Episode 2 of the Brainwrap Podcast went over really well, even though our guest Chris LaMartina called in about 10 minutes late. We were also joined by my good friend, frequent collaborator and star of my webseries 2 Dudes and a Sweet Prince, Zane Crosby.
We discussed all sorts of fun things, including how shooting a movie on a DSLR is a pain in the ass, wacky movie theater stories and Chris told about playing a 16mm print of "Deafula" to an unflattering crowd in Baltimore. You can download the show now at the Blogtalkradio page or stream it with this convenient player:
Also, to help promote the show, I've started a Twitter account for the show. This is after claiming I would never start tweeting, but now that I have a podcast I'm trying to get people to listen to, it seems like a good idea.
So, you can start following me @BrainwrapPod. It's probably a good idea, since I'll be more likely to hit up Twitter to announce a cool guest or something before the blog. I'm pretty sure that's the whole point of Twitter anyway, right?
But with that being said, I got some cool guests on the way in the coming months. Keep your eyes posted.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
New Podcast! Recording LIVE tonight at 6:30pm!
Also, there's going to be another episode of the Brainwrap Podcast tonight at 6:30pm. I know I'm posting this a little late, but expect to hear special guest Chris LaMartina and I discussing DSLR filmmaking, as well as movie theater stories with Zane Crosby!
Tune in at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/brainwrapintheater3 and the live call-in number is (805) 669-0209. Archived versions will be available a few hours after the show!
Tune in at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/brainwrapintheater3 and the live call-in number is (805) 669-0209. Archived versions will be available a few hours after the show!
Remastering the Stakes
So, both of my feature films, Raising the Stakes and Die and Let Live, have been out-of-print for quite a while. Die and Let Live became unavailable after the demise of our distributor, Heretic Films, and it took almost a year for me to finally get the rights to the film transferred back to me. In the case of Raising the Stakes, I had taken the movie back from our "handshake deal" with friend Henrique Couto's DVD-R company Freak Productions. Originally, I was intending to start burning and printing the same DVD-R edition he had authored, but I never got around to it.
Truth be told, I wasn't exactly happy with Raising the Stakes after the initial pride of making my first movie had worn off. I can remember sitting at Grafitti Film Festival at the Warner Theater (where I would later find employment), where Raising the Stakes had it's last public screening. Though I had watched the movie literally hundreds of times (the worst part about being your own editor) and several times at our other screenings, this was the first time that I really felt uncomfortable with it.
Every single flaw seemed to resonate with me and since this was a movie I made when I was 16 years old, there were quite a lot of them. I was just a kid who saw all the shot-on-video horror movies that were getting real DVD releases and thought I could do it. Apart from making some backyard short films on a Digital8 camera, I really didn't know what I was doing and there's plenty of evidence to back it up.
I ended up leaving the theater claiming I never wanted to watch the movie ever again.
Well, that didn't actually hold true. Around the time that I got the rights back to Die and Let Live, I had a handful of people ask me about Raising the Stakes and how they could get a copy. At this point, I had either given away or sold every single copy of the original Freak Productions DVD-R, so there was really no way for me to fill any demand other than to completely re-create the disc.
About that same time, the Twilight phenomenon was kicking in full-force and I realized that my little comedy about fantasy nerds becoming vampires might have actually been somewhat prophetic. So, I started to cue up the MiniDV masters of Raising the Stakes to begin creating a new DVD from scratch.
While I was watching the film be captured, I noticed three things:
While I was doing this, I started to think about actually fixing the mistakes I had made or not corrected. I got out some of the original camera tapes for these scenes and was surprised to find that they had held up better than the master tapes. As I waded through the tapes, searching for the exact clips (wasn't smart enough to use a clapboard or label things properly at that age either), I started to discover that there were actually takes that were better than what I had used in the original cut.
The little experiment soon bloomed into a full reconstruction and remastering of the film. I fixed whatever gaffes I could, made scenes run tighter, extended some scenes, and completely excised a subplot that never worked (as a result, completely taking actress Ellie Santy out of the film - sorry!).
By the time I was done, I was proud of the movie again. Especially because a lot of the stuff that actually works in the movie are the same cuts as the original version, but the stuff that didn't work has been either cleaned up or thrown out. There's a bit of low-budget CGI touches and color correction that were simply inserted as they were from the original edit and I really think they look quite good for something I did with no money and very little experience.
