Chiaroscuro

This week we learnt about coverage, as well as the roles used in traditional cinematic film-making.

Coverage is the way you choose to shoot a scene, the camera angles, types of shots, and information you choose to include in the frame at any one time. We dissected a scene from American beauty  and looked at how they chose to cover a scene involving a family dinner. We drew a floor plan explaining this:

As you can see there are a total of 5 set ups. We went through and prioritised the set ups based on what we thought would be most needed for the edit/film in case on the day it would be too difficult to fit in. We chose the wide shot first, as this is the most important shot, not only to set the scene and establish the environment (much easier to give context for a cut to close-up), but also as a safety, to ensure the entire scene is captured in case all the other shots cannot be captured. The next set up is the shot of the daughter, as her reactions are integral to the scene. After that it is an equal toss up between Benning and Spacey as their character’s reactions give the same weight to the scene. therefore the order would be up to the director’s creative choice or the first A.D’s efficiency choice (one character may have more lines than the other).

After that breakdown we proceeded with our own filming of a scene. Each class member had their own role. We had two actors, a boom swinger, an audio recordist, a cinematographer, camera assistant, director, second assistant camera and the first A.D. I was the first A.D, which was the most fun I have honestly ever had on a set. It wasn’t really telling people what to do that was fun (although I’ll admit that was a perk), it was more the liaising between departments and ensuring that each department had what it needed, that was what intrigued me. It was also the constant organisation, constantly having to be aware of the time needed for the scene as well as the total time allowed for the shoot and whether or not it would be achievable, that was probably the best part of the job.

The Future, Next to the Freeway

Next to a freeway entrance in the middle of suburbia there is a rainbow wall. The light shines through the metal, coloured in gradations of every colour. Behind and beneath the glimmering wall lies a futuristic development – a train station. Made entirely out of concrete, smooth, monolithic and minimalist, the station towers in all its glory below street level as though it were something out of the 1927 film, metropolis.

And yet, even closer to the shimmering wall is a strange man. A man with an elongated neck and a goofy smile, a smile that never seems to waver, a smile seemingly generated by the levers attached to his metallic base. His eyes glisten in their fiber glass blue, and his copper elements glint in the sun. Children play on his smooth, serpentine body and move his levers as though he too would move. But he instead stays, a construction just like the station, and the glimmering wall. He is an installation. Planted there in his grotesque happiness as though to scare the crows away and somehow implant his cheeriness into the drooping mouths of the weary travellers passing through. But, no matter how strange and obscene, he cannot move. He can only stand in petrified happiness as everyone else returns from the work day as drained metallic robots.

THE FILM

A satire of society and the current shape of the world through a vague homage of metropolis

The Scarf

Looped around the handle of the metallic rubbish bin casing, and directly next to the yellow and orange painted ‘safety zone’, is a beautiful scarf. A scarf made of what any passerby would assume to be the finest pink, fuchsia , brown and goldish yellow, I guess you could say mustard, silk. Together the colours combine into a glorious, royal arrangement. Curls and floral designs fill the panel, mimicking something you would imagine could ordane the edges of a very posh house. If this is indeed a fine silk scarf, then one could only imagine the stereotype it could belong to.

Right now, in fact, I am imagining an elderly debutante, her skin a canvas of seemingly very little, but the few lines that are present tell many tales of laughter, anguish, and everything in between. One would suspect that these lines would not exist for much longer. As for the scarf, it plays a magnificent role in her illusion, covering up her now loose and folding skin, that is until she fixes that, then she’ll have no need for the scarf, and it will wind up where it is now, dangling from the handle of a rubbish bin case, waiting for the next person to pick it up.

However, there is always the alternative. That this is in-fact not genuine silk, that it is some nylon amateur masquerading and pretending to be silk, adopting the beautiful, classical design in order to feel like the silk, like it belongs on the top shelf with the silk, and not attached to a rubbish bin, dancing in the wind as though longing for its purpose.

THE FILM

A young girl of 12 with flamboyant style, finds a scarf and falls in love with it. She decides that she’s going to become a runway model, with this scarf, she could do anything. But society’s ideals have very different ideas than she does, and her enthusiasm and passion are continuously blocked by increasingly arbitrary walls.

This week I completed my individual interview task. I chose to interview my mother because of the very different way she completed her education – through night school while also working full time at the department of social security. Not only did I feel this would be an interesting subject to compare with my own studies, but I also wanted to know more about what the experience itself was like for her as well.

The password is Hello!459

While I was really pleased with the overall look of the shot, the framing, lighting and compositional choices I made, I also did this at a compromise. I was adamant at doing this interview task outdoors, so this created a great strain on my audio. Not only was there echoing construction noise, but tour groups came into the area consistently, as well as low wind noise occasionally. I do not usually sacrifice audio for the sake of a shot, but I did for this exercise, especially since there were limited options that were aesthetically pleasing to me on location on the day, and there were time constraints, as my mum had to leave soon. On top of this, however, due to my under the weather state, I did not take the time to check most of the details that I should have. I will admit that I did not check the gain, and worst of all, I did not check the focus.

While I could sit here all night explaining how that major mis-step occurred, I could also talk about why I think it happened and yet again, why it won’t happen next time I shoot. When I looked in the lense in my sleep-deprived state, it seemed to be in focus, or at least, good enough. But, when I zoomed in later on and when I looked at the image in post production, I noticed that my mother was slightly fuzzy and the plane of focus was actually on the wall just behind her, making her look as though she were a movie star from the golden age of cinema. While this shot is still useable as you can still see the detail on her face, the sharpness isn’t there and that just would have made the shot much easier to read and, well, focus on.

