The Fine Art of Not Ruining Pat Cummins' Career

There's something mildly terrifying about being given the job of directing Australia's beloved cricket captain on screen. It’s not the kind of terror that comes with, say, one of his 140km/h bouncers sailing past your chin, but rather the pressure of knowing you could be the person who makes Pat Cummins look ridiculous on camera. And not the good kind of ridiculous that wins awards, but the kind that gets discussed on morning TV with phrases like, "what on earth were they thinking?”

Let me share my dirty little secret about directing: half of it is just being the person who makes it okay for everyone else to look stupid first. With Pat, it was about building a bubble where he felt safe enough to try things that might not work. When Australia's cricket captain agrees to bark like a dog in front of a mirror (true story, didn't make the final cut, but lives rent-free in my head), you know you've managed to build some trust.

With two back to back campaigns with Pat - one for Tourism Australia with Droga5 and the other for Amazon Prime with Leo Burnett - we had great, solid scripts to work with. But, always a lover of options (especially important when working with non-actors), I turn up on set with what I call my "security blanket of possibilities": a collection of little ideas (and half-ideas), and alternatives scribbled in a notebook that looks like it survived a natural disaster.

Over a decade of working with performers from all walks of life, this neurotic level of preparation actually serves a purpose - it creates a framework and structure that, paradoxically, allows everyone to be more spontaneous and play.

The Tourism Australia shoot confirmed for me that timing and rhythm is key in both comedy and sporting greatness.  Standing by the split as Pat nailed take after take with the instinctive timing of someone who's spent their life calculating the milliseconds between a ball leaving their hand and hitting a stump, I knew my role was just to create the space and the right mood on set to allow him to play around, banishing any niggling thoughts in his mind that he had to be perfect every time.  Perfect takes with no variations doesn’t give you much to play with in an edit!

The Amazon Prime commercial was where my theory about "controlled chaos" - a term my therapist suggests I stop using in professional contexts - really proved itself. The multi camera approach to the shoot, and the jump cut style to the films created the space for us to maximise all the rushes, allowing us to shoot fast and capture loads of useful stuff.  

That this was the right approach was never more apparent than during the 'Sledging Practice' spot. Scheduled last and with six scripts to get in the one day, we shot the entire thing in about 25 minutes, using what I like to call the "jazz improvisation" method of directing - there's a structure, but within that structure, there's freedom to find unexpected moments. Like setting the GPS for Sydney but being totally happy to end up in Melbourne.

This space created a level of comfort for Pat to be able to simply play; comfortable enough to bark like a dog at his reflection in the mirror. “Think chihuahua, Pat! Lift your eyes and give me a quick bark at yourself" I heard myself say, immediately adding it to my mental collection of sentences no grown adult man should utter.

While the tone of each project is quite different, both came together really nicely, which I attribute to the solid scripts we had to work from, and this balance of structure and chaos, preparation and spontaneity. And, of course, Pat's ability to maintain his dignity while following the instructions of someone who looked perpetually on the verge of apologising for everything - “Do you mind if we try one more?”

By the end of both shoots, I had further developed my theory on directing non-actors: it's less about giving perfect instructions and more about creating a space where imperfection feels safe.

Having sat in countless edit suites, the best directing happens when you create an environment where people feel comfortable enough to try things that seem ridiculous in the moment, but end up absolutely singing in the final cut. Though this philosophy hasn't made it into any film schools' curricula yet, I remain hopeful.

Because at the end of the day, the special sauce in a great performance isn't in the storyboards or the shot lists - it's in those fleeting moments that get a little weird.  When everyone in video village is holding their breath, biting their cheeks, trying desperately not to laugh while something magical unfolds on the monitors.

And sometimes - if the universe is feeling particularly generous - that something magical involves Australia's cricket captain, a pink dressing gown, and a bathroom mirror. Just another bizarre and beautiful day in the world of commercial directing.