Road to Noir – Final Cut

Studio Experience

The tasks set by this studio, in relation to how we effectively communicate our personal experiences place and neighbourhood to others through screen, were daunting at their outset. The early films we watched (and two stand out for me) were demonstrations of how to quickly, with honesty, establish place to an audience, but were done on seemingly such large scales that any replication of their feat in a mere twelve weeks seemed impossible. The Human Scale travelled all around the world and backed itself up with serious intellectual proof on its theories and findings, while Hoop Dreams was constructed from 250 hours of footage filmed over five years and dealt with such an iconic, well-defined place, both physically and sociologically. However, as the studio progressed and we went through developing our own pitches, and started engaging with more documentary content, it became clearer what we would be creating it and how we would go about it.

For some reason I was under the impression we would eventually be individually producing what we had proposed in our original pitches, and when we were grouped together I worried that each group member’s individual vision would be lost as we began to collaborate on a single film concept. However, in my group in particular, since we all originally pitched films with similar concepts and in a similar area, we were all able to put forth and develop the ideas and concepts we’d explored both in class and through our pitches. If I were to do this studio again, I would perhaps spend some more time thinking and reading about what neighbourhood means, in a historic, cultural and academic sense, as I think looking at everyone’s final products now, mine included, there is no real united sense of “neighbourhood”. Perhaps this is down to the nature of neighbourhood itself – that there is no united definition of it – but a more critical discourse over what it means to live somewhere and how we relate to place would have been at the very least interesting.

Collaboration

The preliminary stages of my collaboration with Krista and Penelope were quite easy, because as I mentioned although content-wise our films were different, conceptually (and location-wise) they were fairly similar. We all had films that were chronicling change in place, all in neighbourhoods that are rapidly falling victim (or, on the other side of the coin, benefitting from) gentrification, so we knew how to direct our content through this conceptual mesh we shared. We were also in agreement on the structure of the film and how we were to go about making it. In terms of skills, we all shared a fairly similar level of skill in operating the camera and editing, with Krista perhaps excelling the most with the camera and Penelope excelling the most at editing, but since we were all at that fairly similar level we were all able to contribute to each process of the film’s production. We all, at times, had various health problems or were just slack at attending class, which wasn’t ideal (I’m not trying to pass off the blame here, I was definitely one of if not the chief offender) but we developed an understanding over this and most of the time made sure if someone missed class or a shoot they contributed in some other way, although this workload gap perhaps became a bit more distinct towards the end of the production process.

I think the only downside to having a group with such similar interests and visions was perhaps the film came out a bit one-dimensional in its viewpoint; we were all in agreement over how we felt about change and gentrification, as was our subject, so that was the only voice heard. Perhaps there is a great benefit to working with people with a similar vision and style to yourself in that collaborations run a lot more smoothly, but if you introduce other, even dissenting voices into the equation, you may emerge with a more well-rounded and discursive project.

Production and My Role

Throughout my degree at RMIT, I’ve always been on the lacking end of whatever studio I’m in in terms of actual video production skills. I’ve definitely improved so so much, to the point where I’m comfortable with most camera equipment and a very competent user of Premiere, but as I’ve improved so has everyone else in the course. My strengths lie more in the written side of media. Therefore, in this project I was probably the least proficient technically, but I feel like this didn’t stop my contribution. On our first day of filming I was responsible chiefly for the sound, although we didn’t end up capturing or using much foley audio that I collected. On our second and principal day of filming, I took full control of the filming after some discussion with Penelope, who was our chief interviewer, and I think from the diversity of angles and shots from that interview that I did fairly well. It was a great experience for me as I sometimes take a backseat during shoots. Penelope and I also collaborated on two more shoots in search of B-roll, to which we contributed fairly evenly.

The shooting process itself went very smoothly: we had full access to Noir Darkroom’s space so we had plenty of time to experiment with lighting and the such. We spent a lot of time preparing the actual interview shoot (doing a dry run with one of us in the position of the subject) so I think the footage came out as well as it ever would have. The interview itself went fantastically, and I think that came down to our over-preparation in terms of questions: we discussed heavily what we wanted to extract from our subject, made sure we covered every angle and she ended up being very passionate about the topic and extremely well spoken, which was helpful. I think being over-prepared and familiarising yourself with both the subject and the space in advance, if possible, are imperative for capturing a good interview of this kind.

