An interesting editing technique that we learned about in class in the Kuleshov effect. The Kuleshov effect is achieved when one image is montaged with another so that the sum of the two images equals more than their parts. For instance, an image of a man looking down can be juxtaposed with an image of an empty bowl of soup is taken to mean that the man is hungry. Both images taken literally, they should not necessarily mean that the man is hungry, but the viewer assumes the man’s point of view and what he sees—the empty bowl—is taken to be an inner thought. It can also be used to develop characters. We watched a video in class of Alfred Hitchcock’s take on the Kuleshov effect. Hitchcock started with an image of a man staring at something. This man’s character can be drastically changed depending on what is seen next. In one montage, an image of a woman and her baby appear afterward. We process this montage as saying that the man was looking at the woman and her baby and so gather that the old man is a grandfatherly figure who is perhaps thinking about his grandchild. However, in the next montage, a woman in a bikini appears after the old man. We think he is a pervert for staring at the woman in bikini! In this way, a character can be developed speedily and convincingly.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Post from 1/26/10: Sound and Editing Workshop
The first step in making a movie is writing a script. The script can be written from scratch or adapted from an earlier work. Scripts have a meticulous format but there are certain programs out there—Celtx, for instance—which make the formatting process easy so the screenwriter can focus on plot, theme, and motif without giving too much thought to technical stuff. After the screenplay is written, it is picked up by a producer who tweaks the film to his liking. The producer then either finds people to financially support the film or supports the film himself. Other duties of the producer are finding locations and securing them with contracts, hiring actors, actresses, crew and directors, setting up a film schedule. Next up comes filming, an arduous, meticulous process that may take as few as a few days to as long as a year to finish. After filming is post. Post comprises editing and sound editing. In post, the movie comes together. The editing process breathes life into an otherwise messy, formless blob of footage to create something with style and finesse. Though it may seem that the only important part of a movie is what one sees, an equally important aspect lies in sound.
There is an entire career to be found in sound production. Sound effects are meticulously constructed from various components to match the visuals on screen. In class, we watched a documentary on Peter Jackson’s production of Lord of the Rings on sound and visual editing. To create the sounds of the elephants, they mixed the roar of a lion with machinery in order to give it a positively terrifying sound. Their footsteps were the sound of a ton of concrete falling from two stories high. Though the purpose of this editing is to ensure that not a second thought is given to the validity of the movie, it is quite the contrary; thought was given to every single sound, song, or background music in a movie in order to influence emotion and perception.
There is an entire career to be found in sound production. Sound effects are meticulously constructed from various components to match the visuals on screen. In class, we watched a documentary on Peter Jackson’s production of Lord of the Rings on sound and visual editing. To create the sounds of the elephants, they mixed the roar of a lion with machinery in order to give it a positively terrifying sound. Their footsteps were the sound of a ton of concrete falling from two stories high. Though the purpose of this editing is to ensure that not a second thought is given to the validity of the movie, it is quite the contrary; thought was given to every single sound, song, or background music in a movie in order to influence emotion and perception.
Digitizing
Little has progressed since last week’s entry. Last Thursday evening, we filmed our last scene between Mashburn and Hughes Hall. It was a dialogue scene between our actress, Harley, and Wilson. We took about forty minutes to shoot, even though the dialogue was only a half a page. It went well, though it was frustrating to film because the camera had not been charged. The back-up battery had also not been charged. I think that we got some nice over-the-shoulder shots with Harley and Wilson and also a nice panning shot. I’m excited to get to the editing process and see how everything looks. Unfortunately, I do not know when that will happen. I don’t know how to digitize our footage and that has to be done before we can do any editing. Our instructor, Eric Dietz, was digitizing during class last Thursday but unfortunately he could not get to our group. Hopefully we can somehow get it done by the middle of the week or this coming Thursday, because I do not know how long editing will take. We have a fairly straightforward storyline so it may not be too difficult to put everything together, but I am still uneasy about it. It is mostly my responsibility from this point on. I can only hope that my vision for this film and work ethic are good, because I really have high hopes for this project. Let’s hope I am up to task.
