Drastic times called for drastic actions. We chose the handle from the sword of Chocolate, and the blade from the sword of Ice Cream. Tremble, world, there will never be an iSundae 3 ever because the swords of Ice Cream and Chocolate have been destroyed. They were thrown into the firey Mount Doom known as the craftroom and reborn as this sword. (Please hold applause until the end of the article.)

Not too shabby, eh? Now, granted, it still doesn’t look like something out of Weta, but it does look better than a Halloween prop.

In case any of you want to try this at home, let me give you a quick walkthrough of sword disassembling. First things first, find the little screws hiding in holes all over the handle and start unscrewing. You will need a ridiculously small screwdriver. Every single screw needs to come out. All of them. Otherwise the handle will snap while you’re removing the blade. (Why do you think I know this?) And, while this may sound ridiculous, that was actually the first time I had used a screwdriver for a prop. Big things were afoot in the prop world.

Once you unscrew both handles and carefully pry them apart, they should open up just fine, revealing something rather like this.

For both Ice Cream and Chocolate, the blades were barely glued into place. A quick twist and they were out. (Ugh. Sounds like getting a tooth pulled. Let me try that again.) A light yank and they parted ways with the hilts.

Then the idea was to take the good blade and stick it into the good handle. Easier said than done. I had to snap off the hidden end of the blade to make it fit, which, thankfully, made the “Made In China” nightmare vanish into the depths of the handle, never to be seen on film. (Permit the prop maker a satisfied chuckle.) Then, because one blade was thicker than the other, I had to resort to stuffing bits of cardboard and fake leather (to disguise the cardboard color) down inside the handle before screwing it back together. It was a bit wobbly after that, but sturdy enough for hero shots.

Once that was done, we still had to address the nasty plastic look of the handle. Now, here let me state that I was operating off of an over-arcing principle for all the props and costumes. I had very little detailed visual references, so I applied this simple rule: Tell a story in the item.

Kale’s costume, for example, had specific tears and rips because of what may have happened to her the day before. The mending had various stitches because of what the mender was possibly thinking. You get the idea. With this sword hilt I wanted to tell a story about Dar, the doneel whose sword it is. So, due to the doneel’s furry nature, a metal sword hilt would be rather slippery. I wrapped it completely in black leather. Dar is a rather dressy fellow, but he’s also a good soldier, so I made the leather have a somewhat fancy weave while keeping it fairly serviceable. A good grip, and all that. Copper accents and a jewel for a bit of bling, and there you have it. A Frankenstein of a sword that doesn’t look half bad.

You can insert the usual disclaimers here. Don’t go about snapping plastic blades without adequate eye protection. Refrain from running with the screwdriver, even if you’re excited about using it. Keep your fingers away from the crack between the rapidly tightening handles. Don’t eat any of the fake leather strips. You get the idea.

We don’t have much time left before the Northern branch of Phantom Moose heads back home, but we think we’ll be able to pull it off.

And no, we’re still not going to say what book we’re doing. But we’ll drop some hints both here and in our new About Us page photo.

Rebekah is hard at work on the needed props and costumes as I type.

Yesterday, Ruth and I did a bit of location scouting and found a nice creek that will work perfectly.

Well, almost perfectly.

We’ve also been working on a new idea. Actually, we’ve tossed around a lot of things, but we have a neat story that we’re really excited about.

The script isn’t working. Try what you may, it just isn’t working.

A list of props that need to be made stares you in the face. What should they look like? Your brain refuses to function.

These are places when it is easiest to say, “Forget this, I’m going to go read a book.” True, you could plunge on ahead and make yourself do them, but, for goodness sake, it’s not FUN! Isn’t this life-consuming production we call amateur movie-making supposed to be fun? If not fun, at least semi-enjoyable. I mean, who wants to burst into tears over a sketch of a medieval table? (And no, I have not personally done that one. Yet.)

I have found that when I hit a dead end often enough, I get discouraged, and when I get discouraged run for your lives. Nothing gets done because I don’t want to do it. Or, better yet, I do it with a pout on my face and an attitude that is, shall we say, smelly? All the excitement and sparkle of making a movie is gone. There is nothing left. Nada.

Fortunately I have a found a way to drag my excitement back out of the black hole it crawls into, and I want to share it with you.

In a word (or three): Take a break.

“But wait!” you say. “If I take a break, it’ll never get done!” Now hold on, hear me out. It’s not the break itself that helps. It’s what you do during the break.

What motivates you to create something? What inspires you? What makes you flat-out happy? Everyone has something that makes them tick. Maybe listening to music, or doodling on a piece of paper, watching a movie, seeing something interesting visually, there are many, many ways. Find what works for you and remember it! Keep it ready for when you need a pick-me-up. Go ahead, pump that soundtrack through the speakers. (Assuming it won’t disturb anyone.) Pour yourself a Coca-Cola and read a good book. Whatever gets you going again.

