Burning Man 2017 – Advice to Burgins from a former Burgin
So, you want to go to Burning Man eh? Awesome!! Just putting your intention out there is the first step!
I had always been aware of Burning Man, even though like most people I wasn’t completely sure what it was. As luck would have it, I had a year long contract finishing up just before The Burn in 2016, so I would have the time and money to indulge. The stars had aligned.
I started with checking out burningman.org which is an excellent, if somewhat confusing place to start. There is a lot of great information here – there is a lot of information here actually, some of it great, a lot of it outdated, and generally it’s a bit of a rabbit’s warren, but persevere. Check out the First timer’s guide set up to cater specifically for Burgins (first time Burners), especially the 10 principles. I can’t stress enough how important these are – no there is not going to be an exam, but if you are a Burgin, the best way to get your head around the ethos, the way the community of Black Rock City functions and how to deport your self while at Burning Man and beyond is to get a descent understanding of the principles.
A short note on gifting – People are often confused by the gifting concept and the gifting economy, and it can tend to stress Burgins out on what exactly gifting is and what their gift is – well it did me anyway. Black Rock City is not a barter economy as many in the
Cruising around the playa on a bike is one of the true joys of Burning Man.
default world wrongly equate. It is a gifting economy; in that you give your goods or services without the expectation of anything tangible in return. As for what your gift is to give on playa, that’s up to you. As a Burgin, you don’t have an obligation to be gifting at this early stage – you are the gift, your awe, your wide-eyed wonder add to the splendor of the event. However, if you’re a poet, a masseuse, an artist of any kind, if you make delicious desert treats, or can fashion cups out of dust (cups are king in Black Rock), that’s wonderful. Just remember, you don’t want to be adding to MOOP (Matter Out Of Place), so avoid anything that people might drop or could easily blow away, bits of plastic and paper and NO GLITTER!! Whatever you do, don’t be advertising your home business, if you’re an artist or something fine include a website I suppose, but not a business address to your home made bath bomb distillery.
I then decided to head over to YouTube, to get an idea of what I could expect to see on the ground. I kind-of-sort-of didn’t want to do this, I saw it as spoilers, but it was worth it to just see what it was like, and to get me excited when it seemed all too hard, too far away
I got to the man, knew I wanted to get some photos of me naked there but I got there and was like – ok but now what do I do?
or too impossible. Hug Nation in particular has a huge library of videos from past burns, how to’s, tips and tricks for burners of all experiences. YouTube also shows you what people bring, what people wear, the weather conditions and lifestyle on the playa. Choose your own adventure as far as costumes go, but never forget, goggles, headlamp, scarf/facemask or some kind of airway protection during dust storms, and a pair of sensible shoes. Now, wars have begun online when it comes to the definition of what a Burner’s sensible shoes should look like – some say heavy duty camping boots, some say you need at least a steel toe, yada yada. I brought some boots, I only wore them during set up as we had a lot of rebar in the ground and sharp things about, but once the festival was on the way I ditched them in place for my runners, and I was fine.
Now, I had to decide if I wanted to join a camp, and if so which one? I made my mind up fairly early that I definitely did want to join a camp, for a number of reasons. Firstly, I wasn’t going with anyone, which was my preference, but I still wanted a group of new compadres to come back to at the end of the day, or beginning of the day as it so often happened. Another consideration was logistical; just getting my costumes, tent and my back pack with my clothes for the rest of my journey to the playa was a pain in the ass, let alone my bike as well. A weeks worth of food, some way of storing it, cooking it, extra
Just after the best breakfast on playa, or in America I think I ever ate! But sadly just before I lost that little red dress…
shade cloth or protection for my tent from dust storms, any number of other bulky items that would not fit in to the overhead compartment traveling from Australia was not feasible for one individual on a budget, who was going traveling through two more countries for another two and a half months after The Burn. But how to choose a camp? Again start with Burningman.org, they have a list of camps, what the camps do, where they are based, and if they are open for new members. This may or may not be updated for whatever time of whatever year it is that you happen to be reading this, but at least you will have names of the camps and an idea of what they do. Do you know what kind of camp you would like to camp with? A camp with a spiritual focus? Maybe you want to join an Art Car? Do you want a camp that’s local to you? There are soooo many camps that you are bound to find something right up your alley. For me, I wanted to camp in a camp that was LGBTQI, took the spiritual side of Burning Man loosely seriously, friendly and fun. Next stop, Facebook.
