Interference

In August 1990, I started working as a Production Sound Mixer for a weekly entertainment show. My tool was a three-channel field mixer, which had two inputs: a boom microphone and a wired lavalier. Tethered to a half-inch camcorder, the mixer fed it two channels of audio. Most of our work was sit-down interviews, press junkets and “red carpet” premieres. We seldom used wireless lavaliers.

My colleagues on the film side were using reel-to-reel recorders, occasionally using one or two wireless microphones for challenging or unusual scenes. This was considered a luxury, typically reserved for abundantly budgeted projects.

More than 25 years have passed since then. Wireless devices are commonplace today, even on the most modest film sets: on a typical shoot day, you often see a handful of wireless mics, a wireless feed to the camera and two-way wireless communication between the Production Sound Mixer and her crew – and even one or two more channels for the Director, Producers or the Script Supervisor.

The difference between the mixer I first slung over my shoulder in August of 1990, and the production sound cart I spend my days hunched over today is staggering: I can mix and record up to 12 isolated tracks. I can also handle up to 16 channels of wireless signals. I’ve had to master a whole new set of skills. The management of RF (radio frequency) signals is hardly “plug-n-play.” Frequency selection and coordination, antenna preference and placement, cable choices and many other arcane topics are routinely discussed among Sound Mixers in mailing lists, at impromptu meetings and social media groups.

As a matter of fact, in order to legally operate our RF equipment, we all have to apply for a “part 74” FCC license. Most of our clients aren’t even aware of this requirement – though, in truth, it’s seldom enforced. In any case, a production mixer who has obtained a part 74 FCC license is sure to be proficient in what has become an essential part of our work.

Since every minute counts on a film set, all departments –and Sound is no exception– have to be at the ready to deal with any eventuality. If anything goes wrong, we must be able to get back up to speed within minutes. In 1990 that meant having a backup recorder, a few extra microphones and cables, and a soldering kit. The level of readiness we’re expected to have in 2018 is quite a bit higher. We’re recording a higher track count, which means more devices to route the sound signals, more cables to connect everything and, yes, more wireless equipment - batteries die, antennas bend, lavaliers get damaged. The possibilities, sadly, are endless.

Deploying more wireless equipment brings on an additional problem: the greater the number of RF signals, the higher the potential of interference. We use costly equipment to scan for available frequencies, and carefully coordinate them so they don’t interfere with each other. And yet, if we’re filming on location, anything can change from one moment to the next: Police or Fire Department activity can cause sudden –and intermittent– interference, which can easily ruin a good take.

If the interference persists, we start looking for alternative frequencies. Eventually, the frequencies on one or two lavalier transmitters have to be switched, which is when a good Utility earns his keep, as he’ll have to walk over and physically change the channel on each actor’s transmitter.

A Utility person is, naturally, helpful in other ways: he can operate a second boom when needed, as well as speed up the set-up and wrap process every day, among other things.

Most proper narrative projects budget for a three-person Sound crew: the Production Sound Mixer, a Boom Operator and a Utility. However, there’s an increasing tendency to demand a two-person crew, and even a single person (we call it, somewhat ironically, “One-man-band”) on small, shorter shoots.

Considering how expensive film production is, I believe a three-member Sound team is not only good for morale and efficiency - they will work faster, more methodically and less stressed-out; but, more importantly, it’s good for the bottom line. Let’s say you have a five-million-dollar project on an eight-week schedule: working 12 hours a day, you’re spending more than $10,400 per hour, or around $174 per minute. If I told you having a third person in my team would save us 15 minutes –or $2,610– per day, what would you say? We’re talking about $104,400 in savings for the whole project!

How do you go about making these staffing decisions? Please share!

Personal Space

Wireless lavaliere microphones (“lavs”) have become ubiquitous on any film set. While I always try to capture dialogue with boom microphones, I understand that current workflows and shooting schedules practically mandate the use of lavs.

