Validation - Award Winning Short Film

This short film was recommended to me by the director I'm working with at the moment. Very uplifting, feel-good, high quality short. Deserving of all it's awards and more.

Signs - Short Film

I've been busy with some filming projects, hence the lack of posts.

Here's a very good short film where the main characters does not talk at all.

Speed Reader - Feature Film Script

Check out my first original story of the year, Speed Reader.

Logline:

When corporate spy specialist, Paige Seller, investigates a mysterious publishing company, she uncovers an extraordinary secret that leaves her life in danger.

This was the idea for a short film that has grown out of control into a feature length. I like the idea but I'm not sure if the execution is right. It's about half way through the first act and I just wanted some comments to see if I'm on the right track.

Feed back in any form would be appreciated. Cheers.

The Mysterious Explorations of Jasper Morello - Short Film

Nominated for an Oscar and for a BAFTA award, Jasper Morello is a short feature made in a unique style of silhouette animation developed by director Anthony Lucas and inspired by the work of authors Edgar Alan Poe and Jules Verne.

In the frontier city of Carpathia, Jasper Morello discovers that his former adversary Doctor Claude Belgon has returned from the grave. When Claude reveals that he knows the location of the ancient city of Alto Mea where the secrets of life have been discovered, Jasper cannot resist the temptation to bring his own dead wife Amelia back. But they are captured by Armand Forgette, leader of the radical Horizontalist anti-technology movement, who is determined to reanimate his terrorist father Vasco.

As lightning energises the arcane machineries of life in the floating castle of Alto Mea, Jasper must choose between having his beloved restored or seeing the government of Gothia destroyed. Set in a world of iron dirigibles and steam powered computers, this gothic horror mystery tells the story of Jasper Morello, a disgraced aerial navigator who flees his Plague-ridden home on a desperate voyage to redeem himself.

Also winner of the Grand Prix award at the Annecy Animation Festival, Jasper has also won the top honours at the Canadian Film Centre's Worldwide Short Film Festival, Best Animation at Flickerfest 2005, Best Animation at the Sydney Film Festival Dendy awards and Best Animation at Toronto worldwide shorts.

Harvey Krumpet - Short Film

HARVIE KRUMPET is narrated by Academy Award winner Geoffrey Rush and written, directed and animated by Adam Elliot.

HARVIE was the winner of the 2003 Academy Award for “Best Animated Short Film”.

Stop motion at its best.

Gattaca's Main Score - The Departure

Excellent writer/directors like JC are rare, but I think Andrew Niccol is my second favourite. His movies are always intelligent, entertaining, innovative and include powerful themes.

# Gattaca (1997) (writer/director)
# The Truman Show (1998) (writer/producer)
# S1m0ne also known as Simone (2002) (writer/producer/director)
# Lord of War (2005) (writer/producer/director)

I highly recommend Gattaca and Lord of War. Both amazing movies with amazing themes. Any time I'm down I always chuck on Gattaca. It's an uplifting film and the score alone is worth checking this movie out.

Marry Me - Short Film

Little girl likes little boy. Little boy likes BMX bike. Something has to give.

Directed by Michelle Lehman

A nostalgic little short film. "Marry Me" was the winner of the 2008 Tropfest Australia Film Festival.

It reminded of a short story I wrote awhile back. I'm thinking about turning it into a short film script. What do you think? The ending might need a rewrite.


The Gelati Van

by Storyteller

We were outdoor kids, Johnno and I. We didn't have a Nintendo like other kids, which was fine since the heat over the summer break made it too hot to stay inside anyway.

While other boys rode BMXs in gangs, and girls held pretend tea parties in the shade of trees, we spent most of our days playing tennis on the street. We used racquets with broken strings and bald balls that we found in the gutters of our roofs. For lines, we drew on the road with rocks, or yellow pieces of chalk we stole from school. Normally, we played barefoot, but some days we couldn't walk around without getting our feet burnt.

Passing cars often interrupted our game and we would warn each other in advance before stepping aside to the curb. The only time this warning system was not required was when we heard, drifting over the suburban houses, the familiar melody of an approaching gelati van. The music always reminded me of my sister's musical box.

Shouts of delight rang out from kids as they recognised the melody, followed by a mad dash home to gather up pocket money. I heard, through open windows, the noisy rattling of plastic piggy banks, the kind that came with little caps on the bottom so that a withdrawal could be made anytime.