So, to any indie filmmakers who might have a microbudget movie that they later end up loathing, you might want to see if time and experience can allow you to make something you enjoy out of it.
At this point the new cut of Raising the Stakes is set to hit Amazon Video-on-Demand here in the next few months. We're working on getting it out as a double feature DVD with Die and Let Live and that disc has been my main focus for a while. Expect an announcement soon!
Truth be told, I wasn't exactly happy with Raising the Stakes after the initial pride of making my first movie had worn off. I can remember sitting at Grafitti Film Festival at the Warner Theater (where I would later find employment), where Raising the Stakes had it's last public screening. Though I had watched the movie literally hundreds of times (the worst part about being your own editor) and several times at our other screenings, this was the first time that I really felt uncomfortable with it.
Every single flaw seemed to resonate with me and since this was a movie I made when I was 16 years old, there were quite a lot of them. I was just a kid who saw all the shot-on-video horror movies that were getting real DVD releases and thought I could do it. Apart from making some backyard short films on a Digital8 camera, I really didn't know what I was doing and there's plenty of evidence to back it up.
I ended up leaving the theater claiming I never wanted to watch the movie ever again.
Well, that didn't actually hold true. Around the time that I got the rights back to Die and Let Live, I had a handful of people ask me about Raising the Stakes and how they could get a copy. At this point, I had either given away or sold every single copy of the original Freak Productions DVD-R, so there was really no way for me to fill any demand other than to completely re-create the disc.
About that same time, the Twilight phenomenon was kicking in full-force and I realized that my little comedy about fantasy nerds becoming vampires might have actually been somewhat prophetic. So, I started to cue up the MiniDV masters of Raising the Stakes to begin creating a new DVD from scratch.
While I was watching the film be captured, I noticed three things:
- I was actually enjoying watching it again after some time had passed.
- A lot of the mistakes could have been cleaned up in post-production.
- MiniDV tapes aren't really the best medium for archiving video masters.
While I was doing this, I started to think about actually fixing the mistakes I had made or not corrected. I got out some of the original camera tapes for these scenes and was surprised to find that they had held up better than the master tapes. As I waded through the tapes, searching for the exact clips (wasn't smart enough to use a clapboard or label things properly at that age either), I started to discover that there were actually takes that were better than what I had used in the original cut.
The little experiment soon bloomed into a full reconstruction and remastering of the film. I fixed whatever gaffes I could, made scenes run tighter, extended some scenes, and completely excised a subplot that never worked (as a result, completely taking actress Ellie Santy out of the film - sorry!).
By the time I was done, I was proud of the movie again. Especially because a lot of the stuff that actually works in the movie are the same cuts as the original version, but the stuff that didn't work has been either cleaned up or thrown out. There's a bit of low-budget CGI touches and color correction that were simply inserted as they were from the original edit and I really think they look quite good for something I did with no money and very little experience.
So, to any indie filmmakers who might have a microbudget movie that they later end up loathing, you might want to see if time and experience can allow you to make something you enjoy out of it.
At this point the new cut of Raising the Stakes is set to hit Amazon Video-on-Demand here in the next few months. We're working on getting it out as a double feature DVD with Die and Let Live and that disc has been my main focus for a while. Expect an announcement soon!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Brainwrap in Theater 3 - Now in convenient podcast form!
Hey everybody!
Tonight's the night of the first episode of the Brainwrap in Theater 3 podcast! This is a live Internet call-in show that will broadcast on BlogtalkRadio and will cover just about anything and everything related to movies! Whether it's making, watching or selling movies, it'll be elligible for discussion.
As the above image shows, the first show will be Thursday January 6th, 2011 at 11pm EST. You can listen to live at the official show page at BlogtalkRadio or download the show for free later. If you want to call in, the number is (805) 669-0209.
Enjoy the show!
Tonight's the night of the first episode of the Brainwrap in Theater 3 podcast! This is a live Internet call-in show that will broadcast on BlogtalkRadio and will cover just about anything and everything related to movies! Whether it's making, watching or selling movies, it'll be elligible for discussion.
As the above image shows, the first show will be Thursday January 6th, 2011 at 11pm EST. You can listen to live at the official show page at BlogtalkRadio or download the show for free later. If you want to call in, the number is (805) 669-0209.