Then, when you’re stoked up, go back to the project. Gently. Don’t rush things too much or your newly inflated bubble will pop. If you have to, work on some other aspect of the project. There are always things to be done; just find one that is the least strenuous. You can do it!

For me, my inspiring something is learning about other people’s movie-making experiences. I love watching the ‘making of’ sections on movies like Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, or National Treasure, and I absolutely love looking at costumes created for a specific role in a film.

As a side note, some of my “books for depressionitis” are:

The Art of Star Trek, by Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
A great book for looking at pictures of way-cool props. (Warning, some inappropriate costumes.)

The Lord of the Rings: The Making of the Movie Trilogy, by Brian Sibley
So much fun! This one goes into the whole process, including props, filming, costumes, CGI, music, actors, and lots more. Very, very good. (Warning, some bad language.)

Fashion: The Collection of the Kyoto Costume Institute, A history from the 18th to the 20th Century.
Granted, this one isn’t about a movie, but it’s a nice reference for historical costumes, and I like looking at all the colors and fabrics and styles. (Warning, some really, really weird costumes once you get into the 20th Century, and some inappropriate ones. )

There are two basic types, though you may find variations.

Soft Plastic

We had three of these for iSundae II, and we discovered a couple facts about them:

They flop when hit too hard. These swords just don’t like to be used. Good for show, but if you’re doing a fight scene, get something a little bit stronger.

Painting them is a bad idea. Rebekah decided to paint all three of our swords with some metallic spray paint, and we discovered very quickly that the paint just flakes off when you fight with the swords. We have several takes of fights with these swords that are ruined by flying paint chips.

So the conclusion on soft plastic swords: Costume prop only, don’t paint them, and definitely don’t fight with them.

Hard Plastic

We were not sure how these would hold up at first, so we bought extras of two swords. Well, the extras are intact, and have survived two movies with fight scenes. Things we discovered about them:

They are almost impossible to bend or flop. However, they tend to break when dropped onto hardwood floors. This is easy to fix, though, because they go back together with hot glue pretty well.

These hurt if somebody gets hit with one. Not as bad as getting sliced by a real sword, but you can be left with a stinging hand if your partner forgets their moves.

Some are better than others. We had two different brands of swords. One brand chipped easily along the edges, while the other brand was a little harder to damage.

Conclusion: Hard plastic swords are good for what you need them for.

Where to Buy Them

Unfortunately, the hard plastic swords are difficult to find in stores. Recently, I’ve only seen soft plastic swords around in places like Wal-Mart and Target. You might think that it gets easier around Halloween, but, alas, no good swords were to be found in my local stores for the last two or three years. (Halloween is a good time for battle axes, and the plastic black ones hold up pretty well in fight scenes.)

We bought our best swords online, I think from Amazon. Check around, they have a pretty good selection.

Sound Effects

Obviously, if you use plastic swords, they won’t sound right at all. It’s a little tedious to add a metal sword sound for every little clash in the movie, but in my opinion, dubbing sword sounds is a lot better than getting sliced by real ones.

Tip Number One:

When building a heavy duty prop, start with something you already have and build onto/around/under/through/over it.
For example, we needed a throne with a very distinct look, and I didn’t want to use only cardboard because of safety problems. Trust me, you don’t want the actor falling through the prop in the middle of the first take! Our solution? A folding chair. I simply surrounded it with cardboard to change its shape, and voila! A safe, nice-looking Cone Throne.

Tip Number Two:

Get rid of pesky outlets and light switches by covering them.
This was a major problem for us, since we were filming a medieval movie. So we created squares of posterboard or paper with a little design on them and stuck the squares onto whatever we couldn’t hide behind props. You could use blank paper the color of the walls, sci-fi-looking wall units, fake plants, or whatever you want. Just be careful about sticking tape on wall paint, and watch out for falling camouflage. Every so often they’d let go and sail off in the middle of a shot.
Also, while this works well for wider shots, it might be obvious in a close-up.

Tip Number Three:

Work around irremovable parts of the room by disguising them.
This is a biggie. We couldn’t remove a modern-looking bannister from a stairway we were filming on, nor could we tear the fireplace out of the living room. Solution? Cardboard, of course! A little cutting, painting, hot glueing, and, hey presto! A medieval-looking fireplace and bannister. Another way to duck those annoying elements is to try not to show them, although this is sometimes impossible.

Windows! Windows can be awful. The wonderful, modern-looking, white bars criss-crossing the glass. Cardboard to the rescue once more. You see how you can work around these things? Of course, the blinds are a whole ‘nother story.
If your window has an air-conditioning unit in it, check the safety precautions before you try to cover it.

