A wonderful weekend

As a busy person, I’m obviously a bad blogger. I’m in a calm at the moment, a couple of weeks of just work and no extra commitments. Then it’s back into 2012 with Love’s Triumph and a range of Hive Mind productions. 2012 is going to be a hell of a year.

As a rough (very rough) idea of what I’ve been up to – kingofthecastle.pozible.com

We also bid farewell to the Castle, cleared everything out on the 11th of December so they could hand it over the 12th. It made for a sombre evening, with fewer in attendance than we’d anticipated. A quiet goodbye to the place that has housed and encouraged so much of our creativity in recent times.

Now, though, some photos. Perfectly indicative of my mood after I finally slept in Sunday morning.

Van Diemen’s Land

First thought? Beautiful. At first the film processing technique was jarring, and I suspect we also had a slightly faulty projector, but the quality of the imagery still engaged. The colours were a bit strange, but part of that was involved in the filmmaking, an aesthetic choice by director Jonathan auf der Heide and cinematographer Ellery Ryan.

The film was enrapturing, both visually and emotionally engaging. The characters were all enigmatic, despite their open discourse. There was not a cliché among them, so full was their conception. They were presented clearly as the men they could well have been. Their history, we can assume, they already discussed during their time in incarceration and so is not repeated in the film’s dialogue. This way, the filmmakers avoid that awful tendency of so many, of characters telling one another their history for the audience’s benefit. These men were stripped of their past when they were brought to Australia as convicts for, largely, minor transgressions. Their existence, in this way, was limited to within the frame.

The locations were as haunting as they were arresting. Particularly among the snow gums, a ghost wood. Each location was used to represent the mindset and moods of the characters. When all of them wandered through the bush near the beginning of their journey, there was an oppressiveness in the wet, dark bush. When they were recuperating by a waterfall, the tone was more jovial and hopeful. Towards the end, at the point of madness, the vast field represented well the void of humanity in the two remaining characters.

The story unveiled slowly, which I felt was perfect. It made the acts of violence more malevolent and looming. The deaths were messy and gritty, conveying the terror of what they had come to. The first kill was, I thought, particularly well disguised. The film lay heavy emphasis on the old man who was struggling with the terrain. The other young men were full of energy, and at each hill one of them would help him up. There was appropriate tension between the Irish and Scottish boys and the two English men. All this is laid on to put suspicions in your mind of who their first sacrifice will be.

One of the central characters, a charismatic young man Dalton, injures his leg. He is seen dressing it with his friend, Alexander Pearce (an incredible performance by Oscar Redding), by a waterfall pool in which they all swam and bathed. They discuss things quietly between them, almost conspiratorially. An excellent element of this film was the use of the Gaelic language. This put a barrier, or a safety net, between characters depending on its use. It also showed the committment of the cast, many of whom had learned the language for this film.

A short while later, further in their trek, men were seen discussing their lack of food. Their options were wearing thin (excuse the pun) and with two stragglers they came to the gruesome conclusion. This decided, they pressed on up the steep, hard hill. Pearce helps Dalton, and another man helps the old man.

The next morning, Pearce opens his eyes to feet and an axe, approaching a huddled, sleeping form. Chaos ensues and Dalton dies bloody and gasping, in a twitching mess, still aware of his friends around him and what they had done. The scene was tense and horrific, and the untidy bleeding and hinted carving ended the scene darkly.

Fear, anger and shock burn amongst the characters. The Englishman Robert Greenhill (seemingly self-appointed, would-be leader) knuckles down coldly to the task and the next morning they head on.

From here to the end the killings get swifter but no less delicate. By the end of the film the tension and distrust are so thick between the characters that the film puts the audience on edge as well. Jonathan auf der Heide also treated the growing madness and sickness of the characters very subtly. Though there is not medical link between cannibalism and the often associated traits of insanity and illness, there is still some truth to it. These men would have been driven mad by their recent past, if nothing else, and while they still ate human flesh they would have been malnourished for lack of nutritional variety. Makeup was harsh, and no doubt their surrounds helped, giving the characters a fiendishly ill look to them. A single shot of a character drawing a handful of hair from his scalp (very good makeup) is all he uses to show the balding, which can then be seen in the other characters.

