The pitches.
Nerve wracking
Interesting
Soul sucking
Educational

I was very interested in hearing everyone’s pitches, they were quite varied despite the reoccurrence of trains, and I saw a lot of exciting potential. I tried to maintain notes on each person’s presentation but the anticipation of my own emending presentation was distracting, especially since we deviated from alphabetical order. By around 10 people in, sweaty browed, I realised the anticipation is surely wholly worse then the presentation itself. I should just rip off the preverbal band-aid and get it over with. Boy was I wrong, it was worse. My presentation was painful and embarrassing. I was proud of my pitch and I felt like I didn’t do it justice. I wanted to just throw out the URL to my blog post on my pitch so that way I could save everyone the experience. I understand that in our industry pitching your ideas are crucial, and the delivering of that pitch can make or break if your film gets made. I really have to work on it. I guess practise is the only way. Joy.
The set up of the guest observers was a really valuable aspect and gave the entire production a professional polish. As I was judging their judgment of peoples film ideas, I was impressed. However less so with my feedback, the male, James I believe, informed me: “Split screen has been done to death.” I took his feedback as an opportunity to received criticism while not taking it too much to heart. While I welcomed his perspective, in this case I wont be taking it on board.
All in all, I CAN NOT WAIT for Mondays class. Only exciting things ahead.

My cousins are fraternal twins and they swear they have a supernatural connection. They do this thing where one will silently lift a their pointer finger and wait. Then, the other twin, through their unexplainable spooky twin powers, and without seeing the other, will also lift their pointer finger. They search for each other, and upon see that the weird pointer-finger twin magic call has been answered, jump around and hi-five.

Growing up with these girls, they flaunted their powers at least once every time we were together, which was a lot.

I saw one of the twins yesterday; it was a little strange because we were at a family lunch and she wasn’t particularly engaged with any of the several conversations going on around her. She was detached and it was strange because it was these circumstances that she would raise her pointer finger and wait for her twin Emily.

Emily died from brain cancer in July 2013. She was 24.

Translation:
Didn’t particularly write this observation with a translation to film in mind, I was just feeling sad and reflective. If I did however, I think it would take form in the writing of a post card. From one twin to another, reflecting on their supernatural powers and the adventures they went on together to prove it. It would be very minimalistic, no voice over, no score, just silence. The film would comprise of a single shot: a overhead shot of a hand writing the postcard. The audience would have to try to discern the scrawling handwriting. It would be easy for the audience to disengage, as understanding the story written on the postcard isn’t easy, but there is something about that I find beautiful.

Student elections are on right now. I’ve been accosted by campaigners three times already. Begrudgingly, however, I feel like I have to give them a little respect. Their resilience is unperturbed. They are sharks. And like sharks, they have to keep moving or they will die, stalking from one student victim to another. Earphones in? Doesn’t matter, must attack. Head down, walking fast? Doesn’t matter, must attack. “Fuck off, I’m not voting.” Doesn’t matter must attack. Remarkable.

TRANSLATON:

I envision an educational documentary with this observation. The combining use of extreme long shots and long shots creates distance between the audience and these student campaigners, creating a detachment from relating to them as fellow students, and encourages the audience to view them as subjects of scientific study.
A David Attenborough type is commentating on the campaigner’s motivation and movements, as the audience observe these strange and vicious creatures in their natural habitat.

The Pitch:

While pursing my observations trying to decide which had the most potential to translate into film, I was struck by how one-dimensional they all were.
They weren’t necessarily bad, or didn’t have the potential to become good shorts, I just realised my process was. For all my observation posts I saw something, and then I, with out knowledge or background to who these people were, wrote an observation about them.

This realisation inspired me to make a film focusing on giving depth to these hijacked strangers stories and peeling off the layers to (what I thought) were their true character. Exploring the notion: does anyone really know anyone?
A real focus on the cracks behind the veneer people present to the world, and each other, because after all, a life lived accrues in the cracks.

The observation I am basing this on is the one I wrote when we went for the 30min walk in class a couple of weeks ago. I saw a couple sitting in a donut shop drinking coffee. From this, the basic premise of the film is as follows:

A mother and her son meet on Sunday morning for coffee.

During this encounter and subsequent monolog, the veneer each person presents to the other is far from the truth. I would like to demonstrate this by utilising split screen as we follow their journey to the coffee shop, and in the process reveal the extent of their illusion of normalcy.
Angela and her son Mike are each deeply troubled and sad individuals, and it is through these flaws that they are most alike.

