I cut this video to at least try and remain creative, because I’m creatively exhausted lately (as you can probably tell by the lack of posts this year). A very strange time for me. Nothing is coming out. I’m keeping myself busy as a stay-at-home Dad, raising my boys and looking after my wife as needed. In my spare time I’ve been writing and working on the occasional project, mostly Reel Thinker, a new movie web venture I launched with fellow graduate Robin Hare. Apart from that, I haven’t even had an itch to scratch… but I know it’s back there. I can feel it brewing.

The audience was there to see the UK horror-thriller picture Mum & Dad (2008) and my local short film was playing as a bonus beforehand.

The lights dimmed, the curtains closed in (they had to mask the majority of the windscreen as the short is 4:3, if you can believe that) and away we went. Living With Benjamin was on the big screen.

While sitting in the darkness watching Benjamin stir his coffee and wash his mug, three hings became very apparent to me during those seven nervous minutes:

1. Kerry was holding my hand. She told me she was equally nervous — and she held my hand for every second it was up there. I appreciated that gesture.
2. In the final act, building up to the big finish, I could feel my heart pounding throughout my whole body. It felt like my chair was shaking. But I wasn’t panicked or worried anymore (the hardest parts were over) — it must have just been adrenaline.
3. The respect from the audience was first rate. Sometimes a screening like this is treated more like a trailer and there’s still occasional chitter-chatter and movement. In this case, the whole cinema went dead silent and watched Benjamin play out. A bonus of screening at an international film festival, I guess– you know the people attending are mostly film enthusiasts.

And so the credits rolled and the audience applauded. Just like that, it was over. The transfer looked fantastic on the big screen and the sound was magic. I’ve never heard it sound or look so good. Taking it from my PC monitor and TV screens up onto the cinema screen was definitely a wonderful experience and one I will always remember.  Best of all I got to enjoy it with my wife Kerry (thanks to ‘awesome’ Uncle Danny for watching the kids!!), Benjamin himself Clint West, and industry colleges including sound designer and co-editor Warren Money, Gemma Gittins and Sara Horvat.

I look forward to seeing more of our projects on the big screen in the near future.

I’m compiling the special features and menu for the Living with Benjamin DVD, which will be available soon.
Watch Living With Benjamin online now

The King of Pop died today. My wife told me the news while I was  getting ready to lecture for the first time at the Film & Television Institute. I took the train and cued a bunch of Michael Jackson tunes on my iPod, listening to them and reminiscing while wintry thunderclouds rolled it overhead.

I remember being fascinated by the Thriller video as a very young child. My Father bought the videotape ‘Making Michael Jackson’s Thriller’ when I was just five years old, and I watched that tape almost every day. And so began my intrigue into the world of fiilmmaking.

At 14, I would force my family to spend weekends helping me reenact Michael Jackson music videos, playing a host of characters for me. I, of course, always played the role of  MJ. Filming and editing these home videos influenced my passion for filmmaking a great deal.

I taught my sister to moonwalk when she was 3. She turns 18 tomorrow.

My wall used to be covered top to bottom with Michael Jackson posters and paraphernalia. I hoarded CDs, videotapes, magazines. I even kept a scrapbook.

Lord knows where all this stuff is now. I stopped being so obsessed during the nineties. Though I still enjoy listening to classic Michael Jackson tunes every so often. I always will.

And I still have that original Thriller VHS my Father bought all those years ago.

Rest in eace, Michael Jackson. And thank you!

Those who also follow my wife’s blog will be aware that I am all set to be a Daddy once again mid-March. As soon as we settle into a new lifestyle with two young children, I will be able to share some energy with filmmaking. Until then, I must commit as much energy as possible to welcoming this little fella into this flaky world.

It takes substantial bravery and confidence to put an experiment on show — not just for friends and family, but also colleagues and anyone in the world who happens to stumble upon it online.  An experiment the filmmaker no doubt sees riddled with mistakes yet screens for an audience expecting the real deal.

Regardless of its content, the creator of a short film should just be thankful for the feedback.  It means, at the very least, took the time to watch something you created.  Furthermore, they actually took in what they watched and formed an opinion of your work, bringing them to you as criticisms, suggestions and compliments. I wouldn’t dare ask for much more than that.

It has become easier than ever before to get feedback for a short film.  With the widespread connections the internet provides, and the speed in which media can be delivered, there is no reason why a short film can’t be seen and reviewed the very same day it was completed.

I first began collecting feedback for HER PARTY the evening it screened at the FTI VP9 Graduation Night in Fremantle.  There is an eerie quality about watching your film play on the big screen in a cinema packed with near 200 people.  You count every hush, every whisper, every cough.  The simplest shuffle in someone’s seat triggers your mind to wander; curious if the audience is paying attention.  You can generally gauge how well the screening went once the credits roll.  HER PARTY received a warm reception, followed by some timid discussion amongst the isles.

Afterward, while sipping wine, eating nibbly’s and introducing my wife (and her pregnant belly) to everyone I could find, I started receiving complementary feedback.  Some complimented how it looked, some (mostly females) said it had saddened them and choked them up.  Either way, I was very happy to be receiving feedback for my film moments after it screened in public for the first time.

The toughest thing I found about ‘releasing’ a short film to an audience was searching for the ability to let go.  I’d imagine that if I didn’t let go of my personal associations with the film, negative feedback might hurt my feelings and negate the point of the feedback (and indeed the purpose of short films in general) — to learn from them.  Learn in every way.  Learn what worked and why, learn what didn’t.  The aim being to bundle all of that feedback together and roll over as much as possible into the next project in an effort to fine-tune elements in directing, shot selection, lighting, pace, performance… even script.  So, before the negative/constructive feedback can be made affective, one has to make sure they aren’t dismissed because of any emotional or personal connections they may contain.

I had to invest a lot of myself in HER PARTY to obtain the film I was after.  I had to bear my soul and let things out that I otherwise might have kept to myself.  Especially with actress Penelope Andrews. We had many deep discussions about the finer details her character required in each shot.  There were things that I personally went through in my life that I wanted portrayed on the screen, both because I knew them to be affective, and because I knew that what I was creating was coming from something real.  That’s incredibly important in film – in all art, I believe – and I will continue to think of the craft this way.

These moments within that short film have been both criticized and praised, depending on the audience.  What’s important is that I didn’t dismiss the negative feedback by taking it personally by becoming offended.  I’ll store it in the back of my mind and recall it next time I need to create something similar.  I’m only able to do that because, once the film is absolutely finished, ready to be put on DVD, uploaded to the internet and screened in a cinema, I do my best to remove myself from it.  After all, a film is for an audience, so once finished – once screened – it becomes theirs.  Theirs to relate to, theirs to discuss and critique and make their own.

The magical thing about filmmaking is the memories of production that will always remain for those involved.  You see a woman polishing ballerina shoes; I see a rainy day, fast shooting and limited light – yet still being able to pull it off.  You see a candle burning out and a woman breaking down over it, becoming more upset;  I see an actress in full emotion capitalizing on a convenient mistake.

If you took the time to watch my short film and provide me feedback, either via facebook, email, telephone, this blog, YouTube or in person – I truly appreciate it and thank you.