I found this film compelling, and am not surprised that this young film student made such a beautiful film, he is obviously a very talented filmmaker.

Van Diemen’s Land [2009]

Damn 3am (aka Learning by Doing)

Last week I was the 4th and last person to hop into 2 hammocks strung from one pole. I did it in such a style, and with such grace, that the pole gave out and we all landed flat on our arses. Turns out the pole was secured with 2 nails up top and nothing else. Not surprising.

Right now, going through what I thought had been successful footage of Castle Crashers (more on that later), I am that pole. Castle Crashers is the fourth person, Twelve Angry Men the third, two dwindling friendships the second, and my father the first. I’m about a single disappointment away from bailing to Apollo Bay whilst yelling “uni is for losers”.

Since the beginning of the year we’ve heard tell of the manifold troubles that can and will occur on set, how the best laid plans can be torn to shreds the moment it all has to come together. “Assumption is the mother of all fuckups” they kept saying, and now I understand. I am infinitely glad that I set out to film Castle Crashers, because we have a great deal of wonderful footage which may or may not come together to mean something for the people who were there. I am painfully hoping to have another shot at it, however, because I made too many mistakes.

Castle Crashers, for the uninitiated, is a jam. It is a wonderful point in time when all the musically talented people I know come together and share, create, perform, collaborate… These people are astounding. Music has forever been an unattainable joy, something for others to do. I would, if I could, join in. I’m simply not made of musical stuff, but I take immense pleasure from capturing it. I have come to the decision that all I needs do to be happy is film and edit music, musical performances, music videos, music sequences in film, or any combination thereof. Castle Crashers confirmed this for me, and made me want much more of the same.

Whilst my friend Sean organised the musical/logistical side of things, and his brother organised sound recording, I set about organising to film the event. It was the second Castle Crashers, there will be at least a third and hopefully one more. I made documents, drew floor plans, organised a crew, developed the concept. The interviews I had to do for uni were conversational, easy going. Folk said what I needed them to say, and in a way that reminded me of the Last Waltz’s blaze style, so this pleased me.

 

Enter problem 1 – memory card.

Unbeknownst to me, the card on which I was shooting had insufficient transfer rate. This meant it would film in 20-40 second grabs, then cut off. Camera doesn’t tell you, doesn’t beep or flash. Good camera – knows the importance of a quiet, undisrupted set. Foolish camera operator – didn’t notice. We filmed 30 minutes of interviews, from 3 angles. I’ll manage to cut something, but the place I was sitting, and the camera I was using, were best. 29 seconds of footage from there.

Problem 2 – 1080x576i.

I planned much, but I barely planned the cameras. Mistake. 1 large fixed camera captured the whole performance start-finish. For such a large, hulky, expensive instrument, I must admit my disappointment. 1080x576i. For those not too familiar with aspect ratios in film, allow me to explain this disappointment.

HD & SD Aspect Ratios

The above image shows you 3 commonly used image sizes. Your blueray dvd will play the large black one. That’s what the Canon I had was filming on (in 20 second grabs). The next one down is 720p, beautiful image quality, the most you’ll ever need on a television or monitor. The smallest is still plenty, tv sizing. Your small downloads usually come in this form unless you’ve searched HQ. The ‘i’ on the end means interlaced. You don’t want that. You want ‘p’ for progressive. Just trust.

The big, hulking mounted camera films in “HD” but not full HD. We’re talking something that is as tall as the PAL (576) and not quite as wide as the 720p (1080). It is a strange, obnoxious little frame that I will need to piece together in post with the much larger shots from other cameras. But fuckit, right? I was planning on mostly cutting between the three roaming cameras anyway. Sure. See problem 1.

Problem 3 – lenses

Aside from the 1080i “Beast” I had 4 other cameras roaming about. 1 was fixed behind the drums to capture that angle, the footage for which I’m quite excited (haven’t seen it yet). The second was a little handicam operated by Liam, then a Nikon SLR with Monique and the Canon 60d I had borrowed. About 3 hours into the 9 hour shoot, my photographer friend rocks up to snap stills.

