Author: noah.bonevie

Imagine you were born in Vienna. You went to school here, you speak the dialect, you pay your taxes, and you teach history—the history of the very democracy that defines this nation. Now imagine, when election day comes, you are politely, but firmly, asked to stay outside. You have no vote. No say. No voice.

This isn’t a dystopian concept; it’s the reality for over 1.4 million people of voting age in Austria. They are excluded from the most fundamental civic act simply because they lack an Austrian passport. This glaring democratic deficit struck me as an invisible, systemic failure, and it became the theoretical core of my current master’s project.

One of my ideas for the short film: designed to visually implement this theme and analyze its emotional impact, focuses on the character Vanessa. She is a 28-year-old high school history teacher in Vienna, born and raised here, the daughter of immigrants who run a small Afroshop. Vanessa embodies perfect integration, yet she is politically marginalized. Her personal struggle to acquire the right to vote, the basic premise of her life being determined by others, is the lens through which this story concept examines this systemic contradiction.

But why is Vanessa’s struggle so difficult? To illuminate this gap, we need to understand the facts and the sheer absurdity of the hurdles involved.

The Systemic Failure: 20% of Austria Is unrepresented

The sheer scale of the exclusion is staggering. Nationwide, roughly 20 percent of the resident population aged 16 and over cannot vote in federal (Nationalrat) elections. This situation is the direct consequence of the ius sanguinis (right of blood) principle governing Austrian citizenship, which stipulates that you inherit citizenship from your parents, not from your birthplace.

In a major metropolitan hub like Vienna, this figure rockets to an astonishing 35 percent. This isn’t an issue affecting only newly arrived migrants. It’s a generational one. For a child born and raised here, whose parents also hold foreign passports (known as third-country nationals), the struggle for a voice is a fight for their very identity.

The result is a societal split: a huge segment of the population is deemed essential for the country’s economic and social function—working in healthcare, logistics, and education—yet they are systematically denied the right to political self-determination. They are the system-relevant but politically irrelevant.

The Roadblock: The absurd Journey to Citizenship

Why don’t these well-integrated people simply get a passport? The path to Austrian citizenship is one of the most difficult and expensive in Europe. For someone born in Austria to non-EU parents, who has met every requirement, the journey is not a reward for integration—it is an exhausting, costly, and precarious bureaucratic marathon.

1. The Financial Barrier: The Price of Belonging

The costs associated with naturalization are prohibitively high, often reaching well over €5,000 when factoring in all necessary steps:

• Application Fees & Knowledge Tests: Significant administrative costs for filing and testing required knowledge of Austrian history and democracy.
• Language Certificates (C1/C2 Level): Expensive courses and exams, even for those who speak perfect, native-level German.
• The Final Act: A substantial fee for the actual “conferral” of citizenship.

For a young professional like our potential protagonist, Vanessa, this means years of saving money—money that could have gone towards an apartment deposit or building a stable future—just to purchase the right to vote. The kicker? If the application is rejected for any reason, the fees are generally non-refundable. The fight for a passport is a high-stakes, uninsurable gamble.

2. The Document Trap: The Unsolvable Riddle

Beyond the financial stress, the most common reason for application failure is the inability to produce required documents, particularly the “release from previous citizenship” (§ 10 Abs. 1 StbG).

Austrian law typically demands that an applicant renounce their previous citizenship. This creates an impossible situation if the applicant’s country of origin (like many conflict zones or unstable states) either:

• a) Refuses to issue release papers, or;
• b) Is unable to issue reliable official documents due to political instability.

The result is a Catch-22: You are deemed fully integrated by Austrian society, you pass every test, you meet the financial criteria, but because a bureaucratic office in a country you may never have visited can’t issue a piece of paper, your entire life in Austria remains legally provisional.

Designing for a Voice: The Master’s Thesis Context

The central theme of this work and the driving force behind my short film concepts is the deep irony that someone like Vanessa, who teaches her students about the importance of democratic participation, is systematically silenced. The thousands of Euros she spends are not for luxury; they are the price tag on a basic human right.

