Did I sound annoyed when I finished yesterday's post? Did I not truly enjoy making my eighth movie? The answer is yes and no. A number of well-meaning friends and readers reached out to me, perturbed by my fickle feelings about my profession and my apparently surly tone in describing (or failing to describe, more accurately) the filmmaking experience I just survived.

Let me put it this way: now that the fun factor has disappeared from the work, the work factor has increased. I can't make something that is going to fall below the standards I've set for myself over the past twenty years. I also can no longer expect the experience to be a social one. More and more, directing has become a largely asocial activity, wherein I collaborate specifically with actors and a DP, with good support from a crew and an occasional (I hope) suggestion from the producers. But the party-down aspect of the whole endeavor--essential when I was a twenty-something year-old fellow--is not only missing, it's unwanted. Sort of. There are days when I do dearly wish the whole thing had a little taste of fun, that there was still a wee bit of excitment in the endeavor. But ultimately the work is the work, the reward is in getting it right (or hoping you're getting it right) and enjoying the contributions made by the actors and crew. And in going the fuck home after ten hours of turgid, unremitting, totally stressful and only occasionally enjoyable work. But I love it, of course.

Having now clarified all of that, is anyone interested in hiring an experienced Jazz Lounge pianist?

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