Decisions decisions! You should have a list by now of camps you’re interested in, most camps have a page or group or both on Facebook, so go on, go Face-stalk a bit, they won’t mind. During this extended research phase, you might discover that they have their own website, with application forms, pictures and information from this year or previous years – this in itself is a good sign; a camp that has the where-with-all to have a website clearly has some organisational skills. Organisational skills are important for all things relating to Burning Man; you have no idea how many .XL spreadsheets it takes to dance naked in the desert. When you find a camp or camps you really like the look of, reach out, contact the moderator of the group, e-mail the website, or just say ‘Hi!’ on the page and introduce yourself and your shtick.
I decided to join the Sun Guardians, they’re a LGBTQI+ camp with plenty of straight alleys, they specialise in providing yoga, tea and ramen – all things I enjoy! I applied in April 2016 online, had my Skype interview and that was that – I was in! All I had to do was pay my dues and I was an official Sun Guardian, which I did. This covered getting all the kitchen gear, the shower, shade clothes, decorations and much more. So now I was a part of a Burning Man camp, sans a Burning Man Ticket.
Sun Guardians Camp – 2016
In 2016, there was a bit of a screw around with the release of tickets, they ended up being released pretty late due to the Nevada live entertainment tax and Burning Man’s fight against that. I already had bought my flights, booked hotels and everything else basically, aside from the ticket itself. Finally, the day of the individual releases came! I woke up at 4 A.M. in plenty of time for when they would go on sale at 5. I made my coffee and waited. I logged in about 5 minutes before 5, and already I was in the cue! But how, it was supposed to be at the crack of 5!? This would go on to be a thing, that I’m not going to get in to here. Suffice to say, Burning Man or Ticketfly or someone somewhere stuffed up and let some people in early, so the tickets were all gone in minutes, and I didn’t get one.
You can imagine at this time, I am somewhat stressed. The very reason for my epic journey, is the very last thing to be secured and paid for, and it’s eluded me. However my very supportive camp mates reminded me that if I really want one, I will get one, somehow, some way. There are some options if you find yourself without a ticket, there
The View from the Sun Guardian’s front ‘patio’
are a few more rounds, with very limited tickets, and an official resale program, though I’ve heard there is usually quite the backlog. So, how did I do it? It was a Sun Guardian miracle! Because I had joined a camp, I was in this community of wonderful people who were aware of my plight and had their ears to the ground, should they hear of someone selling their ticket – and that’s exactly what happened! Not only that, I received early entry and late access passes, so I was able to see Black Rock City rise from the dust and then disappear.
The last thing I really had to organise was my gear and my bike. As far as costumes, I had been getting ready for this my entire life. I used ebay to make sure I had the essentials – dust mask, goggles, utility belt, headlamp, more costumes. All my camping gear and heavy boots would come from Walmart in Reno, which I tried to order to pick up online, but it is the most diabolical website known to human kind. I decided to get my bike
I so wish I could have shipped this baby back to Australia, or burried him, somewhere in the mountains of the Sierra Nevada to await my return, but it’s better to pass on my good fortune to the next rider!
through Kiwanis Bikes in Reno, that was advertised in the official Burning Man Newsletter, The Jack Rabbit Speaks. The way it works is you donate $50US to reserve a bike, (do this WELL in advance – I think I did so in February or March 2016) then once you arrive you have a whole stable of lovingly restored bikes to choose from. Since it was that or Walmart, and Kiwanis seemed like a better cause than Walmart, I went with them.
By the time I got to Reno, I decided I would pick up all my gear before checking out the ‘sights’ and ‘enjoying’ the ‘city’ of Reno. I decided to pick up my bike first, so went off to Kiwanis – it was amazing! All these bikes donated by past Burner’s, lovingly restored to working order, most still decorated from last year!! I found my Bucephalus – they adjusted the seat, handle bars, and made sure everything was working – amazing! It gets
Robot Heart – Deep Playa at Sunrise – one of the best experiences of my life, in the middle of a giant best experience of my life.