The master’s thesis, “Emotional Resonance through Narrative Deception: Strategies of Viewer Guidance and Character Identification in Fictional Short Film,” leverages this factual injustice to analyze emotional storytelling. The key strategies employed are:

• Narrative Deception: The film intentionally misleads the audience to believe the character’s financial stress is due to a typical housing issue or student debt. This maximizes the emotional impact when the political cause (the passport fees) is revealed.
• Emotional Resonance: The contrast between the character’s native-level competence and legal marginalization generates intense empathy and outrage, turning a statistical issue into a personal tragedy.
• Irony as Guidance: The consistent use of irony (teaching about the right she lacks) serves as a potent tool for viewer guidance, ensuring the narrative climax delivers a powerful, unambiguous message.

The goal of this project is to turn that silent majority into a visually and emotionally potent force, demanding that the system recognize the simple truth: If you call this place home, you deserve a voice in shaping it.

Sources: 

Bundesministerium für europäische und internationale Angelegenheiten. (2023). Staatsbürgerschaftsgesetz 1985 (StbG). (Cited for the legal hurdles and the requirement to renounce prior citizenship, § 10 Abs. 1 StbG).

Republik Österreich. Bundes-Verfassungsgesetz (B-VG). (Cited for the necessity of Austrian citizenship to exercise the right to vote in the Nationalrat election).

Statistik Austria. (2024). Bevölkerungsstand und Staatsangehörigkeit. (Cited for the absolute numbers of non-eligible voters in the voting age population (16 and over) and the estimate for Vienna. Data based on the latest available surveys).

Many people notice that films can trigger emotions far more quickly than everyday situations. A single close-up, a shift in music or a sudden narrative turn can cause a lump in the throat or even bring tears to the eyes. To understand why this happens, it is helpful to look at the psychological mechanisms involved. These processes are well researched and explain why cinematic experiences can feel so immediate and overwhelming.

A central concept is emotional contagion. This describes the automatic tendency to absorb and mirror the emotions of others. When viewers see a character experiencing sadness or fear, they often feel traces of the same emotion. This reaction is not conscious. It is rooted in processes linked to mirror neuron activity, where observing an emotion activates similar emotional circuits in the brain. Even if the viewer logically knows the scene is fictional, the emotional system reacts as if it were real.

Another important concept is narrative transportation. This refers to the psychological state of being fully absorbed in a story. When transportation occurs, attention narrows, and the boundary between fiction and reality becomes softer. Viewers begin to think and feel within the world of the film. Research shows that during strong transportation, critical distance drops and emotional responsiveness increases. This helps explain why certain scenes feel especially intense.

Films also activate empathy-related processes. Empathy involves both understanding another person’s emotional state (cognitive empathy) and sharing an aspect of that emotion (affective empathy). Cinematic techniques, such as close-ups, slowed pacing and intimate sound design, intensify these responses. A character’s struggle or vulnerability becomes easier to identify with because film directs the viewer’s attention very precisely.

Music influences emotional reactions through affective priming. This means music prepares the emotional system for a certain mood. Slow harmonies, minor chords or subtle shifts in instrumentation can increase emotional sensitivity. Film music often works below the threshold of conscious awareness. The viewer feels the emotion before understanding why, which makes reactions stronger and faster.

Another relevant concept is safe emotional simulation. Films create a protected psychological environment in which viewers can experience intense emotions without real-life consequences. This safe distance allows people to feel deeply because they are not personally threatened. The story creates controlled exposure to emotional situations, making vulnerability easier than in real-life contexts.

In addition, the structure of film uses emotional pacing. Filmmakers craft emotional arcs deliberately: tension builds, is held and then released with precision. This controlled rhythm can create emotional peaks that rarely occur so clearly in everyday life. Because the viewer’s emotional system is guided step by step, the intensity of the final release can be very strong.

Finally, emotional reactions often connect to personal memory activation. Certain scenes can echo experiences viewers have had themselves. This may happen even if the memory is not consciously recalled. The film triggers an emotional pattern that already exists in the viewer’s internal world, creating a deeper and more personal reaction.

Together, these psychological mechanisms explain why films can touch us so immediately. They combine attention control, empathetic connection, emotional simulation and narrative immersion. When all these processes work together, the emotional effect becomes unusually strong, even overwhelming. What feels like sudden emotion is actually the result of several intertwined psychological systems designed to help humans understand the feelings of others.

Literature:

Bordwell, D., & Thompson, K. (2020). Film art: An introduction (12th ed.). McGraw Hill.

