Short Film Idea.

This is my attempt at creative writing.

Working title: “My Life Sucks.”

Synopsis:

A man, who daydreams of a better life decides to take action against his drab day-to-day lifestyle. Constantly looking upon past times that bring him joy, he is constantly reminded of his insignificant existence. I plan to pay extremely close attention to style in this film, possibly telling the entire narrative through a series of point of view shows. With the addition of a wide-angle lens, and a harness to mount the camera on my face, I plan to be able to use both hands as I interact with the world around me. I feel that it is the common route for student filmmakers to make films that deal with anxiety, depression, and suicide. With this film, I hope to transform that stereotype and offer salvation by giving the main character what he desires in the end of the film: a life free from bounds and limits where he can truly live at peace. At the conclusion of my film, I attempt to question the audience whether this is the story of a man who has finally found happiness in the afterlife, or if it is about a happy person dreaming about the ordinary, mediocre life he could have lived.Most of my past work has been very light-hearted and comical, so I want to challenge myself with creating a more dramatic story line. I would like to shoot in and around the San Francisco area so that I may be inspired by the urbanization and the new surroundings of the big city. The shooting of this film will no doubt take multiple days and multiple locations. Because of the lack of coverage of each scene (all shots will be most likely form POV), I will be sure to focus that each shot is carefully constructed and that camera movement is appropriate and deliberate. I have written my script and am ready to get started shooting as soon as the quarter begins!

Treatment:

Images of past events pass through my head. The memories feel so real. I can almost touch them, almost feel them, almost interact with them. For some reason, I can tell something is off. My mother is pushing me on a swing. I smile as the breeze flows carelessly through my hair. I jump into the pool. The floaties help me stay afloat. I can’t help but pretend I am a submarine searching for hidden treasures. I’m eating ice cream with all the fixings to make diabetic scream. The ice cream drips on my clothes and face, but I am indifferent. I’m building legos. I shove the instructions aside as I attempt to build what I see in my head. My mother tucks me in and kisses my forehead. She begins reading me a book. I don’t care for the story. The sound of my mother’s voice keeps me interested. As my mind succumbs, my eyes begin getting heavy. I do not resist the tendency to close them. I am asleep. In this moment I am happy. Too bad real life isn’t like this.

An older me wakes up in an undecorated studio apartment. A picture of my current girlfriend stares at me from my nightstand table as my eyes begin to focus. I quickly check my watch before exclaiming, “Shit!” I rush to get ready. I make coffee, take a shower, brush my teeth, shave, check my watch, put on my work attire, tie my tie, look in the mirror, grab my thermal mug and coffee, and head out the door. As I wait on the corner for my carpool to arrive, I see happy people all around me. Couples are gossiping, children are laughing, and everyone is happy, except for me. A high end luxury car pulls up and I get in. I greet my coworker Tom, who quickly apologizes for picking me up so late. I tell him, “It’s no problem.” As we drive to work he begins telling me about his life. Tom is married with two kids. Because his wife is the daughter of the CEO of the company, he had no problem moving up to head supervisor. As for me, I’m just a lowly office clerk. Everyday from 9-5 I log data, send out faxes, make copies, and make sure not to get in other people’s way. Tom also makes it a point to brag about his upcoming trip to the Bahamas with his family, courtesy of his wife’s father. Inside I hate him and his life, but I just smile. At work I do what I do everyday. I copy documents, type data entries, eat my pathetic ham and cheese sandwich, and count the seconds until I can get home and do it all again the next day. Tom has to work late tonight so I am forced to take the bus back home. I could never afford a car so I’ve always relied on others to get me around. As I step out of the office, it begins to pour rain. Luckily, I remembered my umbrella. As soon as I open it, the wind takes a hold, and blows it from my grasp. I chase after it. The umbrella eventually ends up in the street where a car promptly runs over it. I begin to walk back toward the bus stop as the rain beats down upon my head. Walking towards me is a man in a baggy sweater, hood pulled over his face. I feel out of my element but I continue to walk towards him. As I pass him, he bumps shoulders with me, knocking me aside. I shake it off and continue to walk past him. A few seconds later I hear the sound of footsteps getting closer. I curiously turn around. A fist comes flying from the sky and makes contact with my skull. I hit the cold, hard sidewalk like a bag of wet cement. Everything goes dark and I close my eyes.