Soon the street was crowded with mothers and their children as they converged on the parked pink and white van. The throng jockeyed around the small serving window and waited in the heat to be served by the sweaty but zealously smiling gelati man.

A flustered mother armed with her purse lined up alongside her fussy urchins, who couldn't be trusted crossing the street without holding hands. They yelled and pointed at the variety of cartoon ice creams painted on the side of the van demanding chocolate or vanilla, then changing their minds again, wanting whatever enticing ice cream that was just served. Other doting mothers sent off their little ones, cash in hand, with a gentle reminder to say Please and Thank you then stood back in groups to watch.

Then there were those other kids who stared with silent jealousy. Kids like Johnno and I. We did this quite often too in the schoolyard. The only times we didn't watch the other kids snack on canteen food was when I could find loose change behind the couch, or when Johnno's mother gave him a little pocket money because she felt guilty about working and leaving him alone so much.

On the third consecutive day that the gelati van came around, Johnno couldn't stand it any longer.
‘We're getting ourselves gelati,’ he declared.
I knew we had no money because we had spent our last ten cents on some lollies down at the milk bar. We needed at least five dollars.
'That's impossible,' I told him.

Other boys got testy when taunted with chicken or mummy's boy. Johnno's word was impossible. He didn't like it when people told him things were beyond his reach, and he often went to considerable lengths to prove them otherwise.
Like the time Johnno claimed to have stopped the microwave, as it counted down, exactly on zero, right before the usual beeeeeep. I told him there was no such thing as a zero in a count down. It was possible, he said, and he was determined to give me a demonstration. He tried at least a hundred times before the microwave malfunctioned.

Or that other time, when we were frying ants by harnessing the power of the sun's rays with a magnifying glass, Johnno said he read somewhere that you couldn't nuke an ant in a microwave, which I found ludicrous. The one at his place was still broken so we went over to my house. At first, we tested on one ant. It was still alive even after a minute of radiation. I was unconvinced so we went and caught a whole army and dropped them in. Imagine my mother's horror when she came home from work to see her microwave covered with ants. The experiment was shelved and forgotten.

Another time I told him it was impossible to beat Angela at times-tables. She was in our sixth grade class. She was a real teacher's pet. Our form teacher was always giving her stickers of every shape and colour in her exercise books.

To keep our times-tables knowledge sharp, our teacher devised a little game. Two students were picked from the class. They then took position behind three lines marked on the classroom floor with masking tape. The teacher would then fire times-tables questions in rapid succession. The first person to answer correctly moved onto the next line. First to three was the winner. What started out as a fun exercise, soon took on a competitive edge. Some kids began adopting battle stances, like cowboys during shootouts.

Angela was the unbeaten champion. Everyone dreaded going up against her. One day Johnno and I discussed the chances of toppling the titleholder. I declared it was impossible, which Johnno predictably rebuffed.
'Nothing's impossible if you try hard enough,' he said, channelling his mother.
So when our form teacher fell sick and a substitute teacher came in for the day, Johnno came up with a plan. Our teacher always left notes on the day's program for the substitute to follow. So during recess, Johnno told me to distract the substitute in the corridor so he could sneak into the empty classroom and steal a glance at the program. It took some persuading, but I eventually gave in.

When class resumed, Johnno and Angela were chosen for a times-tables match. He must have scribbled in the names and questions himself because he shocked everyone by answering before the substitute could even finish the question. Had he paced himself a little, he could have won without attracting any suspicion. The second time he did it the substitute looked over her reading glasses at Johnno. She must have worked out the situation because she placed the program notes aside and started making up her own questions. That was the closest anyone came to beating the teacher's pet.
Johnno's first plan to get ourselves some gelati was to head back to our respective homes for a quick search. Because I spent most of the day out in the sun, I was momentarily blinded upon entering the relative darkness of my house. Everything had a distinctive green tint as my eyes slowly adjusted to the difference in brightness, and I had a white static blind spot in the corner of my vision where I faced the sun.
Throughout the house, fans were turned on full blast. The artificial wind rustled the calendar and bits of paper like a poltergeist. The fan’s mechanical heads swivelled from side to side like gapping clowns at carnivals.

After my eyesight adjusted, I went for a futile search behind the couch for loose change. As I was doing this, I overheard my older sister in the kitchen crying on the phone to her ‘secret’ boyfriend of three years. Only days before I had heard her fantasising about marriage and the names of their future children. Now they were breaking up because he was spooked about them getting too serious.

