Really complicated shoots

My subdrop has receded somewhat, as subdrop does, and I seem to be capable of coherent thought again. (As coherent it ever gets with me, anyway.) So I can tell you some stuff about the actual shoot, instead of going on about the high drama inside my head.

This was a highly complicated shoot. I could sympathise with its complexities even though my part in all of this madness consisted of no more than going through the script the night before, then turning up on location and doing my thing.

Spanking shoots can be divided into several categories by complexity:

• Minimalistic: A camera on a tripod, manned by the same guy who’ll be doing the spanking, if he can figure out the remote control. (I steer well-clear of these, because they feel too much like a filmed one-to-one.) Or just a single camera that comes with an actual live camera person. The plot is agreed ten minutes beforehand, and looks, if anything, like filmed role-play.
• Normal: Two or three cameras set to record the spanking from different angles, then to be cut together by editing. Enough lights to make the spanking visible. A stills camera, used afterwards to avoid the flashing and clicking from disturbing the film. A plot is agreed beforehand; the scenes are blocked out and walked through before the cameras roll.
• Quite sophisticated: All that, plus a script or a rudimentary storyboard, and at least one person who’s been to film school in some capacity or other. Night classes for two weeks count. Oh, and a silent stills camera complete with a photographer.
• Really quite bloody sophisticated: what we had last week.

That is to say, three cameras, a director of photography who’d spent god knows how many hours storyboarding the film on actual storyboarding software; (at least) three different types of lights; (at least) two different types of mikes (not once did I hear the usual “Speak up Adele, love”, because a boom mike? kicks ass); a magic travelling cupboard that goes over the radiators in the period scenes and magic tape to disguise light switches; a hair and make-up person with a portfolio longer than the collected works of Balzac; a stills photographer who sneaks into the smallest cracks between the furniture to get the most flattering angle; and, and, and. The cameras get moved a crazy number of times during a single scene, just to get that sinister shot of Tom looking like Mephistopheles (filming time: 40 minutes; screen time: 2 seconds), or a little heart-rending shot of Pandora and me brushing hands as we assume positions for the Caning of Doom (filming time: 20 minutes, screen time: 20 seconds if that).

There was an amusing episode when the number of cameras had miraculously grown compared to the storyboard, and the crew ended up in an increasingly rowdy debate about where in the cramped room all the equipment should go to a) avoid appearing in shot, b) not be in the way when Tom swings the cane, c) actually do the job of lighting, amplifying and filming us. The vanilla camera guy bursts out in frustration: “Who cares! This is porn!” Audible intake of breath all around the room. Camera guy, hastily: “I mean, art, of course, art, but still, guys…”

The price of all of this techno-paradise is that the film is shot a tiny little piece at a time, so there’s some serious concentration involved in snapping back into character. I was doing OK for most of it. But after a good 40 minute camera-moving break between our caning and the shot where we’re miserably standing with our skirts up as Tom walks out of the room, my reserve of misery was empty. I begged Tom to tell me something mean. He leaned to my ear and whispered: “Mean, mean, mean…” This might have actually worked, the giggles jolting me back to life, but he did go on to say a few mean things, which worked even better.

That said, I’m getting the feeling that the film is going to come out so prettily lit and shot, we could have been the most useless trio of kinksters on the planet, and still it would be a film worth watching. Or maybe not. I’m just easily impressed with technical kit and the guys who run it. Even if they don’t think much of arty porn.

After-shoot crash

Traditionally I post videos on Mondays, but all I want to do right now is talk about last week’s shoot. As compromise with myself, I’m putting up a music video that completely reflects my state over the last few days.

In official BDSM parlance the emotional crash after a stretch of intense play is called “subdrop”.

What does it feel like? It’s a pool of unshed tears at the back of my eyelids. It’s a pit of wanting in my chest – longing for I don’t know what, unsatisfied by all the normal happy things. It’s a mind that plays – again, again, – the imaginary scenes from the 1911 school, the scenes we never shot, or discussed, but that are real to me nonetheless. It’s hunger for physical contact: a touch is good, a slap is better.

Is it correct to use the term for a condition brought on by what is, on the face of it, a professional engagement? Am I stealing a word I’m not entitled to? I don’t actually care: what I’m feeling isn’t any different from what I’ve felt on occasion after very personal scenes. I approached the shoot professionally in the sense that I was there to do certain things that were asked of me as well as I could, i.e. professionally.

I couldn’t have done it, though, without allowing myself to be vulnerable, opening up my soft core, allowing myself to be prodded, molded into necessary shapes, becoming someone I’m not. (All of this while remembering the camera angles, following directions, coming up with lines on the fly.) Maybe actors know how to do this without becoming emotional wrecks, but I have neither training nor experience to shake off the shock of two days of absolute vulnerability.

This, too, is submission.

Fresh from the set

The costumes are put away, the cameras have stopped whirring, and the canes have swished their last. The Roué production tentatively titled “Lost Causes”* has wrapped.

Fresh from the shoot, I’m tempted to say it was the most emotionally complex, exhilarating film I’ve done. Tom and Pandora are two great people to lose myself in the Edwardian era with, and I believe we’ve pushed and fed each other through some interesting experiences. Now I’m suffering a massive crash, and wish I could be back in the dormitory of Mr Cameron’s educational establishment for difficult young ladies.

I’ll write more next week to tell you where my soul has been, but in the meantime, here are some freshly baked pictures, provided by Roué and speedily uploaded by Pandora.

* The title hasn’t been discussed with the man in charge. He may, in fact, opt for a title like “Harsh punishment of two naughty girls”, or something.

Poised for adventure

I’m shooting for the next two days, munchkins. It’s been a while since my last shoot, for various reasons, but I’m sure I haven’t lost the hang of it. Hmm, how does it go again: I’ll have to bend over a lot, and make various faces, and suffer artistically. And – ta-da! – top on video for the first time ever. I get to be a complete bitch towards Pandora, and in return for the horrid  mistreatment she’s putting me up for two nights. 

I expect to live-tweet the shoot, so if you’re still not following me on Twitter, now would be the time to join in. (I’m @AdeleHaze there, if you’re wondering.)

Somewhat suggestive

Munchkins, I think I’m back. I’m going to take it easy for a while, being unused to blogging after a sabbatical. To start on a gently rude note, here’s a fun music video – not so much kinky as just bloody rude. (Via Pablo):