Post from 3/16/10: The Player
From the very beginning of the Player, Robert Altman subtly un-suspends the audience’s disbelief. The very first scene is Robert Altman with a slate calling the Player into action. In keeping this usually-deleted aspect of film in the movie, Altman is giving us a more rounded view of the showbiz industry. At the conclusion of the movie, in an unsettling summing-up of the movie, Griffin Mill receives a call from the screenwriter who has been sending him threatening postcards to him the entire movie and pitches him the plot for the Player, in a menacing tone in order to extract blackmail money. Griffin, after agreeing to pay off the sum, casts an eerie aside: “Sounds like a good plot for a movie.” In this manner, Altman is bringing the movie full circle, leading the audience to the question, “What was real?” In bringing this question up, Altman is trying to also raise doubt about validity in any movie, and in show-business in general.
The first actual scene of the movie is intensely long, panning and moving in from one aspect of life on a studio lot to another, none of the aspects too admirable (this scene is reputedly an homage to Hitchcock’s movie Rope, which also boasts an extremely long scene of this ilk). Phrases like “Ghost meets Alien” or some other hideous concoction are thrown around all too easily, and—for the most part—accepted as necessary evils in show-business. These exchanges are used in a number of ways: they are used to further plot; to poke fun at the drivel some studios produce; and to coyly remark on what the Player actually is.
What genre is the Player? Funnily enough, it is exactly what the movie has been poking at. It is a mix-and-match genre movie. Slow beats, lighting, themes, and an antihero main character (who just happens to have a motivation reminiscent of a private eye) all point to a classic noir movie. However, the setting and themes are also reminiscent of a movie about Hollywood. Two polar genres are brought together in a manner that would not usually be coupled. Once again, Altman is breaking rules, hoping to un-suspend belief.
The Player is a movie about the movies, but more specifically, it is a movie about movie writers. Writers who can make their own endings, middle, and beginnings; inconsistencies and injustices are ignored for happy Hollywood endings. The writers—and by extension, the movie executives who select which stories to produce, to make real—get to choose their own endings. In this case, it is a rose-covered cottage with an American flag and a beautiful pregnant wife waiting for Griffin upon returning for work. It all seems so perfect! It’s perfect because it’s not real. Altman continually pushes that thought, whether that be through abominable movie mash-ups or breaking the fourth wall.
The first actual scene of the movie is intensely long, panning and moving in from one aspect of life on a studio lot to another, none of the aspects too admirable (this scene is reputedly an homage to Hitchcock’s movie Rope, which also boasts an extremely long scene of this ilk). Phrases like “Ghost meets Alien” or some other hideous concoction are thrown around all too easily, and—for the most part—accepted as necessary evils in show-business. These exchanges are used in a number of ways: they are used to further plot; to poke fun at the drivel some studios produce; and to coyly remark on what the Player actually is.
What genre is the Player? Funnily enough, it is exactly what the movie has been poking at. It is a mix-and-match genre movie. Slow beats, lighting, themes, and an antihero main character (who just happens to have a motivation reminiscent of a private eye) all point to a classic noir movie. However, the setting and themes are also reminiscent of a movie about Hollywood. Two polar genres are brought together in a manner that would not usually be coupled. Once again, Altman is breaking rules, hoping to un-suspend belief.
