Notes From My First Feature Film Set

Through a network of connections and coincidences, a production team ended up renting the venue I work at to build a film set. By happenstance, I became an Associate Producer of a feature film. For 26 days, I lived through an experience that can be described using only one word: wild. 

I would wake up in my own bed, get ready in my own apartment, and drive my own car to the building I’ve been working in for the past six months. But as soon as I opened the door to the building, I’d get sucked into this alternate reality. It was me—in my own body, with my same set of experiences—but none of these things would be recognized as being part of my actual life; this was my set life.

Each day, I was transported into this world where, among a million other tasks presented to me, I was responsible for getting talent dressed. I was a liaison between the talent and the production crews, and it was my responsibility to ensure that all groups had everything they needed to do their jobs. If you’ve ever worked with several creative people on a single project, you may be able to understand just how exhausting it could be. Every new day, hour, and minute presented its own set of challenges. Alongside the producers, I put out fires and dismantled bombs. Together, we survived a war. 

In a matter of weeks (days, really), the people wading through the trenches with me grew to be my closest friends and confidants. Together, we pulled 15+ hour work days. Afterward, we’d sacrificed sleep to spend time singing, dancing, and sharing stories over well-deserved drinks. The few off-days we had you could find us gathered around a table, most likely laughing and eating takeout. 

Throughout all of this time spent together, I grew to know these people in ways that I never would have known if we had been introduced under different circumstances. I knew how they prefer to work, and could comfortably transform my own efforts to accommodate. If someone held a gun to my head and asked me what was going on in politics or in my family member’s lives during filming, there’s a good chance I’d end up dead. But if someone held a gun to my head and asked me to recite the production team’s Starbucks orders or details of their personal lives, I would most definitely make it out alive. For weeks, these people and this job consumed me.

Although, it hadn’t really occurred to me just how crazy my part in the whole thing was until one of the actors pointed it out to me on our third or fourth day of filming. He said something along the lines of, “Doesn’t this make you think that maybe this is what you’re meant to do? Here you are, just trying to do your job marketing concerts, and a film set and all of these Hollywood actors come to you. You end up doing the job of multiple people, and you do it well.”

Now that it’s been pointed out to me, it’s hard to stop noticing all the serendipitous ways this experience was orchestrated within the scope of my life. Not only was this one of the best months of my life, but I feel like this experience was also a test of character. Who am I when all bets are off and no one is there to hold my hand every step of the way? Will I let it swallow me whole and shrink back into myself, or will I overcome obstacles with grace and allow myself to use this space to grow? 

Working in this capacity showed me that I am capable of so much more than I ever even attempted to dream about. Not only did I leave with an accidental film credit, but I now have a deeper understanding as to what I am made of.

Every single second spent making these connections and fighting these battles was worthwhile—everything came together to create the raw components of what is bound to be a beautiful and suspenseful movie.

I am both incredibly happy and deeply saddened that my set life has come to an end. The rest of the crew has all returned to their everyday lives. I’ve settled back into mine. Nothing has really changed, except everything has changed.