Smallman

The name might suggest a film that deconstructs the super hero genre that is currently dominating the Hollywood landscape but “Smallman” is actually a feature film, written by Anthony Blackburn that in some respects, deals with the inner workings of the criminal underclass and overclass that unfortunately contribute to the rotting Trinidad & Tobago landscape. The word landscape here does not refer to trees and beautiful beaches or anything of the sort, but rather to societal dysfunction. As any Trinidadian or Tobagonian (who doesn’t wear rose coloured glasses) will tell you,things in this would be Paradise aren’t that great right now – for many reasons. A spiraling crime rate and an arguably aloof and corrupt Government are amongst the challenges being faced by a Nation celebrating its 50th year of Independence in 2012.

With these things in mind, I treated the footage here in the manner you’ll see after the jump. The idea of paradise lost – or a paradise just out of reach, I thought, was important to make this scene work. This is only a test. Hopefully, Kevin, (who is the star of this scene and does an exceptional job IMHO), Anthony and myself will be able to generate interest and enough funding to actually do the entire film in the not too distant future. Special thanks to those who helped out with our humble project.

Check it out.

Freeze Frame or Sheep Don’t Wear Boots

Well it has been ages since I’ve posted here and I do apologize to my dozens of readers…OK I’m exaggerating, I only have three or so readers . Anyway, self belittling aside, I’ve been very busy over the last few months, navigating my way though the world of Advertising while simultaneously trying to undertake some film/video projects on the side.  At this point I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with my life balance but I can say that I’m in a better position than I was a year ago. 

But to end the Freeze Frame that this blog has become I have decided to begin posting here on a fairly regular basis starting now. The entries will continue in the same vein as they have before, featuring random musings, journals about my adventures in film-making and semi-autobiographical or purely fictional stories.  Additionally, I’ve started a second blog called “Sheep Don’t Wear Boots” which will feature a few samples of my Advertising work.  Maybe I’ll explain why I called it that in one of my posts here – in the meantime, check it out.

In other news, I tried my hand at some typography recently, doing a lyrics video for my friend Nandelle. The thing about this is that I accomplished all the effects using simply a word cloud capture and Adobe Premiere Pro CS5. It was a challenge I didn’t quite decide to give myself. It was simply that I didn’t have access to any motion graphics programs at the time. In any case, I think it came out pretty well. Coincidentally, the song is called Freeze Frame. Check it out after the jump.

Jiggety-Jog

Hello loyal readers…ok well maybe I have no loyal readers but hello and Happy 2012 to anyone who reads this.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted here and a lot has happened so to save some time I’ll give a chronological list of events that have occurred since my last entry.

Here goes:

• Continued doing freelance work, (sometimes for free), while I looked for a part time job to help me with the bills.
• Paid freelance work started to dry up while the bills continued to hang overhead like the sword of Damocles.
• Made the decision to move back to Trinidad for a while as the (non film related) job market was favourable (i.e. there was a chance I could get my old job or a similar one back)
• Accepted that moving back was not failure. Sometimes we must take a step back in order to advance
• Moved back to Trinidad but could not get the job for bureaucratic reasons. I didn’t get emotional about that, just had to keep pressing.
• Looked for another job while shielding myself from Damocles’ sword
• Didn’t find a job immediately. Sadness.
• Got a job to make a music video for someone (an old school mate who happened to see my work and liked it). Happiness. See video after the jump.

• Got a job as a copywriter at an advertising/communications firm. Liking it so far.
• Applied for the DGA Training Program again (see previous entries). Got the (now online) exam on Feb 11th; looking forward to it.
• Have been asked to direct 2 more music videos, as well as a couple short films. Will see if I can get one of my own projects off the ground as well. Working toward all that now. Film is a weekend sport for now.

So this year, while a host of mortals prepare themselves for the “end of the world” (or the beginning of the new era if you’re interested in what the “prophecy” actually said), I’ll be looking forward to my future with some enthusiasm. Don’t call it a comeback; I’ve been here for years!