The Player is a movie about the movies, but more specifically, it is a movie about movie writers. Writers who can make their own endings, middle, and beginnings; inconsistencies and injustices are ignored for happy Hollywood endings. The writers—and by extension, the movie executives who select which stories to produce, to make real—get to choose their own endings. In this case, it is a rose-covered cottage with an American flag and a beautiful pregnant wife waiting for Griffin upon returning for work. It all seems so perfect! It’s perfect because it’s not real. Altman continually pushes that thought, whether that be through abominable movie mash-ups or breaking the fourth wall.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Post From 2/16/10: Singin' In the Rain
The first scene of Singin’ In the Rain perhaps best sums up what it is trying to say about the movie industry; in the first ten minutes of the movie, Don Lockwood portrays the showmanship and fakery of Hollywood through his wistful interpretation of his past. Don, played by the magnificent Gene Kelly, takes a listening radio audience through his rise to stardom, painting himself in only the most flattering lights when, in all actuality, Don scraped his way to stardom through saloons, minstrel shows, and dangerous stunt work. This comical montage reveals two things to us: one, it reveals Don’s history and prepares us for the ensuing story; two, it hints at one of the underlying themes of the movie, the theme that Hollywood is about putting on a show, “makin’ ‘em laugh,” and that authenticity has no hold on the film industry. Cinema isn’t about how real a story is, but rather how entertaining a story can be while still letting the audience believe that what they are watching is really happening. In a later scene in the movie, Don is trying to tell Kathy how much he loves her and decides to do it by dressing a set to give his proclamation the right mood. Rather than just be forthright and tell her he loves her, Don puts on blue-colored lights to simulate the moon, drops a sunset backdrop with rose-colored fill lights, has a fan blowing to simulate wind, puts Kathy on a ladder for that Romeo and Juliet balcony romance, and then proceeds to serenade her. The whole scene is completely contrived, yet it seems infinitely more romantic than if he were to just come out and say those three little words. Without realizing it, we—the audience—get suckered in to believing the Hollywood fables, to suspending our disbelief that these romantic songs don’t spontaneously erupt when the time is right, that sound effects don’t sound off when we run into walls, and actors cannot automatically conjure up a complicated and in-sync dance routine at the drop of a newspaper. Yet we do, movie after movie. This is what Gene Kelly, as both an actor and a director in Singin’ In the Rain, is commenting on. And what better way to comment on the superficiality of Hollywood than in a musical, the most-removed genre of them all?
Singin’ In the Rain is about the transition the film industry made from silent movies to sound. Brilliant performances are made all around, arguably the most famous performance by Jean Hagen, playing Lina Lamont, a silent movie actress with a voice that should have stayed in that era. When the talkies hit Hollywood, Don and Lina are already half-way through making a movie when the studio head decides to make it a talkie, as well. The whole movie is ridiculous and horribly produced, technically speaking, and is almost trashed. In order to save the project, Don enlists a singer, Kathy Selden (played by Debbie Reynolds) to voice over Lina’s parts. Don also adds a vaudeville scene to give the movie some innovative spectacle. The idea of voice-overs adds to the un-reality theme of Singin’ In the Rain. Audiences swear that what they’re seeing is real, that they know the inside story because they can see it happening, but they are really only being duped. Indeed, it seems that Gene Kelly really did get the better of us; in scenes where we see Kathy singing, voicing over Lina’s parts, what we are really hearing is another actress voicing Kathy voicing Lina. Debbie Reynolds was not a strong enough singer to be a voice-over actress.
The scene that was the film’s namesake was filmed in only five shots. There are long, panning shots of Don Lockwood dancing around, emphatically kicking puddles in tune to the beat that last for minutes at a time. Contrast this now to our current style of musicals, like Chicago, with its choppy, new-frame-every-other-second style. These types of shots were typical in old-fashioned musicals. For smooth, rolling shots, a dolly was used. The very last scene, where we see Lockwood walking away, we see a nice aerial crane shot that lets us see the vast, wet street Kelly was just dancing on.
Singin’ In the Rain is about the transition the film industry made from silent movies to sound. Brilliant performances are made all around, arguably the most famous performance by Jean Hagen, playing Lina Lamont, a silent movie actress with a voice that should have stayed in that era. When the talkies hit Hollywood, Don and Lina are already half-way through making a movie when the studio head decides to make it a talkie, as well. The whole movie is ridiculous and horribly produced, technically speaking, and is almost trashed. In order to save the project, Don enlists a singer, Kathy Selden (played by Debbie Reynolds) to voice over Lina’s parts. Don also adds a vaudeville scene to give the movie some innovative spectacle. The idea of voice-overs adds to the un-reality theme of Singin’ In the Rain. Audiences swear that what they’re seeing is real, that they know the inside story because they can see it happening, but they are really only being duped. Indeed, it seems that Gene Kelly really did get the better of us; in scenes where we see Kathy singing, voicing over Lina’s parts, what we are really hearing is another actress voicing Kathy voicing Lina. Debbie Reynolds was not a strong enough singer to be a voice-over actress.
The scene that was the film’s namesake was filmed in only five shots. There are long, panning shots of Don Lockwood dancing around, emphatically kicking puddles in tune to the beat that last for minutes at a time. Contrast this now to our current style of musicals, like Chicago, with its choppy, new-frame-every-other-second style. These types of shots were typical in old-fashioned musicals. For smooth, rolling shots, a dolly was used. The very last scene, where we see Lockwood walking away, we see a nice aerial crane shot that lets us see the vast, wet street Kelly was just dancing on.