‘I think I’ll chuck a zoom lens on,’ he announces. ‘I’ll get some close shots since you guys are all going wide angle.’

Facepalm. I had not even checked to see that we would have variation of shots. We had angles, of course, we were all roaming around and getting different things. Yet he was right, all of us had wide angled lenses on, we weren’t getting close to the performers, we had nothing to cut in and out with, we just had a string of different angles going around the stage but getting no closer. What a clutz. Of course, I immediately switched to some enormous lens my friend had leant me, which was great. For the rest of the night, from one camera, I had closeups. Sometimes.

Problem 4 – operators

I should, by rights, have had twice as many camera operators as I had cameras. When a memory card filled, it meant one of us was out of action while we dumped the card. Often I’d go out the back, start the dump, see ‘3 minutes remaining’ and figure that was enough time to chat with folk there, imbibe, check the battery chargers, and return. Unacceptable. I should have had 2-3 cards per camera, tested them all beforehand, and several operators so that when a card was full or the operator got sick of it, they could tag out.

 

There were also issues with lighting, with framing on the mounted camera, with constant handheld footage… no doubt I’ll find more. The one saving grace was Callum’s audio – he recorded everything into an 8-track Pro Tools file. I feel worst because of the work he has put in, the effort and the enormity of it, and yet what I have filmed simply doesn’t stand up.

The aim, at the end of the day, was twofold. To film and document the event for uni, and to create a lasting memory for those who visited the Castle, and enjoyed the wonderful creativity therein. I still hope to produce a dvd at the end of the day (though hopefully I can film CCIII and make something better) with the full concert start-finish. I want something for other people to watch and revel in the talent that was there that night.

If nothing else, I will make a CD for them. If possible, I will film the third Castle Crashers, do it properly with a crew of uni folk, and be able to learn properly from these mistakes. At the end of the day, I just want to be able to give my friends a memory caught. That’d be swell. Next time, I’ll have a producer around.

Metropolis

Tomorrow, thousands will ask in fury and desperation: Joh Fredersen, where is my son -!

Really interesting, really german film. Great concept, I love old sci-fi.

Place des Fetes

I’ve been watching Paris je t’aime this morning without subtitles (funsies) and despite my half-comprehension of French, this particular story is so clearly depicted that you’d not need a word of it to follow. It’s beautiful, it’s conveyed clearly and using music (the wordless language). I want to make a short film like this, would be a great achievement. I do love tragedy. Well done Oliver Shcmitz.

I consider the aim of art two be twofold – either make them think or make them feel. This one does both if you let it, one at the least.

Babel

So here’s what I’ve got for my pissy 800 word Babel essay (once I’ve dealt with the cinematography I’ll expand it to discuss how the message(s) of the film do/do not work)

Before we start, though, I’m disappointed to say the most interesting part about this film is the title. The tower of Babel – biblical tale of humanity being united with one language. Until god found out, he bust that party right up. Let’s go…

Alejandro González Iñárritu, Rodrigo Prieto and the design team constructed Babel [2006] in such a way that the visuals are what tells much of the story. Each setting (Morocco, Japan, Mexico) had its own look, however Prieto said “It was important to us that the film be visually unified, but with subtle differences that could emphasize the emotional state of the characters.” They achieved this through use of colour, movement, depth of field, film stock and lighting. I’ll examine the way these things convey character and situation within their separate sections and the occasional transfer of the styles.

Mexico

Mexico is stylised by colour, most particularly black and red, which was a deliberate colour link between the three sections by Prieto and Iñárritu. These choices give the Mexican segments two things: vibrance and danger. In the first Mexico scene when all his happy at home, the colours are warm and strong – notably the primaries (yellow, red and blue) which are bold in everything from the costume to the set to the sunlight. There is a subtle blend between sections, Morocco and Mexico, when Amelia is told (in a phone call from Morocco) that she cannot attend her son’s wedding. The colour fades, becoming more akin with the Moroccan sections, and the scene shows her room and everything around her in a colder light until she settles on a plan that will allow her to go. Then the colour returns in the form of a red dress and red ride.

