GREEN SCREENING: A STUDENT GUIDE

Green is the colour of aliens and illness, of accidental highlights and illicit vegetables. It creeps and sprouts, and bursts feverishly across the café table when nose etiquette is forgotten. It’s a colour you skirt gardens to avoid. Yet now that you’re required to complete a green-screen project, you’ve hardly seen anything else. As you resolve to think orange thoughts, a figure lumbers into your frame, plummeting forward and recoiling back as though fighting truculent legs. He clumsily flaunts a wholly green outfit. If you believed in signs, this would probably be one.

You reluctantly begin to plot: you know that you need a screen, preferably green. You know that screen needs to be lit evenly, that the object or person in front of that screen needs to be far enough forward that they can also be lit, separately. Most crucially, you need something to eliminate the green; you need to film surroundings away from your cocoon, your troubled friends and confused, unruly hair. Yet your imaginative capacity only extends as far as the pastry between your teeth, with which you’re currently having a rather intimate, and apologetic, love affair.  Minutes later, you’re piling swirling pastries on spongy hummocks and buttercream slopes, dribbling butterscotch on foaming cloud cover and a crumbling flapjack terrain. Masculine shrieks indicate the sighting of mice nearby. You begin to regret brainstorming on an empty stomach.  

In a daunting green screen studio, you attempt to replicate the lighting that you noted at the scene of your sugar land, positioning the camera as you positioned it there. You pretend to stumble across an edible landscape, in reality, absurdly, wobbling between green walls. To finish, After Effects is your tool of torture. You must combine your performance with the cake landscape, whilst adopting technical jargon such as ‘keying’, ‘screen gain’ and ‘GoodgodwhatthehellamIdoingwithmylife’. Filled with thoughts of failure, you crawl home to devour your mini roll mountain and think on it another day. Or never again.

HOW TO SURVIVE STOP MOTION: A STUDENT GUIDE

Again and again, you spin clumsily into sharp edges and ledges and chair legs. You’ve been contorted in a telephone box-sized space, limited to miming careful dances around corners, and entertaining yourself with the voices in your headphones and your head. At sporadic moments, you twitch a furry character into a new position and click a camera shutter closed. This, you deduce, is the art of creating movement by barely moving anything at all.

Control is the theme of the week: daylight is blocked with cardboard and artificial lights secured in place, the tripod is taped to the ground, and the onion-skin function on Dragonframe allows you to position objects a splinter away from where they sat in the last frame. In this cave of control, you will the animation to be smoother than before. Tickled by the irony, you decide you want the animated character to jiggle wildly, uncontrollably, about the set. You want to present a personality. If moving the figure a minimal amount per picture creates realistic movement, it follows that significant movements between frames create an exaggerated, crazed impression. You experiment, improvise and make spontaneous decisions that allow your animation, and your interest in it, to thrive.

It’s easy to become disgruntled and frustrated with this odd filmmaking form – you spend hours shifting fractions of objects to produce half a second of material, easily neglected in a blink. You lose time and sleep, sanity and social skills; there is nothing healthy about a control this obsessive. Yet, in a strange twist of logic, there is nothing more satisfying than coercing an inanimate creature into a frenetic routine. Ultimately, oddly, as bruises blossom on your femurs, you’re content within the secluded euphoria of your imaginary world, and your tiny telephone box.

China and Hollywood: BFF?

Even if it means cutting/changing grand parts of their films, Hollywood is bewitched by China’s box office.

I came across an interesting and captivating article concerning Hollywood’s interest in making a bigger cinematic breakthrough in China, not in terms of  ‘filming making’ but in terms of profit. Marsh investigates China’s cinematic success within fast growing cinemas and ‘daily’ box office smash; additionally highlighting that there is an increase of cinemas being built.

 Films now screened within China must first be reviewed by the S.A.R.F.T [state administration of radio, film and television], attending then an approval or rejection. Whether filmmakers submit their scripts before hand or include any reference to China/Chinese culture or wish to film within the territory, it is preferred if an official member assists/report the production (particularly on Chinese locations).  Furthermore, if these films involved Chinese actors and story lines it would be more appreciated.