I got scared because if my father found out that she was crying over a boy, there was going to be trouble. My father's temper was directly proportional to the temperature of the day. Luckily I heard him snoring from his bedroom. My mother was nowhere to be found.

When Johnno and I met up in front of his house, he reported the same lack of success. Time was quickly running out.

After a moment, he tactfully asked, ‘Still got your Michael Jordan card?’
The card he was referring to was a limited edition Michael Jordan holographic 3D basketball card, which I kept in mint condition in a clear protective plastic pocket. When the card was tilted to one side, Jordan was in mid-air, arms and legs outstretched in his trademark pose. Tilted to the other side, he was slam-dunking the ring. It was a parting gift my big brother had given me right after he was kicked out of our house. My parents had sent him to the best private school and when he finally made it to university he decided his life was in fixing cars.

‘We could sell it to Freddie,’ Johnno suggested.
‘No way!’ I blurted out, but immediately felt guilty by his crestfallen expression. It was the same look I usually gave my mother right after she denied a reasonable request.
‘Do you want a gelati or not?’ he asked as he watched the dwindling queue.
It has to be said I only taunt Johnno with impossible only when I really wanted him to prove me wrong. His plans often required some support on my part and if I didn’t obliged I would be letting him down.

We were like a pair of chopsticks, one useless without the other.

Freddie was a fat kid with freckles. He was one of those kids whose parents gave him heaps of pocket money hoping he would grow up big and strong. However, he grew fat and lazy.

We found him sitting on the steps of his front porch, his tongue engaged in a losing battle against the multiple melted streams of ice cream down the side of his double scoop choc-mint.

As Johnno handed him my prized possession, I was very aware of Freddie’s sticky fingers taking the basketball card from its protective plastic pocket and examining it. Afterwards he made a show of adding it to his impressive card album, flicking through the pages until he found an empty slot. In return he gave Johnno five bucks.
By the time we had our money together, the gelati van had just finished serving its last customer and was moving on. Johnno and I sprinted madly after it, yelling for it to wait, but the loud megaphone had started up again with its alluring music, drowning out our desperate cries.

I wasn’t as good a runner as Johnno so I gave up after a few blocks. He kept on going. I watched him run all the way down the street. The driver must have seen him in the side-mirror because the van eventually slowed to a stop. Johnno finally caught up, panting, hands on knees, catching his breath, his face red from the effort and unbearable heat. I watched him walked back slowly with two cans of soft drink.
‘I got thirsty after all that running,’ he said, shrugging.

As we sat on Johnno’s fence sipping on our drinks, I stared at a dotted line of ants gathering around the edges of a stain on the cement pavement that looked like a wet puddle, where a little girl had dropped her ice cream and started crying. She had went to pick it back up off the ground but her mother had angrily pulled her away, refusing to buy another one.

I looked at that stain and all I could think off was my limited edition Michael Jordan holographic 3D basketball card.

Zack Hemsey - Mind Heist (Inception Trailer Music)

I still don't understand how this amazingly epic score was so under-used in the movie o.O

The Story of Bubble Boy - Short Film

A weird and intriguing tale told entirely in rhymes.

A 2006 Tropfest finalist.


If you know of any good short films please share.

Zack Snyder's Sucker Punch

Zack Snyder, the man who brought us 300 and Watchmen, is back with his next awesome project.

Grey - Script

I'm looking for more feed back on my short film script Grey.

Does the story work? Is there too much voice over? Does the ending work? Any comments on story, character or nit picky stuff would be appreciated.

The screenplay was adapted from my short story of the same name. They have slightly different endings. Which do you prefer?



Grey

by Storyteller

You are not ordinary. You were born with a gift, a gift to see the mysterious life force that radiates around people like a golden halo. This strange aura is subject to change in colour according to the state of health and well being of a person. A person’s aura changes to a lighter shade when they are sick or their aura turns red when they are angry.

Because of this special ability, you are especially sensitive to other people’s feelings. Your girlfriends are always saying it’s amazing how you can tell how I'm feeling just by looking at me. From pass experience, you can tell simply by observing the colour of their aura: blue for depression, green for envy, pink for love and so on.