Upon entering Mexico the shots are flooded with colour and movement. The composition becomes more full of objects and the editing aids this happy chaos – fast quick shots of everything around them. Mexico becomes a vibrant adventure of movement right through the wedding until the cross back over the border. At this point black dominates the screen, what was a lovely, rich accent in earlier scenes becomes visually oppressive as the characters are lost, confused and being tracked by border patrol.

Japan

Japan is distinctly different from the other two sections, and the farthest removed story as well. Everything in the Japanese sections seeks to create distance between the viewer and the isolated Chieko, while at the same time an attempt for understanding her. “For the Japanese story… [Prieto] tested different methods of achieving shallow depth of field to represent the point of view of the world of a deaf-mute girl.” In this way the camera sticks very closely to her face and only includes in focus what is important to Chieko at any given time. There is colour present in the Japanese sections but mostly artificial and largely derived from man-made light sources. This is both accurate of big-city-Japan and a stylised depiction.

For my part I found the club scene to be the most successful at conveying Chieko’s view – a complete focus on the lights and intermingled silent sections, as well as the chaos around her teetered between being exciting and potentially unnerving. This, and the final shot of the film (Chieko and her father on the balcony), clearly depict the isolation for which Iñárritu was aiming.

Morocco

Morocco’s visual style is immediately established in the first shot of the film – the vast, desolate landscape with a slightly warm sunlight at odds with the blue-shadowed valley. The aim of this section (I include Yusuf and Ahmed’s tale along with Richard and Susan Jones) is to convey the harshness of the setting. Morocco, Prieto felt, “had to have a sense of difficulty and a ‘dirty’ texture. We decided to use film grain and contrast to characterize their story.” The gritty texture coupled with the washed out palette creates an inhospitable look to the area. What is interesting is the use of red,. In Morocco the red was to be a burned umber, but when the place becomes more hospitable through its people taking care Susan, it is increased to a vibrant deep red of the costume of the old woman. Also at play  in this scene are the deep blacks that were mostly reserved for Mexico, here they provide the contrast Prieto mentioned, while outside the room and especially the people on the bus remain in cold, washed-out colours.

Camera movement can also be noted in the Morocco parts for having the least movement of the three. While it is largely handheld (I struggled to spot a moment in this film that is not handheld) it generally contains the most vista views and lingering shots, at least in the opening. In earlier parts this conveys a slow, contemplative existence until the shooting upsets that balance. Self-proclaimed culture blogger Barnaby Haszard Morris singled out an instance of this which he says demonstrates the purpose of the film. “Iñárritu wants to show us that our distrust of each other – especially those from different cultures – is keeping us from reaching common ground. The whole movie is summed up in the look on Brad Pitt’s face as he looks at his long-suffering guide and translator, just before he gets into the helicopter.” The drawn out moment had become rare in these parts as faster movement and cutting created tension both in the conflict between Richard and the others on the bus as well as the police hunt for Yusuf and Ahmed. This moment on the helipad transforms and gives meaning to so much mess.

Week 4 disappeared sowewhere

Life is busy, what with studies, work, social activities, homework, theatre companies, and the ever pressing need to expose oneself to new and interesting things. From time to time, however, you are reminded that all the little shite you’re dealing with really isn’t that important. It shapes us and occupies us, gives us something to talk about, but is not, after all, essential.

I had an experience recently when I was reading Isaac Asimov’s The Last Question on my lunchbreak at work. Blew my god damn mind. I went reluctantly back to work and a woman approached me asking (I worked in a pet shop) “You don’t have my dog’s food on the shelf in the size bag I normally get, you never have it in my size. Can you check out the back?”

I wanted to shout at her, shove the story in her hand and walk away. I didn’t, of course, because that would be eccentric verging on insane and likely see me to an early dismissal. The contrast just jarred me, like with the short film About A Girl we watched in class recently, but in reverse. Instead of being lulled into normality and then suddenly awoken to harsh reality, I had been lulled into far and distant thoughts, and then struck on the head with inanity.