After seeing the over exposed areas in my last camera practice I learnt to always go under half a stop if you are unsure if it is exposed correctly. After this exercise I have learnt to always check the focus and to not play so fast and loose with such important settings.

I declare that in submitting all work for this assessment I have read, understood and agree to the content and expectations of the assessment declaration.

You’re Wasting my Tax $

Three homeless men are huddled against the wall of one of the busiest street corners in Melbourne’s CBD: The corner of Melbourne Central, the State Library and RMIT. They’re coated in blankets and huddled around each other on their make shift furniture talking uncomfortably. Crowds mill past them like squads of robotic bees, heading from one pretty flower to the next, not seeing anything in between. You can tell that these people know these men are there, huddled below them, and yet they never even glance at them, nor do they think of what their actions do to these men. That is, until one man decides to take it upon himself to right this wrong.

A single man walks up to the three homeless men and begins to shout loudly at them, as though in protest to their request for his spare change. He is yelling about how they are “wasting my tax dollars!”. Two worlds are colliding, one that believes the other to be useless, and the other that simply just wants to exist and fights to every single day. One is ultimately trapped within his own delusions of ultimate superiority, whereas it is just superiority of circumstance. Whereas the other is living in a primal world, pre-society, where survival is all that mattered. And society has lost its instincts, its primal drive, so does not understand their situation, instead feels the urge to look down on their seemingly primitive difference, whereas they are just more human.

Rain

Tiny drops of water turn quickly from droplets to pellets as tens of people rush out of the train on their way home from work and their daily commute. Everyone rushes to grab their umbrellas, coats and bags to shield themselves from the sheets of rain, rain so thick you can see barely see through its whiteness as it slides and jumps off of the pavement. And I, in the middle of all this, my hood of my rain coat on, not doing as much as I wish it would, my jeans getting soaked through instantly, suspiciously only on the right side, and the biggest smile on my face the entire time.

This whole scene is utter chaos. In seconds the sky just decided to open itself up. And I, as well as many unhappy people, were stuck in the middle of it all, no protection or shelter, just us and the storm. And I couldn’t help but smile and laugh at it all. It was amazing! It was spectacular! And to all the people swearing behind me, it was a nuisance, an inconvenience. Where I saw hundreds of little fish dancing off the pavement and flying into the air, they saw water droplets out to get their feeble clothing and destroy their stable plans and realities with the dreaded ‘cold’. To me it was a beautiful rhythmic dance on a minuscule level, something to revel in, absorb every minute of because it wouldn’t last. But they couldn’t wait to escape the instant it started. I bet they’ve never really seen the rain.

Today in class we each spoke one of the observations we’d written. This was a great open discussion that enabled us all to not only see how we could develop and explore the act of writing observations themselves, but also how we could possibly translate the observations we’d already written into film.

Through this discussion, as well as feedback from Robin, I realised that my own observations were too centralised on myself, on my own experience, feelings, morals and attitudes and this then limited my observations and interactions with the world, as I was unable to observe past my own inner experiences, when the act of observation itself innately requires to externally observe, to be outside ones self. Robin also ha an idea as to how to approach this process, in order to help distance ones self from the act of writing observations in response to a question from Penelope. He said that it may help to act as though you weren’t there The act of re-describing details for the reader may help you to re-discover details yourself. I hope to put this ‘system’ into practice soon and dive deeper into the act of observing outwardly, as opposed to observing inwardly.

We also discussed how these observations would translate into films:

We thought that many could be a straight re-enactment. As the moment itself had a great deal of power behind it already, it had an enigma about it, after all you chose to observe it in the first place.

Others were stronger as ideas or base concepts, to build upon and shape. Find the kernel and develop it. It can be a small idea or concept that intrigues you, the intriguing enigma that brought you to observe the moment in the first place, that drives you in a new direction to develop an entirely new story and plot, acting more as an inspiration to delve deep into, and develop upon a new concept and idea.

We also watched excerpts from a film called ‘From the East’, a film that mixes actuality and contrived construction in observational documentary form. More than anything though, to me, this film emphasised the haunting nature of simply observing something. Of letting the act speak for itself, letting the human mind fill in the gaps. It spoke volumes, volumes more than any dialogue ever could.

Jerry And The Towel

The other day, holly, in her old age urinated on the laundry floor. So we mopped it up with an old towel. We hung it out on the line on the side of the house to air out and hopefully get washed by the rain.

That night I let the dogs out before bed and when I let them back in, Jerry started to run around the side of the house. I called him back before he could go too far. And it happened again, and again, until I realised what was around the side of the house. Jerry was smelling Holly, or at least he thought he was smelling two Hollys at once. That smell was the way he identified her, it was half of his connection with her, smelling her and understanding her on a biological and physiological level. He was being fooled by his senses. Like so many of us. But to be so reliant on that sense that it constantly fools you?

Salt and Pepper Man

The man in front of me has grey salt and pepper hair, so long that he has to tie it up into a tiny little pony tail at the back of his head. And yet there’s a giant bald spot in the center of his aging dome. He looks around him everywhere, as though trying to find the quickest way through the crowd, and then before he can get across the road, the traffic lights stop him dead in his tracks. He looks around him hastily, waiting for the traffic to heed his panic and relieve his stress, or at least relieve his spastic motions. As soon as the lights turn red, before the green man says to walk, he’s off. And I’m standing there, staring at this salt and pepper man rushing in the opposite direction while I stand there observing the screech mark he just left on the pavement, thinking how glad I am that I’m not quite addicted to using salt and pepper on all my food yet.