Groen, M. (2018). The psychology of emotion in film. Routledge.

Plantinga, C. (2009). Moving viewers: American film and the spectator’s experience. University of California Press.

Smith, M. (1995). Engaging characters: Fiction, emotion, and the cinema. Oxford University Press.

Tan, E. S. (1996). Emotion and the structure of narrative film: Film as an emotion machine. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

As we continue developing our short film, we are exploring different narrative approaches that might help guide viewers expectations and create emotional impact. One option we are considering is the use of stereotypes. To evaluate this idea properly, we first need to understand what stereotypes are, how they function in media and why responsible handling is so important.

Stereotypes are simplified ideas about groups of people. They reduce complex identities to a few general characteristics. In everyday life, they act as shortcuts people use to interpret others quickly. In film, this effect can be even more noticeable. When viewers see a character only briefly, they often rely on familiar patterns to fill in the gaps. This is why stereotypes are commonly used in media: they offer an immediate point of orientation.

Because they work so quickly, stereotypes can be an effective tool for shaping expectations. A character with certain visual or behavioral cues can lead viewers to assume they understand the situation. If we decide to use this technique, it could help guide the audience toward a particular interpretation at the beginning of the story. This would create a feeling of certainty, which could later be challenged through a shift in perspective or a narrative twist.

At the same time, we are aware that stereotypes carry risks. When used uncritically, they can reinforce harmful assumptions or reduce individuals to single traits. Media has a strong influence on how society views certain groups, and repeated stereotypical portrayals can contribute to prejudice. Because of this, any use of stereotypes requires careful thought. We need to be sure that we are not reproducing ideas that have negative effects outside the story.

In our project, we want to consider how stereotypes might be used without reinforcing them. One possibility is to guide the audience toward a familiar assumption and then reveal a more complex truth. The intention would be to highlight how quickly one can fall into stereotypical thinking. This approach could support the themes we want to explore, especially if the film addresses issues like discrimination or bias.

However, nothing is fixed yet. We are still experimenting with different methods of storytelling. Stereotypes remain only one of several tools we might use. If we choose to include them, it will be with clear intention and with the responsibility that comes with representing real people and real issues. If we decide against them, it will be because another narrative approach serves our goals more effectively.

For now, the most important step is understanding the impact of stereotypes in media. They offer narrative efficiency but also shape public perception. They can guide viewers emotionally, but they can also oversimplify. As we continue refining our ideas, we want to stay aware of both sides. Whatever choice we make, it should support the message of the film without contributing to harmful patterns.

Literature: 

Hall, S. (1997). Representation: Cultural representations and signifying practices. SAGE.

hooks, b. (1992). Black looks: Race and representation. South End Press.

Plantinga, C. (2009). Moving viewers: American film and the spectator’s experience. University of California Press.

For the practical part of our master’s project, we set out to understand what makes a short film emotionally engaging and thought provoking. To do this, we watched several short films that are recognized for their strong emotional impact. At first, we watched them without analyzing anything. We wanted to experience them naturally, just as any viewer would. Some films touched us immediately; others did not leave a deep impression. These first reactions helped us understand which elements work intuitively.

In the next step, we examined why certain films moved us more than others. One of the clearest observations was that stories focusing on a single person are more effective in short films. With limited time, viewers connect more easily with one individual. The emotional access becomes stronger, and the message becomes clearer. Films with many characters often lose intensity because attention is divided.

Authentic dialogue also proved to be essential. The films that impressed us the most sounded natural. The conversations felt real and unpolished. They contained pauses, interruptions and spontaneous reactions that made us feel as if we were witnessing real situations. This authenticity creates emotional closeness. When dialogue feels too scripted, emotional distance grows.

Music played an important role as well. Although we expected this, studying other films made its influence more visible. Music guides the viewer’s emotional direction. It shapes atmosphere, highlights key moments and increases intensity. Many impactful short films use music only at specific points rather than constantly. This selective use strengthens emotional peaks and avoids overwhelming the audience.

Something that surprised us with its power was the unexpected twist at the end. Many short films stay memorable because they challenge the viewer’s assumptions in the final moments. A twist creates a moment of shock or rethinking, which keeps the story alive in the viewer’s mind. This effect suits our project especially well.