P.S. Ten points for you if you caught the Mother Goose reference in the title.

Be Like Water to Kill the Bills

After the sudden albeit temporary closure of the DGA Path (see previous entry), I have to admit that I felt lost for a while. What was I going to do? Where was I going to go? The next move for me was shrouded by a nebula of sorts. For me, this was the worst possible thing that could happen, as I am nothing if I do not have a plan.

During the weeks that followed, I thought more and more about packing up and going home. I’d ask for my old job back and reclaim the “ordinary life.” A few times I started writing that email to my former boss but I always stopped before completing the act. Maybe I had given up too much to accept failure or maybe my pride was just wounded. It didn’t matter, all I knew was that I had to keep going. The doubts and concerns I had probably stemmed from expecting too much too soon. I’m used to accomplishing things quickly and emphatically. It could be that I’m a victim of my high expectations for myself. The truth of the matter was that I hadn’t even been here for a year yet. Maybe the struggles of my youth had been forgotten, the relatively comfortable life I led for so long had made me soft. All that was missing was the beer belly and the trophy wife, but I digress.

Soft? Me? Never! I was tougher than a cockroach on PCP . It was time to man up. I couldn’t go home. What was I going back to? The same life that made me unhappy in the first place? Trading frustration for unhappiness seemed like a pretty raw deal to me. I couldn’t have that. So with six on one side and half a dozen on the other I chose to press on. I would adapt a new, more aggressive strategy and hope for the best. More random approaches to production folks, more cold emails and more “volunteer work”. (Yea, there has been a lot of volunteer work on this journey, it’s all part of the process. work for free until the money comes.) I didn’t care what I had to do. I just knew that I was going to get where I needed to be regardless of what obstacles were placed in my path.

Fast Forward a few weeks….

Since then, I’ve worked on a couple short films, made some great contacts and got a freelance position with a studio. Sporadic work but it’s better than none at all and I feel like I’m moving forward finally. I still need a part time job though, to kill the bills (see what I did there). Oh Bills how I loathe thee!

Resolve During a Rainstorm

A quick preamble to this blog ; I advanced to the second round of screening for the New York DGA Assistant Director Training Program and had an interview on March 22nd 2011. I then had to wait a month to find out if I had advanced to the final round. I spent that month in Trinidad, taking care of a few items of business and having a mini vacation as well. Upon returning to the US, There was a letter waiting for me

I thought I would be devastated if I did not make it into the final round of the program but it came to pass and I felt nothing; at least not on the first day. Maybe it was because I had had a long 24 hours filled with flight delays, overnighting at the airport, not sleeping and eating poorly, but the effect of the news was muted. I had invested a large quantity of time, money and effort into this and it had amounted to nothing but it didn’t seem to matter.
“No worries, I’ll try again next year,” I said to myself. That was the end of it.

The next day, some remorseful feelings did surface for a while but I quickly rationalized those into oblivion. In essence, this was just one path that was (temporarily) closed and there were many others that were still open. I already made up my mind to succeed at this regardless of what obstacles are thrown into my path.
“I can’t give up now. That would make it all pointless. All the work done to get here, all the sacrifices made all of it, for nothing.” I couldn’t have that.

It was then that I remembered a quote from the Hagakure ;

“There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you still get the same soaking. This understanding extends to everything”

Advice From A Fortune Cookie

As I sat in the Chinese restaurant with my father to have a meal, my mind retreated several light years distance to contemplate my performance on the test. An hour earlier, I was completing the first round of screening for the New York DGA Assistant Director Training Program, (yes that’s a mouthful), an opportunity which could mean many things, (entry into the world of film, TV and commercials), or nothing at all depending on what happened next. The barrage of psychometric and critical thinking puzzles seemed like a blur in retrospect, but overall I left the hall with a positive feeling. Of course with the number of people actually taking the test, my good feeling would not necessarily translate into advancing to the next phase. According to my research, it was a great achievement to even make it this far, with less than 3% of applicants even being chosen to take the exam. The majority of those would not make it to the second phase, an interview. Even fewer would make it all the way to the end of the program.

