So two of my friends got married this summer, and, as their wedding present, I offered to document the ceremony and reception. I thought it would be a cheap, fun present, right? I just bring my camera down there, shoot the thing, bring it home, digitize, cut at my leisure, then get them the final edit by fall. A fine idea it was, until my camera broke. Then a cheap, fun present turned into a rather expensive and stressful present, depending on how you split the cost of rental, repair, and tax offset.
But let’s put that aside.
I rented a camera, covered the wedding, digitized the footage, and then got very, VERY busy. Super busy. Too busy to work on this cheap, fun, expensive, stressful present, no matter how much it called to me. Which, let’s be honest, it didn’t.
Lucky for Phil and Christina, work’s lightened up until after the holidays. I just completed my last freelance edit of the season, and lately (read: this week) I’ve taken to staying up very late while working on my new (!!) computer. Suddenly, their cheap, fun wedding present becomes a cheap, fun, insomnia-driven Christmas present. Right? Right!
Both the bride and groom are pretty big Phish fans, and, after soliciting advice from their two best friends, I decided on a song for the final montage. It’s one of my favorites, and, after cutting no less than six wedding montages to “I Gotta Feeling”, seemed a welcome break. I worked on it for about four hours last night, sipping wine and tweaking edits, and tonight, at midnight, I sat down at the laptop for another session of quasi-manic late-night adventure. I was really rolling, man, I was just making things HAPPEN. I was sliding edits one frame at a time, I was doing motion effects and time remap, I wasn’t even stopping for cigarettes. The song built to its final crecendo, I quickened my cuts in anticipation of the blissful, inevitable release, and then…
those fucking hippies jammed into a whole other song. A song I didn’t download. A song I’m not about to cut a whole other wedding montage to. I mean, COME ON, Phish. Your shit may rock at live shows, but, from a postproduction standpoint, YOU TOTALLY SUCK.