The weather in late April was still nice and cool as production on Providence began quietly. The town of Barnstable, located on Cape Cod, seemed to have an odd quietness about it. Fitting, given the film they were about to shoot. No fanfare, no giant cameras with cranes, no company's multi-channel press kit. Just a couple of guys, paper cups of coffee, and Harry Jackson standing awkwardly behind a modest video monitor.
This was Harry's first day in the role of director. And you could tell.
The crew Gregory had found was reliable - a mix of familiar faces from Memento and some new hires. Wally Pfister was calm and in control as he worked with the gaffer to establish the right level of soft gray light for the first scene. Amy Vincent, with her clipboard, was already gently directing, eyes focused on timing and cues.
Harry was largely silent. He walked through the church they had rented to shoot the opening scene. He nodded to actors and checked the blocking. He repeated the shot list under his breath. In his hand he held a folded-up page of notes from last night; rewritten three times, with little corrections in pencil.
Daniel Hayes, the lead actor, was leaning against a pew at the altar, reviewing his lines. His face looked drawn but curious--just like his character. Javier Bardem, playing the antagonist, sat quietly in a corner by a dusty window, watching people quietly and saying nothing, not that he needed to.
Harry walked over beside Amy at the monitor and gave a small, uncertain nod. "Let's take the first take."
Amy increased her speaking volume. "First positions! We're rolling."
The set was quiet. Wally signaled he was ready. The boom mic settled into position. Daniel stepped into frame. A single candle burned away on the altar. Footsteps resonated. The camera was steadied.
"Cut," Harry said after the first take. "It was good but let's do it again--maybe a little slower this time so he can feel the space."
Amy relayed the note. There was no discussion of option A or B. Just movement, movement.
They did it again. Then again.
Harry reviewed a few takes on the monitor. He didn't say much to the crew, but he nodded often, quietly checking the shots against the storyboards he and the Wilson brothers had spent weeks sketching. He wasn't trying to impress anyone. If anything, he looked like he was trying to stay out of the way of the movie.
After wrap, he went back to his rental house nearby—a quiet two-story with a small garden where Sparky barked at every passing bird. Harry fed the dog, scribbled a few notes about the next day's shots, and checked his messages.
-----
That evening, Harvey Weinstein called.
"I have been thinking about Memento," Harvey said, his voice calm. "I passed. I should have not passed."
Harry was unsure how to respond.
"Well," he finally said, "we did okay without you."
There was a moment of silence.
"I have heard Providence, has started. Perhaps we can talk after you finish, and see where it takes us."
Harry offered a noncommittal reply. "Let's see."
-----
The next several days settled into an almost inscribed rhythm. The church had become like a second home to him. The fog machines could be obnoxious. One of the actors was late. A cable truck got stuck in mud. Javier improvised a line that sparked better than what was scripted. Daniel requested a small rewrite on a scene that he felt was too neat.
Harry spent the evenings sitting with Wally and Amy to review the days footage. He offered brief notes. Never authoritative. Sometimes uncertain. He was often aware. He had learned a great deal from the people around him. He repeatedly asked questions quietly, sometimes even twice.
"Do you want to shift that light?" Wally asked one day.
"I was thinking it," Harry said. "Not sure."
"Try it. It is your film."
It wasn't a perfect shoot. But nothing was breaking either. It was just a slow build. A small movie. A first try. No screaming. No miracles. Just work.
On the night of the fourth day, they filmed an entralling sequence in which Daniel's character walked by himself through the woods to what appeared to be an abandoned farmhouse. It was not particularly difficult from a technical perspective. Harry watched the monitor without moving a muscle. When the action was over, Amy asked if he wanted to do another take.
"No," Harry said gently. "That's the one."
Later that night, at the rented house, Harry began writing up notes for the following week. Sparky lay on a rug instance, snoring quietly. A newspaper headline on the table still read "Memento Climbs To $52 Million." Harry did not dwell on it.
He opened the script of Providence, crossed out a scene that no longer worked, and noted something new.
It was not going to be a masterpiece.
But it was going to be his.