What does this mean to me and my team? That we must be very good at placing lavs on talent, quickly and reliably. You would be surprised to see the selection of tapes, accessories, straps and various other disparate articles that we use to make sure we can have a solution for every situation, every individual, and every wardrobe.

Not only do we choose different lavs for different actors (some mics are better suited for booming voices, some for reed-thin hushed tones, yet others work best under layers of clothing, and so on) but we also adapt our mounting techniques to the talent’s wardrobe or even each specific scene.

Mounting a lav on an actor is, by definition, an invasion of privacy. Lavs are typically mounted in the chest area and, in order to hide them, the Utility must often reach into the shirt or tuck a wire along the waist, or even down a pant leg! Some people are, understandably, uncomfortable with such close contact.

Knowing how to put talent at ease before placing the lav makes things go smoother, which yields better results. I find that small talk (if appropriate) while the lav is being mounted works well, as well as “narrating” every step of the process to the talent.

It’s not uncommon to have female Utility persons. It’s arguably a milder, more nurturing presence, less intimidating to a woman or a child. Which is not to say male Utilities can't do this job well, of course.

To make matters more… interesting, we often deal with celebrities, minors or, simply, difficult talent. Those are the times when a good Utility person is worth her weight in gold: knowing when to be a chatterbox –or crack jokes– rather than quiet and clinical; knowing when to efficiently work alone, rather than requesting the help of the Wardrobe department; choosing her battles when time is of the essence, and a celebrity’s patience is wearing thin… Just as there isn’t a “perfect” lav mounting technique, there is no single recipe to ensure the talent will be fully at ease with the process.

Often, when working with celebrities, we’re asked to go to the talent’s trailer or dressing room to mount the lav. We try not to encourage this practice for two reasons: first, it’s not practical for the Utility to bring every possible accessory that might be needed; second, the actor’s trailer is usually out of range for my wireless receivers, so I can’t tell how it sounds or whether there’s any unwanted noise - which means we may have to fiddle with the talent’s lav when they arrive on set.

When it comes to children, I usually avoid laving actors younger than ten. Young children tend to want to “play” or otherwise fiddle with the lav or the transmitter, which compromises the sound and may even cause costly damage.

If we have to lav a minor, I always ask a parent or the on-set teacher to be present during the process. This means someone they trust will be around if they’re uncomfortable, to help route the wire, if needed.

When we’re capturing sound with a boom mic, the sound team is in control of every component involved, and is therefore responsible for the final result. When lavs are involved, though, we have no control of what the actors do once they step on set, or any RF issues that might crop up. if all goes well, nobody notices; but if there are problems with a lav, it’s assumed to be our fault. Understandably, that’s not a particularly fun predicament to be in.

This is why we prefer not to be rushed, or have our process compromised in any way, when mounting lavs on talent - there are simply too many things that can go wrong. We just want to increase our chances of success.

Do you have any horror stories involving lav mics? Do share!

Booms vs Lavs

There are, typically, three ways to acquire dialogue sound in film production: boom microphones, lavalieres and plants. Boom mics traditionally cover most of the dialogue on a movie set, followed by wireless lavalieres, mounted on each speaking actor, usually in or near the chest (though, depending on circumstances, the Sound Department can, and should, be very creative in lav placement: hairline, glasses, under the brim of a hat… you name it: it’s probably been done.)

Plants are used less frequently, typically in problematic or confined locations, when the boom operator(s) can’t reach the actors. Boom mics and lavs are used indistinctly for this purpose, depending on conditions, space and so on.

Without getting too much into the characteristics of different types of mic, those used on a boom pole (variously called “shotguns” or “boom mics”) can more faithfully capture a broader range of sounds than lavalieres. And the goal of a good sound mixer is to make the best recording possible - Harry Caul, the protagonist of the 1974 film “The Conversation,” played by Gene Hackman, said it best:

    “I don't care what they're talking about. All I want is a nice fat recording.”