Eventually I come to. When my eyes begin to focus, I notice a large amount of pedestrians standing over me. An older gentleman asks, “Are you okay?” I quickly rise to my feet and push past them. As I walk away from the situation, I begin rubbing my forehead, where a splintering headache has begun to develop. I bring my hand down and notice some blood on my hand. I should get this looked at, but at this point I just want to get home. I finally reach the bus stop where I stand and wait. I reach for my wallet in my back pocket and notice it is missing. I check my pockets, and nothing. I have no choice but to walk home. As I walk home, I notice a homeless man sitting on the side of the building. I notice he is holding a cardboard sign that reads, “At leest I am free.” I think about those words for the remainder of my walk home. As I walk up to my studio apartment, I notice a piece of paper stapled to the wall. As I approach, the large lettering is as clear as day. The paper reads, “EVICTION NOTICE.” I don’t know why I ever decided to live in this part of the city, the rent is astronomical for something that is the same square footage as my cubicle where I work. Paying rent has always been a struggle for me, so it’s no surprise that the landlord is kicking me out. According to the notice, I have one week to move all my stuff out. I enter the house and turn on the lights.

Even with the lights on, my apartment still feels dark and depressing. I microwave a cup of noodles and grab a Budweiser from the fridge. I sit on my broken Ikea couch and flip the television on. Every channel is a montage of commercials telling me how to get skinnier, look younger, and have a large genitalia. I let the sounds of the commercials fade out as I reflect on my daily ooccurences. Bad luck seems to follow me wherever I go. My quiet time is interrupted by a phone ring. I answer the phone. My girlfriend of 3 months is on the other end. The way she says, “hello’” I already know where this conversation is going. She proceeds to tell me that things just aren’t interesting anymore and that she feels like I’m holding her back from experiencing life. She’s probably right. She concludes the conversation with the famous last lines, “It’s not you, it's me.” After a pause, I say, “OK,” and hang up the phone. I snap my phone in two pieces before throwing it to the ground.

Outside, I lock the door to my apartment. Images of when I was a child being passing through my head. I walk along the dark empty streets of the city. I enter my neighborhood hardware store. I find what I am looking for and head to the checkout line. I look down at my one item, a ten foot line of woven rope. I feel weird just buying this one thing, so I look around the checkout line for something else to buy. I see a magazine on exotic beaches across America. I pay for both the magazine and the rope with a check. I walk home, taking time to look down at my recent purchases. An image of my mom swinging me around by my arms is overlayed onto the dark city surrounding me. I get home and take the items out of the bag. I put the magazine on my coffee table. I flip through it to see a wide assortment of beaches. I put the magazine back down and reach for the rope. I begin tying a very distinguished knot. The hangman’s noose knot looks a lot easier to do in the instructions. Finally, my poor attempt at the knot seems good enough to complete the action it wass designed to assist with.

An image of me as a child waking up in bed appears. I begin to tie the noose from a support beam in my apartment. The younger me pushes the door to my room slightly ajar. The sounds of crying can be heard from another room. Back in my apartment, I am staring at the noose. I walk away and go to my desk where I grab a piece of paper. The younger me creeps down the hallway. I see a light at the end of the hallway. The crying gets louder. I can tell by the deep sobbing, it’s my father. I peek in and see him with his head in his hands seated at the kitchen table. He notices my presence and looks up at me. I freeze. Something is terribly wrong. Back in my apartment, I am scribbling my poor attempt at a suicide note. I throw the first version away before grabbing a new piece of paper. I begin to write again. The image of my father staring at me with his tear-stricken, beady eyes haunts me. In a deep, low voice, he says, “There’s been an accident.” A blur of lights passes through my line of visions. Car sounds are heard. Back in the apartment, I finish writing the last word to my note. I step back to put the note on the desk on the note. It reads, “At least I am free.” I look further up on my desk where I have a framed photograph of my mother. I reach out to touch the cold, frigid glass separating me from her warms, smooth skin. I grab a chair and walk over to the noose hanging in the center of my living room. I stand face to face with the noose. In this moment I am extremely nervous. I begin blinking. My heart rate begins to speed up. Flashes of oncoming cars are seen. I blink faster. The image of my living room begins to fade. Blurred lights overpower my vision. The sound becomes too much to bear. Then all becomes quiet. Black is all that surrounds me.

After a few seconds, I wake up. I blink my eyes a few times allowing my vision to become sharp. I am on a sandy beach, like the one from the magazine. I look around and notice my girlfriend to my right. She smiles at my with a tender gaze. I smile back. I proceed to look at the horizon. A group of migrating gulls fly through the sky. The sun beating down on me feels good. In this moment I am happy. In this moment I am free.

