As part of our yearlong series on Sundance filmmakers, The Independents, we asked participants to keep a diary of one day in their working life and submit an accompanying self-portrait. Today’s diary is from Nida Manzoor (“Polite Society”), who is in the half-exhilarating, half-exhausting throes of shooting TV series “We Are Lady Parts.”
Read yesterday’s diary: How Erica Tremblay markets her movie without ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ money
7 a.m. Rainy. East London. I’m in the car on the way to the studio. I am shooting Season 2 of my show “We Are Lady Parts.” We are five weeks into the shoot. I ask the driver to put on Magic radio, known for its smooth ‘80s vibes. Abba’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” comes on. What a tune.
My dog snoozes in my arms. I am bringing him to set. He lights up the production whenever he comes with me. He is a good morale boost for a weary crew. I leave him in the assistant director truck with the production team when I head to set. I eat a pot of porridge with berries and have a black coffee whilst I flick through the scenes for the day.
I wear my Sundance hoodie to set. I get nods of approval/respect from the electrical department. An unintentional flex. I should wear it more often.
8 a.m. I rehearse a scene with all my principal cast on a returning set. It’s Saira’s bedsit. My favorite set from Season 1. The cast are s— hot. They are all so much more assured in their performances. I have a mini “this is f— cool” moment before my first assistant director asks about the coverage I want for the scene. I notice I am a better director these days. I trust my instincts, I communicate better, I am more accepting of my imperfections. I think to myself that this is what it’s all about. Growth.
1 p.m. I eat lunch in my trailer on my own and enjoy some silence. I am an introvert so alone time is restorative. I resist checking the news. I hug my dog before I head back to set.
5 p.m. I am trying to avoid unhealthy snacks during the shoot, but it’s 5 p.m. and I am particularly exhausted and indulge in a full, fat can of Coke. My first assistant director sees me drink it and widens her eyes all like “uh-oh.” She calls a can of Coke a “red ambulance” — an in-case-of-emergency sitch.
6 p.m. I wait for lighting to finish setting up. I cave and open the news on my phone. I am reminded that the world is on fire. What is the point of television? Everything feels utterly pointless. The standby art director asks me if I think the characters should be drinking tea in this next scene.
6:50 p.m. This is KBS o’clock (Kick Bollocks and Scramble). That oh-so-familiar end-of-the-day rush to complete a scene. Going overtime will mean incurring a big cost that we don’t have the budget to absorb. It hurts to rush a scene I spent weeks crafting in my head. I feel lucky that my actors and crew are incredible and are moving fast with me. It’s great to work with great people.
7 p.m. Wrap. I thank my crew and cast and get into the car, clutching my pooch. Drained but feeling positive. I call my editor. I tell him I am tired and want only to hear good things about the footage I am getting. He can tell me the pickup shots he thinks I need another day.
8 p.m. I come home and stick some salmon in the oven and watch “Love Is Blind” Season 5. I think about doing some yoga. … It does not come to pass.
9 p.m. I am reflecting. I have a big guest star coming in tomorrow. Someone I hugely admire and respect is coming in for a scene. I think I must try and be cool and do my utmost not to be weird. Every time I have Zoomed with our amazing guest I have always been weird. Fangirl-y, you could say. I figure no matter what I do I probably will be weird, so I decide to focus on trying to have self-compassion when my inevitable weirdness arises.
10 p.m. Night times are tricky. I hope to stop blocking scenes in my head and dreaming of being on set. Can’t my brain have any respite? I have this one recurring dream where I am asleep in Amina, the main character’s, bed and we are about to go for a take and I think S—, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE SHOT and I splutter to life riddled with anxiety. I feel bad for my brain. Indeed, it is fried.
I tell myself I need to do better self-care than just impulse buying expensive cosmetics. Must capitalism always win?
11 p.m. I rely on a history podcast to get to sleep. Tonight’s is about Ivan the Terrible. Last night was the Tang Dynasty. I listened to this one podcast that said that it’s unhealthy to rely on podcasts to fall asleep. Alas.