Through film I’d like to be able to achieve even a fraction of what Asimov did to me, to be able to remove people from their lives and give them something to really think about would be incredible, and I think the ultimate aim of art – either make people think or make them feel.

Westerns

This week we looked at Westerns in our screening class, I was thrilled.

There’s something wonderful about a Western, about the hard-earned wisdom of the west, about the harshness of the people in a harsh world. And yet it’s all about honour, not necessarily law-abiding heroes, but men deemed good or bad by deed and morals.

I’ve been watching Deadwood lately, and I adore it. HBO tends to make me very happy, and they haven’t failed with this one. Despite the constant and, at first, jarring swearing (I’ve never heard ‘fuck’, ‘cunt’ and ‘cocksucker’ used so freely before) one is swiftly absorbed in this world of struggle and survival. With no ‘law’ to speak of justness is metered out by the good against the bad, but the bad so often succeed. Death is a constant, and where you may hate one character for an episode, you find him as the protagonist in the next and you hope for his victory. I adore the way HBO television shows can turn a villain to a hero and back again without ever losing character.

I would like to write a Western one day, or at the very least film one. They have wonderful poetry of landscape and an enormous amount of philosophy among seemingly simply living characters.

The Royal Tenenbaums

On Friday or Saturday or someday night last week I had several friends around to watch films. We would put a film on, then by the time the opening credits were done we’d have thought of a better film and put that on. This went round a few times, but when it came out that one amongst us hadn’t seen The Royal Tenenbaums, the rest of us rejoiced. What better? I can watch it again and again and again, it still amuses me.

Wes Anderson has a delightfully dry sense of humour, and his peculiar characters are wondrous.

Gene Hackman plays the protagonist Royal, estranged father of the Tenenbaum family. The film opens with Royal explaining to his three adolescent children why he is going away. They are childhood geniuses who grow up to much less successful lives.

Several years later, Royal runs out of money, and he determines to go home. He concocts a story that he is dying of stomach cancer, and he wants to reconnect with his children. The beautiful irony of this is he barely means it at the time, but soon does as he says and finds himself loving a family he barely had before.

Anderson’s films tend to have  a few common themes – absurd characters, playful and poignant irony, dry unemphasised humour, folk rock and brit pop, and often a heartening end in a way that you wouldn’t have often picked. To any who haven’t seen it, or any Anderson film for that matter (Darjeeling Limited, Rushmore, Fantastic Mr Fox) I would highly recommend a viewing.

Several Wes Anderson characters in here, lovely.

About time…

I love film. On last count I own close to 300 films and around 65 television shows, plus countless more on my computer (don’t fret, I buy them also, I just catch up in dashes). I’ve wanted for a long, long time to be able to do what they do – to convey an idea, an emotion or a concept to an audience through a medium that, in my opinion, is among the most capable of that conveyance.

So I decided to get off my arse and go to film school.

I’ve enrolled at Swinburne University, Bachelor of Film and Television. My first week has been excellent – an introductory week for all things film. We have learned the roles of each person from conception to final release, and by the end of the year we should have each experienced the entire process. The design is fantastic – a scriptwriting/direction class, an editing/postproduction class, a cinematography/film/stills photgraphy class and what seems to be a theory class to help understand the art of film. Each friday morning at 830am I go in for a screening and a lecture as well. There is one main assignment that carries through the several classes: we each write, direct, film and edit our own 90 second piece by the end of the semester. I am of course petrified and have no idea what I’ll do, but here’s to trying!

So this will be my documentation of this journey. As required, I shall submit here notes on what I’ve been learning, but I also hope to use it as a means of exploring my own ideas for film. Last week I saw 127 Hours, the week before True Grit, and tomorrow Black Swan and I shall endeavour to write a bit on each of them. I’ll discuss Twelve Angry Men, the film version of a play I’ll be directing later this year. I’ll discuss what’s seen in the uni screenings, and hopefully will be able to learn much and open discussion with those interested.

Could not be more excited for the year to come.