“Wanton Soup and Chicken Lo Mein,” I said as the waiter asked me for my order.
As he wrote it down and disappeared into the kitchen, my mind returned to that in between place where contingency plans are born.

“What if I’m not chosen?” I thought, as a multitude of scenarios played out in my imagination, each one being punctuated by broken conversation with my father and the taste of Chinese beer (TsingTao is great btw!).

Soon I was munching down and somewhere in between bites, decided to let go. The universe would take over now. Whatever happened from here would happen, regardless of how many scenarios I could play out in my mind’s eye and regardless of how much I chose to worry. With a full belly and a relaxed spirit, I turned my attention to the fortune cookie the waiter had put next to me.

“These fortunes are always so irrelevant,” I said to the old man as I broke open the thing, ready to scoff at the generic greeting awaiting me. As my eyes turned downward, I smiled wryly. Strangely enough, the cookie’s advice was on point.

Rest assured, I will not!

The Importance of Sesame Street (to me)

Dug this one up from the Archives. I’ll do something fresh (and maybe funny) later as there may be something good to report.

The range of material that has inspired my writing, directing and ways of thinking about film is both vast and varied. From the angst, rebellion and experimentation of the French New Wave (in particular Godard), to the social messages found in 70s dystopian science fiction, (including Logan’s Run and Planet of the Apes etc), to the adventure and imagination found in Anime (Cowboy Bebopand Samurai Champloo for instance), I like to think of my particular vision and developing style as an amalgam of these very different things. In particular though, if I had to pinpoint my biggest audiovisual influence, it would be, surprisingly perhaps, the long running American children’s educational program Sesame Street, specifically the 70s and 80s incarnations of the series.

The ideology of the pre internet era version of the show ultimately falls in line with my own vision as regards the potential of both Film and Television. Firstly, as a public funded project, it was not made solely for profit and was in essence“for the people by the people”. This in my view is, at least in part what made its creators strive for excellence in everything they did. The quality of the work is the first thing that stands out for me, even thirty years after the fact there is a certain relevance and value to it. The ability to create something which withstands the onslaught of time is what I aspire to in my own work. Additionally, the series was able to find a balance between entertainment and education which is another craft I hope to master in my career as a practitioner. I believe that film and television, already social forces, can be sculpted in such a manner as to effect positive social change.

As far as crafting and technical aspects of Sesame Street goes, I am to date still impressed with the old format of the series and its varied use of cultural elements from a wide range of literary, filmic, philosophical and musical sources which served to promote both diversity and eclecticism, something which, in my case has stuck with me for life. One short film for instance, featuring a simple flower, with beads of water dripping from its petals, shot in extreme close up and cut to Vivaldi’s “Guitar Concerto in D Major” comes to mind. The final shot of the piece was a slow zoom out to reveal that the flower, before occupying the whole screen was in a small pot on a Brooklyn rooftop and was in the context of the shot the only thing of life in a smoggy concrete jungle. While at the time of my first viewing, I did not have the ability to understand what the film meant beyond the flower being a small object in a much larger world, I have since come to find many debates about man versus nature, life and death and personal struggle in this piece of about two minutes in length. I would go so far as to say that that particular short and many others like it, stimulated my early interest in film and pushed my toward my present path in life. Overall, there is a very raw passion that can be felt in the work and in the series which I found admirable and personally aspire to. Have a look.

It’s beautiful

Playing Away***

I was supposed to write about the irony of my father holding onto a Republican viewpoint and my trip to the Coca-Cola factory but somehow this piece made it’s way out of my head. Sorry about that. Maybe I’ll get back to those other topics at a later date. Enjoy this for now 

“Do you play cricket?”

The young man stared blankly. He was as unsure of the intended recipient of this question as he was about the one which preceded it. The uncertainty he showed was obviously annoying Mr Mc Loed

“You boy, you.”

The teacher whose hair colour and afro hairstyle made a pun of his name, pointed with a shaky hand toward C*. Finally, the young man stood, slowly looking around to make sure he was the one. The other students in the class giggled at his awkwardness. The boy shook his head.