As part of our yearlong series on Sundance filmmakers, The Independents, we asked participants to keep a diary of one day in their working life and submit an accompanying self-portrait. Today’s diary is from Nida Manzoor (“Polite Society”), who is in the half-exhilarating, half-exhausting throes of shooting TV series “We Are Lady Parts.”
Read yesterday’s diary: How Erica Tremblay markets her movie without ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ money
7 a.m. Rainy. East London. I’m in the car on the way to the studio. I am shooting Season 2 of my show “We Are Lady Parts.” We are five weeks into the shoot. I ask the driver to put on Magic radio, known for its smooth ‘80s vibes. Abba’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” comes on. What a tune.
My dog snoozes in my arms. I am bringing him to set. He lights up the production whenever he comes with me. He is a good morale boost for a weary crew. I leave him in the assistant director truck with the production team when I head to set. I eat a pot of porridge with berries and have a black coffee whilst I flick through the scenes for the day.
I wear my Sundance hoodie to set. I get nods of approval/respect from the electrical department. An unintentional flex. I should wear it more often.
8 a.m. I rehearse a scene with all my principal cast on a returning set. It’s Saira’s bedsit. My favorite set from Season 1. The cast are s— hot. They are all so much more assured in their performances. I have a mini “this is f— cool” moment before my first assistant director asks about the coverage I want for the scene. I notice I am a better director these days. I trust my instincts, I communicate better, I am more accepting of my imperfections. I think to myself that this is what it’s all about. Growth.
1 p.m. I eat lunch in my trailer on my own and enjoy some silence. I am an introvert so alone time is restorative. I resist checking the news. I hug my dog before I head back to set.
5 p.m. I am trying to avoid unhealthy snacks during the shoot, but it’s 5 p.m. and I am particularly exhausted and indulge in a full, fat can of Coke. My first assistant director sees me drink it and widens her eyes all like “uh-oh.” She calls a can of Coke a “red ambulance” — an in-case-of-emergency sitch.
6 p.m. I wait for lighting to finish setting up. I cave and open the news on my phone. I am reminded that the world is on fire. What is the point of television? Everything feels utterly pointless. The standby art director asks me if I think the characters should be drinking tea in this next scene.
6:50 p.m. This is KBS o’clock (Kick Bollocks and Scramble). That oh-so-familiar end-of-the-day rush to complete a scene. Going overtime will mean incurring a big cost that we don’t have the budget to absorb. It hurts to rush a scene I spent weeks crafting in my head. I feel lucky that my actors and crew are incredible and are moving fast with me. It’s great to work with great people.
7 p.m. Wrap. I thank my crew and cast and get into the car, clutching my pooch. Drained but feeling positive. I call my editor. I tell him I am tired and want only to hear good things about the footage I am getting. He can tell me the pickup shots he thinks I need another day.
8 p.m. I come home and stick some salmon in the oven and watch “Love Is Blind” Season 5. I think about doing some yoga. … It does not come to pass.
9 p.m. I am reflecting. I have a big guest star coming in tomorrow. Someone I hugely admire and respect is coming in for a scene. I think I must try and be cool and do my utmost not to be weird. Every time I have Zoomed with our amazing guest I have always been weird. Fangirl-y, you could say. I figure no matter what I do I probably will be weird, so I decide to focus on trying to have self-compassion when my inevitable weirdness arises.
10 p.m. Night times are tricky. I hope to stop blocking scenes in my head and dreaming of being on set. Can’t my brain have any respite? I have this one recurring dream where I am asleep in Amina, the main character’s, bed and we are about to go for a take and I think S—, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE SHOT and I splutter to life riddled with anxiety. I feel bad for my brain. Indeed, it is fried.
I tell myself I need to do better self-care than just impulse buying expensive cosmetics. Must capitalism always win?
11 p.m. I rely on a history podcast to get to sleep. Tonight’s is about Ivan the Terrible. Last night was the Tang Dynasty. I listened to this one podcast that said that it’s unhealthy to rely on podcasts to fall asleep. Alas.