Enjoy the show!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Disappointment in VHS land
I've mentioned before that I'm a rabid VHS collector. In fact, at this point, I have around 20 movies on VHS sitting in a stack that I haven't even had the chance to watch yet. As I continue to pick up movies, new acquisitions that I'm eager to watch end up pushing the older titles further down the stack.
The latest VHS pickup that I ended up watching just days after picking it up was the Richard Linklater film SubUrbia (not to be confused with the 1984 Penelope Spheeris cult classic that doesn't have the awkwardly capitalized vowel). I had always heard this film was pretty awesome and knew it never saw the light of the DVD (odd for a film produced in 1996). When I found it for a buck, I was so excited that it ended up finding its way to the top of the stack pretty quickly.
My high expectations certainly weren't met.
The film was a meandering, poorly structured and downright pointless tale of slacker life. I can understand that a movie about a bunch of teenagers whose lives don't have much direction could lack structure, but that doesn't mean it's going to be entertaining. For the first half, I slightly enjoyed SubUrbia, but it quickly wore out its welcome and by the last half-hour took a painfully bad turn toward drama.
I think I can sum up the problem with this movie pretty easily by what I did while rewinding the tape: I looked at the cast on the box and tried to pick out who was supposed to be the character I was supposed to like. I couldn't seem to find one.
The latest VHS pickup that I ended up watching just days after picking it up was the Richard Linklater film SubUrbia (not to be confused with the 1984 Penelope Spheeris cult classic that doesn't have the awkwardly capitalized vowel). I had always heard this film was pretty awesome and knew it never saw the light of the DVD (odd for a film produced in 1996). When I found it for a buck, I was so excited that it ended up finding its way to the top of the stack pretty quickly.
My high expectations certainly weren't met.
The film was a meandering, poorly structured and downright pointless tale of slacker life. I can understand that a movie about a bunch of teenagers whose lives don't have much direction could lack structure, but that doesn't mean it's going to be entertaining. For the first half, I slightly enjoyed SubUrbia, but it quickly wore out its welcome and by the last half-hour took a painfully bad turn toward drama.
I think I can sum up the problem with this movie pretty easily by what I did while rewinding the tape: I looked at the cast on the box and tried to pick out who was supposed to be the character I was supposed to like. I couldn't seem to find one.
 |
| A movie full of characters you probably won't end up caring about or liking. |
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The laziest blogger ever... oh, and do you remember A-Pix Entertainment?
Goddamn, I'm really terrible at this.
Having a full-time job, working on my web series 2 Dudes and a Sweet Prince, and just life in general has really left me with little time for my writing. I mean, it's left me plenty of time to leave facetious Facebook comments and listen to podcasts on my cell phone during slow days at work, but I've really been being lazy about my writings. I haven't even done a lame freelance how-to article for spare cash in months.
But I plan to get this blog on track for my New Year's Resolution. Expect to see some interviews, more reviews, and just random musings about movies. In fact, I'll start now.
The other day, my friend Andrew Shearer posted a picture from the 1997 z-grade horror classic Jack Frost, the direct-to-video slasher film where a psychopathic killer is turned into a killer snowman by an experimental acid. It's also a personal holiday favorite of mine and the picture reminded me it was time to break out the DVD, even if it was almost a week after Christmas.
Apart from being known for Shannon Elizabeth's first film role (where she's raped in a bathtub by a killer snowman - probably something that didn't manage to make it on her acting reel), the film is also known for it's tongue-in-cheek style and downright ludicrous special effects. I remember reading an interview with director Michael Cooney, where he briefly spoke of the film. Apparently, the script was written in a very serious tone with a multi-million dollar budget in mind, but when only a fraction of that could be raised, they took an entirely different approach and made it a comedy.
Of course, I'm not sure if everyone finds it to be funny, as the title alone can raise either smiles or scorn out of both the horror crowd or anyone that was forced to watch it back when A-Pix Entertainment's lenticular animation VHS boxes first hit video stores.
For a time in the mid '90s, it was impossible to escape A-Pix's amazing box art in video stores. Rarely did the film quality actually stand up to the luridly Photoshopped box art, but the movies were enjoyable in their own right. Most of the time, it was because they were campy good fun or just the most ludicrously bad horror film you could imagine (though usually of significant production value that would actually merit their slots on the shelves).
