A friend once took me to an amazing abandoned mental hospital to show it off as a potential location for a shoot. The greatest production designers in the world with millions of budget dollars could never have replicated what nature had so effortlessly created over decades of history and years of neglect.
We found our way into the building’s basement and I began to feel very nervous, not least of all because of the small space through which we crawled to enter the premises and the hundreds of exposed rusty nails protruding from the walls, but the fact that the building had been scheduled for demolition, and the many “Danger: Keep out” signs were clearly not decorations for Halloween.
My friend insisted we could, “Get in, shoot, and get out, and we’d be incredibly unlucky to have anything go wrong.” I disagreed with his choice of words. Being hit by a falling piano on a leisurely hike in the countryside is unlucky. Taking a crew into a dilapidated old building without a structural engineer’s approval, valid permits, and hefty public liability insurance is more like playing Russian roulette with a bazooka.
The tragic death of second camera assistant Sarah Jones of “Midnight Rider” is in the spotlight again right now. More than a year since her death, the industry is justifiably anxious to know what will come of their entirely valid health and safety concerns on sets and locations going forward.
Beyond the patently senseless waste of human life and injuries to seven other crew members due to incompetence, arrogance and just plain stupidity, the next most worrying aspect is that this death will be added to one of the many lists of film industry-related “accidents.” The language we use to describe these horrific events is incredibly important. This was not an accident. This was criminal negligence, or as the court charged in the cases brought against the director Randall Miller, the first AD Hillary Schwartz, and the production manager/executive producer Jay Sedrish, criminal trespass and involuntary manslaughter.
This was a film starring William Hurt. I’m sure I don’t need to spell out how much less concerned independent and student filmmakers may be with your safety when it threatens to cost them money they don’t have, or slow down their already strained shooting schedule.
A client of mine recently sent me scenes she’d had written for a demo reel shoot. I flagged the gun referenced in one of the scripts and told her that it was dangerous and irresponsible to go ahead with filming unless proper permits were secured and a licensed armorer was present on set. She shared her concerns with the director, who said, “It’s fine. It’ll just be inside.”
“Still not cool,” I persisted, “even inside people will hear screaming and call the cops.” It’s L.A., after all.
The director assured my client it would all be OK, and like so many cast and crew on set, she was worried about any possible repercussions of “making a fuss,” or pulling out at the last minute. Sure enough on the day, mid-scene yelling and screaming, waving the gun around (inside, but door wide open), the cops arrive, guns drawn and pull everyone outside. In the end the director laughed and said, “Well that was real! What a great experience for you to use in the scene.”
No, not a great experience. An incredibly close call, which could have ended up as yet another article on Deadline.
No sooner had I breathed a sigh of relief over my client’s close call, but another client told me of a student short he’d worked on with a crew filming a gas station robbery in progress. Out in the open, no permits, no signs indicating filming was underway, no security. You’ll never guess what happened. Of course you will. Cops, guns, yadda yadda. Gosh, if only someone had seen that coming, right?
I guarantee almost everyone reading this article will have experienced (or at least heard by one degree of separation) a similar story of some kind of danger whilst filming that could have been prevented with the proper precautions. But the response is always, “We don’t have the time,” ‘We don’t have the money,” or else just, “It’ll be fine.”
Famous last words, it would seem in so many cases.
The reason this happens so often is because so often people get away with it. And by “getting away with” I mean nobody dies. Injuries still happen at an alarming rate due to overworked cast and crew members, rushed night shoots, illegal filming in restricted areas, and inadequate (if any) oversight when it comes to occupational health and safety—especially in low-budget independent films and student shorts, which is where the majority of casts and crews work.
Filmmaking is an incredibly powerful art form. It has the capacity to shape thinking, generate groundswell on monumentally important social issues, and even change lives. But unless you’re filming a covert documentary exposing the genocide of thousands of children by the government right under their parent’s noses, filmmaking is not worth dying for. And if you’ve ever thought that the ends justify the means then feel free to tell that to the family of Sarah Jones, may she rest in peace.
Accidents happen, true. But they happen far less frequently when all necessary precautions have been taken to prevent them. The one thing any acting job should guarantee you is your safety. Though you may be dying to play that role of a lifetime, the role of a lifetime is never worth dying for.
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