As a Script Continuity Supervisor, I always got to look at the script before most people did. That’s where it all started for me—flipping through pages, figuring out how a story could actually come to life. Daylight, locations, actor schedules, weather—I had to see it all, anticipate every problem before it became a disaster. It wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t easy, and no one outside the crew ever noticed if I got it right, but a lot of people surely noticed if I got it wrong.
Breaking down a script wasn’t just about the shooting schedule—it was about continuity, editing, and the passage of time. My goal was always to make sure the audience believed in the story’s internal clock. Whether the final cut condensed ten years into ninety-eight minutes or stretched a few hours into the illusion of an epic, my job was to make that seamless.
One of the first things I checked was the season. How many daylight exterior scenes were there? In Toronto, for instance, October daylight was sparse, and the weather was completely unpredictable. Shooting an outdoor scene could quickly turn into chaos: clouds would roll in, the wind would pick up, rain would hit just as we were about to roll the close-ups. I saw scripts that seemed impossible under these conditions. Making snow in summer? A nightmare. Shooting summer scenes in winter? Actors would suck on ice cubes before every take to simulate warmth—while freezing in their swimsuits.
And the conditions could change in an instant. A film that perfectly illustrates these challenges immediately comes to mind. The Wharf Rat. It was scheduled to start shooting in October in Canada, and it starred Lou Diamond Phillips and Judge Reinhold.
Working on The Wharf Rat, I had the opportunity to meet and work closely with both actors. Meeting Judge Reinhold was completely unexpected for me. Based on his films, I always assumed he played this slightly goofy, quirky character, but in person, he was entirely different. He was soulful, and his eyes were mesmerizing—there was a depth to them that was hard to put into words. When we looked at each other, it was like a silent understanding passed between us. Judge had his own small entourage on set and was very private, but he seemed genuinely comfortable around me. Shy and reserved in real life, he contrasted so vividly with the presence he had on camera. I even have a Polaroid of the two of us, on which he wrote something beautiful.
Lou, on the other hand, was professional, gung-ho, and endlessly warm. When he smiled, it could brighten even the cloudiest day on set. I was truly happy to meet and work with both of them.
Funny thing, one of the scenes we shot in the movie was a love scene for Lou Diamond Phillips’ character. It was a closed set, of course, and I was always present as the continuity person—even during intimate scenes. The director, unfortunately, wasn’t as adept at directing love scenes as he was at action, and it quickly became the most awkward love scene I had ever witnessed on a film set. Lou Diamond seemed just as uncomfortable as the actress, and I think all of us were relieved when it was finally over. If I remember correctly, it may not have even made it into the final cut, probably ending up on the cutting floor—but I could be wrong.
We were trying to shoot a series of exterior chase scenes, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. At that point, I realized we needed a Plan B—maybe even a Plan C. I suggested moving the scenes indoors, onto one of the cargo ships docked along the lakeshore. As it turned out, this wasn’t just a workaround—it improved the scenes. Shooting in that claustrophobic, steel environment added tension, depth, and character. Everyone agreed: it looked better than we’d imagined.
What I loved about film was that it was a constant problem-solving exercise. You couldn’t throw your hands up and say, “We’ll try again tomorrow.” You had to find solutions, fast, under pressure. That’s what kept me engaged. That’s what made the job addictive: the challenge, the logistics, and the creativity, all rolled into one chaotic, exhilarating package.
No matter how much the weather raged, the story always found a way forward. As the old saying goes, “The show must go on.”
Words Have Power 