I've often found myself searching for A-Pix VHS boxes, since most of the gimmicky designs didn't get reprinted for DVD. The only one I've managed to pick up is Werewolf, the MST3k classic that features a werewolf who wears pants and at one point, drives a car. I wish I could remember more, but that would require actually watching the film again. I just bought it for the 3-D cover.
Having a full-time job, working on my web series 2 Dudes and a Sweet Prince, and just life in general has really left me with little time for my writing. I mean, it's left me plenty of time to leave facetious Facebook comments and listen to podcasts on my cell phone during slow days at work, but I've really been being lazy about my writings. I haven't even done a lame freelance how-to article for spare cash in months.
But I plan to get this blog on track for my New Year's Resolution. Expect to see some interviews, more reviews, and just random musings about movies. In fact, I'll start now.
 |
| Probably not her proudest moment. |
Of course, I'm not sure if everyone finds it to be funny, as the title alone can raise either smiles or scorn out of both the horror crowd or anyone that was forced to watch it back when A-Pix Entertainment's lenticular animation VHS boxes first hit video stores.
For a time in the mid '90s, it was impossible to escape A-Pix's amazing box art in video stores. Rarely did the film quality actually stand up to the luridly Photoshopped box art, but the movies were enjoyable in their own right. Most of the time, it was because they were campy good fun or just the most ludicrously bad horror film you could imagine (though usually of significant production value that would actually merit their slots on the shelves).
I've often found myself searching for A-Pix VHS boxes, since most of the gimmicky designs didn't get reprinted for DVD. The only one I've managed to pick up is Werewolf, the MST3k classic that features a werewolf who wears pants and at one point, drives a car. I wish I could remember more, but that would require actually watching the film again. I just bought it for the 3-D cover.
It appears A-Pix has gone bankrupt, but re-opened under different names a few times. They reappeared under the name Ardustry Home Entertainment in the early 2000s and started rereleasing a lot of their '90s catalog on DVD. Now, it appears Ardustry has become Allumination Filmworks. Regardless of what their name is, they will probably never be able to top the days where all you needed to sell a movie was a box that would change when people walked past it.
 | ||||
| Before... |
 |
| ..and after. |
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Long time, no blog
Wow, it's been a long time. I wrote most of this entry a month ago, but I've just been too busy to finish it up.
Sorry folks. Looks like I'm getting off to a bad start with this blog, but I at least have good reason. While I was planning this blog to just be articles and reviews about film, I'm going to divert from that and post about what I've been up to this past month.
Looks like I'll have to take that "popcorn sales associate" off of this blog's description. On August 26th, I got word from the owners of the Warner Theatre (where I've been employed since 2006) was going to close on September 5th, 2010.
This was devastating news for so many different reasons. As a filmmaker and movie geek, I was sad because now there was no place in Morgantown (or even West Virginia) that played arthouse and foreign films and the theater where I had screened and premiered every film I've ever made was going to be gone. The Warner was also the main location in my "Faces of Schlock" segment "Mike Wuz Here." As a person, I was sad because I had to find a new job to pay to the rent and college students had just returned to town, so my prospects were a bit slim.
I spent 27 hours at the Warner during the last two days, because no one else could work or maybe did not want to. It was rough at times, but I had already grown very sick of hearing people come in and tell me how sad it was that we were closing and ask what they could do to save it. Unfortunately, they were mostly people I had never seen at the Warner in the four years I had worked there and they apparently didn't understand that a business like a movie theater can't survive unless people actually, you know, come to the movies.
In fact, I'm so sick of talking about why the Warner was closed, ways it can be saved and who's responsible, that I'm not going to do it. But if you're an eccentric millionaire who wants to keep the place open, contact the owners before they sell off all the original fixtures.
My last day there was really interesting. After getting home from a 15 hour shift the night before, I had a brilliant idea: Michael Raso of Alternative Cinema and The Film Photography Podcast had sent me two rolls of expired (in Nov. 1982!) Kodachrome 8mm film several months ago. Since Kodachrome is only going to be processed until the end of this year, I knew I had to shoot something soon. After giving up on about three different short films I was thinking of shooting on the film, I realized that it would be perfect for a documentary about the Warner. What better way to capture something that's going to be gone forever in 2010 than with a film stock that is going to be gone forever in 2010?
My friend and fellow "Faces of Schlock" director Andrew Shearer had suggested that I make a documentary, but I didn't want to do it because I was too close to the subject. But then I realized that there was a very specific subject I could focus on: the staff tradition of "signing" the Warner on your last night. I came up with how I was going to sign it at the same time I realized that making a documentary about the tradition would actually be interesting.
