Seeing Red

Red posted its new approach to selling its cameras yesterday. By modularizing their entire line, they moved away from point-and-click "soccer mom" shooting on the low end, and toward a more professional approach where you specify exactly what you want. The question is how much will it cost for a full configuration? I can see going for the $2,500 Scarlett Brain. But when you add on everything else, you might be spending about $5K+. I dunno. At a certain point you're basically in HVX-200 territory. Plus, the Panasonic comes with something important—a production pipeline that actually works.

But what stuck out to me was this marketing blurb—
The DSMC (digital still motion camera) concept is the epitomy of "Obsolescence Obsolete." As technology pushes forwards, there is no reason to buy a new camera every time a sensor, recording module or display technology improves. Instead you can upgrade individual modules, and even interchange Scarlet and EPIC components at will.

The copy reminded me of what Peavey said when introducing the DPM music synthesizer in the late 80's. Peavey, like Red, was a newcomer to the field. They claimed that their synth would never become obsolete because it used generic 68000 chips and was software upgradeable. But of course, there is nothing more obsolete than non-obsolescence (and 20 year old synthesizers).

The problem comes from misunderstanding the way technology matures. Technology doesn't evolve around components, it develops around systems. Sure you can replace your Red sensor without buying a new camera, but what happens when the fundamental design of cameras changes? What happens when new sensor technologies, form factors and interfaces are developed? What happens when software control extends to areas previously thought of in terms of mechanisms? Apple understands these kinds of problems so it constantly makes their technologies obsolete dropping disk drives, firewire, etc., before the market is even ready for it.

If obsolescence obsolete is just marketing hype, that's fine. I'm just concerned that Red actually believes it.

Alec Baldwin, the Godfather remastered and yes, Sarah Palin

The XX Factor column in Slate had an interesting take on the Alec Baldwin/Sarah Palin SNL sketch last month. One of the columnists remarked that what stood out was the way that Baldwin looked Palin up and down before commenting that she was "hot"—

And as for the moment when Baldwin crudely looks her up and down—it’s gross, to be sure, but I thought it was a self-conscious riff on his character on 30 Rock, who’s always manhandling Tina Fey (and every other female he comes in contact with)with his eyes. He was being gross in character, I’d say, and that’s what made it funny—the play off the way he is with Tina Fey, and all the odd levels that go into that: the fact that Tina Fey is a feminist-minded type, first, and the fact that Palin is a tough gal who can take it, second

I've seen the sketch several times and I still can't see Baldwin doing that. I don't know if it's my masculine eyes or the low resolution of online video, but I just don't see it. At any rate, what's interesting is that the sketch still works even if you can't see Baldwin's look. It got me thinking that successful pieces seem to work even when vital pieces of information are missing. You probably know that The Godfather has been remastered and released on DVD and Blu-Ray. One thing I heard is that in this version you can see the tension on Al Pacino's face before he kills the bad cop. What's interesting is that one of the things I remember from the Godfather is that Pacino seems emotionless about the whole thing and that makes the scene more chilling and effective.

I wonder if successful pieces convey so much information in a variety of ways that you can pick up what's going on even if you miss something. In other words, they're not overly dependent on any one bit of dialogue or event or device.

They Live!

Found They Live! on Netflix instant so I watched it again... twenty years after I first saw it on VHS. This prototypical Matrix story was directed by John Carpenter and stars pro wrestler Rowdy Roddy Piper. In They Live, the human race exists in an alien-induced trance. We live only to breed and consume so that the aliens can use us as a power source. The heroes wear special sunglasses (they look like ordinary glasses) so that they can see what's really happening around them—aliens walking amongst us, propaganda everywhere (see above).

What makes this a definite B-movie is that image trumps everything. Sure it's fun to see the propaganda and the aliens, but it just doesn't make sense. Why are the aliens there acting like humans? How does the conspiracy work? This is another B-movie trope: sacrificing sense for image.

When ignorance is king

I was thinking of little tweaks I need to make to the film, most of them having to do with our unseen protagonist. The film exists in a very delicate balance with precisely calculated ambiguities. I don't think I could even create a film like this anymore. I know too much. I would probably turn everything into action, and create a literal, rather than implied bad guy. I also think I'd have a much closer to normal shooting ratio. The shoot we did for class went fast and cut well. Something like that. None of this trying to figure out how to make a bird attack in which the bird doesn't attack or how to distort letters precisely so that they look like (but don't quite) spell "ex nihilo." Yeesh. Hopefully, this is all part of the film's charm--seeing something that clings to standard cinematic coherence by a thread. And, referring to my earlier posts about audience expectations: I wonder if charm can trump craft? Believing so is like believing that in the end, the heart wins.

