NeZabudu & JulenStone
NeZabudu NeZabudu
JulenStone JulenStone
NeZabudu NeZabudu
Hey Julen, I was thinking about how the rush of coming up with a new idea feels like a thunderstorm in my chest, but sometimes the clean lines of a well‑planned scene keep me grounded. What’s your take on that dance between chaos and order when you’re building a character?
JulenStone JulenStone
Yeah, that thunderstorm feeling is the spark before you lay the skeleton. But if you let it run wild, the character turns into a shapeless cloud. I hate improvising mid‑shoot, so I map motivations, backstory, quirks, then let the lines breathe. Chaos is the spark, order keeps it from blowing the whole set.
NeZabudu NeZabudu
I totally get that—chaos can be the spark, but a solid skeleton keeps the whole thing from drifting away like a kite in a gale. It’s like letting the wind guide you, but still tying the string tight. How do you decide when to let the storm roll in?
JulenStone JulenStone
I decide when to let the storm in by asking two hard questions: Is this idea serving the story, or just lighting a fancy fire that’s going to scorch the set? And can I keep the core intact if it breaks apart? If both answers are yes, I open the windows, let the wind in, but keep my crew on the line, ready to reel it back if it turns into a hurricane.
NeZabudu NeZabudu
Sounds like a perfect weather‑forecast for your creative process—check the wind, keep the horizon in sight, and never lose that anchor that keeps the story from floating away. How do you keep your crew in sync when you open those windows?
JulenStone JulenStone
I tell them the big picture, hand them the script, then let each of them own a piece of the storm. We do quick touch‑downs before each take—no one’s guessing what’s next, but they’re free to improvise within the lines. If someone wants to tweak a gesture, I ask why, we test it, and if it improves the scene I keep it. That’s how we keep the crew glued while the wind’s still blowing.