(By the way, if you haven’t seen this Francis Ford Coppola film, I recommend it.) Anyway, the point is, our job is to provide the Post Department with a nice, fat wave form. And, typically, a good boom mic, aimed at the speaker, will do a better job than a pin-sized lav tucked under layers of clothing.

There’s another difference between booms and lavs: perspective. Just as you have perspective in images, you have it in sound - it’s just a bit less obvious to us, because we’re so used to think in images.

When the camera shoots a close-up, the boom operator can get the boom mic very close to the actor, whose voice will thus be very present. He or she can whisper, and the recording will sound as near as if we were standing next to the actor.

If, on the other hand, the camera is farther away and is shooting the actor head-to-toe, especially if there’s ample headroom, the boom op can only get the mic a couple of feet away. There will be more air between the actor’s mouth and the mic and, therefore, the sound will be more “airy,” more distant. It’s only natural: you wouldn’t expect someone standing ten feet away to sound as if they were whispering in your ear, right?

So, the characteristics of the sound captured by the boom mic will, by definition, change depending on how far it is from the source: just like with the camera lens, there will be more presence, more details, as we get closer to the subject.

Lavs, on the other hand, always sound the same: VERY present, all the time. Of course, it is possible for the Re-recording Mixer to lower their level, or apply some EQ to make them duller. But these are repairs done in Post, not ideal solutions - it just doesn’t sound the same.

Unfortunately, with the ubiquity of “Reality” TV where, for logistical and other reasons, lavs are the mic of choice, a whole generation of TV viewers has grown accustomed to hearing every dialogue IN YOUR FACE, regardless of the size of the shot. The subtle layers of sound that match what the lens is showing us are squashed.

It’s as if every shot were a close-up. No self-respecting cinematographer would be caught dead shooting a whole project with only close-ups. We wouldn’t expect the Sound Mixer to accept the same thing, now, would we?

Can you tell the difference between a boom and a lav?

Apprenticeship

This summer I had the opportunity to bring in an apprentice to a three-week film shoot. It was an ultra-low-budget production and my sound team was only two people (myself and my boom operator.) The producer agreed to let us bring in my 16-year old son as a trainee. Production would cover his insurance and meals, but he wouldn't have a salary.

My son was in the process of assembling his own gaming computer so, as payment, I offered to buy him a video monitor. He has also been somewhat interested in what I do for a living, so besides his readiness to toil for three weeks in order to get a video monitor, he was at least marginally interested in learning about microphones, wireless gear, cable management, and so on.

We had a conversation before the shoot: I explained that I would treat him like a colleague, not like his father, and that he should listen and observe as intently as he could in order to learn as much as possible. He was already aware that he could make decent money in film production, even as a Utility. This was a chance to see what it was all about.

I happen to have a bit of an OCD streak in my personal life, which serves me quite well in my work: we deal with a large number of expensive and delicate devices and accessories, stored in drawers and cubbies under a specific order, so as to be easily found and worked on. Irrespective of personal traits, though, a good sound team –and, especially, a good Utility– has to learn to be extremely detail-oriented and develop a keen visual memory, if he or she expects to keep up with the rigors of production.

Firmly in the throes of adolescence, my son KNOWS EVERYTHING. Also, his dad is an OCD fiend… So, as expected, there was some friction between us because he couldn’t separate the training from the parenting. Who knows, maybe I couldn’t either…

I’m proud to say, though, that in the end he garnered a number of compliments from the producer and other crew members, for his work ethic and good disposition.

But you’re not here to hear me brag about my son. This is intended to be a reflection on the concept of apprenticeship, which I think is in danger as an institution.

There are countries (mostly in Europe) and crafts (such as woodworking or blacksmithing) where the apprenticeship system still thrives today. Crafts (and I believe that what we do in production sound is a craft, not an artistic undertaking) encompass knowledge, physical skills, experience, intuition and, yes, an artistic sensibility. While it is obviously possible to learn many things taking lesons, reading, watching videos and who knows how else, crafts are best learned in a different setting.