better; there’s a little room with a whole bunch of stuff that burners had donated over the years – costumes, tents, sleeping bags, kitchenware, suit cases, boots, anything and everything you might, and I did, need. You get to pick 5 items, I chose a suitcase, sleeping bag, and some decorations for my bike. After I opened the suitcase properly, it turned out there was a camp cutlery set in there as well as someones MOOP bag – Score! I hung around Kiwanis for about three hours just talking with the volunteers there about their job, Burning Man, Australia, the oncoming election (Hilary was in town). Definitely my favorite people and place in Reno. The rest, which was just my cup, (VERY IMPORTANT – GET 2 or 3, with a handle, and carabiners so you can clip them to your belt, pants necklace, piercings, what-have-you) my tent, boots, snacks and water and colour job on my hair came from Walmart, which I started off loving but ended up hating, though it’s less painful than an Australian Westfield. Even if you are part of a camp, it is YOUR responsibility to take YOUR share of water – at the end of the day, it is still about radical self reliance, and that is a very basic way that shows you are not a glamour pony. (Glamour Pony sounds like a good thing but it is not. It is essentially someone who rocks up to play costumes, with no concept of the environment or the people around them and what it actually takes to survive.)
‘The Man – 2016’ Da Vinci’s Workshop
My last key points of advice:
- Take photos, but remember the concept of Immediacy – take it all in with all your senses. Anyway, you will look at the photos while you are on playa and think ‘What’s the point?’ but when you get home you will look at them and realise they are some of the best photos you have ever taken! Still, be judicious with the snaps.
- Bring water everywhere – you never know what random strangeness might find you along way from camp, in any kind of state. You will need water.
- Don’t bring anything with glitter – it is the mother of all MOOP and a pestilence upon the playa. Leave it to sparkle up the default world where it belongs.
- Bring a personal zip lock MOOP bag like the one I found in the suitcase.
- Anything you don’t need when you get back or won’t use again another year, give to your camp mates or fellow burners, donate it, find it a good home. Kiwanis will take bikes and literally any other burner gear, that’s where all my costumes, my bike, my tent, everything is, I hope someone enjoys them in 2017 as much as I did in 2016… You might want to turn the sleeping bag inside out.
- Remember, YOU are burning man, YOU are the main event, YOU are what everyone is there to see! Make the most of your time, see and do as much as you can, because you won’t be able to do it all. Don’t get too fucked up, too much of the time.
- If you are feeling out of it, overwhelmed and that it’s just too much, talk to someone, other Burner’s in your camp that have done it all before, visit one of the chill spaces for a while, or if you are in a really bad way don’t hesitate to visit one of the med tents, they will sort you out.
There’s no doubt so much I’ve forgotten to mention, but I’ll leave a list of links that I used that I found useful below. I just want to say Burgin, that I love you, I’m sorry that I’ll miss you in 2017, but I hope I see you in the dust soon. Welcome home.
Helpful videos:
Official Burning Man Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCfVAyiqfH6gUq5FwzfoP2YA
Hug Nation: https://www.youtube.com/user/halcyonstyn
Helpful Links:
Official Burning Man Website: https://www.burningman.org/
Kiwanis Bikes: https://www.kiwanisbikes.org
Queer Burners (for LGBTQ Burning Man Participants): https://www.queerburners.com
Time To Burn App: https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/time-…
Burner Map – A Facebook App that let’s you see where your friends are camped on Playa: https://www.burnermap.com
Facebook Groups:
Queer Burners Global Social Network: https://www.facebook.com/groups/250295325089174/
Sydney Burners: https://www.facebook.com/groups/287660834668414/
Aussie Queer Burners: https://www.facebook.com/groups/327480927453161/
Burning SEED Australia: https://facebook.com/groups/314821065195149/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Jacobharrisonofficial/
Instagram: KOBJAC
Twitter: @Jacobharrison00
SnapChat: kobjac
Previously on Me…
Hi there, welcome to my first post on the history of me – not a complete history, just a background of who I was and where I was at before I left on my travels. I’ll continue with these posts, through my travels, falling in love, getting home, breaking up and trying to put myself back together again, all the way to where we are today. You can get an idea behind my motivation of why I’m doing this, and why I want to leave Australia, teach English, and continue indefinite adventuring.
You can’t unexperience something, good or bad. I don’t know which you learn more from, or which causes more trauma; to live through a really horrific, violent and hateful situation and to be finally set free, to rehabilitate and learn to live with the physical and mental scars, or having experienced true joy, true happiness, even true love – and losing it. The latter seems to cause a deeper and more insidious pain, but I’m still learning from the experience and so incredibly grateful for it, even for the pain.