As I said, I’m a much stronger in the editing suite than behind a camera so I contributed significantly to the editing process, mostly mocking up our entire rough cut and a lot of our final cut, although Penelope put in the hard yards putting together and tightening up our final cut. Editing wasn’t always smooth, as we had issues with getting files to each other and having the right edition of Premiere, and we also decided halfway through our edit we need to do another shoot, which I’m very glad we did. Editing in a group can be very difficult: I think unless you’re a professional or very close to the person you’re editing with and able to talk to them straight it can be very difficult to express how you feel about the process. Also, only one person has their hands on the keyboard at the end of the day. I feel like films like this would often work better if the editing was done principally, and almost solely, by one person, but I feel like that would be untenable and it seems to work collaboratively in other cases.

Assignment 3, Part 1 – Deconstruction and Analysis

Assignment 3, Part 2 – Recording the feedback

Assignment 3, Part 3 – Discussing another group’s pitch

For my discussion of another group’s pitch I have chosen Arielle, Tal and Nowie’s Pentridge pitch. In terms of the actual pitch presentation, I thought the group put together something very engaging and fulfilling. The accompanying visuals were well-crafted and really gave you a sense of the film they wanted to create; they were also very practical in explaining the proposed process of their film. Tal in particular was very eloquent and engaging, and put forth this great parallel between Pentridge Prison and his own “imprisonment” as a reluctant resident in its new housing development. There was also a very clear path visible from their concept to how it would be enacted. As I discussed in my self-reflection, our presentation perhaps lacked a clear connection between the two; in the Pentridge pitch, you could see how their proposed interviews and images would translate the concepts they spoke about in the pitch itself.

In this studio we’ve focused on this idea of neighbourhood, which I found strangely absent from this group’s pitch. I don’t think it detracted from the quality of the pitch or will detract from any eventual film piece, but I believe that their pitch focused more on place than neighbourhood. My only advice in relation to this would be to perhaps talk about the perceived lack of neighbourhood that exists in Pentridge, and how this relates to its history as a place. If I’m being honest, despite the strength of the pitch, I would be hesitant to fund this film on a very limited budget just because of its enormous scope. Although it’s fine to collect as much information and footage as possible, a slightly clearer and more precise focus would ensure that said information and footage isn’t too diverse and all over the place, and will form a cohesive project once condensed to the 3-5 minute format. I believe if you cast the net too wide, it can become too difficult to fit all the best bits in one project in a way where they are all relevant to the same point of contention, whereas a more honed approach with a clear contention always in the back of the mind will ensure a tighter project.

Our idea was well received by the panel, who I think saw potential in exploring change, both positive and negative, in neighbourhoods that are so personally close to us. However, as Paul Ritchard explained in his opening feedback, the panel felt there was a major disconnect between the ideas, concepts and research driving our film and the actual content we planned for our film. The panel saw our film as about our personal connection with these neighbourhoods, with particular relation to our personal experience and observations of change (and of continuation/maintenance). They didn’t see this reflected in the interview subjects, who instead they said seemed disconnected from our personal experience; although thematically they may have followed the concepts we were pursuing in our pitch, they lacked that more in depth, emotional connection to the neighbourhood that we displayed in our pitch. Their advice for us was to work out a way of working this personal connection into the film, with Paul going as far as suggesting we ditch the two suggested interviews entirely.

I’d like to address this latter point first. Obviously we can’t eliminate these interviews due to the guidelines set by the assessment, but I personally believe this would be detrimental to our film anyway. The interviews we have chosen are of people that are part of the positive evolution of these neighbourhoods, pursuing creative, professional projects with a beneficial community effect. I believe we need their perspective, even as long-term residents of the area, to understand how and why change is happening.

In terms of applying the advice, I believe we should start by altering how we approach our interviews, namely what questions we ask and what topics we steer the conversation toward. Our draft interview questions/ideas have been more geared towards our subjects’ reasons for moving into the neighbourhood and the process of repurposing the space and becoming a part of the community. Although I think these questions and lines of pursuit are still relevant and important, we should also ask them if they see themselves as gentrifiers and discuss with them, with ourselves or one of us as characters, how we see and experience the neighbourhood. We should also talk at least briefly to someone who has lived in the neighbourhood for a very long time just for that perspective; we can even use these interviews to speak for us as creators and long-time residents of the neighbourhood.