As part of our yearlong series on Sundance filmmakers, The Independents, we asked participants to keep a diary of one day in their working life and submit an accompanying self-portrait. Today’s diary is from Nida Manzoor (“Polite Society”), who is in the half-exhilarating, half-exhausting throes of shooting TV series “We Are Lady Parts.”
Read yesterday’s diary: How Erica Tremblay markets her movie without ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ money
7 a.m. Rainy. East London. I’m in the car on the way to the studio. I am shooting Season 2 of my show “We Are Lady Parts.” We are five weeks into the shoot. I ask the driver to put on Magic radio, known for its smooth ‘80s vibes. Abba’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” comes on. What a tune.
My dog snoozes in my arms. I am bringing him to set. He lights up the production whenever he comes with me. He is a good morale boost for a weary crew. I leave him in the assistant director truck with the production team when I head to set. I eat a pot of porridge with berries and have a black coffee whilst I flick through the scenes for the day.
I wear my Sundance hoodie to set. I get nods of approval/respect from the electrical department. An unintentional flex. I should wear it more often.
8 a.m. I rehearse a scene with all my principal cast on a returning set. It’s Saira’s bedsit. My favorite set from Season 1. The cast are s— hot. They are all so much more assured in their performances. I have a mini “this is f— cool” moment before my first assistant director asks about the coverage I want for the scene. I notice I am a better director these days. I trust my instincts, I communicate better, I am more accepting of my imperfections. I think to myself that this is what it’s all about. Growth.
1 p.m. I eat lunch in my trailer on my own and enjoy some silence. I am an introvert so alone time is restorative. I resist checking the news. I hug my dog before I head back to set.
5 p.m. I am trying to avoid unhealthy snacks during the shoot, but it’s 5 p.m. and I am particularly exhausted and indulge in a full, fat can of Coke. My first assistant director sees me drink it and widens her eyes all like “uh-oh.” She calls a can of Coke a “red ambulance” — an in-case-of-emergency sitch.
6 p.m. I wait for lighting to finish setting up. I cave and open the news on my phone. I am reminded that the world is on fire. What is the point of television? Everything feels utterly pointless. The standby art director asks me if I think the characters should be drinking tea in this next scene.
6:50 p.m. This is KBS o’clock (Kick Bollocks and Scramble). That oh-so-familiar end-of-the-day rush to complete a scene. Going overtime will mean incurring a big cost that we don’t have the budget to absorb. It hurts to rush a scene I spent weeks crafting in my head. I feel lucky that my actors and crew are incredible and are moving fast with me. It’s great to work with great people.
7 p.m. Wrap. I thank my crew and cast and get into the car, clutching my pooch. Drained but feeling positive. I call my editor. I tell him I am tired and want only to hear good things about the footage I am getting. He can tell me the pickup shots he thinks I need another day.
8 p.m. I come home and stick some salmon in the oven and watch “Love Is Blind” Season 5. I think about doing some yoga. … It does not come to pass.
9 p.m. I am reflecting. I have a big guest star coming in tomorrow. Someone I hugely admire and respect is coming in for a scene. I think I must try and be cool and do my utmost not to be weird. Every time I have Zoomed with our amazing guest I have always been weird. Fangirl-y, you could say. I figure no matter what I do I probably will be weird, so I decide to focus on trying to have self-compassion when my inevitable weirdness arises.
10 p.m. Night times are tricky. I hope to stop blocking scenes in my head and dreaming of being on set. Can’t my brain have any respite? I have this one recurring dream where I am asleep in Amina, the main character’s, bed and we are about to go for a take and I think S—, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE SHOT and I splutter to life riddled with anxiety. I feel bad for my brain. Indeed, it is fried.
I tell myself I need to do better self-care than just impulse buying expensive cosmetics. Must capitalism always win?
11 p.m. I rely on a history podcast to get to sleep. Tonight’s is about Ivan the Terrible. Last night was the Tang Dynasty. I listened to this one podcast that said that it’s unhealthy to rely on podcasts to fall asleep. Alas.