Tip Number Four:

Use things around the house to create “atmosphere.”
We had all the things for this set laying around the house. We just made it look nice and neat. Just keep in mind what time period you’re working with. Don’t put an alarm clock beside a medieval bed (unless it’s part of a joke).

If you want to do this on a much grander scale, check this set out. Only the two white walls existed there. We created two more walls out of bookcases, then filled them with things from around the house, along with a few props I made specifically for it. Now, granted, I did throw in a few joke items. But you see how you can create whole rooms with things from around the house?
It might not be time-saving (it took us all morning to get that set ready), but it’s inexpensive and the results are great.

Theory number one:

It’s the fun of seeing our friends when we get together.

Well, that could be it. But that can’t be the only reason. I’m sure if we wanted to we could come up with some less hectic way for us to have fun. Bingo, perhaps. Or watching a movie. Sitting around, staring at each other wondering what to do is a luxury I’m sure we’ve longed for when we have seven or eight people involved in a “spirited discussion” over how to film a scene. A bit tiring, to say the least. Aggravating, to say the most. No, it can’t be an innate craving for each other’s company that drives this madness.

Theory number two:

It’s because they want some source of creative output.

There are a lot of other, safer, healthier ways to enjoy creativity than hanging out of a second floor window to clean a smear off of the glass so it’ll look nice for the filming shoot. There are easier, less-frustrating ways to amaze yourself than witnessing first-hand how a strong wind and large cardboard walls do not get along. Burning oneself with hot glue for the sake of a fake door, cutting one’s finger for a bottle that matches Malfhok’s hat, hitting one’s sister on the head with a falling prop, straining one’s arms holding up a blanket background. . . all these things seem a little hard. Why not try water-coloring? Why not make something out of play clay? This theory seems a bit strained. (Like my back after hauling a dozen wall units up two flights of stairs.)

Theory number three:

It’s because they want the praise at the end.

Here at last we’re getting to the core issue. Of course! We knock ourselves out for a month so people will look at the finished project and say “Oooh, ahhh, the boom shows in that shot.” (I’m kidding.) Who doesn’t like praise? But if we do this JUST for the praise at the end, we’re pretty fanatical about it. It took more than the hope of praise at the end to get us through all of that. This theory is practical, but not the end-all answer.

Theory number four:

It’s because they’re computer nuts.

Computer fiends would be a little more accurate. But, for goodness sake, if we wanted to just have the thrill of cutting together clips on the computer, why go to such trouble? Film a glass of water evaporating and put it to some classical music. Why spend months of preparation time making elaborate costumes, sets and props? Why film a whole twenty hours of footage to cut it down to forty-five minutes? The logic here is a bit shaky.

Theory number five:

It’s because it’s part of a world-domination tactic.

This is getting ridiculous.

Theory number six:

It’s because they just want to have fun.

What? Fun, you say? How can you even think that all that was fun? It wasn’t! It was a nightmare! A major stress! A joy! Oops. A joy? How did that get there? Have I lost my mind? (Don’t answer that.) To sum it all up, it was fun. It was more than fun. Aside from the times when the entire cast would be laughing because the lines went wrong again, aside from the near-hysterical fits of giggling when someone fell through a prop, aside from discovering how witty we could be while filming in an uncomfortably warm room, we learned about ourselves. I don’t want that to sound stereotypical. We really did. I learned when I needed to stop for a bit and when I needed to push. I learned that it’s okay if a prop doesn’t look like it came from WETA. I learned that I have a real problem with delegating jobs to other people. (I also learned how to make fake ice-cream, but that doesn’t count.)

To sum up, we’re addicted, and that’s all there is to it. It’s easy to say “never again.” But then we review the outtakes, the behind the scenes fun stuff, and the “inside jokes.” The way this shot looks great and that one could use some work. The way we get excited over each finished scene. The way we learned to work together and make things happen, it was worth every minute.

Will we make another movie? Absolutely. This year? Well. . . we’ll have to see. My metal hot-glue burns need a little more time to heal.

We quickly cut the exterior shot of Lydia’s house. There were no quaint little medieval huts in the neighborhood, and, well, let’s face it: a full-sized hut would take an awful lot of cardboard. We explored a couple of options, then deleted it and moved the essential part of that scene’s dialogue to the indoor set.

With all the dialogue happening in this “Lydia’s Parlor,” I didn’t want to stick a couple of chairs against a white wall and call it good. The artist in me cried out against anything that didn’t at least have the “feel” we were going for. We created Lydia’s character as being hard of hearing and very old, but still sprightly. What would this person’s parlor look like? I would stereotype her as someone with teapots and dried flower arrangements. Knitted afghans and cozy fireplaces. There we have the first architectural element. A fireplace. Instant problem. The fireplace we have is in the middle of a room that is much to big for a medieval hut. The average hut at that time, even in a fantasy, did not have a vaulted ceiling or big glass windows. The solution? I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count. Here it is in one of my favorite words. Cardboard. Of course, we wouldn’t be able to have an actual fire in a cardboard fireplace, but the idea is still there. And if worse comes to worst, animated fire is a possibility.