In terms of further research, I’ve decided to turn my focus less to documentaries just about neighbourhood and instead focus more on narratives on neighbourhoods of change, where there’s a lot of focus on what may no longer be apparent in a neighbourhood, displayed instead through personal accounts of what was and images of what it has become. The two documentaries I have watched (at least partially) so far are The Pruitt-Igoe Myth and My Brooklyn (the former of which I will touch upon later in my reflection). Both films work well to paint a picture of a neighbourhood that once was mainly through interviews and archival footage, and My Brooklyn in particular explores what it means to be potentially classified as a gentrifier within a community. I believe these two films, and others of the same nature, can help inform how we interweave the interviews we have planned with the personal experiences and stories the panel encouraged us to pursue.

The Pruitt-Igoe Myth is a 2011 documentary directed by Chad Freidrichs, exploring the rise, demise and mythologisation of the Pruitt-Igoe public housing complex in St Louis, Missouri. Once a shining example of modernist public housing, Pruitt-Igoe eventually fell into disrepair and, upon its dramatic demolition, became a scapegoat for anti-public housing advocates in the US, who saw its demise as proof that public housing could never work. In the film Freidrichs combines found footage with talking heads interviews with former residents who relate their memories of the complex, attempting to deconstruct the “myth” that the project failed because of its nature, rather than the myriad of socio-economic problems that were affecting (and continue to affect) disadvantaged people who find themselves in public housing in the US. I’ve chosen this documentary for analysis because of the way it deals with memory, in particular how it extracts notions of memory, neighbourhood and change out of its interview subjects.

The first thing that stands out about this particular section, and documentary in general, is how the interviews are filmed. Rather than situating them in the place the documentary is talking about, or even the individual’s homes to characterise them a certain way, the interview subjects are filmed, fairly centred and almost direct to camera, on a plain white background. This gives us little clue of how we should imagine their lives, or their conception of the Pruitt-Igoe complex; instead, the viewer is forced to rely solely on their narration. Through this, we get a much more unadulterated memory of the neighbourhood as its former residents understood it. The first part of the sequence uses some archival still images of the housing complex, slowly panning across them as they are lit up amongst an otherwise dark St Louis. This image accompanies one resident’s memory of the beauty she saw in the Christmas lights hung by residents all across the complex. Underneath, a somewhat melancholy orchestral piece plays softly, contributing to the heightened nostalgia of the narration.

These three parts all tie together to create this sense of community, togetherness and tranquility in a community, that only minutes ago earlier in the film was vilified as a public housing disaster and criticised for being incredibly unsafe. The music eventually gives way to a background of silence, and the archival images are taken away, leaving just the talking heads on the white background and their memories of safety, community and a sense of true neighbourhood. This is something I hope we can incorporate into our own film: not relying entirely on images to tell a neighbourhood’s story, but rather on words as they can, in some instances, be a much more powerful and accurate evocation of memory.

14:20-18:06 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKgZM8y3hso

Thornbury & the Night Cafe
“Sometimes what’s different is what remains the same”
“The story of the old man and the hipster”

Director’s Statement
It’s a sort of stereotype about Melbourne’s inner north to talk about how ongoing gentrification is removing the vestiges of migrant culture. Undoubtedly this is to some extent true; the number of trendy bars, cafes, hairdressers etc. on traditionally Italian and Greek main streets is clearly evident to anyone who walks through the streets of Brunswick or Northcote or Preston. However, these cultures are far from being erased; these businesses, some odd, some without an obviously profitable business model, persist despite the increase in affluence and (arguably) whiteness in their respective neighbourhoods. Nowhere is this more evident than Thornbury High St, where hipster burger joints share footpath space with Italian pasticcerias and people spill out of bars next door to empty gambling dens.

For this documentary, I want to explore a neighbourhood in a state of flux, but also the parts of it that remain stationary. We focus a lot of attention on what’s different, what’s new, what’s been removed, what’s been forgotten, but I believe an important part of memory is focusing on what is left behind, what is unchanged, and most importantly why it is unchanged. Why are most shops on High St Thornbury transforming into trendy cafes and bars yet businesses that seem less profitable can remain? Are real estate prices not driving them out? Or do they form such an important part of the neighbourhood’s community that they are kept afloat by the people who care for them dearly? I believe by looking at what remains when a neighbourhood undergoes a period of great change can we then begin to answer all of the questions surrounding memory, identity and neighbourhood.