It’s a little difficult to describe the person I was before my experiences on my travels and everything that’s happened since then; while some things remain the same, it’s my mind,
As seen on Grindr
Experience is not like theory or abstract concepts or the news that can be ignored, I could ignore that México even existed before I went there; it was just romantic images on a screen or words in a book, cartoons, films and legends. Maybe it’s an Australian
Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, 2016.
Some not so pleasant experiences that happened to me – I spent several years in an abusive relationship, physically, verbally and mentally. I won’t go in to the details of what that fucker did to me, but it left me pretty broken for a long time, diagnosed with depression, anxiety disorder, bipolar type 2, PTSD, all treated intermittently with too much alcohol or too heavy medication, both of which I was happy to take because it meant I felt nothing, no love no hate no fear no anger – which is probably what kept me in that comfortable hell for so many years. Not to mention, with all that emotional numbness I either never learned or forgot proper coping mechanisms that most adults have to deal with emotional issues, memories, pain and stress – we will come back to that later.
In 2014, I got out, I had to, or I was going to die, one way or another. We remained quasi friends I don’t know why for the next two years till I cut him out altogether during my travels, but finally, I was single, and I loved every minute of it! I got in to shape, and I was banging, or getting banged by, every pretty young thing in Sydney! Well a lot of them weren’t that pretty. And most were older than me. But still, lots of banging, and I was happy. I had a kind of nihilistic confidence, a ‘Yeah I’ll do that, doesn’t look too high, I’ll jump off that, I’ll strip naked on a stage, I’ll fuck what ever ‘cos fuck it we’re all slowly dying anyway!’ kind of confidence. That’s something that’s definitely changed actually, more of an internal change, now the internal monologue reads ‘Every day is a gift, and so are the beautiful wonderful people of the world, I want to get to know them all and explore this amazing place! And who cares if other people don’t like me, it’s time to dance and be happy because I deserve to be happy! So come on, let’s fuck!’. An example of one of the mental shifts that may not be apparent from the outside.
So, what brought me to go adventuring?
I was working as a Research Assistant, my first job I ever had as a result of my degree and starting to make some money, which I feared. I didn’t like the idea of having money, the job was a one year contract and I didn’t want to get to the end of it with some considerable savings only to have it whittled down on bills and food and nonsense. Ever since I was a child I wanted to travel, to live in other countries, and up to this point, aside from a few jaunts in New Zealand and Papua New Guinea, my inner child’s been missing out. Thinking of my inner child, I actually had known for some years my first travel destination – The Burning Man Festival in Nevada, U.S.A. – The best place in the world for adults to play! To discover themselves and each other, to appreciate the universe and – wait I’m getting ahead of myself, I didn’t know that and so much more then, that’s for a later post. I don’t know, it was the art, the environment, the music and the philosophy that drew me to the festival, but it was after watching some YouTube videos of people at the festival or having just come back, there was just something, something in their eyes, they knew. And I wanted to know too.
I decided to book my flights, for better or worse, through a travel agent. It was useful actually, having someone to bounce ideas off who was familiar with my trip, especially after it became increasingly complex and expensive (although that was largely after her suggestions). What started off as a week at Burning Man and two weeks split between San Francisco and Vegas ended up as that plus a month and a half in Mexico, a week in Cuba, then back to the States for Halloween in New Orleans before heading home.
I didn’t know what to expect out of my two and a half month holiday to the US, Mexico and Cuba. I was starting my trip, (wink), at Burning Man, heading to Cuba because I like socialism in theory and communist chic in practice, but Mexico was – I can’t say exactly what it was, but I have had this recurrent desire to visit Mexico ever since I can remember, watching the cartoon Mysterious Cities of Gold, as well as the Zorro movies with, ahh… Antonio Banderas, one of my first man-crushes. But in reality, I had no idea what to expect from Mexico, even though I was spending the majority of my holiday there. All I had planned was a week in Mexico City, followed by a tour winding through the south and over into the Mayan Riviera, ending up on the island of Cozumel for two weeks, before heading to Cancun for a few nights. The planning for Burning Man was intensive, which is probably why I was so unprepared for Mexico, which turned out to be a good thing, surprises are what life’s about, more about Burning Man, and surprises, in my next post.
