Navigating the story and culture of film production
By Lesley Lopez
I have always believed stories are what make us innately human. As a first generation American, I grew up using stories as a window to exploration and a shield against the world, in equal measure. Stories were filled with friends, family and teachers and they brought me joy, comfort, understanding and an unparalleled education in empathy.
I spent hours curled up in novels with heroines from decades before that weren’t so different from myself, or afternoons engrossed in films about trials and tribulations so outside the scope of my childhood but still unforgivingly accessible. Or even summer afternoons perched on a lawn chair listening to an older family’s recollections of childhoods that undoubtably formed my present world. Any and every story was mine for the consuming and continues to be, from comic books to Twitter feeds. So, it is of little surprise that someone so engrossed in stories and storytelling became a storyteller herself.
If I was looking for a common theme amongst my career path it would be easy to track my affinity for stories as a guiding light. My first job in high school was at a local movie theater, where I unabashedly used my employee perks to watch everything we screened. The first steps of my career were with The Walt Disney Company, the very mecca of storytelling for almost every fellow Millennial I know. From there I jumped feet first into the freelance world of physical production of entertainment. The novice story addict has become a professional storyteller.
Over the last decade, I have helped bring to life over 100 pieces of content from feature films to music videos to national commercials and everything in between. My affinity for stories hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s become insatiable. But what I had never anticipated, or even thought about, was how as a professional storyteller the stories I was telling would always be different for me and for the audience I was reaching.
The movie that made me want to make movies is Back to the Future. I know the story of the film like I know any of my own memories. Marty McFly the youngest child of George and Lorraine accidently travels back to 1955 in a time machine DeLorean invented by his eccentric friend Doc Brown. As a fan, I quote that movie regularly and I have definitely spent many hours arguing the mechanics of time travel with friends over wine. I can also tell you things about the making of the film, how they shot overnights to accommodate Michael J. Fox’s schedule or how a studio executive sent a memo asking for a title change because he believed no one was going to see a movie with the word “future” in the title. Incredibly to myself, I now can relate on an emotional level to these behind-the-scenes stories. But when I think about Back to the Future, the first thing I think about is always Marty McFly’s adventure through time. It always starts with the story that impacted me as a child, the exploration of Marty’s relationship to his parents and how we experience time and what moments make us, -everything I experienced the first time I saw the film.
As a professional storyteller - a film producer or production manager or production coordinator or whatever role I take on for any project - seeing the final product is no longer my first experience with the material. The story we’re producing is no longer the only story for me. Now when I think of a project I’ve done – a film I’ve worked on - my first recollections are about how we made it. The first story isn’t the story itself but the process of how that story came to life. It is impossible to recall one of my first film making experiences without remembering how I noticed female production assistants being asked disproportionately to do cleaning jobs. Or laughingly remembering how cast members on another film hid from me while they were smoking, setting me on a wild goose chase to find them until I explained I just needed to be able to find them to let them know when they were needed on set again. Then there’s the time my production coordinator and I spent a combined 12 hours looking for a specific kind of stuffed animal for a photo shoot. I’ve been ignored, I’ve been dismissed, I’ve made coffee for executives and tea for legendary actors. Executive producers have made me cry, actors have made me laugh, crew members have sought my protection.
My experiences are endless, my stories crazy and mundane, and every single one of them has impacted how I set out to create culture on my sets today. My memories, my own stories, have impacted my efforts to create welcoming, elevating, gender-balanced, diverse, inclusive and sustainable environments.
Stories make me innately human. I still seek them and use them as protection and for growth equally. Undoubtably, I set out to create stories that will impact a seeking child or weary adult and make them feel seen, understood, or help them grow. But just as importantly, I set out to impact those who are making the stories with me. I want the experience to be a good story for them. I hope the stories we make together give my teams joy, comfort, understanding and an experience in empathy - because ultimately, it’s the culture we create that impacts every story we make.