Our film focuses on racism. To create impact, we want to deliberately play with stereotypes. The goal is to guide viewers toward a familiar assumption. By doing so, they become part of the problem for a moment because they follow the same unconscious ideas that exist in real life. The twist at the end will break this stereotype and reveal a different truth. This moment encourages self reflection and raises the question of why one believed the stereotype in the first place.

From our analysis, we decided to concentrate on a single main character, natural dialogue, selective music and a twist that challenges perception. These insights form the foundation of our short film and help us shape a project that aims to move viewers emotionally and make them think.

Literature we can already use for out theoretical part:

Bordwell, D., & Thompson, K. (2020). Film art: An introduction (12th ed.). McGraw Hill.

Cowgill, L. A. (2005). Writing short films: Structure and content for screenwriters (2nd ed.). Watson-Guptill.

Hall, S. (1997). Representation: Cultural representations and signifying practices. SAGE.

hooks, b. (1992). Black looks: Race and representation. South End Press.

McKee, R. (1997). Story: Substance, structure, style, and the principles of screenwriting. ReganBooks.

Plantinga, C. (2009). Moving viewers: American film and the spectator’s experience. University of California Press.

Seger, L. (1990). Creating unforgettable characters. Holt Paperbacks.

McCormick, S. (2020). The temporal elements of emotional identification with film characters (Master’s thesis, University of Colorado. https://mountainscholar.org/items/4619dcd4-d1e2-4f3e-4f3b-730ccf2fd93e

The thesis The Temporal Elements of Emotional Identification with Film Characters by S. McCormick looks at how our sense of time while watching a film influences how strongly we connect with characters. It is a theoretical study, meaning there is no short film or creative project attached. The thesis starts by setting up the research question, then brings in psychological theories about time perception and combines them with film theory on character emotions and immersion. Finally, the author discusses how time can shape emotional reactions in narrative cinema and why that matters for film studies. So the whole thing is more of an intellectual exploration than a practical filmmaking work.

In terms of the “artifact” part, this thesis really doesn’t have one. Everything exists on the page. That makes access easy, but it also limits what kind of evaluation we can do. There’s no practical demonstration, no production notes, nothing like that. The documentation is clear regarding the theory, but of course the connection between concept and filmmaking practice remains abstract. Honestly, you sometimes wish the author had taken one or two well known scenes and broken them down in detail, or even experimented with editing to show the point. But here, the focus stays purely academic. That’s fine if the program accepts theoretical theses, but in a film direction context it may feel a little incomplete.

The overall presentation is professional. The writing looks structured and the formatting is consistent. A few sentences get long, and sometimes the ideas take a moment to click, but that’s pretty common in theory heavy academic work. The topic choice is actually quite refreshing. Time perception and emotional engagement are usually studied separately, so putting them together brings a new angle without trying to sound “revolutionary”. It’s more like: here’s a niche idea that deserves attention. That’s a mature level of innovation.

Regarding independence, the author clearly read widely and formed their own line of reasoning. You can see original thinking in how sources are brought together. Still, since there is no empirical study or creative experiment, the independence is mainly intellectual rather than practical. It’s essentially a high-quality literature based thesis rather than a mixed method or production research project.

The structure works well. Chapters unfold logically, ideas build gradually, and the transitions between psychology and film theory are handled smoothly. Every now and then, one section could be shorter because the point was already made, but nothing major. The communication style is mostly clear, although a bit academic at times, with the typical long paragraphs people tend to write when they want to sound serious. That said, the meaning stays understandable and the argument doesn’t get lost. The scope is appropriate: the author didn’t try to cover every emotional theory ever written, which keeps the work focused and realistic.

The thesis shows attention to detail: references are done properly, terminology is introduced cleanly, and there are no distracting grammar problems. The literature selection is strong, mixing cognitive psychology, film theory, and audience studies. It’s not just surface level sources, so the foundation feels reliable. The author really did their homework.

Stepping back, the thesis makes a thoughtful contribution to how we understand emotional engagement in cinema. The key strength is that it opens up a less commonly discussed aspect of viewing: not just what we feel, but when we feel it and how our inner sense of time affects connection to characters. The main weakness is simply the lack of practical demonstration, which sometimes makes the work feel a bit theoretical and distant from actual directing practice. You don’t get that handson sense of “here’s how to use this when making a film”.

