Nobody talks about how hard it is to go back to real life after wrapping a film. For just a few days, weeks, or months, you get to live in a different world. One different from the hellscape we’re currently living in. It’s hard. Every part of the production is hard in different ways. It’s probably the hardest I’ve ever worked in my life. But…it’s also magical.
No amount of word smithing could describe the bond that’s created between “Action” and “It’s a Wrap”.
The first day on set was the hardest. There’s new faces…new personalities. Everyone’s got the first day jitters, the awkward hellos. And then one day, you realize everyone is in that…what do the cool kids call it? The flow state? I don’t even know.
It’s been months since I’ve lived in the algorithm that used to dictate my entire life.
The PAs who came in green as grass are tail slating, anticipating the next scene. It’s…captivating—seeing how much everyone has grown from the joy of simply believing in someone else’s vision.
That’s another thing nobody tells you. And they really should!
Filmmakers are the purest souls filled with nothing but love and joy…not just for themselves, but the people around them. Filmmaking is vulnerability. You have to believe in your story so much, you’re willing to share an idea in your brain with someone and hope and pray and cross your fingers and toes that it’s not just a stupid idea.
And everyone on set just…believes in it.
They believe in it so much that when you call, “Action,” quiet on set is not just expected, it’s given as respect.
They believe in you so much that no matter how silly, scary, ridiculous, sad, or serious the scene is, they are locked in. They have a job to do. And they are going to do it right. Because your vision matters.
And in that flow state…everyone’s vibing. Production is running…suspiciously smoothly. We could always move faster. More succinctly. But we push through, we make decisions on the fly, and hope for the best. And every day, we talk about how tired we are, how stressed we are, and…how we can’t wait to wrap.
But then wrap day comes. And everyone’s been waiting for it for so long. We’re all so exhausted. And there’s a bittersweet feeling in the air. We were so tired we wanted it to end as soon as possible, we forgot that there was a real world waiting for us on the other side.
And that’s the part that nobody talks about. Nobody warns you for this part.
When you say, “It’s a wrap,” and everyone goes home.
And all you’re left with is the aftermath.
The mess.
The long journey of post production….the memories.
You want to move forward but you don’t know how. You were so busy anticipating the end that you forgot what was waiting for you on the other side.
Reality.
The stashes of boxes you created amidst the chaos of production. The chores you put off because there were bigger priorities. Not to mention the debt you accumulated in your fever dream. And the faces you saw every week fade. And they move on to the next project. And the echos of their voices fill the silence.
You fight to find your way back to some normalcy…until you realize that there is no going back.
There is nothing left for you in the real world except…reality. And reality was never good enough, which is why you created a dream world in the first place.
But you have to push through. You have to finish the world you built. And until you do, the new world you’re dreaming of is out of reach. You have to find a way to live in reality…until you can call “Action” again.
Why doesn’t anyone talk about the pain that comes with being a filmmaker?
Because the truth is, your head is always in the clouds.
And when you have to come down, it’s literal jet lag.
January always feels long. This January…my first month of post production has felt like…an eternity. I keep trying to find a way to go back to the life I used to know. I tried watching horror movies. I tried making silly little YouTube videos. I tried coloring monsters. I tried reconnecting with my loved ones. I tried cleaning the house. I tried everything I used to know.
But there is no going back.
There is only…filmmaking. And the monsters that live inside my head.
I think I’m going to like it here.