Ruth and I created an entire fireplace unit: hearth, chimney, mantel, even two “brick” ovens built onto each side. Set this next to an existing wall, use the cardboard units for the third wall and we had the beginnings of a great set. Throw in a rocking chair and knitted afghan (made by Sarah) for Lydia, a pretty teapot, oil lamps, (I know, wrong time period, but hey, they worked!) a great wooden bench for Marelac and Emcracy, side table, pillar with a plant on it, and finally, a bookshelf with lots of knick-knacks on it, and you’ve got it. (You don’t see any of the knick-knacks in the film. I positioned it too far back, so it was out of the camera’s range.) But wait, you say, where did Stelen sit? On one of the ovens. We supported it with a stool underneath. As long as he didn’t move, he wouldn’t fall through the fireplace and take the entire wall of the set with him.

Thankfully, everything went well. For a final touch, we added mugs of tea. Slight problem! None of the actors liked tea, so we improvised. Hot chocolate does a great job at dubbing in for tea, believe it or not.

Okay. Suffice it to say not all of us can afford to build a real castle for filming purposes. That is the real kicker of making a medieval movie. That, and no horses… or huge landscape shots…or a really good camera and large crew… anyway. I’m going to walk you through the process of creating a “cardboard wall unit.”

Step One — Paperwork

Before any, well most, of your prop projects, draw it. Or at least measure and write down the measurements. iSundae II called for a turret set (the top of a tower on which the hero and villain fight amid thunder and lightning). So, silly me, I said we could use our cement driveway, along with these wall units, a cardboard door, and green screen to simulate a tower. I also got smart and made the units a size where we could use them for the dungeon and miscellaneous walls as well.
I went out on the driveway, did some measuring, and came up with a number of units. If I remember correctly, it was twelve 6 feet by 2 feet units and fourteen 4 feet by 2 feet units.

Step Two — Assemble Materials

Friends, that’s a whole lot of cardboard. Praise the Lord, JoAnn Etc. gave us their empty cardboard fabric bolts for free. We got a couple cartloads, plus our wonderful grandparents had some boxes from their patio furniture.

Step Three — Cut

Until your arm aches. Then cut some more. You build up great arm and finger muscles doing this. I’ve said before, I use a rotary cutter and mat. It helps to stack your pieces in piles according to unit. A top, two sides, and the front (or the pieces thereof) in one pile, etc. Although, you might run out a space. I piled all my tops together and sides together, then put the tops on the sides to conserve space. (A craftroom shrinks amazingly when you get this much stuff in it.) Please watch out for your fingers during this stage.

Step Four — Glue

This procedure does use a ton of hot glue. Trust me, by the end of this project, I could touch 380 degree glue and not blink. (Unless my finger actually plunged into the glob. Then it was painful.) This is not something you need to be proud of! It is a safety hazard. I should investigate a pair of gloves.
(Ha, I can see Ruth coming down to the craftroom. “Hey, how’s it going?”
Me: “Well, I’m on my fifth pair of gloves.”
“Where’d the others go?”
“Well, one’s glued to that wall unit over there, one’s stuck to this stalactite frame, one’s…”)

Step Five — Bring a Fish Friend

Oh, wait. Guess I’ve seen Finding Nemo a few too many times. The correct next step would be Painting. We found a great paint in the Oops Bin at Home Depot or Lowes. I can’t remember which. We went to both on the same day and got something at each. It was the neatest paint, gray with granite flecks in it so it was textured kind of like stone.
The units looked great. That is, the few we were able to do. Dry cardboard soaks up paint like you wouldn’t believe. So we had to mix up some gray paint and try to match the color. It turned out rather blue, but hey, it happens.

Step Six — Use It

Well, I ran out of patience, paint, cardboard, and storage space long before my planned quota. We ended up with eleven short units and eight tall units. You’d be surprised how much you can do with those. They are not recommended for controllable fire scenes, hot weather (the glue melts), termite areas, or people who are allergic to dust. And be aware that a large cardboard piece will blow over, given a small amount of wind. We learned this the hard way.

If you can make sense out of these rambling instructions, good for you. Have fun prop-making and watch out for cardboard cuts.

This afternoon, though, we managed to get somewhat caught up on schedule by filming a couple various quick shots and a few short scenes. And we did some more footage importing, so we now have four of the six completed tapes in the computer. Unfortunately, we’re also rapidly running out of hard drive space.

We have a lot of planning to do tonight, as the next few days will require some serious organization.