Still, as a master’s project in theoretical film analysis, it’s convincing, well researched and carefully developed. It shows critical thinking, academic discipline, and a clear interest in film psychology. With a little more concrete application, it could even be the start of bigger research or creative experimentation in emotional timing and cinematic immersion.

*To improve readability and clarity, I used GPT 5 as a language assistance tool, while all ideas, analysis, and final decisions in the text are my own

7 blog posts in and my project is already finished. Who would have thought? Not me. But nevertheless, what happened over the past weeks, and how did my project change from the beginning?

The topic, a spec commercial for Carhartt, is still the same. Also, the message I want to convey is unchanged, but the method has evolved. From fast paced, energetic cuts to slow, long standing shots that tell their own story with no need for fancy, fast edits.

I was already pretty far into my research and had laid the groundwork for the treatment, but I changed a lot of things in the meantime. The text changed partially, and the images I think completely. And after a lot of feedback, the treatment now seems very understandable. What I wanted to achieve is a treatment that directly tells the story, sets the vibe, and provides a rough guide through the scenes. Just what a treatment should do but often misses.

My previous ones didn’t work so well in comparison, in my opinion, because I now had the time and resources to put in more work and really make my vision clear, even for people who had never seen the concept before. That used to be something I struggled with. For me, my vision is always clear, but others often didn’t understand it. Not because they couldn’t, but because I communicated it poorly. Or maybe not even poorly, but I left out things that were obvious to me because I already knew them. Others didn’t.

That is definitely the biggest learning from the past month: take your time and make it clear for everyone. The client doesn’t know what you have in your head, no matter how good the idea. It must be clear with a simple PDF, understandable even for people who are not filmmakers, not photographers, not designers, but people with different backgrounds.

In my past blog posts, I discussed many theoretical aspects of the treatment writing process. With that knowledge, I started taking a more hands-on approach. I watched every YouTube video I could find on the topic and eventually came across the channel of Nur Niaz, a commercial director from Bangkok, Thailand, who has worked with major brands. His videos significantly helped me improve my treatment skills.

Focusing more on the following points made a huge difference:

• Visual References: Incorporate images that reflect the project’s tone and style.
• Concise Storytelling: Present the narrative clearly, focusing on key plot points.
• Character Descriptions: Provide detailed profiles of main characters to convey their motivations.
• Stylistic Approach: Explain the visual and auditory style, including color schemes and sound design.
• Personal Vision: Articulate your unique perspective and passion for the project.

But the biggest learning for me personally wasn’t really how to structure or design the treatment. It was about how to handle feedback.

Often, when I’m deep in my creative process, I see my vision clearly and know exactly where the video should go—but that clarity doesn’t always translate to others. When people don’t understand your concept, you might start to question your idea. But most of the time, it’s just not communicated clearly enough and needs some reworking.

That’s where feedback comes in. I learned that getting feedback from people who aren’t involved in the project is one of the best things you can do. They have no background on it—so if they understand the vision and the idea, the client will too. And that’s the most important thing.

I applied his tips to my latest treatment, which I wrote for my Carhartt WIP spec project. After receiving feedback from several people, I felt I had genuinely improved compared to my previous treatments. I also used ChatGPT to help me rephrase my sentences, and it effectively maintained the core of my ideas while refining the grammar and flow. This further enhanced my treatment.

Next, I’ll take the theoretical knowledge I gained from my research and begin scripting my idea—followed by storyboarding. During my research, I tried to find AI tools that could assist with screenwriting, but to my surprise, I couldn’t find anything that felt useful without interfering with my original idea. So I’ve decided to write down every scene manually, just as we learned in our past Dynamic Media classes, and see if everything works out both visually and narratively as I imagined.

Once the script is finished, I’ll look into AI tools like Stable Diffusion or Midjourney to see how much they can help me and whether they’re useful and time saving compared to sketching the storyboard myself, since I can’t sketch.

Interesting Links:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC1QQwXzHskeJzslDn8dylqA

When working on a concept, it’s easy to become emotionally attached to your idea. This attachment, often called cognitive fixation, can block creativity and reduce problem-solving. Stepping back allows us to assess our ideas objectively, helping us decide whether our “darling” truly serves the brand and audience or if we’re just pushing out our ego.

