Production Schedule
April 14, 2026

Starts tight on the car, pulls back to reveal bridge, lake, downtown Tempe. First shot of the day. Confirm airspace clearance ahead of shoot day.

Drone pulls back high and wide over the lake. Morning light. No people. Ominous. VHS treatment and chyron in post: "TEMPE TOWN LAKE — FILE FOOTAGE 2002"

Real water movement from ground level. Degrade in post or Runway composite.

Drone flies low, skimming just above the water surface toward center of lake. Slow, deliberate. Shadow composited underneath in post via Runway.

Closing shot of the film. Ground level. Whale tail added in post. Shoot as much clean footage as possible.

Casual. No acknowledgment of camera. Sperm whale silhouette clearly visible.

Weathered. Looks like it's been there for years.

Wide enough to show full park setting. Loose and natural. Not overly directed.

Ball rolls or bounces past frame. Baby Jones in car seat and beer cans clearly visible. Casual. Unhurried.

Clean catch. Letterman jacket prominent. A few takes for coverage.

Camera starts low in grass, pushes up as they crest and run past the lens at the top. One fluid move.

Shows remaining paddle across their lap. "I don't go out alone anymore." Calm. Not hysterical. The missing paddle is scarier than anything they say.

Just the paddle. Weathered grip. Let it sit. No narration.

"I'm not aware of any whale." Pause. Cut. "SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK" sign fully visible in background throughout. He never looks at it. Nobody mentions it.

The joke lives here. Makes the sign unmissable for anyone watching closely. Last lake shot of the day.

Clean. Natural. Let him settle before shooting.

Same setup as Dylan. Commit to the bit.

Red landline prominent. Cord twirl is the whole shot. Deadpan. Let it play.

"I covered a story about Tempe Town Lake in 2002. A whale. I thought it was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard." Beat. "Then I got a phone call from a local brewery." Title card: TEMPE LAKE WHALE

"The Shop Beer Co. was expanding their building on 1st Street when construction crews uncovered something on the exterior brick."

"The brewery started digging. What they found looked a lot like something I remembered." Slight discomfort.

"The Shop became obsessed. They couldn't let it go. What they uncovered turned out to be truly remarkable."

"I started making calls. Most folks weren't willing to talk about it. But I did find a couple people willing to share their story."

Producer off camera: "Do you believe in the whale now?" Anchor, no hesitation: "Honestly? No. Definitely not. No way." Cut.

Full building. Establish location.

Slow reveal pan across the brick. The money shot of Act 1.

Full scale of mural in context of building.

Start wide, push slowly toward the whale. No music. No rushing.

Each element separately. Cut together slowly in post.

Never looks at the mural. Not once. "The whale has been part of Tempe since the late 90s. Someone put it on a wall a long time ago. I'd say in the year 2000."

His name or signature on the mural visible to anyone who pauses. The easter egg shot.

"We didn't commission this. We don't know when it was painted."

"We had no idea this was here."

"Honestly? We don't really care if the whale is real or not." Shrug. "But it's [bleep]ing fun. So we made a beer about it."

IIWS website visible on screen. Migration map on table.

Treat like a real discovery. Don't editorialize.

"RECEIVED MAR 09 1999 — NO RESPONSE" stamp clearly visible.

Someone's finger tracing the route is a nice detail.

Voice altered in post. One or two sentences. Ominous. Done.

The can. The artwork. Slow rotation.

Pen beside it. Empty lines waiting.

GeoCities site loads. Let it sit for a moment.

Last shot of the day. No words needed.