Real Horror Stories From Videographers

It's a proud moment when we can deliver a final project after all our trials and tribulations; we all love to marvel at how smart we were when we made the fix. We might even brag about it to our closest video-producing pals, but for the most part we keep our secret in the dark corners of the attic, never telling outsiders (non-shooters) what happened. We all know that if the audience doesn't know it happened, that's a good fix.

However, like an old soldier of days gone by, we do love to talk about our war stories to our fellow creatures-in-the-trenches. Every year here at Videomaker we open the forum up to our readers, to allow them to tell us their most interesting Video Horror Stories. Usually, I open the stage with a story of derring-do from my network news past, but this year's horror story is from my recent video work here with Videomaker, and I'm actually quite embarrassed to reveal it, but here goes.

Last year, for the third year in a row, I was invited to attend a reception honoring the directors of the annual Academy Awards Documentary category. All of the gear I was using was new, and I meant to take an hour to familiarize myself with the equipment, but I ran out of time. After arriving in L.A. moments before showtime, I called for a taxi to take me to the event, then sat down in the motel lobby to do a quick gear check. It was then that I discovered I didn't have double-A batteries for the lav or shotgun mics.

Grabbing my gear, with the clock ticking, I ran outside my motel room and spotted a guitar store a city-block down the street. I dodged six lanes of traffic to get across the street, and luckily, the store clerk happened to have an open package of batteries in a drawer and offered them to me... at a premium. Crossing my eyes, and holding the stitch in my side, I paid for the bats and rushed back to the motel just as the taxi arrived. I jumped in the cab, attaching the light and mics as the taxi crawled through rush-hour traffic. Arriving at the Academy at the same time as the honorees, I had no time for a mic check, so I literally thrust the mic under the mouth of my first interview subject and began to roll.

As I traveled around the room, conducting more interviews, I relaxed a bit to check my exposure and audio levels and my heart stopped. The audio meters on the LED viewfinder were completely blank. How could I not have noticed that? The only sound I got of the nine directors I spoke to was from the last one I interviewed: Michael Moore. I discovered later that the batteries the guitar store sold me were dead. There I was, surrounded by the crème de la crème of documentary directors, dozens of other flashing cameras and the glitz and glamour of Hollywood's elite, and I forgot to do three of the simplest things we always preach here at Videomaker: Know Your Gear, Be Prepared, Watch Your Levels. (Don't Be Stupid is a given.) My fix? I used sound full of Moore's interview, and voiced-over the rest of the story with tidbits on the other eight directors. -Jennifer O'Rourke

A regular client needed another 30-second commercial produced for the archery store he owns. He had a brand-new ATV/quad on loan which he wanted to use in the next commercial, to give it that great outdoors hunting trip feel. A week before our scheduled shoot date he called in a panic. "I have to return the 4-wheeler to the dealer tonight; it's been sold. Can we shoot this now?" (It's 1pm in the afternoon.. are you kidding me?) I grabbed my gear and met him at the woods location we planned to shoot. I set up and begin having a mild anxiety attack, knowing that the light of day is slowly dying, I have less than half a battery, he has to have the quad returned in four hours, and his employees are calling him every two seconds, needing his assistance back at his shop.

I leave the gear bags and cases in the field, and we venture a half mile into deep woods to the location. We shoot till 4pm... and get some great shots. It's a miracle. We go back to the field at the edge of the woods, and I pack up in a hurry. I struggle to get my tripod back in the bag. It's dark. He returns the quad, I go home, unpack my stuff near the edit computer and start editing.

After uploading footage, I push my chair back from the desk and the chair wheels get stuck on something, I force the chair back and think nothing of it. Get coffee, go back to desk. Then... I almost have a heart attack. There's a two-and-a-half foot snake under my office chair... half alive, because I had run it over with the chair. It had crawled out from the tripod bag. How I never noticed the snake in the bag at any point in between is beyond me.

Funny thing... the most pressured shoots seem to yield some of the best work. To date, that commercial is one of the best I've produced yet. -TruckerTim