Taking a break or gaining distance from the work can lead to better judgment. People often think more clearly when they engage in slow, reflective thinking . Letting go isn’t failure, it’s strategy.

Since I am still writing the concept for my Carhartt spec, I literally reached this exact point. I stepped away for a second, picked the project up later, and decided to change the feel of the video. In one of our brainstorming sessions, we asked whether the current idea was the best way to portray the vibe I want to transmit and the short answer was no.

It took some time to be okay with that, but now I love the new idea even more. And here comes the ego problem again: who wants to admit that their concept didn’t really work? Especially for directors, that’s kind of our whole identity. But just because you come up with a better idea during the process doesn’t mean you failed, it’s just part of the process.

At our excursion to OFF, big agencies talked about how they completely went back to the drawing board even though some concepts were already fully developed. Of course, it’s also a question of budget, time, and trust whether clearing everything and starting from scratch is even possible.

But how can you actually kill your darling?
Two things really help me:

1. Reviews with team members who are not emotionally invested in the concept. Objective perspectives highlight blind spots and help test whether the idea really works. Constructive criticism often leads to stronger concepts but it really has to be constructive.
2. Time and space. As already mentioned leaving the idea alone for some time helps detach emotions from your work. When you revisit it with fresh eyes, what once seemed perfect might now feel stale or you might discover a new twist.

The Payoff: Stronger Concepts
Killing your darling doesn’t mean abandoning your vision, it means strengthening it. By being open to change, you make space for innovation and authenticity. Commercials live or die based on relevance, clarity, and emotion. Those are hard to achieve when we are too close to our own ideas.

In short, letting go of your first concept can lead you to the right concept. It’s not easy. It takes time to do it without funny feelings. But in a world where attention spans are short and expectations are high, only the best ideas survive. And often, those best ideas come after you kill your darling.

I killed mine and went some steps back, changed the vibe but not the idea and now it’s time to adapt the Treatment and get the rest of the work done!

Storyboarding is the magic that makes a commercial actually happen. Before spending real money on a camera crew, actors, props, and locations, you need a solid plan. A storyboard lays out the commercial shot by shot so everyone knows what’s supposed to happen before the first person steps foot on set. When it comes to putting a storyboard together, there are a few main ways to do it: sketching, previs, or searching for similar frames online. Picking the right method can seriously change how smooth your whole project runs.

Sketching is probably the most classic way to storyboard. It’s quick, cheap, and all you need is a pen and paper. Especially early on, sketching is super helpful because you can brainstorm different ideas without overthinking it. You can map out tons of different options for a scene without getting stuck on the details.

But sketching isn’t always the most accurate way to show your ideas, especially if you’re like me and aren’t super confident in your drawing skills. If the sketches are too rough or messy, there’s definitely a risk that other people won’t really get what you’re trying to say. But honestly, that’s kind of fine when you’re just getting started. Sketching keeps everything loose and flexible, which is exactly what you need at the beginning. I still hate it tough 

Previs has gotten way easier lately, especially for commercial work. You don’t need expensive software anymore — just grab your phone and shoot rough videos or stills. Shooting previs on your phone lets you block out real scenes with real people and props, which gives you a much better sense of how timing, movement, and camera angles will actually feel. Plus, making quick edits from your phone clips can show you problems with pacing or weird transitions before you even get to the set.

It’s honestly the fastest way to figure out if your idea is going to work once you actually start shooting. The only downside is that most of the time, you do have to leave the house. If you’re still collecting ideas or trying to figure out the rough storyline, it’s probably smarter to stick to sketching at first. Even if you can’t draw well, you know what your own sketches mean — and when it’s time to show someone else your vision, you can shoot a rough previs or, if you’re feeling lazy and don’t want to go outside, just search the web for frames.

Searching for similar frames is another solid option, especially when you’re pitching your idea. You can pull images from movies, ads, or photography and build a quick mood board that shows the vibe, style, and energy you’re going for. Actually the last spec ad we shot was 90% planned just by pulling frames from Pinterest and Frameset. It worked perfectly. Clients especially love this because they can instantly see what you’re aiming for, without you needing to explain it for half an hour.

