Wet Nickers = Good TV

Making a living in the film/video business takes an ambidextrous soul. I've never been afraid to grab a camera and dangle from something precarious to get the shot. I like getting the shot. I would imagine that it produces in me the same cocktail of dizzying endorphins that a long distance runner might enjoy. Since I am not a long distance runner I can only surmise.

A few of the more bone-headed moves I pulled over the years include hanging out the side of a mini-van to shoot a moving bus, climbing a rickety old grain silo to film pigeons, or shooting any number of music videos in the "bad" part of Chicago.

In the 14 years I've been doing this, I can honestly say that I've only broken a couple of things. One was a monitor, and I'm blaming the c-stand on that one. The other was a light, but who amongst us hasn't shattered a light, or two?

I once heard a story of a camera-op who set his 90 thousand dollar digi-beta cam on a dock so that he might extend a hand to another getting off the boat. The camera was just a hair to close to the edge, and as the gentleman helped his friend ashore they both watched as the camera teetered, and then kur-sploshed into the drink. 90K - gone, just like that. It happens, and as I knock on my own head, I'll say I'm glad that it's never happened to me. Knock on wood.

The monitor was only 3K, and that hurt plenty. Damn you, cursed C-stand! By far the most dangerous piece of equipment on set!



Ted Lega, executive producer of HotCakes and Protein Editorial, calls me during a grey and chilly Chicago spring morning.

"It's gunna be run-n-gun footage of guys test drivin boats in Miami. You interested?"

"Does a rabbit bump it's ass a-hopping?"

I'd like to think that the reason that I have escaped injury, and for the most part, expensive repair bills, is because I take calculated risks. Calculated to be in favor of me not falling off a speeding boat, while not dead-ing myself in order to keep shooting, kind of risks. Often though, its just dumb luck that gets us through, and if you don't believe in luck, a sympathetic Universe.

Case in point, the Miami shoot was progressing nicely. Already on our second day the line of test drivers was shrinking and we had plenty of footage in the can to sell the spot. It was towards the end of the day and the setting sun was starting to make things look really pretty. We raced past each other at breakneck speed. We climbed an abandoned house in stilts-ville and zoomed past some more for overhead shots on the cheap. It was while the boat was at a dead stop that calamity nearly ruined the trip.

We were on a 20 foot long deep-sea fishing vehicle built for speed and there was limited room for myself and the audio technician to operate in. While we decided on the next direction to tear off in, the audio guy squeezed past me as I leaned backwards to give him more room. The decks were wet and my trainers slipped out from under me. I fell backwards over the side rail.

What happened in the next half a second was as follows: I could see the reflection of my own horrified face in the shinny sunglasses of the equally horrified sound guy as he looked up from his dials to see me receding overboard, camera in hand. He reached forward to grab me. I pushed the camera forward towards his chest, and yelled, "camera!" His arms closed around the Sony EX3 like a venus fly trap snaring a bug. I went over the side. Splash, tethered to the boat by my headphones!

I was back in the boat as quick as I went over.

On the way back to the dock we decided to leverage my dripping drawers to see if we could give Ted Lega, the director and producer of this gig, a mild aneurism by insinuating that the camera had been lost to Davy Jones. The south Florida, sun-kissed face of Mr. Lega went Chicago winter white when I threw my hands in the air cursing the rolling seas and gravity.

When we finished torturing Teddy there was one more shot to get.

"there's a spot, only 3-5 foot deep, we could zoom past about 10 feet away going 60 mph."

"well, my shorts are already wet."

So over I went again. On purpose this time.




written by: Edward Seaton

Food Porn For The Soul

"So, we represent Chicago's premiere rock-star chef, and he needs some image... adjustments."

PR people, in general, enjoy dramatizing the pitch portion of a new job. Everything is a big secret, too juicy to just explain. It's got to have drama, and mystery, and the most readily used form of those two vehicles is simply to withhold information.

"You don't say? What were you thinking? TV show? Photo shoot?"

"Oh, he's not going to spend any money on this."

I should rephrase my previous judgment of the general population of "PR People". The level of drama and mystery are directly proportional to how much money the PR firm has to pay for my services.

"I see."

"But, he's like Chicago's rock-stariest chef, and it will benefit your future business tremendously."

"Oh, so I'm doing myself a favor."

"Exactly."

"Great! Where do I sign up?"


A few years ago the term "viral video" popped up in the advertising community and it was hailed as the new golden ticket, a magic silver bullet, capable of launching your brand into the stratosphere with the mere click of a mouse. It became the buzz word of choice.

"Ok, so I could kick your rock-star chef in the balls, we'll film it of course, with a phone camera to make it look legit, and bingo, bango, you've got yourself a viral video!"

"I don't think he's gunna go for that."

"No?"

"I think he wants a different type of viral video."

It turns out that this particular rock-star chef's name was Paul Kahan, and he truly is one of Chicago's, and perhaps America's finest chefs. Here in Chicago he is the executive chef for Avec, The Publican, Violet Hour, Blue Bird, and I am probably missing a few. If you've dated any "Sex in The City" types here in the Chi over the past 10 years, you've probably been expected to go to one, if not all of Mr. Kahan's restaurants, and you're certainly familiar with the bill at the end of the meal. Mr. Kahan's various culinary experiences are definitely worth the price, and should not be missed, even if you aren't dating a Bradshaw wannabe.

