Day Two: Walnuts and Skulls

It isn’t everyday that I associate walnuts and coconuts with human skulls. In class last week we explored the exciting and immensely creative world of effects in major motion pictures, such as The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. For such amazing movies that seem so technologically advanced (which they are in their own respect), the techniques for creating the sound effects struck me as rather “ghetto.” But hey, whatever works! My favorite example of these techniques is from The Lord of the Rings when the crew had to simulate the sound of thousands of human skulls crashing down in a ferocious tidal wave. The crew literally poured walnuts and coconuts down a ramp and recorded the clanking sound they made to simulate the skulls. I think that would be a very fun job, but I probably wouldn’t be as creative.
It’s fascinating how dependent the different parts of a movie are on one another. The actors often get a majority of the credit simply because they’re center stage, but the director, producers, cinematographers, sound crew, and many others are all partially responsible for the movie magic. I think the team that gets the least amount of credit is the cinematographers. The beauty of a shot can be taken for granted sometimes. My favorite movie, American Beauty (which received the Academy Award for cinematography), was filmed with such beautiful simplicity that the movie is taken to an entirely different level. The brilliant cinematographer, the late Conrad Hall, showed the audience real life and beyond. The beauty of life (often found in the most menial things such as a plastic bag floating in the wind) is emphasized without the aid of dialogue or acting. Emphasis on color, lighting, and shape turned the film into a true work of art.
Beyond cinematography my personal favorite touch to any movie is the score. Music can convey emotions that words often cannot. Think of a horror movie set to the tune of Britney Spears. Suddenly it’s not so scary, but why? Our ears have been trained to think that diminished minor chords are terrifying and bright major chords are comforting. Thomas Newman is perhaps my favorite composer for motion pictures, and his work in American Beauty was nothing short of spectacular. The moments when there would be no movement on screen one can hear the echo of a distant marimba underneath the drone of strings. Suddenly we can feel what isn’t said or even seen. It’s haunting and I love it.

Day One: Getting Our Feet Wet

It’s difficult to imagine a world without motion pictures, or better yet a world without a window to other peoples’ lives. From early in my childhood I can remember watching movies with my parents and being absolutely enthralled with excitement—I was so lucky to be able to see things beyond my own backyard for a change. In our first lecture in Donna’s film class we learned about the beginnings of moving pictures and how they challenged the very concept of perception. From magicians using movies to trick their audiences to hum-drum shots of ordinary life, such as train pulling into its station, early film makers opened the eyes of the world to what people can create.

The intricacy of film making and cinematography interests me the most. Everything from camera positions, choreography, special effects, and timing must be carefully planned out in order to be successful. The most difficult part: it must be believable. There are several different kinds of perception film makers can use to portray a story to an audience. Similar to a novel, a director can use either first, second, or third person to tell his story. Third person omniscient was the earliest form, because it was simply an observation of peoples’ lives. The audience simply got a glimpse into a different reality. It wasn’t until directors began challenging themselves with different forms of perception that stories could truly be told. Donna showed us a clip of firemen extinguishing a fire that is one of the earliest examples of mixed perception and cross cutting. The director dared to show his audience not only what was happening with the firefighters, but also what was happening simultaneously with the helpless victim in the burning house.

Donna instructed us later on in the class to get in small groups and film images outside of the classroom. My team and I went to the library and ended up getting about five minutes of awkward film—we knew what would not be interesting to shoot, but I don’t think we were sure about what would be interesting. After several attempts to be funny and entertaining, we just starting going on a tour of the library. Come to find out it was completely empty, which made for an interesting twist to our original intentions, since the library is normally packed with students. I’m very curious to experience what else Donna will teach us about film making and the metaphors behind it.