As part of our yearlong series on Sundance filmmakers, The Independents, we asked participants to keep a diary of one day in their working life and submit an accompanying self-portrait. Today’s diary is from Nida Manzoor (“Polite Society”), who is in the half-exhilarating, half-exhausting throes of shooting TV series “We Are Lady Parts.”
Read yesterday’s diary: How Erica Tremblay markets her movie without ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ money
7 a.m. Rainy. East London. I’m in the car on the way to the studio. I am shooting Season 2 of my show “We Are Lady Parts.” We are five weeks into the shoot. I ask the driver to put on Magic radio, known for its smooth ‘80s vibes. Abba’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” comes on. What a tune.
My dog snoozes in my arms. I am bringing him to set. He lights up the production whenever he comes with me. He is a good morale boost for a weary crew. I leave him in the assistant director truck with the production team when I head to set. I eat a pot of porridge with berries and have a black coffee whilst I flick through the scenes for the day.
I wear my Sundance hoodie to set. I get nods of approval/respect from the electrical department. An unintentional flex. I should wear it more often.
8 a.m. I rehearse a scene with all my principal cast on a returning set. It’s Saira’s bedsit. My favorite set from Season 1. The cast are s— hot. They are all so much more assured in their performances. I have a mini “this is f— cool” moment before my first assistant director asks about the coverage I want for the scene. I notice I am a better director these days. I trust my instincts, I communicate better, I am more accepting of my imperfections. I think to myself that this is what it’s all about. Growth.
1 p.m. I eat lunch in my trailer on my own and enjoy some silence. I am an introvert so alone time is restorative. I resist checking the news. I hug my dog before I head back to set.
5 p.m. I am trying to avoid unhealthy snacks during the shoot, but it’s 5 p.m. and I am particularly exhausted and indulge in a full, fat can of Coke. My first assistant director sees me drink it and widens her eyes all like “uh-oh.” She calls a can of Coke a “red ambulance” — an in-case-of-emergency sitch.
6 p.m. I wait for lighting to finish setting up. I cave and open the news on my phone. I am reminded that the world is on fire. What is the point of television? Everything feels utterly pointless. The standby art director asks me if I think the characters should be drinking tea in this next scene.
6:50 p.m. This is KBS o’clock (Kick Bollocks and Scramble). That oh-so-familiar end-of-the-day rush to complete a scene. Going overtime will mean incurring a big cost that we don’t have the budget to absorb. It hurts to rush a scene I spent weeks crafting in my head. I feel lucky that my actors and crew are incredible and are moving fast with me. It’s great to work with great people.
7 p.m. Wrap. I thank my crew and cast and get into the car, clutching my pooch. Drained but feeling positive. I call my editor. I tell him I am tired and want only to hear good things about the footage I am getting. He can tell me the pickup shots he thinks I need another day.
8 p.m. I come home and stick some salmon in the oven and watch “Love Is Blind” Season 5. I think about doing some yoga. … It does not come to pass.
9 p.m. I am reflecting. I have a big guest star coming in tomorrow. Someone I hugely admire and respect is coming in for a scene. I think I must try and be cool and do my utmost not to be weird. Every time I have Zoomed with our amazing guest I have always been weird. Fangirl-y, you could say. I figure no matter what I do I probably will be weird, so I decide to focus on trying to have self-compassion when my inevitable weirdness arises.
10 p.m. Night times are tricky. I hope to stop blocking scenes in my head and dreaming of being on set. Can’t my brain have any respite? I have this one recurring dream where I am asleep in Amina, the main character’s, bed and we are about to go for a take and I think S—, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE SHOT and I splutter to life riddled with anxiety. I feel bad for my brain. Indeed, it is fried.
I tell myself I need to do better self-care than just impulse buying expensive cosmetics. Must capitalism always win?
11 p.m. I rely on a history podcast to get to sleep. Tonight’s is about Ivan the Terrible. Last night was the Tang Dynasty. I listened to this one podcast that said that it’s unhealthy to rely on podcasts to fall asleep. Alas.