So, I came to my last day of work armed with Kodachrome film, a Eumig C3 8mm camera, Sylvania Sun Gun for lighting, and a Canon HF M300 HD camcorder for areas that would be difficult to shoot with the 8mm camera (or if the film was too far expired). I was going to make a short film on expired 8mm film and HD video while working my final shift at the theater, which was a rough 12 hours straight. It was a crazy idea, but I pulled it off... unfortunately, not without injury.
As soon as I got some time off in-between shows, I started shooting exteriors of the Warner. For interior shots I needed, I loaded the Eumig and put it on the same tripod mount as the Sun Gun. Just to explain, the Sylvania Sun Gun is a '60s-era movie light that is insanely bright and provides the correct color lighting for film. It also gets insanely hot and could probably blind you if you look at it directly for more than 10 seconds.
Well, I was trying to film shots in the Warner's concession stand/ticket booth (affectionately referred to as "the box") and some people came in the door. I had to take care of them, so I had to move the tripod out of the way to get to the counter. Well, the tripod was broken and tilted the light right down on to my arm, leaving one of the nastiest burns I've ever had. The customers then walked out without saying a word. I had to wrap my arm up, continue shooting and finish out the shift, despite repeated urging from others that it may require medical attention. I never went and it's already healed, so I think I made the right choice.
The film actually turned out quite neat. Despite expiring 27 years ago, it still yielded very good detail, but the colors were all tinted purple and there were some scratches (probably due to an unmaintained camera more than the film stock). It does give it an interesting look, though. The purple look reminds me of how aged 35mm film prints look... for example, the print of "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" we screened at the Warner was purple and reeked of vinegar. I got the same results, but without an unfortunate odor. It appears that I can color correct the film to make it look a bit more proper too.
Expired Kodachrome 40 (with color correction test) from Justin Channell on Vimeo.
However, the telecine from Dwayne's Photo is a bit too soft for my taste. The real film print has better detail, but do remember that the wonder and reputation of Dwayne's is more on the chemical side of photography than the video and digital side. I can accept that their 8mm/Super8 transfers are mediocre, considering the fact they're the last lab to do Kodachrome and their film processing is practically flawless.
The middle of the day was pretty neat. There were a lot of people coming by to say their farewells and we even put out some sidewalk chalk to let people write messages. I wrote the owners' business number in front of the doorway underneath the words "For any complains, please call," which I might not have done if I had realized the owners were coming later to help and observe. The best comment comes from former Warner-ite and "Faces of Schlock" actor Chris Rhodes, who wrote "Find a new place to take a shit and pass out while you wait on the bus."
A lot of people were coming in to take pictures, including Jacob Young, the director of "The Dancing Outlaw." We had been playing the new Jesco White documentary "The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia" for about two months and I had always wanted to do an event with Jacob's films, but that unfortunately never happened.
The end of the night was pretty rough. We had a lot of people turn out for the last shows, but I also had to deal with our "extra help" which actually made dealing with the crowd even worse. Imagine filling two concession orders at once and having someone hand you money for a drink order they just filled and ask why you haven't helped anyone else. I felt like leaving right then, but I'm either that dedicated or that stupid.
After everything was settled, I ducked into "Dinner for Schmucks," which was officially the last movie that ran at the Warner Theatre (beating all other titles by about 10 minutes). I ended up getting emotional and had to hide in the projection room. After a few minutes, I turned up the projection room monitors and watched the movie to try to cheer me up. Upon deciding it was godawful, I was feeling good enough to go back down, but as more and more people asked me what was going to happen with the building and so-on-and-so-forth, I finally just started being very blunt, bitter and honest with people.
I finally left a few minutes after the extended help had to ask me what to do with a pile of trash after they had swept it up. There were two empty dust bins about three feet away. I'll let you figure out what the correct answer is on your own.
It took me a few days to really get all the sadness out, but it didn't help that the day after the theater closed, I took a terrible job selling cell phone covers at a kiosk in the mall. I ended up working one 11 hour shift (which they required) and spent the last four hours not selling any phone covers, being constantly hassled about said lack of sales and fighting tears when I thought about how good I really had it at the Warner. So yeah, that wasn't for me and I didn't go back... they didn't even take my Social Security information, so I'm not expecting to be paid. But also, keep that in mind if you're thinking about taking one of these insanely shady jobs.