Beta 2

I'm fine tuning beta 2 now. It's totally show-able, but I'm fixing little things here and there. Very close to four years from start to finish.

Overkill

I realized that an essential part of my production strategy is to gain as much leeway as possible. Even though we're distributing at standard def, we're shooting at HD for example. It gives us some leeway when it comes to quality. When you do things the right way you do get optimal quality. But you also end up paying a lot of attention to technical and other factors that get in the way of the creative process. The trick is not necessarily to maximize the potential of your camera and other technology. It's to wait until it the technology is sufficiently advanced to be overkill for what you need to do.

Unsolvable premises

Awhile ago I was thinking that one way to give a film interest is to provide it with an unsolvable premise. A good example is Casablanca which asks the question, "how can a woman having an affair be heroic?" Another example is Unbreakable which asks, "how can you make a comic book movie that doesn't end with a climactic battle?" I do like the Unbreakable premise. How would you do it? Unsolvable premises could also be a matter of execution. I was watching bits of Spiderman 3 on Netflix instant a few days ago. The shot (that they used in the trailer) of Tobey McGuire sailing through the air grasping at the wedding ring is a beautiful image. How could you create a superhero film with images like that but cheap and without visual effects?

My 'official' Keanoshow review

Stunningly beautiful but tragically flawed, this DVD is both an inspiration and a caution for visual artists working in motion. In this large collection of short films, well-regarded illustrator/comic book artist Dave McKean translates his visual style into film using puppets, actors and computer graphics. The work is astonishingly beautiful, but in the end is difficult to watch because it functions more like painting-in-motion than film. The problem is not the weakness of the narrative or story as much as the way that McKean treats film as an extension of visual art. Film works best when told through the viewpoint of its characters. McKean, on the other hand, is always present in his work designing, composing and controlling his characters as a behind-the-scenes operator. Imagine result direction gone wild. By imposing his vision from without, he sucks the spontaneity out of his characters, objectifying them. The effect is like watching storyboards in motion awaiting a spark of life.

Perhaps the most effective work here are the films. The use of real sets and the palpability of the film grain gives them an energy and integrity missing in the CG work. In his CG videos, McKean superimposes scratch film effects in an attempt to reinvest these videos with liveliness. But while this surface effect aspires to energy it ultimately discloses only the quick and easy reality of computer compositing.

Audiences interested in this kind of video/film may enjoy Chris Shepherd's short film Dad's Dead available on youtube and at higher res on the Sunshine DVD. Shepherd's approach is similar, but ultimately more successful in its ability to meld the layered, spatial world of visual art/special effects with the sequential nature of film.

TV and Keanoshow

The other night I did the pick up shot of the codex video on TV. It looked really bad. For some reason I always think that shooting something on a real TV is going to look good but it never does. So I did it a different way. I reconnected the 'eye TV' and shot that. It works fine and right now I'm rendering what should be one of the final edits. With any luck, I should be at beta 2 by tomorrow.

Also got Dave (Mirrormask) McKean's DVD Keanoshow today. It's a collection of his surprisingly numerous short films. I find his work endlessly fascinating for its beauty and for the way it helps me to think through the problems that visual artists face when they move into the video/film medium. The main problems with McKean's work are its misunderstanding of viewpoint and performance. Film works best when told through the viewpoint of its characters. McKean, on the other hand, is always present in his work, as a behind-the-scenes operator. He imposes his vision on his films from without, sucking the life out of his characters, objectifying them.

Second, he doesn't allow his performers to perform. By forcing his actors into perfect visual compositions McKean turns them into puppets incapable of spontaneity. The effect is like watching storyboards in motion—flat characters waiting to be turned into living things.

Finally, McKean is partial to superimposing scratch film-like effects over his work. Using techniques reminiscent of Stan Brakhage's and Len Lye's work, McKean attempts to reinvest his films with the movement, energy and life shorn by objectifying his characters. When McKean uses film, the scratches and grain are real. Perhaps this is why the films are more satisfying than the digital work. In his digital creations, the scratches are superimposed becoming an effect that remains on the surface of the work, aspiring to energy and movement, but never quite achieving it.

