How a Location Shortlist Is Built, From First Call to Final Comparison

Before anyone visits a site, I read the written idea and underline every line that depends on a place. An interview needs quiet and somewhere to sit. A walking report needs a path wide enough for a camera operator to move backwards. A short factual film about a market needs the market to be open at the hour you plan to film. Those underlined lines become the checklist I carry, and it is far shorter than people expect.

On our course I ask students to write the checklist first and the wish list second. The wish list says things like a view over the river or an old brick wall. The checklist says things like mains power within ten metres, a door that closes against noise, and room to place a light stand. When the two conflict, the checklist wins, because a pretty location that cannot be filmed in is only a pleasant afternoon out.

• Underline every line of the script that depends on a place
• Separate needs from wishes before the first visit
• Note the time of day each scene must be filmed

On a first visit I stand still for a few minutes before taking any notes. I listen for traffic, machinery, a fridge hum, a school bell. Sound is the thing beginners forget and the thing that most often ruins a day's filming. Then I walk the space and record the practical details: where the sun falls and roughly when, where the sockets are, how far the car park is from the door, and whether a lift is big enough for a tripod case.

I photograph each corner on a phone and write one line under every photograph, because by the third location they all blur together. I also measure the space with paces, not a tape, and mark it on a rough floor plan. That plan later becomes the base for camera positions, which is why a few honest minutes spent drawing it pay off in the planning module.

• Listen first: traffic, appliances, bells, echo
• Mark sockets, doors, daylight and parking on a rough plan
• Write one line under every photograph

Permissions are the part of the work most people want to skip, and the part that most often decides a shoot. My routine is simple. I find out who actually controls the space, which is often not the person at the front desk, and I write a short message saying who we are, what we intend to film, how many people will attend, how long we need and what we will leave exactly as we found it.

I keep the request plain and specific. Vague requests make owners nervous, while a clear one with a named contact and a finish time usually gets a clear answer. I always ask in writing so there is a record, and I note any conditions given: no filming near certain doors, no use of a particular room, a member of staff present throughout. Those conditions go straight onto the comparison sheet, since they affect the schedule as much as the shot list.

• Find the person who really controls the space
• State purpose, numbers, duration and clean-up
• Keep every answer and condition in writing

Constraints rarely arrive in one neat list. They surface in conversation: the building is closed on Mondays, the lane is blocked for deliveries until ten, the neighbouring unit runs a saw most mornings, the council asks for notice before filming on a public path. I write each one down the moment I hear it, with who said it, because memory turns a firm rule into a vague recollection very quickly.

I also record the quieter limits that nobody mentions. A corridor that is too narrow for a second person to stand behind the camera. Windows that give a lovely light at noon and none at four. A step at the entrance that makes carrying kit slow. None of these rule a place out, but together they set how long setup takes, and setup time is exactly what the filming schedule module asks you to account for.

• Note who told you each rule and when
• Record physical limits as well as official ones
• Estimate setup time for every location

Once I have visited two or three places, I move everything onto a single sheet with one column per location and the same rows for each: noise, light, power, access, permission status, travel time, and conditions. Filling the same rows for every option is what makes the comparison honest. Without it, the location you saw last always feels best simply because it is freshest in your mind.

I then mark each row with a plain word, such as good, workable or difficult, rather than a score. Numbers invite false precision. Words keep the conversation about what actually matters for this film. Often one location is clearly strongest on the rows the script depends on, and the decision takes five minutes. When two are close, the sheet shows exactly which trade-off you are choosing, and that is a much easier decision to explain to a colleague or an editor.

• Use identical rows for every location
• Mark each row with a plain word, not a score
• Let the script decide which rows weigh most

Every shortlist I build ends with a second choice, and I try to make it different in kind rather than a near copy of the first. If the preferred interview location is a quiet office, the backup might be a meeting room in a community building with different light and a different access contact. A near copy shares the same risks, so when one fails the other usually fails too.

I also keep the backup's permission request moving in parallel, even if it feels unnecessary. A reply that arrives after the first choice falls through is no use on the day. In class, students often find this the most reassuring part of the process: the plan is not a promise that everything will go well, it is a way of making sure one setback does not end the shoot.

• Choose a backup that differs in kind from the first option
• Send the backup request at the same time as the first
• Keep both contacts and conditions on one sheet