A frustrated student must find a way to shoot a quality film project within the parameters of his hideous college campus. Will his mediocre film be worthy of a passing grade, or will he crash
Last week, I had the opportunity to visit the Museum of the Moving Image for a fourth time. I was really excited about this trip because I'd never taken a guided tour of the museum before.
My favorite part of the tour was seeing Gregory Barsamian's Feral Fount. This was my first time seeing this piece. I never knew it existed before this trip. It is hidden away in a small, dark room. Our tour guide led us all back there and explained to us what it is and how it works.
Feral Fount is a colossal zoetrope: a device that creates the illusion of motion by exhibiting a sequence of images in gradual phases of that motion. This zoetrope is made up of many small sculptures placed at different levels around a cylinder. In this particular case, both rotation and light are crucial to the success of the illusion. A strobe light illuminates the sculptures while they are in rotation. The sculptures are spinning around faster than our eyes can process, giving us the impression they are moving and transforming.
I realized while watching the zoetrope that animation is founded on the same principles as it. Images in films and cartoons seem to be moving because they are appearing too quickly and too rapidly for our eyes to understand, which is essentially what happens when we view a zoetrope.
I learned that in the pre-animation era, zoetropes and other optical toys such as thaumatropes and the flip-book, were a huge source of entertainment. People would sit around and play with these things for hours. I'm grateful I'm not one of these people. As fascinating as zoetropes are, I can't imagine a world without technology.
AMC's Mad Men is
among the greatest American television dramas ever produced. Set in New York in
the 1960s, it features an ensemble cast that represents several different
spheres of society during this time.
The show is a hilarious perversion
of cultural conventions of the 60s, including (but certainly not limited to)
excessive alcohol consumption, constant cigarette smoking, and casual
infidelity. Surprisingly, it isn’t until the sixth episode of Season 5 that the
show highlights the chemical substance that came to define the Psychedelic Era:
lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD), also known as acid.
Scene
from Mad Men Season 5, Ep. 6: 'Far Away Places'
In this scene, Roger Sterling and
his wife Jane take LSD and go on an enlightening journey beyond the ordinary
boundaries of space and time. Their experience comes to life through the application of
suggestive editing techniques. The audience is not simply watching the scene
unfold, but rather getting a taste of the powerful effects of LSD for themselves.
The drug lifts users to an altered state of consciousness. It has
perception-altering effects that induce intense hallucinations. After claiming
to be bored by the drug, Roger goes to pour himself a drink. He opens a bottle
of vodka and immediately starts hearing loud opera music. Confused, he places
the cap back on the bottle and the music suddenly stops. Roger opens the bottle
once more and, much to his surprise, he hears the music again. The editors are indicating
that Roger finally realizes he is tripping.
Under the influence of LSD, time can seem to considerably speed up
or slow down. This is cleverly demonstrated when Roger goes for a smoke. He
lights his cigarette, takes a drag, and watches it burn down to nothing almost
instantly. Clearly the editors are indicating that time, from Roger’s
perspective, is moving quite rapidly.
Roger then begins to fade out of consciousness as he stares at his
reflection. Another man enters the frame and tells Roger not to look in the
mirror. Roger ignores his demands, and the view shifts from both men to a shot
of Roger. The conversation continues. However, Roger notices a change in the
man’s voice. Suddenly, it’s more familiar, more inviting. When he goes to look
back at the man, Roger sees he’s now talking to his old friend and business
partner Don Draper, who is not really at this party; the editors are just
illustrating the psychedelic nature of the drug by having Roger hallucinate
Don’s presence, as well as the out-of-body experience he has following the
conversation with Don.
The feel of the scene is profoundly attributed to the editing. The
shots are organized in a manner meant to display the surreal, mind-bending
essence of acid. The cuts are seamless and fluid. The editors include several
overlapping audio tracks to give the audience a sense of the confusion and
nervousness Roger feels. This scene is wild and unsettling, which I believe is precisely
what the editors were hoping to achieve.
I am on the train heading home from a
friend’s house. I’ve got headphones in my ears, blasting Brothers by The Black Keys. After a few minutes, the train begins
to slow down. We’re approaching my stop.
“New Dorp,” the conductor mumbles as I
step off the train and onto the platform.
I make my way over to the stairs but
can still hear the conductor muttering, “Stand clear of the closing doors.”
I disconnect my headphones from my
phone and place them in my pocket. The sound of blaring car horns quickly devours
my attention. There is always traffic here, but right now it is particularly
heavy because it’s dinnertime and the street is lined with restaurants. I
continue down the block.
Four women stand in front of this
Italian place, smoking cigarettes and jabbering about their weekends.
One woman is wearing bracelets on her wrist that jingle every time she takes a drag.
This sound makes me think of my grandmother; she never left the house
without jewelry.
Further down the street, amidst the
sounds of car engines and radios, I hear a barking dog. It's a tiny, little thing. It's bark is high pitched and piercing. I resist the persistent urge I have to pet it
and carry on.
I stop at the closest deli for a cup
of coffee. As I pull open the door, I hear bells ringing above me. I’ve always
hated bells. I find the sounds they make dreadful and annoying. I replace the
awful sound of the bells with the delightful sound of coffee trickling from the
pot into my cup.
Finally, I go to the register; the man
behind the counter rings me up, and tells me I owe him $1.50. I hand him a
single dollar bill and two quarters. He drops one quarter on the counter and
the sound echoes across the silent store. He opens the cash register, puts my
money in, and tells me to have a nice night.
I head out the door – there are those horrible bells again. I fumble around my pocket for a moment looking for my headphones.
I place them in my ears and start my playlist. The sounds of the busy street
I have been traveling down fade away.