“No sir.”

“Well it’s obvious that you don’t. You see in cricket, the batsman must always know where he is in relation to the stumps.”

Mc Loed always had a penchant for making cricket analogies, allegories and comparisons. He loved the game probably as much as he loved teaching Spanish, and showed the same abyss like depth of knowledge with respect to both topics. In the pre Worst Indies Era,** I too was a cricket fan. Naturally it followed that his subtle hints and references to the sport became my fondest memories of his class. Everything else was torture, as Mc Loed was a strict disciplinarian. He could make the baddest bad boy stain his pants with just a look, or cut him down to size with just a few words. Of course in those days, students didn’t carry guns and knives to school. I’m not sure the same methodology would work in 2010. Times change.

In any case, I always found myself a little bit terrified in his class, the five foot three inches or so of him, had a presence a thousand times larger than that. This was not overcompensation, not a Napoleon complex. This guy was the real deal. His efficient use of language and generally stoic expression made him an extremely difficult character to read. Combine that with his apparent X-Ray vision and tyrannical teaching methods, (pop quizzes, randomly picking one or two people to read and translate text for the duration of the class etc), and the intimidation scale was close to the breaking point. Well, at least in my world. I hated that class, but for all my hatred, I would find myself consistently on or near the top of the pile come exam time. To this day, I still remember a lot of the Spanish I was taught.

It was only after many years of suddenly breaking out into Spanish under the influence of alcohol, that I understood that there was method to old cloud head’s madness. He was not in fact trying to send his students to an early grave. He was teaching us discipline,discipline of the highest order. Indeed, during that time the West Indies cricket team was a well oiled unit, capable of taking on and beating the best the world had to offer. His admiration for the side was thusly understandable. Like a good skipper then, the old man put us through the toughest of drills; the pop quizzes and seemingly random translator picks not unlike asking the team to always be prepared to step up it’s game on both a collective and individual basis. His understated acts of praise for a job well done; a rhythmically repeated “that is correct” were akin to a pat on the back or an embrace from the captain.

In retrospect, all the skills learned, all the discipline inculcated into me from his class have remained  to this day. In this new phase of my life, I find myself relying on them, a lot. In honour of him I will summarize the current happenings with a fairly cheesy yet effective cricketing sequence. Now, I once tried Mc Loed’s cricket analogy technique during a bout of drinking. Safe to say, it didn’t work. After I told the young lady that she had two fine legs and that there was probably a deep gully in between…I had reduced motor skills for about a month. This time however, there are no spirits involved, so I expect less dramatic results. Here goes;

Right now I find myself in a test match. We’re on a foreign ground and the home team have amassed a substantial first innings total. We are facing the greatest pace attack assembled since Garner, Marshall, Holding and Croft left the game.I am making my debut in a team where all the players are stars and if you come from where I come from, you get no respect. As a matter of fact, you’re expected to get out for duck. None of that matters to me though, I just want to bat, I know what I’m capable of and I have no fear. Mc Loed taught me to master that. I’m low down in the order though, number ten, so I patiently wait even though I see wickets tumbling. Number  nine goes out and I wish him the best although secretly, I won’t mind if he soon returns. I see the bowler run up and release the ball. Number nine swings. He misses. Middle stump is going to fly. I tighten my grip on my bat and smile wryly…

 

* Name withheld to protect the identity of the individual (no it wasn’t me)

** Era following the retirement of CEL Ambrose and C Walsh the last of the noteworthy West Indian pace bowlers and the beginning of the slump in West Indies Cricket

***Playing Away is also the name of a movie by Trinidadian filmmaker Horace Ove.  Just thought that was worth mentioning.

