Mar 032011
 

Poster by Ginger Anne London

On Thursday evening, my brother and I sat in the clammy bedroom of his Latham, NY apartment and mulled over the final edits of Wings Over Arda: The First Age, which had in the last six months undergone an assiduous metamorphosis from a disconnected reel of raw footage to a coherent, colorful, mellifluous chunk of mostly-edited data.  The sound effects had all been dropped in, the music had been finalized (as of the previous night), and the color grading had been completed after hours of sedentary work.  The film was to have a private premiere (with invited guests, friends and family of the cast) in two days.  Travel plans had been made by cast members and family in Manhattan, Boston and Rochester.  36 gigabytes worth of special effects, which would need compression to 1.5 or so, had yet to be delivered to us.  Philip sat on the phone with Jack, our special effects expert and camera operator, uttering intermittent “Oh”s and “yeah”s as my chest did cartwheels.  “There’s no way I’m rescheduling the premiere again,” I thought.  It turned out Jack’s computer had taken longer than expected to export the effects.  He came through, like I knew he would, but by the time the effects were done and the film exported in its entirety, we had about twelve hours to figure out how we were going to show it.  The DVD-making process, for whatever reason, failed.

While getting dinner with cast members/musicians, less than two hours before the film was to premiere, I received a call from my brother, and there came the first time I’ve ever answered my cell phone in a restaurant.  It was just like I’d imagined: the dismayed stares from the wait staff, the attempts of my companions to shield their faces, all of it.  The call itself lasted roughly nine seconds.  My brother had only one sentence for me, a sentence which came out as a single word: “GotthemovieworkingbutSeedwon’tworkgottafigureitoutseeya.”  Seed is my brother’s short film, which was set to screen before Wings.

I arrived at the Key Auditorium with friends at my heels and half the cast already present.  The congratulations began and I made sure my handshakes and hugs were firm, despite not knowing whether our planned double-feature would even be happening.  When I finally entered the theatre, a still frame from Seed‘s Gung-Fu action finale was spread across the screen, and my brother worked away on his Mac computer, which he’d MacGuyver’d to the theatre’s projector system.  Deep breaths were taken by all.  Anna and Laura, who had come with me to dinner, took turns laying hands on my shoulders and insisting that I’d been worrying about nothing.  The cartwheels inside wouldn’t stop, however, until the end credits rolled.

The initial response to the premiere-version of the film was what I’d hoped for.  Nearly the entire cast was able to attend.  Audience members who knew the source material expressed support of my adaptation, and those who had never even heard of it claimed they were able to follow the story with no trouble.  My father even breached his usual 9PM bedtime to attend.

It wasn’t until midway through the laughter-coated cast party, during which we watched the behind-the-scenes featurettes I edited together, that I realized what this project really was.  Amid my sadness about such a fun, thought-consuming project reaching its inevitable end, I forgot to look around the room.  Once I did, I realized that more than half of the attendees, now some of my closest friends, had been strangers to me a year earlier.  Working on this film did more for me (and hopefully others) than I ever anticipated.  As I move into the DVD-burning process and flirt with the idea of film festivals, I can only hope the adventure will continue.

Thanks to DG for letting me host the film diary here.

Click here to see Tolkien Gateway’s article on the film

Facebook fan page

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Jan 122011
 

Stephanie Tribu-Cromme as Idril.

Today, we had our first “guinea pig” viewing of the film.  Since my brother and I have been cooped up in the basement – er, editing studio – working on the film, we’ve begun to lose all sense of objectivity.  A mutual friend not versed in the works of Tolkien nor the specifics of our film project took a look at the mostly-edited second cut of the film, which contains no music, and which still needs audio work, special effects and minor cutting.

Since the last entry, we’ve been gathering the final pieces of the puzzle and editing our second cut, which far surpasses the first in terms of coherence, sound and pacing.  Our biggest struggles now involve audio, as most of the film was shot outdoors (wind! waterfalls!  kids shouting!) and some of the already-difficult dialogue is hard to hear.  In addition to editing, we’ve been working on the main musical themes of the film, and we’ve ordered the DVD packaging and sleeves.  I also edited together a gag reel and a second behind-the-scenes featurette.

The DVD sleeve.