Young minds and bodies are not yet set in their ways, and are thirsty for new experiences and knowledge. They catch on quickly and, under the right master, will absorb a vast variety of quirks and tips without even noticing. They’re naturally rewarded upon mastering smaller tasks, which they’re eager to take over, to prove they know the job, starting a virtuous cycle.

The main point, though, is that there are –typically– no lectures, no heavy reading or memorizing - true “on-the-job” training.

But, as we in America move further away from this institution, fewer young people will remain with the curiosity or inclination to submit themselves to this process. And that's a shame, because the future looks to be increasingly brighter for craftspeople (whoever they are - mechanics, plumbers, carpenters, masons) than for college graduates. College tuition is far more expensive than an apprenticeship, and craftspeople typically start making decent money right away.

So I will continue to do my part, modestly, to form the next generation of filmmakers in the sound department. I wonder if there’s a similar path for Producers or Directors.

What has been your experience?

On the process of finding the right mixer

What do you look for when you're hiring a production sound mixer? Do you look for experience, a winning personality, impressive credits, word-of-mouth recommendations, a demo reel?
Sometimes you need a mixer with a specific know-how, or one who has worked with a specific actor or director… Sometimes, due to talent or client sensibilities, you chose to hire a minority; sometimes you seek a mixer who has developed or perfected a certain workflow…
Clearly, there's a myriad circumstances, and every producer tailors his or her expectations to the job at hand.

Most mixers, on the other hand, don't typically choose their clients. We may specialize in certain fields, but that's seldom by design: we keep getting hired for the same kinds of projects, or by the same kinds of productions. We continue to perfect a certain workflow, and clients notice; word of mouth does the rest. So, we try to be marketable and, within reason, we cast a wide net: if we've mostly done, say, documentaries, we can either rely on a steady stream of documentary projects - or, if the documentary stream is more of a trickle, we can remind our corporate clients that we're available, or call narrative clients for whom we might have done a project in the past…

If, as a client, you're lucky enough to have a steady diet –so to speak– of the same kind of project week in and week out, and have found the perfect people for your Sound Department, you've got a match made in heaven. But that's not as often the case as we would like, is it? More frequently, you're gravitating from one kind of project to another, with an equally wide variety of budgets and workflows; and you find yourself having to hire different mixers. And, if you're worth your salt, you have a healthy list of contacts to cover any and all eventualities.

So at some point, none of your "regulars" is available, or a combination of budget/workflow/content doesn't match what you've done in the past, and you're looking for someone new. What do you do? Do you rely on your colleagues' opinions or recommendations? Do you scroll through listing services or custom websites? Do you post ads on professional sites? Do you ask for a resume, or a reel? What do you look for in said resume or reel?

In my experience, word of mouth is the most powerful advertising. There's a personal connection and an inherent expectation of results. Naturally, much weight is placed on a personal recommendation, as the recommending party has a stake in it - and the closer the relationship between the seeker and the recommending party, the higher the stake. That's why you place more weight on the recommendation of a close friend or teammember, than on someone you hardly know.

If word of mouth is not possible, a resume with verifiable references is a close second. Depending on whether you know the references, or if they're well known in the industry (and you can check them,) you may rely on this method to determine the suitability of a given candidate.

Eventually, you will want to interview the candidate. At this point you know they've worked in the field for X years, they've done X shows/films/docs, they've worked with X, Y and Z. But… how do they get along with other departments? Will they be a "sound Nazi"? Will it be a chore to deal with them through long days on set? Do they have a sense of humor? Intuition here wins the day. There's no magic question - and we're not all star interviewers. Just have a conversation with the candidate, discuss typical scenarios or the subject matter of the project at hand; see how they react, rely on your instinct. Most of us can make a determination within 20 minutes.

And, once you've chosen, stick by your decision. There's nothing worse than hiring someone for such a sensitive position, only to replace them at the first sign of friction… Just as you have to be decisive and know when your mixer is not the right match in the culture or the dynamic of your film crew - and let them go to avoid further damage.

So, how do YOU handle this delicate task?