Synopsis/Treatment:

Film opens with the young haze of a Sunday morning sunrise over city.
Over head shot of Angela lying in the middle of a empty bed, wide awake, she stares emptily at her bedside clock waiting for the numbers to read a 8:00am so she can get up, they read 7:59. The clock clicks over to 9:00am and she is released.

SLIPT SCREEN
On one side of screen: Angela robotically begins to get up.
On the other side of screen: Mike walks down the front steps of a police station

Full screen Mike.
Mike looks awful. His white tee shirt is dishevelled and bloodied on the collar, under his eye is the beginning of a black eye, his knuckles are grazed. He wears it well, he is a tough guy.
Mike walks across the empty street to a loitering car, the engine is running.
He slides into the passenger seat, kicking aside empty beer cans.

The driver, male, same age as mike, hands him a bottle of water.

“Whens you’re hearing?” the driver asks. They are familiar with one another.
Mike leans over and kisses him on the lips, a quick peck, an unspoken greeting and thanks for picking him up, all in one.
The diver returns the kiss.

“Next Thursday.” Mike says.

The driver pulls out and begins driving away.
Silent pause.
“Wanna get breakfast?” The diver asks.

Mike pulls his bloodied tee over his head and twists back to reach into the back seat of the car, “Can’t. I’m meant to be getting coffee with mum.”

He returns with a cleaner looking shirt and begins putting it on.

“When am I going to meet her anyway? We’ve been together almost a year, you know.”

Mike, still buttoning his shirt, glances over at the driver flashing a smile.
“I know. And soon, real soon. She can’t wait to meet you, she actually keeps buggering me about it every time I see her, just not today.”
“Okay?” Mike tries to pat down his messy hair.

“Yeah” the driver replies, eyes on the road.

SPLIT SCREEN
On one side of screen: Mike leans forward onto the dash, folded arms watching the road.
On the other side of screen: Angela is standing in the kitchen, in her pajamas.

Full screen Angela.
She is pouring a half empty bottle of vodka into a coffee mug. Divorce papers are on the counter. She takes a sip and places the mug down, picking up a cylindrical container of prescription drugs. She takes four.

Cut to full dressed Angela, she looks smart.
She crosses the lounge room on her way out the door, grabbing her car keys as she goes.

Cut to Mike.
Mike gets out of car and begins walking down street

SPLIT SCREEN
On one side of screen: Mike continues to walk down the street.
On the other side of screen: Angela is already in the coffee/donut shop. She has already ordered a coffee. Angela pours vodka from a flask into the coffee.

Both Mike Angela and unwrap crewing gum and start crewing.

Full screen Mike
He enters the Donut/coffee shop
Mike catches his mum’s eye; raises a hand in greeting, and walks over to her.

He slides into the window side booth.

“Hey mum.” Mike flashes his smile.

“Michel, honey, how are you?”

“I’m doing pretty great.”

“Of course you are” Angela smiles proudly. She notices Mikes eye, “Oh what happened to you face?”

“Oh this?” Mike waves in his eyes general direction, “It’s nothing, just rough and tumble at footy yesterday.”

“You’ve got to be more careful.”

“I will.”

Awkward pause

“This is my second coffee already today.” Angela informs him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm hmm, went for a walk around the river with the girls, and stopped at Franks.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Angela nods.

Awkward pause.

“And how’s Jessica?” Angela asks.

“Mummm” mike whines, making a face.

“When I am going to meet this girl? Michel, its like you’re hiding me from her.” Angela scolds.

“Mum I would never.”

“Well it feels like it.” She retorts, a little snappy. “I want to meet the mother of my grandkids.”

“Mum no ones having kids around here” Mike mumbles grumpily.

“Well no one here is getting any younger either” She looks out the window.

“Mum..” Mike begins

Angela interrupts: “Be sure to propose first, there’s nothing tackier then a man who fears commitment.”

Mike takes a deep breaths and concedes
“Okay mum.”

“Very important how a man proposes” Angela continues

“Yes mum.”

Awkward pause

“How’s dad?” Mike asks gingerly.

Surprised by the question, “Oh he’s good, still snoring like a hog, hardly got a wink of sleep because of it last night.”

Pause

“And you? Are you good?”

Pause

“Yes. I’m good too.” She answers.

“That’s good.”

Slow zoom out. Showing the busy coffee shop. Other people talking easily amongst each other, they now sit in silence.

Cut to night time at Mikes house.

SPLIT SCREEN.
On one side of screen: Mike stands out the back of his house lighting a cigarette. He looks sad.
On other side of screen: Angela is outside her house, lighting a cigarette too. She also looks sad.

End

Estimated time: 4.5- 5 minutes
Locations: Police station, Mike’s boyfriend’s car, coffee shop, Angela’s house, Mikes house.