Crashing Drones onto Cruise Ships

The phone rang in April. Afshin, the producer asks, whether I was interested in shooting a cruise ship campaign. I said yes.

This is the standard response to these things. You say yes first, then you figure out if you are actually capable of doing the thing you just agreed to do.

By early May, I sat in Sardinia. Not in Porto Cervo but in the kind of Airbnb that AirBnb was created for originally.

I had committed to flying the drones. I had committed to the underwater shots. I had committed to being my own DP. There was one minor detail: I had never actually done underwater filming. And while I’d flown a drone before, I had never attempted to land one on a moving cruise ship in high-velocity Mediterranean gusts.

I spent a the days there trying to teach myself the physics of not crashing and not drowning while operating a camera concealed an awkward plastic case. Spoiler: turns out that landing a drone on a vessel that is actively displacing thousands of tons of water while fighting a gale is, for all intents and purposes, near impossible.

Fast forward to late May.

I’m standing on the deck with my AC, Sebastian. Jewelry hangs the models that cost more than my first or current car. We are sailing the Mediterranean. Everything looks superb.

There is a specific color palette. The blue of the sky. The blue of the water. The blinding white of the ship’s exterior. It is a visual combination so potent that you couldn't fuck it up if you tried. The elements do all the heavy lifting for you. You just have to be there to witness it.

But life is never just the colors. There are always the low lights.

In Malaga, we encountered harbor security who seemed convinced they were guarding the West Wing of the White House. They inspected every single piece of our Alexa package. Three huge hard cases. Every cable. Every screw. A slow-motion exercise in bureaucracy.

Earlier that day, we had filmed in a narrow alleyway. The local residents were not fans of the tourist industry. As an act of territorial marking, someone threw pieces of old salami out of a window directly onto us. The harbour security witnessed the smells of cured meats and resentment.

Then there was Tanger.

We had some free time to eat lunch in town. By some glitch in my own spatial awareness, I had left the drone in my backpack. In Morocco, drones are not welcomed. The border patrol reminded me of this with a level of enthusiasm that can only be described as "interrogation room." They confiscated the device. They played several stupid games. I decided I didn't want to win any stupid prizes, so I just let it go.

While I was being processed by the state, Sebastian’s primary concern wasn't my legal status. It was what he was going to tell my wife, Laura.

Then there is the social architecture of a luxury cruise.

The passengers are the upper one percent. They have paid five-digit sums for a week of curated serenity. To them, a film crew is not an artistic endeavor; we are a glitch in their simulation of paradise. I watched a guest spit from their balcony onto a member of our crew.

Eventually, it came time for the final flight.

I consulted with the captain. He told me that one particular evening offered "good wind conditions." This is the danger of trusting a sea captain; his definition of "good" is based on a ship that weighs 100,000 tons. A drone doesn't.

I stood on deck and had some small talk with a multi-millionaire who was doing yoga in my designated launch zone. Once he cleared the area, I took off. The visuals were gorgeous. The light was perfect.

But as I mentioned: the landing is where the physics break. When gusts of wind hit thirty meters of cruise ship metal, they don't just blow; they bounce. They create a chaotic atmospheric soup. The drone touched that metal. A couple of times. By more luck than skill the drone entered a terminal tumble. It somehow wedged itself into the chimney of the ship.

And yet, the highlights remained.

The food was transcendent. That is the benefit of ultra-luxury; the calories are designed by geniuses. I had an amazing team. I had models who stayed professional despite the salami and the spitting. And I had the view.

That mix of blue and white. The way the light hits the water at a certain angle and makes you forget that you’re just a guy with a camera trying not to crash a drone into some multimillionaires fake hair.

I think I’ll do it again.