What helped cheer me up was my birthday celebration. I usually don't do much, but I decided that I really deserved it. I had multiple celebrations with friends and family, but the best came when I found out "Basket Case" director Frank Henenlotter would be at the Horror Realm convention in Pittsburgh, PA a few days after my birthday. I had kept in touch with Frank since booking "Basket Case" for a midnight show at the Warner a few years ago, which is one of my favorite films and an event I was really proud of (despite a lackluster turn-out... but the people who did come had a great time).
Getting to meet Frank definitely helped bring closure to the whole ordeal, when he explained to me that working in a movie theater is a "magical experience" and that I should be glad that I even had the opportunity to do so. There's nothing quite like having a director you admire make you realize the most positive outcome of your situation in person.
Since then, I've been serving banquets and such in the kitchen at the Hilton Garden Inn. It's not the greatest job, but it's decent money and less stressful. I just got another job as a bank teller, so hopefully having some financial support will help my film endeavors a bit more.
Sorry folks. Looks like I'm getting off to a bad start with this blog, but I at least have good reason. While I was planning this blog to just be articles and reviews about film, I'm going to divert from that and post about what I've been up to this past month.
Looks like I'll have to take that "popcorn sales associate" off of this blog's description. On August 26th, I got word from the owners of the Warner Theatre (where I've been employed since 2006) was going to close on September 5th, 2010.
This was devastating news for so many different reasons. As a filmmaker and movie geek, I was sad because now there was no place in Morgantown (or even West Virginia) that played arthouse and foreign films and the theater where I had screened and premiered every film I've ever made was going to be gone. The Warner was also the main location in my "Faces of Schlock" segment "Mike Wuz Here." As a person, I was sad because I had to find a new job to pay to the rent and college students had just returned to town, so my prospects were a bit slim.
I spent 27 hours at the Warner during the last two days, because no one else could work or maybe did not want to. It was rough at times, but I had already grown very sick of hearing people come in and tell me how sad it was that we were closing and ask what they could do to save it. Unfortunately, they were mostly people I had never seen at the Warner in the four years I had worked there and they apparently didn't understand that a business like a movie theater can't survive unless people actually, you know, come to the movies.
In fact, I'm so sick of talking about why the Warner was closed, ways it can be saved and who's responsible, that I'm not going to do it. But if you're an eccentric millionaire who wants to keep the place open, contact the owners before they sell off all the original fixtures.
My last day there was really interesting. After getting home from a 15 hour shift the night before, I had a brilliant idea: Michael Raso of Alternative Cinema and The Film Photography Podcast had sent me two rolls of expired (in Nov. 1982!) Kodachrome 8mm film several months ago. Since Kodachrome is only going to be processed until the end of this year, I knew I had to shoot something soon. After giving up on about three different short films I was thinking of shooting on the film, I realized that it would be perfect for a documentary about the Warner. What better way to capture something that's going to be gone forever in 2010 than with a film stock that is going to be gone forever in 2010?
My friend and fellow "Faces of Schlock" director Andrew Shearer had suggested that I make a documentary, but I didn't want to do it because I was too close to the subject. But then I realized that there was a very specific subject I could focus on: the staff tradition of "signing" the Warner on your last night. I came up with how I was going to sign it at the same time I realized that making a documentary about the tradition would actually be interesting.
So, I came to my last day of work armed with Kodachrome film, a Eumig C3 8mm camera, Sylvania Sun Gun for lighting, and a Canon HF M300 HD camcorder for areas that would be difficult to shoot with the 8mm camera (or if the film was too far expired). I was going to make a short film on expired 8mm film and HD video while working my final shift at the theater, which was a rough 12 hours straight. It was a crazy idea, but I pulled it off... unfortunately, not without injury.
As soon as I got some time off in-between shows, I started shooting exteriors of the Warner. For interior shots I needed, I loaded the Eumig and put it on the same tripod mount as the Sun Gun. Just to explain, the Sylvania Sun Gun is a '60s-era movie light that is insanely bright and provides the correct color lighting for film. It also gets insanely hot and could probably blind you if you look at it directly for more than 10 seconds.