A Filmmaker's Paradise.

There's always that location that we as filmmakers dream about shooting at. For me, it was always an old run-down building of some sort. About two weeks ago I found this location with the help of a few peers.

This past weekend, a few friends and I went down south for a good ol' fashioned photo/video adventure. Our destination was Fort Ord, an old abandoned military base located in Marina, California. This was only my second time here, but after the first trip, I really wanted to go back and make a short film.



This place is just eerie. From the random baby strollers, to the "666" graffiti on the walls, to the stray shoes that line the street, this place just reeks of creepiness. We started out filming in the pool area. The what once was an olympic sized pool was now just an emptied garbage pit filled with empty spray cans and broken furniture. The vastness of this location led for some really great shots on the Canon 16-35mm wide angle lens.

Next, we started exploring the many barracks on the property. Every time I would open a door or walk up a flight of stairs, I was almost certain something was going to pop out. It's not like this place was home to thousands of murderers, but one can't help but feeling like you're not quite alone.



For the short I made, I brought along my Canon 5D Mark II, Indifocus Indislider, and ProAM Crane. With the exception of three or four shots, almost every camera angle was on the slider. I'm a camera movement fanatic, so I try and implement the use of a slider or dolly wherever I can. I also wanted to attempt an epic crane shot that would track upwards as my lovely subject Jenny walked down the deserted street. The wind was not very kind to my crane, so you may notice some camera shake in the final product.

We were losing light fast, so I tried to work as quickly as I could. Ideally, I would've loved to shoot a few more timelapses here, but that will have to wait until another day. A special thanks to goes out to my friends Jennifer Kehl, Ben Bunch, Andrew Cichowski, and Ally Bobus for being patient with me while I got my shots. Also, a big thank you to Ben Bunch for taking the photographs you see above. Without further adieu, please enjoy my short entitled "Ghost Town."

I Hate Pictures of Me.

Yet this still doesn't stop me from taking self portraits. At least I have photoshop to help in the beautification process. Went a little overboard with these, but I think they turned out cool!

New Old Things.

Jenny and I cleaned up the garage the other day because we'll be shooting a scene for my film this coming Sunday. It was actually very therapeutic. Every time we park our cars in the garage we promise ourselves that we'll clean up the ever increasing mess, but for some reason or another it never ends up happening. So this past Monday (President's Day) we spent a good majority of the day cleaning up and organizing everything. I'm pretty sure this is how the Presidents of the past would want us to celebrate their special day.

Upon cleaning up some old junk I've been holding onto in the garage, I came across a cool little gem I had forgotten about. It was an old 2006 Lego Exo-Force set. Sadly, this is the last Lego I own because I sold all of my other Legos on craigslist. I should have held on to them in case I could have passed them down to my kids one day. Oh well.



I no longer had the instructions so I found them online. Lego actually has an online database with instructions for every Lego created. I pieced the robot together in no more than five minutes. I forgot what a cool set this was. My new but old lego robot now has a home on my already over-cluttered desk. There's no way I'm going to sell this awesome guy like I did with my other sets. THis one is here to stay.

On a related note, here are some simply amazing Lego creations I favorited over on Flickr.







































That's all for now. Have a nice day!

My Wallet Isn't Going to be too Happy.

I feel kind of weird making a blog post about a new toy release, but this is a big deal.

So as of recent, my new goal in vinyl collecting is to snag a coveted KAWS piece. For those that don't know, Brooklyn based artist, KAWS (aka Brian Donnelly) is a huge figure in the contemporary art and urban grafitti scene. He creates his art through several different mediums, spanning from canvas, to ads, to toys, and even to lightbulbs. The problem with my quest for a KAWS piece is the ridiculous prices that these toys are sold for in the secondary market (i.e. eBay, forums, etc.). The only way to really avoid spending an arm and a leg for a toy is buy it on the release day.


So, the word going around right now is that KAWS is set to release his next Bape collaboration toy on February 26th, 2011. In lieu of his popular "dissected companion" toy, KAWS has adapted the same concept to the iconic Bape character "Milo." This piece is half monkey, and half anatomical sculpt of the innards of the monkey, split right down the middle.