Post From 2/2/10: Sunset Boulevard
Sunset Boulevard was a fantastic movie on a number of levels. Directed by Billy Wilder and released in 1950, it almost defined the film noir genre. Though the genre noir was kind of defined after the fact--in that I mean it was not a bulleted list of requirements that were consciously produced but rather an overall feeling in American society that manifested itself in film during the post WWII-era. It seems to me that film noir is a kind of absurdist take on cinema; there are no 'good guys' and 'bad guys' but antiheroes. Antiheroes are realistic characters that are neither good nor bad, have selfish motivations, and may or may not reach a happy ending. They are not admirable characters, but are more realistic than the typical Hollywood ‘white hat vs. black hat’ characters. William Holden’s Joe Gillis is an antihero. Sunset Boulevard also has the stark black-and-white contrast, sweeping camera angles, voice over narration, and unhappy endings that are typical in film noir.
In Sunset Boulevard, Joe Gillis is a washed up, indebted screenwriter who stumbles upon an aging silent-movie actress. Norma, played by Gloria Swanson, is fresh from burying her pet chimp when Joe happens upon her decrepit mansion and quickly makes Joe her new pet. She enlists him to adapt her narcissistic, plodding epic of Salome, a biblical temptress who demands John the Baptist’s head on a platter. In a manner of speaking, Norma becomes Salome, eventually sacrificing Joe in order to once again gain notoriety.
Sunset Boulevard contrasts the two separate worlds of Hollywood especially present in 1950. At the time, aging actors of the silent movie era were still existent around Hollywood. A dichotomy between the aging grandeur of a past age and the new, youthful—and flippant---Hollywood is contrasted between Norma’s world within her mansion and the vibrant party scenes. Joe tries to be a conduit between the two worlds but gravely discovers the danger in an obsessive desire of fame too late.
There are so many allusions to actual pop culture the movie. King Kong, Gone With the Wind, actual directors and actresses and actors—all of this is included in the film in order to make it as realistic as possible. Gloria Swanson was, in fact, an aged silent movie actress; her manservant, played by Erich von Stroheim, was a silent movie director; Norma’s fellow bridge players were played by actual famous actors, including Buster Keaton. Billy Wilder wanted there to be as much reality in the film as there was meaning. It is interesting that all of these actors signed on to be in the film knowing full-well what was being said about their era of cinema. But it was a good thing they did. Sunset Boulevard became a Hollywood classic, as much a critique of itself as an ode to it.
In Sunset Boulevard, Joe Gillis is a washed up, indebted screenwriter who stumbles upon an aging silent-movie actress. Norma, played by Gloria Swanson, is fresh from burying her pet chimp when Joe happens upon her decrepit mansion and quickly makes Joe her new pet. She enlists him to adapt her narcissistic, plodding epic of Salome, a biblical temptress who demands John the Baptist’s head on a platter. In a manner of speaking, Norma becomes Salome, eventually sacrificing Joe in order to once again gain notoriety.
Sunset Boulevard contrasts the two separate worlds of Hollywood especially present in 1950. At the time, aging actors of the silent movie era were still existent around Hollywood. A dichotomy between the aging grandeur of a past age and the new, youthful—and flippant---Hollywood is contrasted between Norma’s world within her mansion and the vibrant party scenes. Joe tries to be a conduit between the two worlds but gravely discovers the danger in an obsessive desire of fame too late.