It seemed for a long time, to be such a long time till my holiday, until it was stressfully imminent, and then it was upon me. My parents dropped me off at the airport, I checked in and did all the super fun airport stuff, that would become oh just so much more fun with each and every leg (SYD – LA, LA – Los Vegas, Vegas – Salt Lake City, Salt Lake City – Reno – Thanks Delta!). I had no idea what to expect, I knew it would be amazing, and I knew I would have crazy, wild experiences, but honestly, I could not have dreamed, hoped, and sometimes not even wanted the experiences that happened to me. After you have seen how good it can be, that’s all you want, and that is painful.
The moment I set foot on that plane, nothing would be the same again.
Welcome! Bienvenido!
So, what is this anyway? Originally, using video, a blog, and social media all linked together, I had the idea to follow the story of how my partner Bernardo and I met, true love at first sight, how we would work to be together, and follow our happy ever after – unfortunately, particularly from a narrative perspective, we broke up. Still, the structure was there to do… something.
Check out the first Episode!
Eventually, when I could write something that wasn’t covered in tears and bile, I decided to take that structure to talk about my new plans: I’m learning to teach English as a Foreign Language, so I can travel indefinitely, living a life of passion and adventure while actually being of service to people! TEFL is a pretty interesting subject that people get in to for all kinds of reasons, and I could probably help others learning to teach by including posts on everything ESL (English as a Second Language), including Learning ESL, Interviews with ESL teachers, getting a job, giving example lessons, suppling helpful links and all that jazz. It’s a pretty crazy story that lead me to this decision to completely reassess my life, so I really should tell you what’s happened to me since I left Australia and after I returned. Over the coming months, follow my journey as I prepare to leave for good, along with what I’m doing now to milk the most out of my time left in Australia.
So that’s the basic structure, I’ll cover one week YouTubing and blogging on my story, followed by a week on all things ESL and then the third week is a bit of a wildcard; it could be topical, like the gay scene in Sydney compared with Mexico City or why I want to leave Australia, and why I love Mexico so much. I might do a video on whatever is going on for me right now or the world in general, it could be a show with guest YouTubers or maybe a show where I go on some adventure, learning to dance or practicing my Spanish, maybe get some viewers involved in some way, I don’t know, but they should be a lot of fun.
Eventually, it’s going to be a bit of a travelogue too, as the show follows me on my adventures in my new home country, getting a job, and making a new life for myself. And fi
nding the seven other Lost Cities of Gold, I already found two. More on that later…
I’m going to be posting a new video every weekend (Australian Eastern Standard Weekends), sometimes with a mid-week special, so pretty, pretty please subscribe! I will generally include a matching blog piece right here at the same time. I’ll have much more regular updates of Twitter (@Jacobharrison00) and Instagram (@KOBJAC), but the best way to keep up with what’s happening is on my Facebook page at facebook.com/Jacobharrisonofficial – that’s where all this stuff is going to be wrangled.
Thank you so much for stopping by, I’m sure we’re going to have a lot of laughs, and a few tears along the way, but mostly laughs – jeez I hope! See you next time, lots and lots of love!!!
YouTube:
Facebook: facebook.com/Jacobharrisonofficial
Instagram: @KOBJAC
Twitter: @Jacobharrison00
SnapChat: kobjac
Popcorn Taxi – Upstream Color + Q&A – Review
By Jacob Harrison
Wednesday, 14 August, Event Cinema Bondi Junction – I’m not entirely sold on auteur theory, sorry JL and FT. For good or for ill, it takes a village to make a film. The writer needs to shape a script that can be translated and transferred from the page to the screen. The actors have to get inside the skins of their characters, giving them flesh. The Director of photography has to be a master technician and artisan in order to deliver the desired effect on screen. Sound design is essential in establishing the tone of the film, eliciting through sound the subconscious emotions that existed before language. The editor uses the combination of images to create meaning, writing visual poetry that makes cinema unique as an art form. Without the producer, the whole thing is a theoretical exercise. It’s the director’s prerogative to wrangle these folks together to make a singular, unified product, putting their own unique stamp on it ideally. However, there are certain films that you have to say, belong to the director – Shane Carruth’s Upstream Color is one of those films.
I was a massive fan of Carruth’s debut film Primer (by the way, you need to see Primer), so when I heard Popcorn Taxi was presenting Upstream Color + Q&A with Shane Carruth, what else could have I done? Carruth not only directed, he wrote the script, he acted, edited, produced, handled distribution, composed the original music and operated the camera; not only did he do all this, he also did a great job – at the lot.
