It Pays to Be Prepared: Tape Your Magazines
Filming in a railroad yard for 'To Live and Die in LA'.
Jack Anderson, thirty-year
Hollywood veteran, is a Director
of Photography and teaches
cinematography at California State
University Long Beach. He was
DP for Always Say Goodbye; and
has been second-unit Director of
Photography on Hook, Noises Off,
Mad About You, and several other
productions, and Extra Camera
on Pretty Woman and Bird. He
film credits also include: To Live
and Die in LA, Down by Law, The
Long Riders, Oh God!, Broadcast
News, The Long Riders, Barfly,
and Showgirls. His many television
credits include: Third Rock From
the Sun, News Radio, Spin City, The
Tracey Ullman Show, Buffalo Bill,
Hill Street Blues, Quincy, and The
Rockford Files.
Most of the students I work with
these days don’t have a clear idea
why we tape the camera magazines
after we load them. How much of
the camera or magazine must be
wrapped with tape? Every camera
needs this? Why?
No, we’re not doing this to make
it light-tight. If the magazine or
camera leaks light, we’re in bigger
trouble than tape can fix.
The tape serves a couple of
purposes. First, it lets you know the
magazine is loaded. It’s important
to be able to tell what you’ve got at
a glance in the hustle of production.
Second, the color of the tape tells
you the specific emulsion in the
magazine. These days, with the
profusion of film types, it’s likely
that you will use more than one
stock—at least, you’ll have one for
interiors and one for exteriors. I
happened to be lucky to work as an
assistant long ago in the days of one
stock only. We either used Kodak or
Fuji. Today you might have three or
four separate emulsions on the same
film. So most assistants arbitrarily
decide on separate colors to represent
the different emulsions. Third, tape
around the lid and on the latches
prevents the accidental opening of a
loaded magazine.
Let me tell you a little story about
taping mags. I worked as a first
camera assistant on To Live and
Die in LA. Anyone will tell you that
the director is a lunatic. He wants
what he wants, he wants it when he
wants it, and reality has no effect
on his desires. We were shooting
in a railroad yard, and the director
wanted a shot of the train’s approach
from the point of view of a worm. So
we carefully measured the height of
the train, dug a shallow hole for it,
and placed the camera there with a
remote switch. The placement was
tricky, since the lens had to be high
enough to see the train bearing
down full frame, but low enough not
to get hit. We had an Arri 2C, then
the current model of the original
Arriflex. Usually, you would use a
Bell and Howell Eyemo in a crash
box—1/4” of steel plate surrounding
the camera—for something this
risky. But of course, the shot had
been dreamed up as the director sat
on the set, so we hadn’t rented one.
I used 200’ magazines on the Arri
because they gave the camera its
lowest profile. They’re rarely used
on professional productions (400’ is a
more useful size), but I had ordered
three of them just in case we needed
them. Being prepared like this, even
though the production manager may
object to the cost, is cheap insurance
against the unexpected.
The camera was set up and we
rolled it. Something went wrong
with timing, and we needed take
two. So I looked at the camera; it
had rolled about sixty feet, meaning
we had enough film in the magazine
for another two takes, with a margin
of safety. The director would have
none of this. “Change the magazine,
@$#%&!” Or, something to that
effect, he roared. Well, you always
want to be careful with film exposed
on a stunt even when it’s not quite
right. You never want to endanger
the film because that might be the
only time the stunt works. And
although the situation was fairly
well controlled, and although the
train had cleared the camera with
no problems, it made some sense to
reload and to save the exposed film
from any possible disaster.
So we reloaded, checked the
framing and the height of the
camera, and shot take two.
“I want another take.” Okay, I had
a third magazine, loaded and ready,
and we reloaded the camera, checked
everything, and rolled again. “Let’s
go again.”
Now, we were working in a rail
yard. There’s no way to bring a
camera truck into the yard. No roads,
lots of train tracks; and the railroad
company was insistent on its rules
of safety. So the camera truck had
to be parked on a street about half
a mile from where we were shooting.
I had sent the exposed film back to
the truck to be downloaded. It took
a while to negotiate the rocks and
clinkers that are the surface of the
train yard. And, it was half a mile
away – and it takes a certain amount
of time to download, wrap the film
safely, reload, and get back to the
set. So right now, we had used up
our three loaded magazines, since
the director insisted on a fresh load
for every take.
But the director wanted to do
another. For safety? Who knows?
He’s the boss, and he gets what he
wants.
And I had only three 200’
magazines. Each, now, with 140’ of
fresh but unusable film left on them.
And a loader in a truck a half a mile
away, and a second assistant moving
as fast as he could among the rails,
rocks, and clinkers to get me a fresh
magazine. Of course, I told the
director we could certainly do take
four, but it might be a short wait to
get a fresh magazine.
”What the @$#%& is going
on? Why don’t you guys have more
@$#%& magazines loaded? You
know, professionals have more than
one magazine. I want that shot!
Now! @$#%&!”
I gently explained about the
three used magazines, about having
to download them, about the half a
mile of rails, rocks, and clinkers.
Well, I think I mentioned the
director is crazy. So I mentioned that,
of course, we had more magazines,
but they were 400’ loads, and they
were bigger than the 200’ loads, and
the train had just barely cleared
the 200-footer, so I had to wait for a
newly loaded 200-foot mag.
“I don’t give a @$#%&! I want
that @$#%& shot! Put the @$#%&
400-foot magazine on the @$#%&!
camera.”
By now I gathered he didn’t
much care what might happen to the
camera. So I pulled out a 400-footer.
Just for the heck of it, before I loaded
it on to the camera, I took two-inch
gaffer tape – strong, cloth-backed,
black – and wrapped the magazine
with three layers of it.
I threaded the camera, stood
back, and we rolled.
Well, we got the shot, and the
director was happy. We all also got
to see the unique spectacle of a train
hitting a camera and throwing it
forty feet, where it landed lens down
in the yard.
The lens, of course, was shattered
– a mere five or ten thousand
dollars. The camera was ruined, too
– only about thirty thousand dollars.
And the magazine had a 2” section
peeled back as though a giant had
used an oversize can opener on the
magazine.
But the tape held! Despite the
impact from the train, and despite its
flight, and despite its rough landing,
the tape had stretched, completely
unbroken. We grabbed the magazine,
covered it with someone’s coat, and
hustled it to the darkroom. When
the film came back from the lab,
amazingly, the three layers of black
tape turned out to be light-tight.
And that’s the shot in the film
today, and that’s why you tape up
magazines.
This article may not be reprinted in print or internet publications without express permission of StudentFilmmakers.com.
Check out this article in the October 2008 print edition of StudentFilmmakers magazine, page 8.
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