Zoom

I watched most of Zoom on Netflix instant. Like Ghost Rider, it was instructionally bad. In other words, its glaring deficiencies make good examples of what not to do. The main problem is that the movie makes the actors carry too much of the film. For example, you're just supposed to believe that the two teens like each other. But why? They never do anything except look at each other with longing glances. You just can't act a romance into existence. Whatever happened to that old standby--saving someone's life? Probably the most egregious moment is when Tim Allen experiences an emotional catharsis. But nothing causes the catharsis. He just sits there emoting while the camera 360's around him. It's not his fault (except for agreeing to appear in the picture). It's just structured wrong.

Yong's DOF adapter

Yong brought his cheap 35mm lens adapter to show me. It really does look cheap. If you look inside it, you can see all the glue (it looks like silicone) blobbed up here and there. He got the vibrating one. It's amazing that the vibration doesn't seem to affect the image. It also looks a little heavy. With no rods, you have to be careful with it. The footage he showed me looks great. The main problem is severe vignetting. It's actually quite attractive, but it's always there. One other problem is the lack of a focusing attachment. You can't use a whip so you probably have to do all the focusing yourself.

Random thoughts on finishing

I'm really close to being done. Done, done. With color grading, sound, everything. If I had to I could probably be done in a day or two if you don't count rendering time (and if I had a day or two just to work on it).

As I work on the edit one thing I've been thinking about is consistency. My lighting is all over the place. Sometimes pretty good, most of the time really underexposed. Ben's VO is really good in some places, not so good in one place. I think that's one of the hallmarks of professionalism —consistent results. You know what works and you know how to get it. We're not too consistent and not too professional, but one thing that did help was the ability to shoot and reshoot.

I'm going to solve the red room TV problem by just shooting the black/white TV with a DVD feed sent via RF Modulator. I won't literally show Ben in the same shot as the TV. I'll just imply that he's looking at it starting with his reaction shot. It's weaker that way, but it's more important that the video reads as coming from a TV in the red room and not some abstract thing from nowhere. I always hated those shots in old movies where they never show the actor in the same shot as the bear (or other animal). I already set up a little tableau. It should be pretty easy to shoot it.

I never really solved my pipeline problem. It looks like I'm going straight out of FCP instead of mastering in AE. It ends up that I created and rendered a lot of effects shots in AE and then brought them back into FCP for correction with Magic Bullet Looks. Then finalize sound design. A really inelegant process.

Ghost Rider

Set up the Mac beta of Netflix yesterday. It's great for checking out films that aren't worth a rental. My instant list now seems to be populated primarily by Nick Cage films. I watched the beginning of Ghost Rider, a case of attempted style over substance. I'm still trying to figure out why the opening montage doesn't work. The film plays like a typical B-movie—a series of incidents strung together without concern for emotional understanding. Like the devil shows up and promises to heal your sick father and you just believe him. The attempted stylization is interesting too... like where Peter Fonda (the devil) forms a creepy shadow as he talks to a young Johnny Blaze. But like everything else, it is just an image stirred into a vacant stew. There's no anticipation and no resonance. One thing that stuck out was the scene in which Johnny Blaze discovers his dad is sick by finding a letter from the hospital in the trash. I've been thinking about discovery events because it's a common way to keep the plot moving. We have one in noise film when Ben sees the Turning's End flyer. One fancy one that I remember is in Amelie where a rolling ball leads Amelie to a cache of ephemera. The problem with Ghost Rider is that this incident, like everything else in the intro, is a bridge to nowhere. It's as if Mark Steven Johnson had a check list of events he had to cover and then he went down his list. And then when we finally get to the present day, nothing happens. Ignoring the fact that medical test results don't come in envelopes, the problem is not young Blaze's reaction (or lack of it) but the contrivance of this event to begin with. Bad news usually tries to conceal itself shrouded in whispers or euphemisms. The action scenes are a problem too. It's as if there wasn't enough coverage shot to work with. There was no way to build and extend the drama. The early love scenes are similarly problematic—there's some really stilted blocking and a wait to reveal Blaze's girlfriend's face that never pays off. It's as if Johnson had no idea of how this thing was going to be cut and only thought about his crane shot. What makes Ghost Rider interesting is not that it's bad, but that it's instructively bad.