In writing the film, I made an early decision not to dumb down the dialogue.  The characters speak as they would in their world.  The details of the conflict and the goals of each character, however, are explicitly defined at the outset of the story and kept on top of the film’s list of priorities.  Going into today’s viewing, I wanted to make sure the level of audience confusion was at a bare minimum, though part of the idea is that you’re thrown into the midst of a conflict.  We start out playing catch-up with the characters, and an inherent sense of urgency remains throughout.  Even when the characters attempt to slow down, the story does not allow them to.

The viewing was, I think, a success.  Our subject enjoyed the film and was not confused about the conflict.  “The locations were phenomenal,” he said upon my asking his favorite part of the film as a whole, “The costumes were amazing, and it was obvious a lot of time was put into everything.  It didn’t look like something you just whipped up.  It looked like a professional film.”  He told me he had a hard time keeping up with character names, but if that was his biggest complaint, I’m happy.  My brother mentioned not remembering anyone’s name the first time he saw The Lord of the Rings (having not read the books previously).  Tolkien’s properly-named people and locations lend themselves more to text, but as long as you remember who they are in the story, we’ve succeeded.

—Richard Hartshorn

“Wings Over Arda” Facebook fan page

Tolkien Gateway article

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Dec 152010
 

The travels of Tuor and Voronwë will soon be accompanied by appropriate music

Things have quieted down in the production process, but only in the figurative sense.  Our main focus right now is the film’s score, which is being worked on by many talented folks.  Oh, and I’m working on it, too.

The film includes many scenes of conversation, some poetics, and long crawls of travelogue, all of which flow together into (hopefully) a sort of symphony of visuals where you never see the same set twice.  My brother and I came up with a goal on the audio side of this cinematic multiverse: about 90% of the movie’s soundtrack should sound like one varying piece of music.  Anna Pauline Kenzie, our resident opera singer who also acts in the film, came up with an excellent song she’s been recording over the course of a month (despite completely losing her voice for the better part of two weeks), and our costume expert, Jen Wicks, wrote a song in Quenya (a form of High Elvish created by Tolkien) and recorded a few demos with her own equipment.  As of now, these two pieces act as our leitmotifs for the film’s score.

Listen to Jen’s song, “Alamenë,” below.

Alamenë

Andrew, Kate Chappell and myself in August 2010

My cousin, Andrew Busone, a multi-talented musician best known for playing in New York City punk band Tied For Last, is also skilled on the keyboard, and will be putting together a few tracks for the film’s non-vocal score.  Laura McCoy, a fellow VCFA graduate, will be providing the flute tracks.  Vermont’s own Red Heart the Ticker also agreed to contribute a nice ambient traveling song.

While editing the rough cut, Philip would sometimes put on music from other artists to help us get a feel for what sort of sound we wanted in the background of a certain scene.  Quite often, I’d say, “Just turn off the music; you can’t hear the dialogue,” but many times we struck gold with this technique.  A certain scene involves a duo of travelers making their way across a narrow bridge that spans a swamp, with an unknown figure awaiting them on the other side.  We need apprehension, suspense, and music you’d imagine playing if a swamp had its own soundtrack.

The challenge of creating the film’s tunes is a journey which parallels, in some ways, the journey of creating the film itself.  It doesn’t involve as much standing out in the cold, driving fifty miles or sustaining open wounds, but sometimes I wonder how close we’ll come.

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Dec 012010
 

A trial poster by Ginger Anne London, featuring the WOA logo by Philip Hartshorn

Sometimes you see a big-budget Hollywood film and you notice something in the background that shouldn’t be there, or someone’s hand is in a different spot after a lightning-fast cut, or all of a sudden Steven Baldwin is wearing a different shirt. Y’know, the gargantuan flubs that don’t take anything away from the story but become brief distractions.  I’m proud to say that after several eight, ten and thirteen-hour days of nearly nonstop editing, Wings Over Arda: The First Age does not have… many of those.

The rough cut of the film is finished.  Clocking in at 63 minutes (not counting the closing credits), it’s a massive file which will be exported in HD (1080 P) for Blu-Ray discs, as well as standard definition for DVDs.  Basement-bound for a week, my brother and I sifted through the various hours of footage, culling the most powerful takes from the ocean of decent, mediocre, and just plain bad.  I applied my final script revision during the last two hours of edits, and we had to employ some serious editing magic to get certain scenes to look the way we desired.  I ended up cutting one full scene I didn’t need, but other than that, every bit of work we put into the shooting period shows up in some way, shape or form in the film.  Next, the film will go into fine-tuned edits, further audio work, and special effects, while others compose/prepare/donate the musical score.