Synopsis
The film will begin by examining the literal structures and buildings that house the businesses of High St Thornbury. I believe by looking at these places and structures we can see their history, what preceded them, how long they have been there, and even draw a distinction between newer businesses and those who have been there for a long time. I want the viewer to be able to intuit and understand this through having a knowledge of the physical Thornbury.

From here, we will continue to an intermixed series of interviews with and meditations on the various businesses of High St Thornbury. Business owners, employees and their customers will talk about how their business fits into the locale, what they know and remember about the area and how they’ve seen the area change, depending on how long they’ve been there. The viewer will also gain an insight into the businesses’ practices: what these employees and owners occupy themselves with all day, the coming and going of customers, how foot traffic and trade changes and evolve throughout the day as Thornbury turns from a shopping strip into a centre of nightlife.

Finally, we will cast our gaze on the infamous Night Cafe, which throughout the last two segments will stand in as a symbol for all of the old-style businesses that remain on the street. The various residents of Thornbury will talk about their knowledge and experience of the Night Cafe. Although I’m open to talking to some customers, I want the Night Cafe to remain somewhat obscured; I believe it’s more interesting to talk about how it is perceived by the rest of the neighbourhood, how things are strangely repulsed by it yet simultaneously revolve around it. The Night Cafe’s persistence in the neighbourhood will hopefully answer some of the questions I have set up in my statement.

Method – Potential Interview Subjects
Here are some businesses and (in some cases) their proprietors who I think could make interesting interview subjects:

Perimeter Books
Perimeter is a brick-and-mortar bookstore, distributor and independent publisher based in a small shopfront on High St, specialising in art, architecture and design books. The owners Dan and Justine are a nice, fairly young couple very respected in the art book world in Melbourne. Their shop has been their for quite a few years, I believe just before the full gentrification of the strip began.
Carwyn Cellars
This bottleshop-cum-bar has become a hub in the area for anyone looking for specialised alcohol or a quick, microbrewed pint after work, and is always very busy, especially on the weekend. It’s had its current owners since 2007 so has seen the area change quite a bit in that time period.
Umberto’s
An old-style Italian bar and bistro with delicious, excellently priced food. It’s been on the strip for a very very long time but has adapted into a restaurant that, although pokey, has excellent service and is massively popular.
Thornbury Theatre
One of the oldest institutions and businesses on the strip, the Thornbury Theatre is rumoured to be undergoing another change from ballroom to cinema. This place has adapted so many times over the years, it would be great to see the proprietor’s attitude to the changing strip.
Monticello Cakes
An old-style Italian pasticceria that has bee on the strip for a very long time, and also situated right next door to the infamous Night Cafe. The owners, presumably Italian background, would have a lot to say about the gentrification of the neighbourhood.

Shooting Style
The interviews will be conducted in a traditional documentary style subject interview, with the subject responding to unseen and unheard questions from the documentary filmmaker. However, I want to frame the subjects in their businesses: a bookseller surrounded by the books he sells and publishes, a pastry chef surrounded by her sweets, a bartender surrounded by his craft beers and boutique wines. For the rest of the film/b-roll, I will focus on capturing the aesthetic qualities of buildings and what they can tell us about the neighbourhood’s memory and history.

For this assessment, we were required to present 6-10 images that the title “Memory, Identity and Neighbourhood” evoked for us. I was unfortunately unable to attend class for the presentation, so I’ve instead outlined here why I chose these photos and their relationship for me to the concept of neighbourhood.

I decided to go with a bit of an overarching theme for my selection, as you’ll see I’ve tried to capture several (in my opinion) iconic locations within a block radius of my house in both daylight and nighttime. The area of Thornbury I live in is simultaneously very residential, filled with daytime cafes and locations and also a nightlife hub. Different locations play a different role and present a different face depending on the time of day. What is overlooked during the day can become a hub of activity once the sun sets, and vice versa.

The High St/Hutton St 7-Eleven is Thornbury High St’s pivot point. Hutton St is a residential street used as a thoroughfare by many travelling east-west, so people are constantly turning into or just past the 7-Eleven during rush hour. However, during the daytime the convenience store mostly fades into the background of your mind. It’s not something that I “notice” when I travel up and down High St in the daytime; it’s somewhere you might stop for petrol or a snack but, positioned as it is back from the main street, its significance is overtaken by the cafes, restaurants and bars that open up and spill onto the sidewalk along High St.