As part of our yearlong series on Sundance filmmakers, The Independents, we asked participants to keep a diary of one day in their working life and submit an accompanying self-portrait. Today’s diary is from Nida Manzoor (“Polite Society”), who is in the half-exhilarating, half-exhausting throes of shooting TV series “We Are Lady Parts.”
Read yesterday’s diary: How Erica Tremblay markets her movie without ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ money
7 a.m. Rainy. East London. I’m in the car on the way to the studio. I am shooting Season 2 of my show “We Are Lady Parts.” We are five weeks into the shoot. I ask the driver to put on Magic radio, known for its smooth ‘80s vibes. Abba’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” comes on. What a tune.
My dog snoozes in my arms. I am bringing him to set. He lights up the production whenever he comes with me. He is a good morale boost for a weary crew. I leave him in the assistant director truck with the production team when I head to set. I eat a pot of porridge with berries and have a black coffee whilst I flick through the scenes for the day.
I wear my Sundance hoodie to set. I get nods of approval/respect from the electrical department. An unintentional flex. I should wear it more often.
8 a.m. I rehearse a scene with all my principal cast on a returning set. It’s Saira’s bedsit. My favorite set from Season 1. The cast are s— hot. They are all so much more assured in their performances. I have a mini “this is f— cool” moment before my first assistant director asks about the coverage I want for the scene. I notice I am a better director these days. I trust my instincts, I communicate better, I am more accepting of my imperfections. I think to myself that this is what it’s all about. Growth.
1 p.m. I eat lunch in my trailer on my own and enjoy some silence. I am an introvert so alone time is restorative. I resist checking the news. I hug my dog before I head back to set.
5 p.m. I am trying to avoid unhealthy snacks during the shoot, but it’s 5 p.m. and I am particularly exhausted and indulge in a full, fat can of Coke. My first assistant director sees me drink it and widens her eyes all like “uh-oh.” She calls a can of Coke a “red ambulance” — an in-case-of-emergency sitch.
6 p.m. I wait for lighting to finish setting up. I cave and open the news on my phone. I am reminded that the world is on fire. What is the point of television? Everything feels utterly pointless. The standby art director asks me if I think the characters should be drinking tea in this next scene.
6:50 p.m. This is KBS o’clock (Kick Bollocks and Scramble). That oh-so-familiar end-of-the-day rush to complete a scene. Going overtime will mean incurring a big cost that we don’t have the budget to absorb. It hurts to rush a scene I spent weeks crafting in my head. I feel lucky that my actors and crew are incredible and are moving fast with me. It’s great to work with great people.
7 p.m. Wrap. I thank my crew and cast and get into the car, clutching my pooch. Drained but feeling positive. I call my editor. I tell him I am tired and want only to hear good things about the footage I am getting. He can tell me the pickup shots he thinks I need another day.
8 p.m. I come home and stick some salmon in the oven and watch “Love Is Blind” Season 5. I think about doing some yoga. … It does not come to pass.
9 p.m. I am reflecting. I have a big guest star coming in tomorrow. Someone I hugely admire and respect is coming in for a scene. I think I must try and be cool and do my utmost not to be weird. Every time I have Zoomed with our amazing guest I have always been weird. Fangirl-y, you could say. I figure no matter what I do I probably will be weird, so I decide to focus on trying to have self-compassion when my inevitable weirdness arises.
10 p.m. Night times are tricky. I hope to stop blocking scenes in my head and dreaming of being on set. Can’t my brain have any respite? I have this one recurring dream where I am asleep in Amina, the main character’s, bed and we are about to go for a take and I think S—, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE SHOT and I splutter to life riddled with anxiety. I feel bad for my brain. Indeed, it is fried.
I tell myself I need to do better self-care than just impulse buying expensive cosmetics. Must capitalism always win?
11 p.m. I rely on a history podcast to get to sleep. Tonight’s is about Ivan the Terrible. Last night was the Tang Dynasty. I listened to this one podcast that said that it’s unhealthy to rely on podcasts to fall asleep. Alas.