The only real downside to this method is that if your idea is super original, it might take forever to find the right frames. You can easily spend hours searching and still not find something that matches exactly. Plus, this method doesn’t solve how the shots connect or flow together — it’s more about the look, not the structure — so you’ll still need a real storyboard or previs later if you want a full plan.

On real projects, the best storyboards usually end up being a mix of all three techniques. Sketch first to throw down ideas fast. Gather reference frames to lock in the style and mood. Then shoot quick previs videos to make sure the scenes actually work. Especially in commercial work, where budgets are tight and timelines are even tighter, using all three methods together can save you a ton of stress, money, and last-minute disasters.

At the end of the day, the best storyboard is the one that makes your idea clear — whether you sketch it badly on paper, film it on your phone, or build a vibe board from random internet screenshots. Whatever gets your team (and your client) on the same page is the way to go.

Hulett, S. (2018). The Art of Previs: Planning Before Shooting. Animation World Network Press.

Masaki, Y. (2019). Storyboard Sketching: The First Step of Visual Storytelling. Creative Media Publishers.

Parry, K. (2020). how to storyboard (even if you can’t draw) [YouTube Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaLMz5Y5t9A

Simon, L., & Jozwiak, K. (2021). Reference Images in Modern Production: How to Build Effective Mood Boards. Filmmaker’s Journal, 17(3), 35–42.

I recently thought a lot about an experience from our last spec ad shoot. We didn’t do a lot of traditional pre-production. We mainly searched for some cool shots and visuals we liked but skipped detailed storyboarding. During the two shooting days, many ideas just came up on the spot. This made me wonder: does doing less pre-production open doors for more creativity?

Obviously, pre-production is a super important part of filmmaking because it helps avoid problems and makes sure everything runs smoothly. But too much planning can sometimes kill creativity. People tend to be more creative when they have the freedom to explore and take risks.

In our case, the loose structure helped a lot. We were flexible and open-minded, and new ideas just kept coming. Creativity often happens “in the moment,” especially when people are improvising together. Being able to adjust and try new things without being tied to a strict plan made a big difference.

Psychology studies show that people who are given fewer rules during a creative task often come up with more original ideas. So having just a rough plan for a film shoot might actually help new, better ideas happen on set.

A lot of the shots above just “happend” during our shoot and still tell our initial story but none of them were planned.

Of course, skipping pre-production completely can be dangerous, especially in commercial filmmaking where time and money are tight. So it’s about finding the right balance. Creativity tends to peak when there is enough structure to give clear goals but also enough freedom to experiment. In film, this means having a general idea of what you want but staying flexible.

Thinking back to our spec ad, the best shots came from moments we hadn’t planned. Maybe it was a sudden change in light or a spontaneous move by the talents. Random, lucky moments like these can really boost creativity — if you’re open to them.

Still, it wouldn’t have worked without pre-production. It gave us a direction, helped with logistics, and got everyone on the same page. But it didn’t have to be super detailed. Plans should be flexible and able to change quickly, especially in fast-moving environments like film sets.

From my still limited experience as a director, a “light” version of pre-production has two big advantages: it lets everyone on set bring in fresh ideas, and it helps the project adjust to new opportunities. But for this to work, you need to trust your crew and be ready to let go of some control, which is really hard for me sometimes but giving people space and trusting them is key for creative teamwork.

In the end, doing less pre-production doesn’t mean being unprepared. It can actually be a smart move to leave space for real creativity to happen. It completely depends on the project: are there a lot of locations? How many shooting days are there? How big is the crew? These are all questions you need to ask yourself before deciding to work with a smaller pre-production plan. The bigger the crew and the more locations, the harder it will be to not have a detailed storyboard. But still, our spec ad showed me that letting things evolve naturally on set can lead to surprising results. Finding the balance between preparation and flexibility seems to be a secret weapon, when used right, for creative success in commercial filmmaking.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1996). Creativity: Flow and the psychology of discovery and invention. HarperCollins.

Mumford, M. D., Scott, G. M., Gaddis, B., & Strange, J. M. (2002). Leading creative people: Orchestrating expertise and relationships. The Leadership Quarterly, 13(6), 705-750.

Rabiger, M., & Hurbis-Cherrier, M. (2020). Directing: Film techniques and aesthetics (6th ed.). Routledge.

Sawyer, R. K. (2012). Explaining creativity: The science of human innovation (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press.