It’s been great talking with you. You take care now, ‘kay?

And don’t forget to write.

But if none of that sways you…

I don’t cost you money - I save you money. I claim that I will save you more than my salary in the first three days of shooting.^[5] Never mind the story - calculate the cost of that one shot that would otherwise be useless: the stock, the crew time, the equipment, the whole works. The one where I got in with my Columbo “Um…just one thing…” before we shot it, and stopped it from being a waste. And yes, this has happened on every shoot I have worked on to date.

And if you’re doing really low-budget and really think you can’t afford me - well, that’s probably when you need me most.^[6] With a mostly green crew, you will get mistakes and omissions, and you want to be minimising them in the most cost-effective way possible to get the best film you can with the very limited amount of time and money you have available. Which is after all what you’re good at. And I’d strongly advocate that the most cost-effective way possible is me.^[7]

1. No, your flatmate doesn’t count.
2. Actually I can’t think of much I do with gaffers. Although I suppose I do give them edges on lights and such sometimes when the camera team are busy looking at something else. And yell out “flash” if using one with my camera so they know it’s not one of their lights blowing. Oh, and put up with their awful jokes.
3. Okay, it is perhaps possible to shoot a distributable film without a Script Supervisor - if you’re Rolf de Heer. But I know of only one other example where the resulting film has not been seriously compromised - Kiss or Kill (which you’ve probably never heard of if you’re reading this from outside Australia, but it won a lot of AFI Awards here). The (almost complete) lack of matching becomes part of the style, and you do get used to it. After a while. Not however knowing the story behind the absence of a Scripty, I can’t say whether the stylistic choice was intentional or just force of circumstance. Worth pointing out though that Bill Bennett has been directing for thirty years, and has used a Script Supervisor on every other film he’s done before and since…
4. The AFI Awards are basically a low-rent Australian equivalent of the Oscars. Incidentally, another AFI-winning film is Four. On which I was the Script Supervisor. Just thought I’d drop that in.
5. No, I’m not agreeing to that in writing. I know what you producers are like where money is concerned.
6. I still get occasional nightmares about the shoots for the films we made at film school.
7. NB. If you are Rolf de Heer, please drop me a line - we should talk.

I can also shield you from at least some of those constant unwanted questions - I know the script and know what you’re shooting (and sometimes even why) and can answer most of them without you having to break your train of thought.

I’m also a fall guy (sad but true). [NB. Actors and ADs, please stop reading at this point]. Since I’m used to being blamed for everything anyway, you can even use me when you’re not happy with a take to get another one “for continuity” without upsetting your actors. Or getting it past your 1st AD. Hey, camera operators do it all the time when they’re not happy with a take. Or when actors give them a signal that they weren’t happy with a take… (“Sorry - that one was no good, went soft at the end.” “Really - I didn’t see that?” “Yeah. And I jolted the camera by accident in the middle.” “Well that’s ok, we can cut around it.” “And the clip number’s out of sync so there must have been an unintentional button on/off somewhere else.” “Really? Well okay, I guess we’d better do it again then…”)

Oh, and I also do great neck massages.

1. Unless there’s a second unit which is running to its own Script Supervisor, or on the rare occurrences when the main Script Supervisor has an assistant.
2. Depending on the size and type of production - whichever one actually hired me.
3. Ho ho.
4. Everyone defers to the 1st AD. Even the Director…

My scene timings are used as the basis for the estimated running time of the finished film.^[2][3] This will give an idea of whether the intended ninety minutes is actually looking more like eighty or a hundred-and-eighty (and can hence prevent vast amount amounts of time and money being wasted on shooting things that aren’t going to end up in the final cut).^[4]

Then while we’re actually shooting, I keep track of how our actual timing corresponds to the original estimates, and you get an idea of whether the film is running short (rare) or long (common).^[5].

My breakdowns cover things like day order and scene progression, one-line scene synopses, who and what is in each scene, that sort of thing. These go to the other heads of department for them to cross-reference and plan. You can see some of the form templates I use over in the Forms section of this website, and there are a couple of real examples in the Samples section.

