How to navigate "client takes" as a director.

The extra take often protects egos more than footage. It’s not always important to the work, so when do we do it and when do we say no?

We've all been there. The AD says, “One more for safety,” and everyone knows it isn’t for safety. The last take was clean. The timing landed. The client just needs to feel the permission of “one more.” If you’re the director (or the producer standing behind them), the next sixty seconds decide whether you keep your schedule or your friends.

But first, a story.

I was on a set once for a restaurant ad that once burned an hour on fourteen different takes of a close up of rice being poured into a pot of water. Fourteen takes.

Imagine in your head what a shot like that would look like. Closeup – rice pour into pot of water. Imagine it.

Now imagine doing it fourteen times. What changes from take to take?

For ours, none were meaningfully different. Most of them, to be honest, looked like rice being poured into a pot of water. But the client didn't feel that way. There was something, just that name brand something, that wasn't being captured enough.

The issue for the client was that the rice wasn't being poured into the pot correctly. It needed to be tossed in, slowly but not too slowly, quickly but not too fast. Authentic but not like you'd see it in the kitchen, staged but with a little more realism.

It was rice being poured into a pot of water.

The solution the director found? He had the client pour the rice for a take, directly involving them in the process. And the result?

Well, bluntly, it looked like rice being poured into a pot of water.

But the way the director navigated it was perfect. "WOW! That was...That was the best F$%!^#! rice pour I've ever seen. I think...I think we've got it. What do you think?"

All of it sounded sincere, but the hidden meaning was there; Let's move. The F. On.

Yet to the client, it was a moment of pride. They were able to do something that no one else could. They saved the day. They were the hero. And it made each later request, each later point of friction a little easier for the director, because the client had had their moment.

And that was a story and a lesson I never forgot: everyone wants to be involved in the process. So how do we let that happen?

Performance vs. politics

Most sets pretend every take is about performance. Many aren’t. Some are performance takes—you’re still finding the read, the rhythm, the blocking. Others are political takes—you’re buying goodwill, calming nerves, or giving a stakeholder a sense of authorship. Calling a political take “bad” misses the point; each take accomplishes something, even if it will never be used.

The first move is naming the category without bruising anyone. Use language that draws a ring around the pass and time-boxes it.

“Let’s do a client pass: same frame, two alts on the last line.”

“Mark one for exploration. Then we move to the product hero.”

Both sentences tell talent they’re fine, tell the agency they’re seen, and tells the room your intention with the take.

If you aren’t sure which you’re dealing with, watch for tells from the client notes. Performance notes sound like verbs (“cleaner intention,” “shorter landing,” “lose the apology”). Political notes sound like adjectives (“one more for options,” “let’s see one happier,” “can we have a faster one for socials”). Neither is wrong; you just need to protect for your vision and also protect for theirs.

The hidden “client take”

There’s a version of the political take that’s priceless if you handle it once and only once. The client take is a courtesy pass designed to scratch a specific itch and end a debate. It works when you do three things in order:

1. Acknowledge it for what it is. To the client, call it a good idea. Say it out loud for the crew: “Client wants to do this this time” The label dignifies the request and signals that it’s a bounded experiment, not a new direction.
2. Change one thing on purpose. Don’t invite side quests. Keep marks, lens, and blocking. Adjust a single variable that matches the note: a brighter last word, a half-beat of air before the button, a glance to product on the lift. If you alter three things, you’ve created a compare that can’t be judged quickly and you’ll roll again.
3. Play it back immediately. Queue the hero take and the client take back-to-back. Ask one closed question: “Which lands the brief better?” Pictures end arguments faster than talk. If the room splits, take a show of hands and move. Democracy is brutal but quick.
4. Move on quickly. If you know you've got the take already, and this one is just "to see what happens," declare to everyone that we've got it! and move on. Don't waste time, and offer it as the best of both worlds.

Remember, "having a couple of options in post" is all the clients really want, even if you have a specific take in mind.

However, if you sense the courtesy turning into a loop, narrow the runway: “We have the read on card; let's do one with the alt landing and then move to the next setup to protect the schedule” That last clause—to protect the schedule—gives everyone a reason that isn’t your ego.

Morale vs. schedule math

Every “one more” has a cost in minutes and attention. Some setups reset in twenty seconds; others require relighting, cleaning, and reconciling a fussy product. Work the math out loud so people hear the trade.

Here’s a simple way to price “one more.” Count reset time × number of “one mores.” If your reset is five minutes, two courtesy takes per scene across six scenes is an hour. If your day is fat, spend it. If it isn’t, find the savings now: capture a true safety early so a later courtesy take doesn’t threaten the board. You can’t be Switzerland about time and then act surprised at magic hour.

Closing politely

Exiting the loop is a craft. These phrases keep the room friendly and the schedule intact:

• “We have the performance on card. Let’s mark one for exploration and move on to protect the rest of the day.”
• “I can give the alt now or as a pickup after we bank the product hero—your call.”
• “Let’s do two with the brighter landing and call it. The first read plays to strategy, the second gives you guys an alt.”

Notice the spine in each line. You’re not denying; you’re trading. You’re offering choice between two sensible exits. Most people will take the exit that came with a choice.

If a stakeholder pushes anyway, escalate to pictures. “Let’s look at the last two on the monitor and pick.” If the debate still lingers, use your AD as ballast. A good AD plants the consequence in neutral terms: “We can do two more alts and lose five from the product dolly, or protect the dolly and do one alt. Which would you prefer?” The room will usually pick the dolly because the dolly is visible success. You protected the board without being the bad guy.

A final trick when the vibe is fraying: make the next take “for you.” Call it a safety, change nothing, and let the sound of the slate clean the air. Courtesy offered; dignity preserved. It’s astonishing how often that’s enough.

One last thought for safety

What we do is fun. Therefore, everyone wants to be involved in the process. The goal of the director is to make it known that we're capturing one collective vision.

All the other visions we'll capture as alts.