Once night falls, however, 7-Eleven becomes a hub of activity. It’s a compulsory stop on one’s drunk walk home from the train station or tram stop, the only place left open past 1am on the strip and abrasively bright compared to the dim street lights and low-lying, darkened shop fronts. On a strip that is becoming increasingly gentrified and “inner city”, it has the character of a distinctly suburban petrol station and convenience store.

The unnamed, unmanned laundromat is another vestige of an era passed. Its blue paint job renders it more visible during the day than the aforementioned 7-Eleven, but it’s almost always empty and thus remains mostly unnoticed. It’s one of those businesses that you’re never quite sure if anyone uses until you use it yourself. Again, once night falls, the laundromat becomes a beacon. Its opening hours are very loose (its official closing time is 10pm, although despite the fact I took this photo just past midnight on a Tuesday you can see two people inside) and the lights almost always remain on throughout the night, meaning again as you pass the various darkened shopfronts, the laundromat really stands out.

A similarly mysterious business, which I was unable to photograph due to the wise guys sitting out the front, is the plainly-named Night Cafe just across the road from the laundromat. Its exterior (and interior) is as old world and out of place as the laundromat, as in it sort of blends into the background next to all the hipster graphic design fronting all the other business. Inside there’s an innocent round table where old Italian and Greek men play cards, then a very empty cafe-style area. The actual register and counter hosts only a coffee machine and a small selection of cakes, although hardly anyone ever seems to order coffee. Its real intrigue comes at nighttime, when on hot nights the front door is left ajar and you can spy inside. There you see a faint late emanating from another room behind the main space, except your vision is blocked by a barrier made of green felt. My Italian babysitter in Coburg taught me this means a less-than-legal card game is taking place in the backroom. This is an aspect of my neighbourhood I’d love to be able to delve further into, although it may prove difficult.

These two photos display the entrance to an alleyway just a few houses down from my house, which seems fairly innocuous and suburban, but forms part of an arterial route through Thornbury’s laneways and backstreets towards the South Preston Shopping Centre. On the right side, as you can see from the greenery in the first picture, is a very old, run down house with an overgrown front yard full of junk. Further in the laneway is a mechanic with a slightly sketchy feel to it, so there are always equally sketchy characters and cars coming and going from the area. At night time, the laneway is a favourite of those heading home or waiting for an Uber after leaving the various bars in the area, and becomes a favourite spot for a quick drunken piss. You can see clearly in the second photo the local residents haven’t reacted well to this development. I think this photo best illustrates how difficult and nuanced the gentrification of a neighbourhood can be; you get all this great food and culture (ideally) on one hand but on the other there is a very tangible impact on the original residents, even if this one is particular gross and obtuse.

Thornbury to me is a wonderful neighbourhood, because it extends all of the great culture and nightlife you find in Fitzroy and Northcote, yet it still maintains a healthy dose of “old world” charm and quirk. You can also feel the resistance from both parties as they encroach on each other’s space, as old business stubbornly survive and thrive in the evolving environment.

We spent a lot of time in class this week talking about what our neighbourhoods mean to us, and how where we live defines or shapes who we are. However, I think what was left unsaid and perhaps was only inferred was how our neighbourhood, or at least how we perceive our neighbourhood, shapes how we see other neighbourhoods.

Although I’ve recently moved to Thornbury, Coburg maintains a close place in my heart, a place I’m very proud of and will I suppose protect from criticism. My parents still live there so I spend plenty of time there as it is. What’s always struck me about people’s perceptions of Coburg is that the further away they live from the suburb, the more negative/sketchy their perception is. Another student and I both touched on how Coburg has this reputation as maybe dangerous and sketchy, when it really isn’t, and it made me think about why this perception exists.

My theory is that we form these conceptions of other neighbourhoods based on how they differ from our own. Perhaps it’s the run down, old world bustle of Sydney Road that other places lack that translates into an image of criminality? Perhaps it’s the late night kebab shops, or the darkened suburban streets once you stray from the main way? I hate to say it but it also might be the dwindling but enduring reputation of Lebanese and other Middle Eastern groups in the area.

I by no means want this to infer that I see my neighbourhood/s as more real or complete than others. The last two weekends I’ve gone away, first to a friend’s house in Anglesea and then to a wedding in Sorrento, which took me through parts of the world I’ve always thought I could never live in. My youth in an inner-city suburb has perhaps conditioned me to believe I could only live in a dense, multi-cultural part of town close and connected to the city itself. However, driving through places like Point Cook and Mornington and Rosebud I realised that, of course, these places are self-contained and liveable communities in their own right.