Well, I was trying to film shots in the Warner's concession stand/ticket booth (affectionately referred to as "the box") and some people came in the door. I had to take care of them, so I had to move the tripod out of the way to get to the counter. Well, the tripod was broken and tilted the light right down on to my arm, leaving one of the nastiest burns I've ever had. The customers then walked out without saying a word. I had to wrap my arm up, continue shooting and finish out the shift, despite repeated urging from others that it may require medical attention. I never went and it's already healed, so I think I made the right choice.
The film actually turned out quite neat. Despite expiring 27 years ago, it still yielded very good detail, but the colors were all tinted purple and there were some scratches (probably due to an unmaintained camera more than the film stock). It does give it an interesting look, though. The purple look reminds me of how aged 35mm film prints look... for example, the print of "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" we screened at the Warner was purple and reeked of vinegar. I got the same results, but without an unfortunate odor. It appears that I can color correct the film to make it look a bit more proper too.
Expired Kodachrome 40 (with color correction test) from Justin Channell on Vimeo.
However, the telecine from Dwayne's Photo is a bit too soft for my taste. The real film print has better detail, but do remember that the wonder and reputation of Dwayne's is more on the chemical side of photography than the video and digital side. I can accept that their 8mm/Super8 transfers are mediocre, considering the fact they're the last lab to do Kodachrome and their film processing is practically flawless.
The middle of the day was pretty neat. There were a lot of people coming by to say their farewells and we even put out some sidewalk chalk to let people write messages. I wrote the owners' business number in front of the doorway underneath the words "For any complains, please call," which I might not have done if I had realized the owners were coming later to help and observe. The best comment comes from former Warner-ite and "Faces of Schlock" actor Chris Rhodes, who wrote "Find a new place to take a shit and pass out while you wait on the bus."
A lot of people were coming in to take pictures, including Jacob Young, the director of "The Dancing Outlaw." We had been playing the new Jesco White documentary "The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia" for about two months and I had always wanted to do an event with Jacob's films, but that unfortunately never happened.
The end of the night was pretty rough. We had a lot of people turn out for the last shows, but I also had to deal with our "extra help" which actually made dealing with the crowd even worse. Imagine filling two concession orders at once and having someone hand you money for a drink order they just filled and ask why you haven't helped anyone else. I felt like leaving right then, but I'm either that dedicated or that stupid.
After everything was settled, I ducked into "Dinner for Schmucks," which was officially the last movie that ran at the Warner Theatre (beating all other titles by about 10 minutes). I ended up getting emotional and had to hide in the projection room. After a few minutes, I turned up the projection room monitors and watched the movie to try to cheer me up. Upon deciding it was godawful, I was feeling good enough to go back down, but as more and more people asked me what was going to happen with the building and so-on-and-so-forth, I finally just started being very blunt, bitter and honest with people.
I finally left a few minutes after the extended help had to ask me what to do with a pile of trash after they had swept it up. There were two empty dust bins about three feet away. I'll let you figure out what the correct answer is on your own.
It took me a few days to really get all the sadness out, but it didn't help that the day after the theater closed, I took a terrible job selling cell phone covers at a kiosk in the mall. I ended up working one 11 hour shift (which they required) and spent the last four hours not selling any phone covers, being constantly hassled about said lack of sales and fighting tears when I thought about how good I really had it at the Warner. So yeah, that wasn't for me and I didn't go back... they didn't even take my Social Security information, so I'm not expecting to be paid. But also, keep that in mind if you're thinking about taking one of these insanely shady jobs.
What helped cheer me up was my birthday celebration. I usually don't do much, but I decided that I really deserved it. I had multiple celebrations with friends and family, but the best came when I found out "Basket Case" director Frank Henenlotter would be at the Horror Realm convention in Pittsburgh, PA a few days after my birthday. I had kept in touch with Frank since booking "Basket Case" for a midnight show at the Warner a few years ago, which is one of my favorite films and an event I was really proud of (despite a lackluster turn-out... but the people who did come had a great time).
Getting to meet Frank definitely helped bring closure to the whole ordeal, when he explained to me that working in a movie theater is a "magical experience" and that I should be glad that I even had the opportunity to do so. There's nothing quite like having a director you admire make you realize the most positive outcome of your situation in person.
Since then, I've been serving banquets and such in the kitchen at the Hilton Garden Inn. It's not the greatest job, but it's decent money and less stressful. I just got another job as a bank teller, so hopefully having some financial support will help my film endeavors a bit more.
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