There are so many allusions to actual pop culture the movie. King Kong, Gone With the Wind, actual directors and actresses and actors—all of this is included in the film in order to make it as realistic as possible. Gloria Swanson was, in fact, an aged silent movie actress; her manservant, played by Erich von Stroheim, was a silent movie director; Norma’s fellow bridge players were played by actual famous actors, including Buster Keaton. Billy Wilder wanted there to be as much reality in the film as there was meaning. It is interesting that all of these actors signed on to be in the film knowing full-well what was being said about their era of cinema. But it was a good thing they did. Sunset Boulevard became a Hollywood classic, as much a critique of itself as an ode to it.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Moving On Along With Filming
This last week we continued to shoot our short film. I've found that it has been difficult to schedule times when everyone can get together to shoot. Our first day of shooting was rather difficult; one of our group members has training during class and couldn't be with us. The next day, a Friday, our actress had to leave town for the weekend so we were not able to film again until Sunday afternoon. After that, school kept everyone fairly busy so mid-week filming was unlikely, coupled with the fact that our other actor/group member and our camerawoman was occupied whenever our actress was free. Our actress also left town the next weekend, as did the our other actor/group member. At times, it was utter chaos trying to get all the puppies into one basket. It seemed that we were always going in separate directions. I can only imagine the difficulty a legitimate film crew must face when trying to organize a feature length film (though having actors and a crew who are not students must help infinitely).
Aside from the scheduling chaos, our shoots went fairly well. Our camerawoman was a bit unsure of what to get and how to get it (as I am sure we all were) but--with a little advice from some film majors that I know--we figured it out splendidly. I think we got some nice shots that will work nicely in post. There was a sticky situation with one of our scenes that involved a car crash, though. The scene goes that our actor, played by Wilson, is crossing the street and looking at his iPod when he is struck by a car. I took over the camera for a bit because--as the editor--there were a few shots that I wanted to get that were difficult to describe. I got a really nice through-the-driver-eyes shot that I think will look amazing. After he is hit by the car, there is a shot of a crowd gathered around the body in the middle of the street. I had to ask the police for permission to shoot there (which they were understandably skeptical of) and even after that, a squad car stopped to ask if we were done (after a policeman asked us that, we kind of had to be). People kept stopping in passing cars to ask if Wilson was okay and we had to constantly assure them that, yes, he was fine, we are just filming, no, please don't call 911. I also had to worry about fiction becoming reality--I had to make sure none of the extras or myself were hit by a passing car!
Last Sunday we filmed a scene in front of Starbucks that was kind of difficult to get, too. Our camerawoman was gone and the rest of us had little to no experience, so I had to rely on my film major friend to give us a quick intro into the fine art of camera-slinging. The role of cameraman rotated between me, Clint, and the film major (though him as little as possible). However, we got a nice rack focus out of that afternoon.
I also missed an afternoon of filming due to work and a foot injury that kept me on crutches for most of the week. I have not seen the footage yet, but I am sure that everything will look wonderful. We are shooting one last bit a dialogue today and then shooting will be a wrap. After that, it is up to Jessica and myself to pull the film together. I will be doing footage editing and she will be contributing to sound editing.
Aside from the scheduling chaos, our shoots went fairly well. Our camerawoman was a bit unsure of what to get and how to get it (as I am sure we all were) but--with a little advice from some film majors that I know--we figured it out splendidly. I think we got some nice shots that will work nicely in post. There was a sticky situation with one of our scenes that involved a car crash, though. The scene goes that our actor, played by Wilson, is crossing the street and looking at his iPod when he is struck by a car. I took over the camera for a bit because--as the editor--there were a few shots that I wanted to get that were difficult to describe. I got a really nice through-the-driver-eyes shot that I think will look amazing. After he is hit by the car, there is a shot of a crowd gathered around the body in the middle of the street. I had to ask the police for permission to shoot there (which they were understandably skeptical of) and even after that, a squad car stopped to ask if we were done (after a policeman asked us that, we kind of had to be). People kept stopping in passing cars to ask if Wilson was okay and we had to constantly assure them that, yes, he was fine, we are just filming, no, please don't call 911. I also had to worry about fiction becoming reality--I had to make sure none of the extras or myself were hit by a passing car!
Last Sunday we filmed a scene in front of Starbucks that was kind of difficult to get, too. Our camerawoman was gone and the rest of us had little to no experience, so I had to rely on my film major friend to give us a quick intro into the fine art of camera-slinging. The role of cameraman rotated between me, Clint, and the film major (though him as little as possible). However, we got a nice rack focus out of that afternoon.
I also missed an afternoon of filming due to work and a foot injury that kept me on crutches for most of the week. I have not seen the footage yet, but I am sure that everything will look wonderful. We are shooting one last bit a dialogue today and then shooting will be a wrap. After that, it is up to Jessica and myself to pull the film together. I will be doing footage editing and she will be contributing to sound editing.
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