WIRED TO WIN: Surviving the Tour de France

And that’s only part of what Daniel Ferguson does. “On location, my job is really the schedule,” he explains. “If we have seven shots scheduled for the day, I make sure that we get all seven, and possibly even an eighth. This means planning every move the unit makes—every meal, drive, or helicopter flight—down to the minute. As the first assistant director, Daniel is the liaison between the production team and the talent: the cyclists, and anyone else who appears on the set. “The big challenge is educating the cyclists about the filmmaking process but also treating them with enormous respect. In Europe they’re movie stars. In IMAX, though, the closest thing we have to prima donnas are probably the helicopter pilots,” he adds with a smile. “The good ones charge a fortune and are fantastic.”

“I was determined to teach myself moviemaking.”

While a student of theology and metaphysics at McGill University in Montreal, Daniel started a moviemaking co-op, and “film took over my life.” Surrounded by would-be Scorseses and Tarantinos who were clueless about raising money, Daniel took on the budgeting, and it was a natural progression for him to become a line producer on feature films. “Helping finance the films put me in a position to say, ‘I want to work as an assistant camera person and learn about shadows, or work as a boom operator, or try set decoration,’” he explains. Daniel respects filmmakers who have a broad understanding of the craft, and was fascinated by the collective nature of filmmaking. “A good idea can come from anywhere,” he points out, “and the more you know about the process—sounds, images, artistic design—the better equipped you’ll be to get good stories on the screen. And when it’s in your head, people will turn around and help you make your vision.”

The challenge of writing for IMAX

Daniel is also the film’s co-writer, having long wanted to collaborate with director Bayley Silleck in this way. A golden rule of screenwriting is “Show, don’t tell,” and it’s especially apt for IMAX movies. “The visual is so immersive and powerful that you have to choose your words very carefully and sparsely. It’s almost like haiku poetry,” says Daniel. Sometimes the power of the image isn’t apparent until very late in the process, when the expensive IMAX print is made. Until then, the creative team works off a television screen, studying the picture minutely, “even with a magnifying glass, because something small, such as the emotions on someone’s face, can be very large when you see it in the theater,” he explains.

Placing voiceovers or narration is another challenge. Lines may read wonderfully on paper, but the image may turn out to be far too powerful to have someone talking over it, “even if they’re explaining the secrets of the universe. You just say, ‘Shut up and let me watch,’” says Daniel. This is an especially thorny problem when dealing with complex subjects like brain science. “We have a responsibility not to alienate the audience, or to make the film just about super athletes. We need to deliver an emotional payoff, to have people leaving the theater saying, ‘My brain is amazing.’” Daniel is particularly fascinated by the brain’s inherent plasticity and the fact that, to a degree—through specialization, conditioning, and repeated activity—we can shape our own brains and affect who we become.

Always learning on the job

Trying to balance the creative task of screenwriting with his logistical responsibilities as first assistant director is, Daniel admits, “very taxing. People often say ‘You have to pick one.’” When asked his preference, Daniel replies, “Given the choice, writing about these concepts is what really motivates me: Cognition is fascinating.” He had already been reading widely about neurology, and declares, “Every film is like a thesis project. As a writer you have a responsibility to educate yourself in the subject matter.” After years of looking at pictures of the human brain in books, Daniel describes a recent invitation from two doctors to dissect one as, “one of the more sublime experiences I’ve had in the film business. I couldn’t help thinking, ‘This brain belonged to someone. You don’t have to cut it up for two lowly filmmakers.’ You’re holding a hunk of meat but at same time it’s so delicate. And when you understand the intricacy of its parts, it really does something to you.”

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