Paul Kahan was throwing a Beer Dinner at his newest restaurant The Publican, later that summer. He would travel to a brewery in Michigan with his team of beer and food ninjas to brew a special, signature beer. The process seemed fascinating so we asked to tag along, promising the PR folks that there would be a "viral video" in there somewhere. I was happy to shadow a legend.




Making good content is easy when you are around talented people, and this little social media experiment was no exception. The content was released in 3 phases on the Publican's facebook page, and received thousands of views before the tickets to the Beer Dinner went on sale. The event sold out, and we returned to film people's reactions.

We ate, we drank, we were merry.


written by: Edward Seaton

Once Upon A Time... Lee Went To Paris

There once was a man named Mr. Lee. Who worked for a huge ad agency. They sell smokes to overseas folks, and are affectionately known as Leo-B.

Leo-B was a peculiar kingdom, and would often send its faithful Knights far and wide on the strangest missions. One day, Leo-B was acquired by its French contemporaries who waged advertising war under the banner Publicis.

The French had more money, better food, more attractive women, and much fancier pants, so in an effort to appease its new master the Lords of Leo-B decided to send their finest young Knight on a quest into the belly of the beast, so that they too might understand what it means to be French, and perhaps one day wear much fancier pants themselves. Mr. Lee was that Knight.

The video was edited after hours at Eightball Films, back in the day, by me, and was shown at the annual Leo Burnette Breakfast, where is was custom to make fun of each other while eating pancakes and waffles for 3 to 4 hours. I'm pretty sure that there is booze involved too.

Mr. Lee was sent to Paris with a new DV camera, bought for the occasion, daily pocket money, and the assignment, "go see what its like to be french".

The Knight, Rob Lee has long since gone on to different adventures, and is currently Sr. Producer at DDB in San Francisco. He now travels often to Argentina where he makes very expensive cat litter commercials.

The End.




written by: Edward Seaton

Pornographic Spec Spot!

When HD first hit the market, those of us who had already drunk the DV revolution cool-aid were chomping at the bit to follow in Lucas's footsteps, and use a real 24 fps camera. We were all anxious to shed the less than auspicious NTSC standard that our affordable PD-150's and XL1's could muster, but getting ahold of a Sony HDW-F900 was financially out of reach. Stealing one was an option, I suppose, but the Sony HDW-F900 was a rather large camera and wouldn't easily fit down your pants.

Then SC Johnson called. Actually their agency, Draft-FCB called.

"Ziplock spot. Want it?"

"Sure! Can't say no to a Ziplock spot. Can we shoot on the HDW-F900?"

"HDW-F900, sounds fancy. Never heard of it."

"Lucas is using it as we speak, to ruin the Star Wars trilogy."

"Oh yeah. I heard about that. How's it going?"

"He's ruining the franchise fabulously with it."

"Awesome, lets do it!"

And thus, the production company that I was working with got their hands on the super-duper Sony HDW-F900.

When renting such a camera for a job such as this, the production company will customarily budget in a day or two to prep the camera. If the production company really has it's ducks lined up, it will pick up equipment on a Wednesday for a 3 day week rental, and not have to return the equipment until the following Monday. For the uninitiated this is called, "good producing".

To young eager filmmakers, who don't own watches, and don't go to church, this means there will be a super-duper camera sitting at the studio just waiting to be played with. A camera that quite possibly sat next to, or near the very camera that George-Freakin-Lucas was shooting with right now! Imagine that.

So we borrowed it. What? It was a camera test for Ziplock!

There will always be side projects happening at a busy production company in the process of inventing itself. We were no exception. Several young Lucas wannabes knew exactly how this new camera would elevate their careers overnight, but I wasn't one of them. I wanted to be more like Kubrick instead, and if you know Kubrick you know that he likes to do things 300 times, and with lovely long takes. None of my ideas would fit the borrowed-camera bill. I had feature length aspirations.

"Any of you creative types down at Agency X have any brilliant ideas for a spec commercial?"

"Two cars, race down a road, swerving through traffic, yelling to each other through open windows..."

"No, no, no. We have an expensive camera but we ain't got no money."

"What do mean?"

"I mean, It would be great if this idea took place in a single room, with one, maybe two actors, and no props."

"oh."

"Yeah, and it should be really, really funny."

"Right. How about a spot for a fictitious online dating website extolling the virtues of lascivious liaisons?"

"Does it take place in one room?"

"Yes, and there's lots of sex in it."

"Perfect. Send me the script."

This is how the spec spot entitled "Couples" ended up on my reel. We found two actors who saw the humor in it, and extinguished concerns of nudity by creatively covering the action, while hiding fleshy bits and pubic hair with expertly manipulated sheets. It took only an hour to shoot. Mood lighting and pictures on the walls seemed frivolous, so I just bounced a 1k light into the white ceiling overhead. We had rented a 1k light for the Ziplock shoot as well, and was roundly applauded for giving it a thorough testing before the shoot.

Unfortunately the "Couples" spot didn't last long on my commercial reel. It was deemed too risque for our Midwestern clients to bare the sight of, and would surely scare them all away.

Enjoy :)


written by: Edward Seaton