Producing a Movie During the Pandemic
Shooting a movie during a global pandemic is truly a surreal experience, a masterclass in improvisational chaos. The joy of filmmaking—gathering with cast and crew, sharing meals at local haunts—is instantly redefined when the world outside is locked down.
When we landed on the set for Reagan, the immediate challenge wasn’t the script, but the logistics. My first stop was the medical supervisor, seeking clarity on how to operate in the uncertain environment.
The questions were simple but revealing: “Can I go to a restaurant?” The response was immediate: “No.” Then came the practical dilemmas. “What about Walmart?” The answer was stark: “That’s absolutely the most dangerous place of all.” We quickly pivoted to a solution, establishing a system where grocery deliveries ensured sustenance, allowing us to navigate the lockdown while keeping the creative engine running.
Life became a delicate balancing act. We were living in a rental, managing a household with my wife, four children, a caregiver, and an assistant. While I was at work, the kids were navigating Zoom school, and we worked tirelessly to carve out a sense of normalcy from the surrounding pandemonium. At least, there was a backyard jacuzzi to look forward to.
Our physical location was as unique as the story itself. We set up in the old Masonic Temple in Guthrie, Oklahoma, before moving to our office downtown. Taking a walk through the streets as a light rain began, I noticed the quiet history of the town—references to Prohibition-era refuge and the bittersweet feeling of a place that once held prominence but now felt diminished.
Back in Guthrie, the creative energy intensified. We gathered the team, and the group began to solidify into a family. My screenwriter, Howard “Howie” Klausner, who embodied Ronald Reagan, arrived, bringing infectious optimism. Alongside him was John Sullivan, the grounded realist, and director Sean McNamara, who championed a cheerful determination to shoot every single scene, regardless of the budget.
The dynamic among us was a fascinating mix of tension and camaraderie. Sean would push for a scene, John would caution us about finances, and I would step in to protect the team from external pressures. We navigated the inevitable conflict of art versus commerce, constantly seeking a way forward.
The logistical hurdles were met, and the focus shifted to the artistry. When Dennis Quaid arrived, we spent crucial time preparing him, moving from hotel spaces to table reads. On the first day of shooting, Dennis was intense and restless. I quickly realized that maintaining his good spirits was just as important as framing the shot. I used humor and encouragement to ease the pressure, ensuring he could fully immerse himself.
In a moment that shaped the performance, I shared a crucial piece of information with the team: “Dennis,” I advised, “Don’t be afraid to just be Dennis Quaid.” It was about letting his natural talents flow, trusting that the years of preparation had prepared him for this moment. It was about allowing him to shine.
Through these intense, demanding weeks, a genuine rapport developed between Dennis and me. We understood each other’s commitment, bound by a shared spiritual connection forged by mothers who sought to make their sons proud. We were marching together, united in the endeavor of making something extraordinary.
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