Despite the advantages, however, this ability is also a double-edged sword. You've developed a habit of discovering secrets that are best left unknown. For instance, you attended a friend's wedding and you could tell their marriage would not last by a simple glance at the groom’s aura, which was definitely not pink.

Although you have this ability your whole life, there are certain auras that still remain mysterious, even to you. In particular, people with grey auras. You see them time and time again. Some are young. Many are old. You see them at the supermarkets, at the movies and more commonly around hospitals. What does it mean? You don't know. Not until recently.

On a day like any other, the alarm went off early at seven. You woke up, brushed your teeth, drank coffee and listened to the morning radio. You drove to the office. There was a traffic jam. A lot of people were red with road rage.

It was a little after nine when you finally parked and walked into your building. You saw a crowd of workers getting onto the elevator. You made a run for it because you were already late for work. Someone politely held the door for you. Just before you got on, you stopped cold in your tracks. Every single person in the elevator emitted a grey aura. You were shocked to be confronted by such a sight. Slowly, you backed away.

'Well, are you getting on or not?' an impatient woman demanded.
You could not utter a reply. The crowd stared back at you as the warning bell sounded and the doors slid to a close. You watched the numbers above the elevator climb slowly to level three when you heard a loud snap, as the cables broke loose. You heard bloodcurdling screams as the elevator plunged to its doom.

From that day, you have come to realise, not only can you see other people's life force and how they are feeling, you can accurately predict when they are about to die. You have discovered the colour grey means impending death.

And that is why, for the last hour, you have been staring at yourself in the mirror. You are hoping against hope that the grey aura around you will somehow change colour.

The Wizard and the Knight - Script

Please check out the adapted screenplay of my short story The Wizard and the Knight. I've made many changes to the original short story during the adaptation process. A lot of name changes and added extra scenes here and there.

I'm looking for some feedback so feel free to comment on the characters, story or format or even nit-picky stuff.


The Wizard and the Knight

by Storyteller

In a land of forgotten times, there was once a wizard who he lived in Hummingtown. Whenever the townspeople had problems, they went to seek his aid. Chafe, the wizard, ended up spending all his time making potions to help women with fertility, men with virility, and children with warts. He soon grew tired of their petty problems.

He secretly envied the accomplishments of other wizards who had invented teleportation, invisibility, flight, foreseeing, and even the cure for deadly plagues. Some were attempting to turn metal into gold. Others were searching for everlasting youth.

Chafe was afraid that the townspeople were holding him back from his real purpose in wizardry, although he did not know what this was. So he decided to find out. He moved to a remote forest to live in isolation.

Free from distractions, he drew up elaborate plans, pursued whims and studied ancient scrolls. However, on many occasions he would start work on a new potion only to abandon it midway. To his frustration, he accomplished very little.

One day, the wizard was interrupted by a knock on his cottage door. A knight said he had searched long and hard throughout the land for Chafe. The knight confessed that he was afraid of an upcoming quest to slay a dragon, which he hopes will impress the princess. He wondered if the wizard could help him.

Chafe thought for a moment then remembered a spare potion he had lying around. He mumbled as he rummaged through the disarray of magical ingredients. There were bottles of fairy dust, dragon breath and angel tears. He finally pulled out a potion called Zero Fear.

'Drink this and, for a short time, you will have no fear,' said the wizard, hoping it would solve the knight's problem and that he would go away and leave him alone in peace.

The knight thanked him and left. The wizard shook his head and went about replacing the potion.

A week later, the knight came back and reported he was going on another quest to slay a two-headed monster to further impress the princess.
Annoyed, the wizard handed out another dose, hoping the knight would go away and leave him alone in peace.

The following week, the knight came back again to announce that war was upon them, and that he would soon ride to battle. He would be away for a long time and would need to stock up on Zero Fear.

The wizard became angry and refused to help. He was tired of devoting all his time to making Zero Fear instead of working on finding his true purpose.
'I'm sorry, but I really need more potions in order to continue my duties,' said the knight. He hesitantly added, 'If you don't help me, I'm afraid I'll be force to tell the others of your whereabouts.'

Worried that all the townspeople would disrupt him like before, the wizard gave in and agreed to have a supply ready.

The wizard toiled through long nights and hot afternoons gathering, boiling and mixing ingredients until he gave up in frustration, thinking there must be a better way. He realized that even after the war, the knight would always come back for more. The circumstance would not change unless he could find a permanent solution. He pondered and deliberated for days until an ingenious idea struck him. If it worked it would be his greatest creation yet.