Perchance to Dream

“Make your dreams a reality!” the creepy man voice on the TV exclaimed. As images of extravagant resorts, fancy houses and luxury cars flashed across the screen, my only thought was, “those are not my dreams.” Mine were a little more expensive, or less expensive, depending on your particular system of values. For me, an “exotic” vacation at a man-made resort, a fancy car and a large house were all wonderful but did not tip the scales in favor of dream fulfillment. Indeed, in the not too distant past, I was well on my way to having these tangible things. All the advertisements, and all the societal standards, and all the people I had surrounded myself with convinced me that I was “living the dream”. But for all the material success, and female attention, (OK maybe not that), that I had, somehow I felt empty. Maybe it was because the things I dreamed about as I grew up were locked away and remained in a state of dormancy, screaming to be released.

When I was nine, I wanted to be a superhero, to champion the cause of the underdog, fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. By seventeen, the superhero dream was shelved and so I decided to do the next best thing, become a graphic novelist. I wanted to write, to tell (figuratively) the stories of those forgotten by the system within which we exist, to change the world with every word I wrote, every illustration I made. Of course this was never going to fly. I was a teenager living on an island where people thought of comic book enthusiasts as freaks, geeks and weirdos…wait, that’s pretty much what they think everywhere but at least in other places, far away from here, there was hope of making a career out of something like that; following one’s dream. Cue my parents;

“Engineering is the way to go; you can make money doing that. Forget that comic book rubbish.”
Well maybe they didn’t say that exactly but it was implied in more ways than one. The day the application forms for John D*arrived on the dining room table signaled the ending of that particular dream. In those days, there was no GATE**and no online registration so going to UWI*** or any other tuition based institution and registering online were pipe dreams. Off I went to technical school. It was free then.

Ten years later, after being oppressed and all but forgotten my dreams staged a revolt. It may have been the fact that my boss at the phone company was wearing my patience thin with his mastery of the arts of “Sloth Fu” and “Bung-Ling-Do” or it may have been that the woman of my dreams decided she would play rugby with my heart. It may have been both. Whatever the trigger, my locked away aspirations conspired to convince me that I was not living the dream, but I was in fact asleep. I was much more than…whatever it is I was, much more. They soon took over, engulfing every part of my being and they knew I owed them, big time.

“We consolidate all your debt into one small monthly payment” the voice on the television blared as the frumpy woman with a worried look on her face suddenly became bright eyed. Debt… I owed a big one, to myself and to the world I thought, and I had to pay it. My installments had been amalgamated into this thing called film, a proverbial Mecha**** in the landscape of my being. All I had to do was get on board. With this “machine”, I could do everything I wanted to, tell the stories, change the world and be a superhero…well, maybe.

“You can finally be debt free.”
Time would tell. For now I was grateful that I could dream and not have to be asleep to enjoy it.

Next: My father the Republican or A trip to the Coca-Cola Factory, I’m not sure.

*The John s Donaldson Technical institute. Once the premiere technical institution in Trinidad and Tobago. The jury is still out on whether or not this is still the case

** Government Assistance for Tertiary Education. An allegedly endangered species in the Educational landscape of Trinidad and Tobago

***The University of the West indies, St Augustine, my Alma Mater and former employers 

****A big effing robot usually seen in  Japanese Anime

Perspective

So my short detour to the UK comes to an end in a few days and as I predicted, it did offer some perspective. I find myself more able to rationalize the overwhelming feelings of confusion and intimidation and maybe even fear I had during my first few days in the USA. So what did I discover on my trip? Nothing new really. I did however, get a vivid reminder of how much I accomplished during the year I spent in Britain. I was reminded that I am capable of “making it” in a new place and in a new culture. I was reminded that in time I will meet people who will become very valuable components of my life and that regardless of the outcome of my newest adventure, I will grow as an individual. This is the most important part of my quest really;growing into whatever it is I am to become and creating the legacy that will exist long after I have left this world.

On the downside, I had to take note of the fact that I do tend to neglect those closest to me when I get involved in my work. There must be balance even if the hours are long and the tasks difficult. I also need to get better at apologizing. Somehow it always gets muddled.

Vacation (almost) over. Now back to the serious stuff!

On a side note, Thanks J. You’ve always been good to me. I appreciate that more than I can express.