This article had me expand my research and I encountered further information regarding Chinese censorship on Hollywood films, simultaneously references to particular movies that have undergone certain adjustments.

Obviously, it’s hard to truthfully and adequately portray certain elements of a culture which is not your own or eventually inappropriate to portray those cultures within a particular stereotype. The Karate Kid (2010) was initially discarded because its villain was Chinese, more than 10 minutes were cut from Men and Black 3 (2012) as it showed an “alien” Chinese waitress, in Skyfall (2012) a scene displaying the shooting of a Chinese guard was cut out. Surprisingly even Kate Winslet’s ‘portrait scene’ was censored when Titanic (1997) came out in 3D (2012). 

“For American’s, the hard part is knowing what might suddenly cause trouble – initial approvals notwithstanding”, (Cieply & Barnes, 2013). I found that films such as The Departed (2006 - remake) and Pirates of the Caribbean: at world’s end (2007) were both banned in China. The reasons concerned references about Chinese people which weren’t much esteemed, in other films issues are also ‘religious-related’ (i.e. Life of Pi, 2012).

There was also a period in which, not too long ago, the S.A.R.F.T imposed a blackout of foreign films in the cinemas: its main aim was to connect the audience with ‘domestic movies’ of Chinese Culture. This did raise some controversy for those who love watch Hollywood films, due to the Communist Party’s [who control the S.A.R.F.T] excessive ‘censorship power’.   Although it may be argued that, to an extent, certain cuts may not be drastic: many of those that I have read about Chinese censorship involve excluding cynical images. This brings me to highlight that in many Hollywood films, foreign individuals, such as Chinese and/or Russians, are set as villains against the American hero, but alternatively not all are portray in the same way. Let’s not forget our favorite Chinese kung-fu hero Jackie Chan.

“There is a lot of frustration about the rules and censorship and hurdles and difficulties of getting a film made and distributed in China”, (Cain in Marsh, 2013). This statement particularly made me think about Hollywood’s remakes of foreign films: Let me in (2010), Quarantine (2008), The Grudge (2004), The Ring (2002) and so on. It’s a very increasing tendency of Hollywood to remake an overseas film, whether it is successful or not; O’Neil explains that some filmmakers fear that producing something original [in a studio] could be risky and expensive and simply, Hollywood remakes effective foreign films for American audiences to enjoy.

"My advice to audiences is go see the proven hit to appreciate it. Chances are, with the remake, Hollywood is just serving up re-fried beans that aren't very tasty."

- O’Neil

 

AG

Bibliography 

Marsh, J. (2013), Hollywood rolls out Red carpet, Metro in focus, London

Articles

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/15/business/media/in-hollywood-movies-for-china-bureaucrats-want-a-say.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

http://www.inaglobal.fr/en/cinema/article/6-key-lessons-sarft-s-foreign-film-blackout

http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/movies/original-sin-hollywood-addicted-to-remaking-foreign-films-20100923-15okb.html  
 

LIGHTING A SET: A STUDENT GUIDE

So there’s a set, some lights and some actors. You’re in a studio. It’s almost dark, eyes are studying you expectantly and you’re frantically trying to remember what that bearded man mentioned in that lighting workshop you had once.  The 1st A.D. is bulging with panic – ‘We’re 45 minutes behind schedule. The studio closes in an hour and we’re 45 minutes behind schedule. We have to keep to the schedule!’ – and you’re tempted to express your annoyance on his shin.  Clenching your eyebrows to concentrate your thoughts, you resolve to start with the basics, to take away all the light and begin with what you know. This is what you know: you want to create an atmosphere, to subtly but sufficiently light the varying skin tones of the actors, and you do not, if you can absolutely avoid it, want the set to look like a set.

Placing a few practical lamps within the set, you manage to create pools of light and shade that suggest certain objects: the fringe of a curtain, a picture frame, a desk scattered with fragmented notes. You’ve decided not to use any of the studio lights, opting instead for a naturalistic scene lit only by the lamps within it.  There’s no denying this scene has atmosphere. Timidly, the director points out that it might be useful to see the actors when they speak, and you’re shaken from your smugness. Clamping a small Dedo light onto the wall of the set, you direct its light into the standing lamp below to expand its halo, before repeating the same for the desk lamp. A devious moment of lighting trickery and you’ve brightened the practical lamps without a dimmer switch.