Even if I can manage to purchase one on release day from KAWS's site kawsone.com, the price still verges on the level of expensive. At 15,540 Yen, the toy will cost approximately $186.00 USD. If someone would have told me a year ago that I would even contemplate dropping this much cash on a piece of plastic, I would've called them crazy. After doing much research, the initial cost of this piece does not turn me off as much. Even though the figure is close to $200 with shipping, other KAWS pieces with the same initial price point go for upwards of $650 on the secondary market. I do not plan to sell the piece, but if times get rough, at least I can make my money back, plus more.

The only dilemma I'm facing right now is if I can live with getting only one, or if I should shoot for the whole set. Unfortunately for me, getting the whole set would probably mean eating Ramen and bread for the rest of the month. Because I have tax refunds coming to me in the next few weeks as well as some overdue payments for past work I've done, I may pull the trigger on all three. Only time will tell. I am honestly just stoked to get my first ever KAWS piece!

Here's a few more views of the figure.

I ♥ Tea

A few weeks back, Gizmodo had a "bokeh" photo challenge in which the assignment was to take a creative picture of out of focus light. Jenny and I had an awesome idea for a photo, but because of school and midterms, we were unable to put our idea into motion. Fast forward a few weeks, and we finally found the time to take our bokeh photo!

Jenny and I are both avid tea drinkers. We both have at least two cups of tea a day. Nothing beats that feeling of a nice hot cup of tea in the morning to warm the soul. With this idea in mind, we decided to take a photo that highlighted our love for tea.



To capture this image, we set up our Bodum mug and mini muffin on a dark wooden stool. A small desk lamp was used to spotlight the cup of tea from above. About three feet back, we hung up some old xmas lights in order to get our "bokeh effect". We strategically placed the lights, so that it looked as if the bokeh was coming out of the cup like steam. Finally, we poured the tea into the cup and began snapping away. As seen in the image above, we also played with paper cut-outs. If you cut a shape out of paper and hold it over your lens, you can manipulate the form of the bokeh. This proved to be a very cool effect in making the lights look like little mini hearts.

Because Jenny was ultimately the mastermind behind the initial idea, I acted as an assistant, and kind of let her do her thing. I tend to be a backseat photographer, so I really tried hard to just offer advice when called upon. Jenny also shot an exposure on her Mamiya RB67 MF film camera. Hopefully, when we get that back in a few weeks, it'll look just as good as the digital captures from that night.

When Jenny uploaded the picture to her Flickr, she wrote a sweet little poem to accompany the image.

"Every morning I wake up,
go to the kitchen,
make him tea,
wake him with a kiss,
and a nice warm mug
to start his day

this one's for you Doug
xoxoxo"

I don't know how I ever got so lucky. Thank you so much Jenny. The best part of my day is waking up next to you xoxo.

The Room.

Haven't seen it? Do yourself a favor and get on it. This is quite possibly the best worst film ever. Between unnecessary characters, discontinuities, terrible acting, ridiculous dialogue, etc., this film is just bad in every way possible. The ironic thing is, it's so horrible, that it is in fact entertaining. So entertaining that the film has amassed a huge cult following, much like that of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

When I heard The Room was coming to the Del Mar Theater as part of their midnight movie, I was stoked. I've always wanted to see this film in all it's horrendous glory up on the silver screen. So anyways, I just got back from the film about an hour and a half ago, and, wow! What an awesome experience. People were quoting the movie left and right and adding in their own wit and commentary to the mix.

Seeing it with a large audience was great because it was almost like a live-action performance. Viewers would use certain cues within the film to interact (via actions and speech) to what was happening on screen. Below are some of the common actions that I picked up on.

+ Every time a spoon was on screen, people began pelting the film with plastic spoons.
+ Every time the film cut to a scene of San Francisco, the audience would blurt out "Meanwhile, back in San Francisco"
+ Every time two characters were kissing on screen, the audience wouldsay, "NOM NOM NOM"
+ Every time the mother was on screen, viewers would yell, "Cancer"
+ Every time a camera would do a long slow pan (i.e. the Golden Gate Bridge), everyone would say, "GO, GO, GO, GO, GO!"
+ Every time a nipple was seen on screen, everyone would scream out "NIPPLE"
+ Every time a football was seen onscreen, viewers would begin passing around a football in the auditorium

These are jut a few of the things that I can recall from tonight. Even though I had seen the film before, I could not stop laughing. I love this film on so many levels. It's just something you can't stand to watch, but at the same time, cannot look away from.

Simply put, The Room is awesome. Tommy Wiseau is my hero.