Here’s a little taste of what other members of the cast and crew were up to, besides waiting patiently, whilst Philip and I sat in the basement with our muscles atrophying.

Ginger Anne London, who plays Glorfindel in the film, is proficient in Graphic Design and put together the little gem seen above, featuring the characters of Dior (Philip Hartshorn), Caranthir (Samuel Aguirre) and Voronwë (Jennifer Wicks).  I like to call it “People With Hoods.”

Jen with the “Arda Buddies.”

Jen, our costume expert and one of the film’s leads, used the remainder of our costume materials to create the “Arda Buddies” (or “Arda Pals,” I’m not sure which I like better), plush dolls modeled after Jen and myself.  Yes, there is a plush doll of me, and Wings Over Arda officially has, to use the parlance of our times, “swag.”  I was rather surprised to wake up and see the below photo after naively thinking Jen was joking about making these.

Anna Pauline Kenzie

Music is being done by several talented folks.  We’ve received musical contributions from the likes of Andrew Busone (my cousin, guitarist/singer/pianist/drummer extraordinaire); VCFA’s own Red Heart the Ticker; and even a few from musicians who saw our project’s fan page and expressed interest.  The main theme/leitmotif of the film is currently being composed by the amazing Anna Pauline Kenzie, an operatic singer and stage actress who also appears in the film as Elwing.  Additional tunes are being put together by my brother Philip, who plays the piano and excels at the Finale music program.

Everyone has been pretty well occupied over the past week, and in the spirit of the time of year, given a certain writer/director plenty to be thankful for.

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Oct 142010
 

The film project is currently on its one and only two-week break from photography.  Each of us are using this time for different project-related matters: Jen and I have worked on some new costume material, my brother is continuing work with his fight team, Jack is attending a film-fest (which includes an animated film he created), and I am fine-tuning the script and going over lines with actors who have yet to appear onscreen.  In general news, a Facebook fan page has been created for the film, which quickly rocketed to 33 members.  I’ve never met at least 25 of them.  So much for keeping this project under wraps (story specifics and the cast are still in large part secret, however).

I want to take a moment to talk about the whole “art” process behind this film.  I included a quote from Tolkien last time in which he expressed the desire to see his work interpreted by other minds in the form of paint, music and drama.  I’ll say a bit about music in a future entry, as we’re having original music composed for the film, while taking this time to look at the visual aspect of things.

Jen’s background in cosplay and costume-craft is one of the saving graces of our project (whether or not she’d blush to hear/read that).  However, it’s not a situation where I (as director) say “Here’s someone I know who is good at making costumes – go crazy!”  It’s been a very collaborative process with a high level of communication – I even took scissors to fabric a few times myself.  We’ve been greatly concerned with color, contrast with scenery (forests, lakes, whitewater, wooden walls, concrete fountains, the sun’s reflection on rock, etc) and other parts of a costume (including wigs – currently, six cast members are wearing wigs in the film).  The ideas behind these costumes come greatly from what we know of the characters.  Quite often, Tolkien goes into great detail about appearance, yet sometimes none at all.  How exact do we want the costumes to be?  We came to the conclusion that we need to do what is right for the characters we’re dealing with based on the above factors, as well as what we draw from a character’s personality, while keeping the outfits described in-text within the ballpark.  There’s also a budget to consider, so “a thousand studs of crystal” (from Tolkien’s description of Ecthelion’s shield in Unfinished Tales) may become three or four, or no shield at all if the scene doesn’t call for him to be holding one.

The visual imagery doesn’t end with creating interesting (or accurate) costumes.  For decades, the works of Tolkien have been interpreted into paint and other visual art by everyone from renowned artists such as John Howe and Ted Nasmith to internet painters who still go unnamed and unknown.  While working on my own adaptation, I’ve been considering some of my favorite Tolkien art and allowing it to inspire ideas and landscapes in my own work.  Take a look at this.

The meeting of Tuor and Ulmo is a relatively iconic moment in Tolkien’s mythology.  It’s clearly described: Ulmo is in the water, Tuor is on shore.  In some versions he kneels, in some he doesn’t.  I couldn’t make Ulmo forty feet tall in my adaptation, but I’m not sure I would have wanted to.  Ulmo convinces Tuor to take on a burden through words, not through intimidation.  It serves a film better to have the scene portrayed as two people talking face to face, even if one has a booming voice and infinite power.  Howe’s artwork was one of the main forces behind my ideas for the scene, though I didn’t try to emulate it, per se; Howe’s painting made me feel this scene, and drove me to evoke a similar feeling in my own work.  Unlike Howe, I cannot use one image; I need costumes, camera angles, music, sound, movement and dialogue.