As part of our yearlong series on Sundance filmmakers, The Independents, we asked participants to keep a diary of one day in their working life and submit an accompanying self-portrait. Today’s diary is from Nida Manzoor (“Polite Society”), who is in the half-exhilarating, half-exhausting throes of shooting TV series “We Are Lady Parts.”
Read yesterday’s diary: How Erica Tremblay markets her movie without ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ money
7 a.m. Rainy. East London. I’m in the car on the way to the studio. I am shooting Season 2 of my show “We Are Lady Parts.” We are five weeks into the shoot. I ask the driver to put on Magic radio, known for its smooth ‘80s vibes. Abba’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” comes on. What a tune.
My dog snoozes in my arms. I am bringing him to set. He lights up the production whenever he comes with me. He is a good morale boost for a weary crew. I leave him in the assistant director truck with the production team when I head to set. I eat a pot of porridge with berries and have a black coffee whilst I flick through the scenes for the day.
I wear my Sundance hoodie to set. I get nods of approval/respect from the electrical department. An unintentional flex. I should wear it more often.
8 a.m. I rehearse a scene with all my principal cast on a returning set. It’s Saira’s bedsit. My favorite set from Season 1. The cast are s— hot. They are all so much more assured in their performances. I have a mini “this is f— cool” moment before my first assistant director asks about the coverage I want for the scene. I notice I am a better director these days. I trust my instincts, I communicate better, I am more accepting of my imperfections. I think to myself that this is what it’s all about. Growth.
1 p.m. I eat lunch in my trailer on my own and enjoy some silence. I am an introvert so alone time is restorative. I resist checking the news. I hug my dog before I head back to set.
5 p.m. I am trying to avoid unhealthy snacks during the shoot, but it’s 5 p.m. and I am particularly exhausted and indulge in a full, fat can of Coke. My first assistant director sees me drink it and widens her eyes all like “uh-oh.” She calls a can of Coke a “red ambulance” — an in-case-of-emergency sitch.
6 p.m. I wait for lighting to finish setting up. I cave and open the news on my phone. I am reminded that the world is on fire. What is the point of television? Everything feels utterly pointless. The standby art director asks me if I think the characters should be drinking tea in this next scene.
6:50 p.m. This is KBS o’clock (Kick Bollocks and Scramble). That oh-so-familiar end-of-the-day rush to complete a scene. Going overtime will mean incurring a big cost that we don’t have the budget to absorb. It hurts to rush a scene I spent weeks crafting in my head. I feel lucky that my actors and crew are incredible and are moving fast with me. It’s great to work with great people.
7 p.m. Wrap. I thank my crew and cast and get into the car, clutching my pooch. Drained but feeling positive. I call my editor. I tell him I am tired and want only to hear good things about the footage I am getting. He can tell me the pickup shots he thinks I need another day.
8 p.m. I come home and stick some salmon in the oven and watch “Love Is Blind” Season 5. I think about doing some yoga. … It does not come to pass.
9 p.m. I am reflecting. I have a big guest star coming in tomorrow. Someone I hugely admire and respect is coming in for a scene. I think I must try and be cool and do my utmost not to be weird. Every time I have Zoomed with our amazing guest I have always been weird. Fangirl-y, you could say. I figure no matter what I do I probably will be weird, so I decide to focus on trying to have self-compassion when my inevitable weirdness arises.
10 p.m. Night times are tricky. I hope to stop blocking scenes in my head and dreaming of being on set. Can’t my brain have any respite? I have this one recurring dream where I am asleep in Amina, the main character’s, bed and we are about to go for a take and I think S—, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE SHOT and I splutter to life riddled with anxiety. I feel bad for my brain. Indeed, it is fried.
I tell myself I need to do better self-care than just impulse buying expensive cosmetics. Must capitalism always win?
11 p.m. I rely on a history podcast to get to sleep. Tonight’s is about Ivan the Terrible. Last night was the Tang Dynasty. I listened to this one podcast that said that it’s unhealthy to rely on podcasts to fall asleep. Alas.
