Dennis Cahlo
September will officially mark the first anniversary of principal photography on The Trouble With Tessa, my first-ever large-scale project and Screambox’s first in-house produced television series.
We were tasked with what seemed impossible: produce a 6-episode series, 20-22 minutes a piece, and deliver it within 9 months of wrapping, for less than the cost of what most productions have set aside for their catering budget. That wouldn’t stop us, though, because not only did I own all of the equipment necessary to take on such a task, but I was a one-man crew for most of my short films, so it was almost like I had been training for this opportunity for over 10 years. Knowing I couldn’t do the 20-day allotted shoot on my own, I enlisted my partner in life and filmmaking, Bethany Watson, who took on the role of co-director, co-writer, and a host of many other on-set duties that would have normally been tasked to a much larger team. For the first two weeks of filming, it was mostly just Bethany, me, and our actors, save for one day out of those initial two weeks of shooting with a ragtag crew for the library scene.
With these constraints placed on us, parent company Cineverse saw what we were up against and did the unthinkable: They gave us final cut, a privilege reserved for only the most seasoned of filmmakers.
Seeing this truly as a gift, we decided to work as hard as we could to make every scene, every small moment, every character, every lighting setup count. We were not going to hand them something that felt low-budget. We were going to put care and love into every set piece. Every small detail. We were going to make sure that if you rewatch the show, you’ll notice something new almost every time. Because that’s what we love when we watch films and television. That’s what makes something feel special, unique, or new. We chose to make our show on a very low budget, and that forced us into the most beautiful corner. The corner of intent.
One of the first discussions Bethany and I had about the series was the colors we would use in each room of the house that represented what each of the rooms meant, the most important being the bedroom. For that room in particular, we chose pink, green, gold, and lavender. If you have seen the series, this breakdown of the color scheme will make a lot of sense concerning how Tessa is to be integrated into Lowery’s hierarchy:
– Pink: femininity, fertility, tenderness
- Green: growth, wealth, prosperity
- Gold: royalty, power, prestige
- Lavender: grace, purity, higher purpose.
From a viewer’s (and dare I say some higher-ups) perspective, these colors may seem very un-horror-like to put in a horror television show or film, but it was important to us, and after the show came out, audience consensus was that the bedroom made them feel uneasy for some reason, and they could not put their finger on why. I believe it had to do a lot with the odd-looking, mismatched set decor that we chose (also very intentional, as people are being moved in and out of this house like crazy, and it’s constantly being redecorated with second-hand furniture), but also because of the colors. The mind will pick up on these things, even if subliminally.
Not only did color theory apply to set pieces, but also to the grading of the show. Something I figured out early on about the little town of Lowery was that during the day, it was a beautiful, idyllic place surrounded by lush green foliage, the bluest of skies dappled with fluffy clouds, blooming flowers, and peaceful lakes. Saturated to a level of when Dorothy opens the door to reveal the Land of Oz. And then, as the sun sets and the light of day is replaced by the cool of night, Lowery becomes hell. A cold, blue, frozen landscape devoid of any color. The icy blue tones replace everything living with an almost monotone black and white palette. The singular nature of the color is as single-minded as those that stalk the foggy nights in Lowery.
There are lots of other hidden gems in The Trouble With Tessa that lie in between the lines, the seams, and the scenes. But I want you, as a viewer, to discover them. The whole purpose of making this show was for it not to be disposable but to be discovered and then, hopefully, on a second watch, rediscovered as more themes and clues are presented with each passing moment. It’s a show that rewards the viewer with every watch and, despite what you may think, gives you all the answers you seek if you let yourself be taken in by it.
I will always be forever proud of what we achieved with The Trouble With Tessa, not because of what may come of it in terms of our careers or any accolades we may encounter, but because we fought for our little show to be something special, not disposable. We fought for the audience to have a blast and give them something with deeper meaning than your average TV show. And, for one brief shining moment in time, a small group of fans gathered around their television once a week to watch this little show and then go and talk about it with their friends. For me, that’s the most magical thing that could ever have come from this whole thing.
And it never would have happened without the power of intent.