In particular, I spent a long time in a “bazaar” of sorts in Rosebud. On a Sunday morning, the people of the area had all pulled up in their utes and vans and set up little impromptu stalls selling all sorts of things I’d never think to see. There were two full-fledged illegal DVD stands, going as far as taking requests for TV shows that had recently come out in the US to sell at the next market. There were dozens of old folks selling trinkets, broken pieces of ceramic, even a tub of bones (???). There were a myriad of food stalls, vintage clothing, someone selling soaps. You think of these beachsides towns as places really only inhabited during the summer holidays, but you could see that they had their own established community and neighbourhood that one might not envision coming from the city.

I don’t think I’ve sufficiently answered this thought, but I think throughout this course it will be interesting to at least touch on the idea that neighbourhood not only shapes us, but also how we see others.

This semester, our studio has explored screen stories not through their plot but instead through their world, meaning the rules and places and themes that dictate, mould and become a part of a screen story. We’ve done this by looking at how other screen worlds are created and presented, whether that is looking at films ourselves or examining screenplays, and obviously through the creation of our own screen world, focusing a lot on scripting.

It’s been a really interesting way to approach the creation of a screen story, and I think my main take away from this studio is that there are so many things you don’t think about or you don’t consider when you approach a screen story from a plot-centric viewpoint. By approaching our screen worlds from this “world” standpoint, before we’ve even begun to think of where our story is going to go (and sometimes before we even consider our characters), we’ve figured out everything there is to the world, in particular its setting and internal logic, which are incredibly important to understand when you begin to plot the path of your story. I suppose the only downside is at times I found it hard to find direction for my story. I’d spent a long time establishing the world I wanted, but didn’t know how to break it, per se; I feel like most good plots need to introduce something new into the world that needs to be overcome.

I feel like I really excelled at the first half of the semester, where we focused more on identifying aspects of world, how they are represented in film and how one fleshes them out in writing and production. I feel like I already had a solid grasp of the basics of what makes a screen world, but it was a positive experience to reinforce them by applying them to films and to put a name to concepts I knew but couldn’t really identify. I especially enjoyed analysing scripts, particularly Frozen River, as it’s one thing to understand what a director/writer is doing in a film to create and reinforce ideas of world, but another to actually understand how it is done and how you can do it yourself.

The writing was definitely the most challenging part of the studio. I feel like I’m naturally a fairly competent writer, but I didn’t feel entirely comfortable writing a) for screen and b) in a collaborative manner. It was hard adjusting to writing in a screenplay style, particularly with choice of language and thinking about what needs to be said and omitted from the reader for it to translate to screen best. However, it’s this area I think I improved in the most; I feel like I’ve found a really strong screenwriting “voice” that I can definitely take with me. I’m terrible at receiving feedback, mostly because I just hate showing my work to other people, but the advice everyone in the class gave me was really helpful. Often I only feel comfortable showing my work to people I know, but basically everyone I did show my work to, whatever their interests or background, gave me some really good pointers. I feel a lot more confident in showcasing my work no matter how developed it is after the collaborative writing process.

In terms of my final piece, I’m very happy with aspects of it and disappointed with others. I feel like my world is very well realised, and the first half of my script is fairly solid, mostly because it has been workshopped a lot more. I felt very comfortable writing in the world due to the work I did earlier in the studio, and didn’t struggle to make what I was writing fit and adapt to the world. However, I didn’t get to write the full script in the end (the time escaped me although I wish I’d put a bit more time aside to work on it) and the latter half feels a bit rushed and less workshopped than the first half. I’m happy with the conceptual side of my audiovisual element, but I have to say the execution is a bit sketchy; I’m not great at the production side of media at the moment and it’s definitely something I’d like to improve on. However, I did spend some time playing around with Adobe Speedgrade, which is something I’ve never done before, which produced some interesting results that I feel fit my screen world really well.

Overall, I’ve really enjoyed this subject and I think it’s provided me with some great skills in regards to approaching screenwriting and the actual nitty-gritty process. I also feel a lot more confident in showcasing my work and giving and receiving feedback thanks to the major focus on this in class.

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.

Work-in-progress Reflection

Presentation feedback reflection

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.