Most important of all though is that a Script Supervisor has to know the script. Which requires reading, re-reading and re-reading, doing countless breakdowns and progressions (some to share, many just for my own notes), and clarifying anything that’s not clear with the director (or writer) as far in advance as possible. I’m trying to anticipate potential problems before we encounter them when we’re actually shooting, since by then chances are it’s too late to do anything about them (”What do you mean, he should be in Prussia not Russia?”).

If you don’t know the script, then you just won’t be able to function properly as a Script Supervisor on set.^[6] And without that pre-production work, you’re just not going to know the script properly.^[7][8]

1. And to save another question: No, I don’t have anything to do with post-production once my MUS and Continuity Sheets have been delivered, although I am always available to the editor for any queries she may have.
2. Also by the 1st AD for scheduling and such.
3. Scene lengths are measured in eighths of a page - hence 1 1/2 pages is actually 1 4/8 and so on - and the standard rule-of-thumb when looking at a script is that one page roughly equals one minute of screen time (for film anyway). This can be used as a rough guide for initial timing and scheduling, but it is only a very rough guide. Sure, normally a 1/8 scene should run a lot shorter and take a lot less time to shoot than a four pager - but take my favourite example of a 1/8 scene, one I heard from a cinematographer friend: “The elephant pushes the ferris wheel off the end of the pier…”
4. Ron Burgundy, I’m looking at you.
5. As for how I arrive at my initial estimated timings - I’ll leave that to your imagination…
6. Which makes standing in for or taking over from another scripty particularly hard.
7. For a feature film, this all needs between five to ten days (dependent on film and budget); for a short, usually a day.
8. Although for shorts at least, this “day” is more “ten hours spread over a couple of weeks.”

In terms of what I don’t watch for - I’m not looking at:

• Performance. As mentioned earlier, this is between the Director and the Actors. Exclusively.
• Lighting. This is the DoP’s area, and frankly I wouldn’t have a clue. It can take over twenty years of experience for camera assistants to work their way up to cinematographers, and their world is one of marvellous cinematic magic to me. In the studio they may have all sorts of complex lighting setups programmed into the board for each shot, while outdoors their ability to manipulate natural lighting is astonishing.^[2] It’s also worth pointing out that, in terms of lighting, what I see on the monitor while the film is being shot is not the same as what it is going to look like on the screen. Cinematographers do all sorts of funny things with their lighting based on what they intend to do afterwards.
  I do however log basic camera info for each shot (lens, stop, filter, and if I’m lucky focus), and will often note down things at the DoP’s request. These might be notes on particular takes (something as simple as “DoP’s preferred”), reminders for future reverse shots (”We’ll need to up to 4000 for the reverse”), or grading notes for the editor to be aware of (”We’ll be bumping this up a half-stop in the grade”).
• Image quality. By this I mean things like focus - the camera operator is going to know if the shot was soft without me pointing it out. More likely, she’ll tell me “soft in the middle” to put on the continuity sheets for the editor.
• Composition. This is between the Director and DoP, and in turn the Camera Operator, and nothing to do with me.
  That said, I do constantly scan the frame, looking for those distractions I was banging on about earlier. So if while the Camera Operator is adjusting the frame to get just the right amount of Sam Spade’s face in shadow, I notice what looks suspiciously like the legs of a C-Stand in the background camera-right, I will quietly check to see if it’s supposed to be there. But I’m not looking at the merits or otherwise of the frame - I’m just checking to see that there’s nothing in it which is going to prevent the shot from being used or distract the audience.^[3]

1. The key is to keep the heat as low as possible, and to have the butter at room temperature. Won’t work straight from the fridge.
2. Cinematography is known as “painting with light” for a reason.
3. I have however been known to sigh aloud at shots of sheer beauty being framed up in front of me, but no-one seems to mind that sort of comment.