director sat next to me on the back of the vehicle. 

The resets took about 20 minutes, so we started talking during that time. First, about New York, then about Europe where he lived, and, eventually, once I felt like I wasn’t ambushing him, I asked him a question I like to ask filmmakers I respect. 

His previous film, his first, had been an incredible achievement, and I had taken this job simply so I could work with him. So, I asked him about the film, what the experience was like to make it, general questions, and then, finally, asked him if the final film was what he had envisioned in his head, had written down on paper, or if it had changed drastically during the process.

He laughed at the question and I was afraid that I might have insulted him but, instead, he said the following. I’m going to put this in quotes so you get the flavor of it even though I obviously can’t recall the exact words he used, but it was so impactful to me that it might actually be accurate. (Picture us on the back of the vehicle, slowly driving across Manhattan at two in the morning, flanked by silent police cars who were escorting us on the street… it was magical).

His response (after he stopped chuckling and assured me he wasn’t making fun of me):

“You've just done this shot four times, and I loved every single take.” He grabbed my arm to assure me and leaned in, looking in my eyes. “Every. Single. One. Each take had amazing energy, amazing nuances, and looked incredible. We are going to do it again, but it won't be the same. In fact, it can’t be, because we are artists, not plumbers. Every time you do this shot, you create something. You make slight framing adjustments, the actor does something different, the world around us interacts differently. If we did the same shot over and over, with no changes, then why even do it? We are artists, and artists improvise. Artists improve. Artists create. If I had written a script, and then simply manufactured what was on the page and in my head, I’d be a plumber. I’m not a plumber, I’m an artist. You are an artist. We don't build, we create.”

Reading that, I can see how it could come off as being indulgent and over the top, but the reality is he was 100% serious and he was 100% right. We are not plumbers (no offense to plumbers because we need them more than we need camera operators). There is no such thing as perfection because every time we unlock a head, pick up a camera, turn on a gimbal, we are getting ready to create, and when that camera rolls, and the director calls action, we are performers on a stage playing to the world and every single performance will be, should be, and must be different.

Now having said all of that, it's important to also recognize that we are part of an ensemble and that is an ensemble of other artists. So, if you are not able to accept that no shot will ever be ‘perfect’, whatever that means, to recognize that, yes, maybe you could have done better but the actor hit it out of the park and that is where the real story is, we can get into trouble by constantly asking for “just one more”. Like Kenny Rogers said, you’ve got to know when to hold em, when to fold em, when to walk away, and when to run (your kids can google that on the internets). 

Early on in your career, you are always going to want to ask for another one, partly because you are not as good as you will one day be, and partly because you are not secure with your own abilities. If a shot doesn’t work–you fell off the dolly, it ran over you, the actor started to scream and the backdrop fell down as a result–yes, ask for another one. But if everyone is happy and you are bummed that you didn’t pan quite as well as you’d like, or something wasn’t as perfect as you’d like, shut up, smile, and move on. 

Recognizing that there are no perfect shots can be a blessing if you continually improve on things, or a curse if you can’t move on and say you have it. Let it be a blessing.