As part of our yearlong series on Sundance filmmakers, The Independents, we asked participants to keep a diary of one day in their working life and submit an accompanying self-portrait. Today’s diary is from Nida Manzoor (“Polite Society”), who is in the half-exhilarating, half-exhausting throes of shooting TV series “We Are Lady Parts.”
Read yesterday’s diary: How Erica Tremblay markets her movie without ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ money
7 a.m. Rainy. East London. I’m in the car on the way to the studio. I am shooting Season 2 of my show “We Are Lady Parts.” We are five weeks into the shoot. I ask the driver to put on Magic radio, known for its smooth ‘80s vibes. Abba’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” comes on. What a tune.
My dog snoozes in my arms. I am bringing him to set. He lights up the production whenever he comes with me. He is a good morale boost for a weary crew. I leave him in the assistant director truck with the production team when I head to set. I eat a pot of porridge with berries and have a black coffee whilst I flick through the scenes for the day.
I wear my Sundance hoodie to set. I get nods of approval/respect from the electrical department. An unintentional flex. I should wear it more often.
8 a.m. I rehearse a scene with all my principal cast on a returning set. It’s Saira’s bedsit. My favorite set from Season 1. The cast are s— hot. They are all so much more assured in their performances. I have a mini “this is f— cool” moment before my first assistant director asks about the coverage I want for the scene. I notice I am a better director these days. I trust my instincts, I communicate better, I am more accepting of my imperfections. I think to myself that this is what it’s all about. Growth.
1 p.m. I eat lunch in my trailer on my own and enjoy some silence. I am an introvert so alone time is restorative. I resist checking the news. I hug my dog before I head back to set.
5 p.m. I am trying to avoid unhealthy snacks during the shoot, but it’s 5 p.m. and I am particularly exhausted and indulge in a full, fat can of Coke. My first assistant director sees me drink it and widens her eyes all like “uh-oh.” She calls a can of Coke a “red ambulance” — an in-case-of-emergency sitch.
6 p.m. I wait for lighting to finish setting up. I cave and open the news on my phone. I am reminded that the world is on fire. What is the point of television? Everything feels utterly pointless. The standby art director asks me if I think the characters should be drinking tea in this next scene.
6:50 p.m. This is KBS o’clock (Kick Bollocks and Scramble). That oh-so-familiar end-of-the-day rush to complete a scene. Going overtime will mean incurring a big cost that we don’t have the budget to absorb. It hurts to rush a scene I spent weeks crafting in my head. I feel lucky that my actors and crew are incredible and are moving fast with me. It’s great to work with great people.
7 p.m. Wrap. I thank my crew and cast and get into the car, clutching my pooch. Drained but feeling positive. I call my editor. I tell him I am tired and want only to hear good things about the footage I am getting. He can tell me the pickup shots he thinks I need another day.
8 p.m. I come home and stick some salmon in the oven and watch “Love Is Blind” Season 5. I think about doing some yoga. … It does not come to pass.
9 p.m. I am reflecting. I have a big guest star coming in tomorrow. Someone I hugely admire and respect is coming in for a scene. I think I must try and be cool and do my utmost not to be weird. Every time I have Zoomed with our amazing guest I have always been weird. Fangirl-y, you could say. I figure no matter what I do I probably will be weird, so I decide to focus on trying to have self-compassion when my inevitable weirdness arises.
10 p.m. Night times are tricky. I hope to stop blocking scenes in my head and dreaming of being on set. Can’t my brain have any respite? I have this one recurring dream where I am asleep in Amina, the main character’s, bed and we are about to go for a take and I think S—, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE SHOT and I splutter to life riddled with anxiety. I feel bad for my brain. Indeed, it is fried.
I tell myself I need to do better self-care than just impulse buying expensive cosmetics. Must capitalism always win?
11 p.m. I rely on a history podcast to get to sleep. Tonight’s is about Ivan the Terrible. Last night was the Tang Dynasty. I listened to this one podcast that said that it’s unhealthy to rely on podcasts to fall asleep. Alas.