The next time the knight visited, he was confused by what awaited him.
'One empty flask?'
'The flask is magical,' the wizard explained. 'Fill it with water and it will work like Zero Fear.'
The knight accepted the explanation without a second thought. He bade farewell and left for war.

Weeks grew into months.
Months merged into years.
Years drifted by and still the war raged on.

Chafe continued trying, without success, to find his real purpose in wizardry. Despite being content about the lack of interference, the wizard found himself brooding over the fate of his experiment. Doubt crept into his mind. The thought that he might be responsible for the death of the knight deeply troubled him.
Eventually, the knight returned looking haggard, but well. He recounted how he fought against horrific goblins, ogres, ghouls, trolls and giants. There were many times when he wanted to give up and turn back.

'But thanks to your magical flask, I was able to face my fears.'
Although Chafe was pleased at the knight's safe return, he was more thrilled that his experiment had worked. He couldn't help but reveal his secret.

'What I gave you is called a Placebo. The flask I handed you had no magical properties. When you filled it with water, it was water and nothing more.'
The knight became confused, then angry.
'You deceived me!'
'Yes, but it was for your own good. You see, every man, woman and child possess Zero Fear within them. They just don't know it.'
The knight was quiet for a long time before saying, 'I need more.'
'No, you don't.'
'Yes, I do. You don't understand. I need to face something more terrifying than what I've faced on the battlefield.'
'What's that?'
'I'm going to ask the princess for her hand in marriage.'

Chafe was disappointed by the knight's inability to see the truth and the fact that Placebo did not work after all. Frustrated, he refused to help. When the knight again threatened to report the location of his hideout, the wizard sighed and shrugged in defeat.
'Constant disruption from one man is not much difference to the disruption of many.'
Having lost his position of power, the knight stormed out and rode away. He tossed the Placebo flask into the woods.

Time passed. In spite of the knight's threats, no townspeople came knocking on the wizard's door. Once again Chafe concentrated on finding his real purpose in wizardry. He continued to produce many new potions but they were mostly silly and trivial and had no practical use. Try as he might, he created nothing close to the ingenuity of Placebo.

When a knock on the door disturbed him, he feared the worst. He sneaked to the window and looked outside to see a young page. The wizard thought the knight, out of anger, might had reported his whereabouts. He was irritated when he thought about all the trouble he went to help the knight.

He pretended not to be home, hoping the page would eventually go away. But the knocking continued, becoming louder and more insistent until the he could no longer stand it.

He pulled the door open and shouted, 'Go away or I'll strike you down with a lightning bolt!'
However, the page was unruffled.
'Don't worry,' he said, 'I am not here to bother you. I am here to deliver a message.' He cleared his throat before proudly announcing in a clear voice.
'On behalf of the knight, you are invited to his wedding as the guest of honour. Have a good day.'
And the page left promptly leaving the wizard bewildered. Chafe closed the door and looked back at the hundreds of idle potions lined on the shelves. He mulled over whether if he should go.

A big celebration was held for the wedding at noon. Even the King made an appearance. Everyone in town was present except for Chafe. Against pleas and protests, the knight insisted the ceremony could not start until the guest of honour had arrived. The guests had no choice but to respect his wish and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Sunset approached and the crowd became restless. Fed up, the King ordered proceedings to continue. The knight was just about to relent when a figure appeared before the setting sun. Everybody shielded their eyes and squinted for a better look.
'Is it him?' one person called out.
'No, it's a donkey,' shouted another.
'No, it's an elf.'
'It's the wizard!'
The knight rushed to greet and hug his friend.
'Thank you for giving me the courage to face my fears.'
'No, I must thank you,' said Chafe.
'Why?'
'For finding my purpose, of course,' he replied. 'I finally realised that, like Placebo, some of the greatest inventions are borne from human necessity. It’s my duty as a wizard to help people, no matter how big or small their problems may be.’
That night there was a huge feast along with lots of drinking and dancing. Celebrations continued throughout the evening. Chafe provided fireworks to top off the night.

After the wedding, the wizard moved back to town. The knight and the princess lived happily ever after.

Kiwi! - Short Film

Kiwi! is an amazing short film made by a visual arts student for his final project. It's short and has a powerful theme.



Did you find this uplifting or depressing?