‘Is it because you’re the world’s biggest cheapskate, or is it because you’re the world’s biggest control freak?’ Oscar, the host of the night, asked the disembodied voice of Shane Carruth, on the line from Paris.
Shane Carruth. Courtesy of nolanfans.com
‘Probably both,’ laughed Carruth, ‘It started off as a necessity and then, I have to admit it, it’s become something else. For a lot of it, it’s just really practical, for example when I’m thinking about who am I going to get to as the composer of the film? Well I don’t really know any composers and we didn’t really have the money to hire one anyway. While I was in the writing process I was composing music that I thought of as the score, so to be honest, if I had of hired someone to do that all I would have done is probably driven them mad, trying to get them to write music I already had in my head or already written. It’s just a weird situation, and that translates across all departments. I dunno’, it feels easier just to do it yourself instead of try explain it, but that can be a very negative thing for everyone else in the production, because I become a log jam for the process. At this point I’m just going to own up to being a control freak, but I do think there is something earnest in an author being involved so intimately with all of the tools you can use in film making. I know I enjoy it as an audience member because it’s fun being challenged or asked to take something apart, but I want to know that once I do that there’s something underneath it, that there’s some meaning, and I think that’s more likely with a singular voice. You’re not going to find out that something you thought was interesting and challenging, once I take it apart that it was just something introduced by the second guy that did a re-write and it’s an artefact now that isn’t really meaningful in any way to the end result. That’s my long winded answer.’
‘When you’re putting it together, is there a particular role you feel most comfortable in?’
Promo Poster. Courtesy of indiewire.com
‘At this point I don’t know how to take them apart. I feel really strongly that writing and directing are the same thing, or at least they should be if film is going to find its proper form and not be a book that you can watch… I think there needs to be a more intimate relationship between writer and director, and if that means it has to be the same person I think that’s a very good thing… I couldn’t write something I didn’t direct or direct something I didn’t write… it’s just too intimate to separate.’
Upstream Color is a bizarrely beautiful film, with a story told in an unconventional way. Carruth is a skilled editor; he tells the story poetically through imagery, each shot is a thought or an idea weaved together with the next, there’s minimal dialogue and no direct exposition, which made me feel happy… I won’t go in to much detail (do yourself a favour and go see this with as limited information as you can, but if you must), suffice to say Kris, played by Amy Seimetz ( Wristcutters: A Love Story, Tiny Furniture), the female protagonist has a pretty terrible incident happen to her early on that make her question who she is, who she was, and what she can be moving in to the future.
Carruth’s performance is good, but Amy Seimetz who plays Kris is superb. There is very minimal dialogue throughout the film, but the onscreen chemistry between the two is dynamic. Seimetz is also a director (Sun Don’t Shine), and it was through watching her films that Carruth thought she would be great in the role; she clearly understood narrative and character development. After seeing her audition, he was sold.
The acoustic ‘sweet spot’ of a pig farm. Courtesy nybooks.com
This is one of the most beautiful pieces of screen imagery I have seen in a long time. The colours leak on to the screen like an inky paint brush in clean water. The incredibly narrow depth of field used in many of the shots gives the impression of wandering through a dreamscape.
When asked about influential film makers or films, Carruth said ‘I don’t have anything esoteric, it’s basically the same film makers that everyone recognises as having a strong voice. I respond to everything that P.T. Anderson makes. I’m very influenced by Soderbergh, and Winterbottom, I revisit a lot of his films, they’re just so strong. I’m trying to think if there’s anything special, but it’s just the same ones that every film school geek likes!’
The sound is eerily beautiful, a collection of found sound, synthesisers and base rumbles reinforce the inner turmoil of the two protagonists as they try and make sense of themselves and the reality they have come to know. Also, I can’t stand pigs and the horrible noises they make, but this film won me over.
Babe 3: Pig in existential crisis. Courtesy hellohelicopter.livejournal.com.
Carruth spoke about the project he is writing now, called The Modern Ocean. Set in exotic ports or at sea, The Modern Ocean is a romantic tragedy about the rivalry between small shipping companies that design and sell shipping routes for various commodities, dodging pirates, privateers, terrorists and weather events. The Modern Ocean will be a break away from Primer and Upstream; a relatively straight adventure without ‘fantastical elements’ and a decent sized budget. I want to go to that.
Towards the end there was a question from the audience, ‘I know how this question is going to sound before I ask it, but please don’t think I’m that guy. Both Primer and Upstream Color are very much boxed in the realm of science fiction, so I’m genuinely interested to know if you have encountered a lot of fan fiction generated by either project, and particularly any cosplayers?’