Oddly enough, we created Voronwë’s costume and filmed this scene long before coming across Marya’s artwork (on the internet), so the resulting effect was the opposite.  This being a very clearly described image in the text, it’s easy to see why it would be depicted in a similar way, but these similarities blew me away.  Note the position of V’s left knee and elbow above, then look at Jen’s in our picture.  Chilling.

CalendarV

We are doing visual imagery that is our own, fitting with the directing style/art direction of the film and following a set of image patterns put forth by the specific story material we’re tackling, but with some truly interesting parallels with artwork that is now considered “classic” within the Tolkien realm, as well as concurring with relatively younger fans’ ideas of what these scenes may look like.  There is no clearly-defined balance; most of it is happening almost subconsciously.

I’m enjoying this journey a lot.

—By Richard Hartshorn

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Oct 102010
 

As evidenced by my last post, my free time and brain-space has been heavily occupied by a writing/film project based on a few early works/drafts of J.R.R. Tolkien, including material from Unfinished Tales and The Shaping of Middle-Earth.  The project is a collaboration between myself, my brother (visual artist, filmmaker, action choreographer and athlete), and two close friends: Jennifer Wicks (costume designer and actress), and Jack Durnin (local filmmaker/cameraman).  While adapting the script, storyboarding, and visualizing the process as a whole (including the inevitable “liberties” I would have to take), I tried to keep this quote from Tolkien himself in mind:

[T]he cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands, wielding paint and music and drama.

In short, Tolkien wanted people to adapt his work into other media, including films.  Consider the following quote, also from Tolkien, after viewing the original animated films based upon The Lord of the Rings.

I would ask them to make an effort of imagination sufficient to understand the irritation (and on occasion the resentment) of an author, who finds, increasingly as he proceeds, his work treated as it would seem carelessly in general, in places recklessly, and with no evident signs of any appreciation of what it is all about.

What stuck with me while working on my adaptation was the last part: “appreciation of what it is all about.”  As a longtime reader, I think I’ve got a good idea, but as previously mentioned, liberties must be taken.  Where, then, do I take them?  I am working on merging two stories, which take place around the same time period in the fictional mythology, into a single film.  The myths, which in The Silmarillion read similarly to the Greek Mythos or the Norse Myths, continue onward when the specific sections end.  Certain characters were around thousands of years earlier; some live all the way into the latest histories of the mythology.  As a rule with a film, however, the story must be self-contained.  This film’s budget is out-of-pocket; I’m not planning a Trilogy.  I took into consideration which parts of the mythology are important to these specific stories and this particular point in the fiction’s history, as well as, perhaps more importantly, what would be coherent to a film audience who has never touched these books.  Simple example: three precious stones.  Only one of them matters to this story, and only to half the characters, but the entire story is happening because these stones exist.  How much attention should be given to the stone, and how do I tersely explain where the other two are without going into a campfire storytelling session?

I figured it out through rigorous script revision, but listening to the dialogue being spoken on set also helped.  I am usually a person who needs to have every nook of a creative project in order before proceeding, especially when it involves people other than myself, but this time I had to let that go (appropriate for a story that is, if we must tack a theme to it, about letting go) and resolve to revise it as I go along.  That process is working out well.  We’ve had two days of shooting over two weekends, and I’m revising the script after each shoot, on some occasions even editing dialogue while on set – this is different from allowing “improv;” the dialogue is still written, agreed upon and followed.  The only way I can describe it is “adventures in dialogue.”

Linked below is a little 10-minute feature we put together after our first day of shooting.  Within are interviews with me, Phil and Jen; comments from other cast members in the film; some of our ideas about the project at the onset; and of course, some general silliness.  Take note that this footage was shot with a “B” camera in Hi-8; none of the shots, audio or HD footage from the final product is in the video, but you’ll get to see some of the costumes in low quality.