To prove that the actors have faces, you consider bouncing the light from a Redhead off the floor, the wall, the ceiling or the soundman, to illuminate the actors within the scene. Ultimately, you choose a white polystyrene board (more commonly known as a bounce board or a reflector). You diffuse the light further with something that resembles tracing paper and a rectangle of black mesh (these probably have more common names too) – the resulting light softly reveals the actors, creating lively eye-glints and a complete, mysterious setting.

So there’s a set, some lights and some actors. You’re in a studio. It’s almost dark, but eyes are focused on scripts and cameras and clapperboards. You return to that happy, mindless place at the edge of thought, and check your Facebook notifications.

Once: The Beauty of Simplicity

“Take this sinking boat and point it home – we’ve still got time.”  

                   - “Falling Slowly”, as performed by the Frames

Falling Slowly (Album Version)

The film’s genre is debatable: ‘musical’ can only describe so much. 

Once (2006) is an Irish film directed by John Carney.  Besides being a film that should be recommended for any aspiring director or script writer, it is everything an independent film should be: moving, successful, inspiring, and simple.  Above all else, the music and plot tell a beautiful story.    

Glen Hansard stars as a Dublin street musician who only just manages to scrape by with the use of his aging acoustic guitar and the money he makes from fixing hoovers.  That’s right – a musician who fixes hoovers.  Hansard, a professional musician outside of the film, portrays a likeable character who is not afraid of facing his own lofty ambitions of recording his music on something other than his pocket-sized recording device.  He meets a girl who is lyrically gifted and plays the piano and the two forge a smashing partnership that blossoms into what initially appears to be an unlikely romance.  Together, they play songs that they really did write and perform outside of the film.  Their songs of love may have echoed their feelings for each other as the pair dated for a considerable amount of time.

But I’m not here to talk about all of the details of this film, nor of Hansard’s love life.

The first idea that pops into my head about this film is that it shares such a compelling story and is yet so simple.  The music of course plays a central role in the emotional pathos of the audience, but there are other features that Mr Carney has incorporated to good effect. 

For instance, the two main characters’ names are never given: they are simply known as Guy and Girl (this also appears in the film’s credits).  This is interesting and not very common, but it is also purposeful.  Just because the audience does not know their names does not mean that we do not know who they are.  There is only a guy, a girl, and their music.  The story is so much more than any name could ever mean.

In this beautifully descriptive still, Guy and Girl are shown to be connected through their music.  Any barriers in their age difference, responsibilities or financial situations temporarily collapse. 

Girl frequently plays the piano inside this piano shop, as she cannot afford one herself.  The shop owner knows her and allows the two to play together.  It’s the first time in the film that this happens and as soon as it does the rest falls seamlessly into place. 

As previously mentioned, one of the most striking things about Once is that it is an independent film.  In other words, it does not come under a major Hollywood label and its estimated budget of €180,000 (£154,000)[1] is incredibly miniscule.  It is a film that could be written and directed by a student, but take nothing away from its brilliance in simplicity. 

The shots in the film are often hand-held, which further stresses how the audience is able to get closer to the film and relate to the characters, especially Guy.  Without giving too much away, the ending sequence is one of the most effective that I have ever seen in any film.  It’s not so much that director Carney relies upon specific camera-related techniques, rather he is more focussed on depicting the emotions in the film as portrayed though the interplay of the music and mise-en-scene.  Guy’s final action in the film is unexpected and one that is likely to touch you deeply.  It also shows how the development of plot can make or break a film, regardless of how clever the directing is.  
***

So, there you have it: a simple film with a heart-warming story and interesting Irish accents to top it all off.  The music itself is half of the film's voice.

If there is one thing that this film proved to me cinematically speaking, it’s that a small film-festival feature can go a long way to entertain, enlighten and most of all inspire any audience – even if this sort of thing only happens Once. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=726SFblz9Lk  (official YouTube trailer)

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[1] IMDB - http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0907657/