‘Wow that would really be something! No I haven’t, no no, wait oh no I haven’t, but I have seen poster made for both films.’
As I left the cinema, the modern gentleman who asked the question handed my friend one of these:
Courtesy http://brucegreen.org/uccc/
Perhaps my next adventure in Screen Culture? Well, perhaps one of – there is so much going on in the coming weeks and months under the umbrella I label as Screen Culture. With the Sydney Underground Film Festival, The Sydney Fringe Festival and the inaugural Queer Screen Film Festival all creeping closer, Stay Tuned for further updates.
Related Articles:
http://brucegreen.org/uccc/ – Upstream Colour Cosplay Club.
http://jordanandeddie.wordpress.com/2013/08/14/opinion-piece-steven-soderbergh-a-forgettable-career/ – Critique of Soderbergh.
http://www.popcorntaxi.com.au/2013/07/events/upstream-color-qa-with-director-shane-carruth-live-from-paris/ – Official Popcorn Taxi.
LIVE – Part Two, NOW HEAR THIS, 31 July 2013.
LIVE
Mel Tait, ‘Now Hear This’ Promo
By Jacob Harrison
Part Two – Now Hear This, 31 July 2013.
It had been a long day. Ugg wiped the sweat off his protruding, Neanderthal brow as he entered his cave, carrying the carcass of a Sabre-tooth tiger over his broad, hairy shoulders. He and the lads had been fighting the mighty cat since the early morning, and Ugg was relieved to be home with his kin. Cousin Err was visiting from a cave in a neighbouring valley, and once their bellies were full with tiger meat, Err regaled the cave with stories of high adventure. Ugg would be taken on a journey without leaving the cave, a journey across time and space that would sooth his sore feet, calm his nerves and lull him to sleep….
Skip ahead, sometime after the Epic of Gilgamesh. I climbed the final flight of stairs leading to The Attic of the Arthouse Hotel in Pitt Street, Sydney. It had been a long day, first week back at university after the mid-year break and I wasn’t used to the early 10AM starts. I wiped the sweat off my protruding, Neanderthal brow as I entered The Attic, then after taking my overcoat off my broad, hairy shoulders I accepted the piece of paper offered to me by Amanda, the friendly young woman on the door to Now Hear This. I made my way to the bar for a scandalously expensive but luckily delicious lemon, lime and bitters.
After waiting for the change that never came, I turned around and was met by a familiar face. We glared at each other for a few moments until it clicked where we knew each other from.
‘Hi, Belinda?’ I stated/asked.
‘Hi! We met at the Writer’s Centre last week didn’t we….?’
‘Jacob’
‘That’s right. Are you going to tell a story tonight?’
I thought about it, but no I said. I used this blog as an excuse – I wanted to get an idea of the range of different story telling experiences Sydney has to offer, and then commit to telling a story.
Belinda made her way back to her peeps as I surveyed the room for a seat. It was a full house, warm and cosy as only a pub can be in the wintertime. The Attic was a nice space for a storytelling night; about the size of a small-medium sized pub, with high lead-lined ceilings and soft light that illuminated the broad mix of characters that made up the audience. Hipsters and arty types mixed with suits and preppies of all ages, everyone very relaxed, very friendly. I could see myself telling a story to these gentle folk.
The Attic Bar
I found a seat and sipped my LLB, getting my pen and pad ready for notes. I had a look at the paper Amanda had given me. In between story tellers, the host reads out short, anonymous stories written on slips of paper that asked a question on the nights theme. Tonight’s question: “When were you completely, utterly, absolutely busted?” Jesus Christ where do I begin!? Busted doing what? How much detail do I give? And what is actually meant by busted? It could mean a million things! Is there a word limit? Luckily at that moment I got a tap on the shoulder – It was Sheila, another panelists from the talking writing event and a producer of Now Hear This.
‘So what do you do? Are you a writer? Are you telling a story tonight?’
‘Well I’m studying again, I try to write when I have the chance – I started up a blog recently…’
I told Sheila about this project, she introduced me to Mel Tait, producer and Host of Now Hear This and asked if I could use the photos of the night for my blog
‘Sure, Hi, I’m Mel, do you want to tell a story tonight?’
This was an ongoing theme of the night – who are you, what do you do, are you telling a story. It was good, I got to hone my bio with each introduction.