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Sep 252010
 

Editor’s Note: Earlier this year, my former student Richard Hartshorn and his brother Philip set out on an amazing adventure. They made a feature-length motion picture from scratch with nothing but their own inventiveness, persistence, and money (not to mention a tight group of intensely creative friends). Lots of people talk the talk, but very few ever actually do the work. Through the production Richard kept Numéro Cinq up to date on their progress with his film diary. This is the first in a series of ten diary entries describing the filmmaking process from conception to final cut. Each entry ends with a link at the bottom to bring you back to the table of contents. There are photos and videos, training videos, trailers and posters.

Rich is an actor, dramatist, game blogger, screenwriter and teacher. His diary gives NC readers a chance to see inside another art form, an art that is related to writing but slightly different. Nevertheless the process of imagining and assembling scenes, adapting a book to screen, directing actors, editing and so on are all fascinating in themselves and full of parallels in the world of pure writing. Besides that, I am all for people making art, whatever it is, rather than sitting on their butts in the living room. The sheer chutzpah involved in just going out and making your own damn movie is amazing and should be applauded. The world of art is an outlaw world, you can do anything you want.

What’s most exciting is that this isn’t some big budget extravaganza, no Hollywood packaging deal; this is real people who haven’t waited for the money gods to touch them or for their degrees from USC film school, people just following their passion and making art.

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I recently attempted to adapt some of the earlier works of J.R.R. Tolkien into screenplay form.  This is something I’ve wanted to do for years, and the film project that has resulted from this adaptation has been a blast to work on so far.  The challenges in the first stage of adaptation (the bare-bones screenplay) included, among other things, the following: 1) This text is beloved by many people (including myself) – How do I keep it true to the source material while translating it to “movie” form?; 2) These stories have many different versions, as they are from work considered “unfinished,” so I am essentially working from second and third drafts; 3) This isn’t modern run-of-the-mill fantasy; it’s the work of a Professor of Linguistics at Oxford who gave a fictional “history” to his invented languages by writing a mythology (which came in the form of The Silmarillion, The Book(s) of Lost Tales, Unfinished Tales, The Children of Hurin, The Lays of Beleriand and others).  Many of the early drafts are written purely in Old/Middle English.  How do I maintain that quality while making it my own work (not to mention keeping it coherent for someone who doesn’t know/care much about the text itself, since this will eventually be a piece of visual media)?

I.  The Opening – The story takes place at the end of Tolkien’s “First Age,” i.e. tens of thousands of years before the events of The Hobbit.  I’m working from material from three physical books, one of which (The Silmarillion) is an overview written in a style similar to the Norse Myths.  The second, Unfinished Tales (namely the story “Of Tuor and His Coming to Gondolin”) is written in a close third-person narrative.  The third, “The Fall of Gondolin,” from The Book of Lost Tales 2, is very much a draft, originally hand-written and posthumously published by Tolkien’s son, Christopher (and also packed with footnotes by the latter).  As such, words are smudged and sometimes illegible and only left to speculation:  Did this character originally die here?  Was this guy supposed to have a different name?  Which version do we think Tolkien would have revised/canonized had he lived to publish this work himself?  Speculation, in a way, for me, is part of the beauty of this thing – rather than wondering how someone would have done something and completely limiting myself, I’m choosing what seems the most powerful.  I’m also working from The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, in which the author discusses with friends and readers elements of his work that beg explanation (a very interesting one which I’ll come back to later: did the “Elves” have pointed ears?  The logical conclusion is “no,” as Tolkien used commonly known terms from European fairytales – Elf, Gnome, Troll, Ogre, Goblin – to describe his original creations, and later expressed deep regret for doing so, as using these words inevitably places inherent assumptions in a reader’s head).

So, the opening.  Essentially, I’m saying “Dear viewer; let’s catch you up on the last thousand or so years.”  There are a million interesting things to talk about, but I need to keep it limited to what’s important to this film alone.  People who have read it already know and appreciate the mythology, and people who haven’t won’t care (and if they do, they’ll go read it).  My brother’s reaction to my wordy first draft, which opened with the entirety of the Doom of Mandos, was something along the lines of “Dude, I know the stories, and I don’t even get this.”  The second draft toned this down – I used relevant lines from the Dooms for ambiance, while writing my own little “prologue” which featured a voiced-over character in the film describing a few events that directly led up to what’s happening in our immediate tale.  It seems simple enough, but it was surprisingly difficult to add something that wasn’t there (even though it kind of was…just not in my words).

Case in point, writing a prologue of an adapted work that many consider “thick” is something that takes a bit of thought and many breaks to go outside and breathe clean air.

—By Rich Hartshorn

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