As part of our yearlong series on Sundance filmmakers, The Independents, we asked participants to keep a diary of one day in their working life and submit an accompanying self-portrait. Today’s diary is from Nida Manzoor (“Polite Society”), who is in the half-exhilarating, half-exhausting throes of shooting TV series “We Are Lady Parts.”
Read yesterday’s diary: How Erica Tremblay markets her movie without ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ money
7 a.m. Rainy. East London. I’m in the car on the way to the studio. I am shooting Season 2 of my show “We Are Lady Parts.” We are five weeks into the shoot. I ask the driver to put on Magic radio, known for its smooth ‘80s vibes. Abba’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” comes on. What a tune.
My dog snoozes in my arms. I am bringing him to set. He lights up the production whenever he comes with me. He is a good morale boost for a weary crew. I leave him in the assistant director truck with the production team when I head to set. I eat a pot of porridge with berries and have a black coffee whilst I flick through the scenes for the day.
I wear my Sundance hoodie to set. I get nods of approval/respect from the electrical department. An unintentional flex. I should wear it more often.
8 a.m. I rehearse a scene with all my principal cast on a returning set. It’s Saira’s bedsit. My favorite set from Season 1. The cast are s— hot. They are all so much more assured in their performances. I have a mini “this is f— cool” moment before my first assistant director asks about the coverage I want for the scene. I notice I am a better director these days. I trust my instincts, I communicate better, I am more accepting of my imperfections. I think to myself that this is what it’s all about. Growth.
1 p.m. I eat lunch in my trailer on my own and enjoy some silence. I am an introvert so alone time is restorative. I resist checking the news. I hug my dog before I head back to set.
5 p.m. I am trying to avoid unhealthy snacks during the shoot, but it’s 5 p.m. and I am particularly exhausted and indulge in a full, fat can of Coke. My first assistant director sees me drink it and widens her eyes all like “uh-oh.” She calls a can of Coke a “red ambulance” — an in-case-of-emergency sitch.
6 p.m. I wait for lighting to finish setting up. I cave and open the news on my phone. I am reminded that the world is on fire. What is the point of television? Everything feels utterly pointless. The standby art director asks me if I think the characters should be drinking tea in this next scene.
6:50 p.m. This is KBS o’clock (Kick Bollocks and Scramble). That oh-so-familiar end-of-the-day rush to complete a scene. Going overtime will mean incurring a big cost that we don’t have the budget to absorb. It hurts to rush a scene I spent weeks crafting in my head. I feel lucky that my actors and crew are incredible and are moving fast with me. It’s great to work with great people.
7 p.m. Wrap. I thank my crew and cast and get into the car, clutching my pooch. Drained but feeling positive. I call my editor. I tell him I am tired and want only to hear good things about the footage I am getting. He can tell me the pickup shots he thinks I need another day.
8 p.m. I come home and stick some salmon in the oven and watch “Love Is Blind” Season 5. I think about doing some yoga. … It does not come to pass.
9 p.m. I am reflecting. I have a big guest star coming in tomorrow. Someone I hugely admire and respect is coming in for a scene. I think I must try and be cool and do my utmost not to be weird. Every time I have Zoomed with our amazing guest I have always been weird. Fangirl-y, you could say. I figure no matter what I do I probably will be weird, so I decide to focus on trying to have self-compassion when my inevitable weirdness arises.
10 p.m. Night times are tricky. I hope to stop blocking scenes in my head and dreaming of being on set. Can’t my brain have any respite? I have this one recurring dream where I am asleep in Amina, the main character’s, bed and we are about to go for a take and I think S—, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE SHOT and I splutter to life riddled with anxiety. I feel bad for my brain. Indeed, it is fried.
I tell myself I need to do better self-care than just impulse buying expensive cosmetics. Must capitalism always win?
11 p.m. I rely on a history podcast to get to sleep. Tonight’s is about Ivan the Terrible. Last night was the Tang Dynasty. I listened to this one podcast that said that it’s unhealthy to rely on podcasts to fall asleep. Alas.