‘No not tonight, this is my first time.’
‘Next time?’ Mel Asked.
‘Next time.’ I replied.
‘Ting-a-ling-a-ling’ the noise of a pen in a wine glass cut through the soft pub banter. The Show was about to begin.
Mel introduced the night, and explained how it works, ‘Each story teller gets five minutes to tell a true story that happened to them relating to tonight’s theme which is?
‘Busted!’ the audience answered collectively.
Mel Tait show casing one of the prizes.
Photos by Ross Waldron
‘Very good! Our esteemed judges will score our story tellers, then at the end of the night Sheila will add up the scores, first, second and third place get a prize!’ Mel introduced the three teams of judges, ‘The Passionfruits’, ‘The Fudges’ and ‘The Totes Lol’s’
Mel Called out the first story teller, ‘Christian Remo. Christian Remo?’ But there was no Christian Remo in the house. Mel moved on to the next name – Tiger Webb.
‘Metal handcuffs on cold skin.’ Tiger began.
Tiger told the story of being 18, shirtless and shitfaced in Vancouver, 2008. Tiger was representing Australia at the World Ultimate Frisbee Championships, which he described as ‘something rich, white people did before the GFC hit’. Being the last night before returning home it was time to party, but there was a problem. Although of legal age in Australia, in Vancouver the legal drinking age is 19 – such an odd number – Tiger found himself separated from his team mates and being arrested for underage drinking, but things soon got worse. Another interesting legal fact about Canada – Did you know that urinating in public is considered a sex crime in Canada? Well, neither did Tiger.
Tiger Webb. Photos by Ross Waldron
Tiger managed to get back to his hotel the next morning to find his team mates and his belongings had already checked out. Thankfully his team mates had got word of Tiger’s predicament, packed his bag, booked him a later flight and let the world know via Facebook that Tiger had been ‘BUSTED!’ by the Canadian Mounties.
A pretty great story to start on, and Tiger was met applause and three scores of 8.5 – what are the odds of that?
The next story came from Tom Hadley, a lad with a red beret and Welsh accent.
‘The swinging sixties never came to the Welsh valleys, because we were already promiscuous.’ Tom told us about the time his parents had gone away for the weekend when he was 17, leaving him home alone – well not quite alone. He and his girlfriend were upstairs in his parents’ bedroom when they heard a knock on the door. Tom thought, ‘Shit, I’m (with the crowd) Busted!’ It must have been his girlfriend’s Dad – who else could it be? Being an engineer, Tom had a cunning plan. His girlfriend slid down the wall outside the bedroom window, however this managed to rip her stocking and cut her leg quite badly. Tom made his way downstairs, let her in the back door so it didn’t look like they were coming down from upstairs together and answered the front door. It wasn’t his girlfriend’s Father at the door, but his Sister, in tears after leaving her husband. The couple showed her in, and consoled her over a cup of tea, everyone ignoring the elephant in the room – his girlfriends ripped stocking and cut leg, now bleeding profusely. Years Later, When Tom found himself consoling his sister again after leaving her second husband, he asked if she remembered it.
Tom Hadley. Photos by Ross Waldron
‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘it was quite obvious you two were busted!’ Tom returned to his seat, making his way through the applause. Mel announced, ‘Tom gets the Best Accent Award’, to which Tom yelled out ‘I put it on!’
During the first two stories, Christian Remo had been discovered and it was now his turn to take the mic. ‘This is a story about race relations in America.’ Christian told the story of being a young, white college kid in Connecticut. Christian’s roommate was an über stoner, but that was ok because his Dad was an über lawyer. One day Christian and his roommate were buying pot from two dealers in the street, they happened to be African-American. Suddenly the police show up, the boys move back and the police start questioning, and then arresting the dealers. The police finally turn to the boys, who knew Christian’s flatmate and they knew who his Father was. They accepted that the boys were ‘just passing by’, no further questions. Christian ended the story with ‘When you’re a white kid who’s friends with a stoner who’s dads a big time lawyer, you can get away with a lot.’, receiving a respectable 8, 8.5,and 8.25 from the judges.
The next story was from Kathrine McClellan, recounting a childhood visit to Sydney. After the journey from Bowral.
Kathrine McLellan. Photos by Ross Waldron
Kathrine’s family finally arrived at the hotel. The first thing Kathrine and her Mum did was change in to their swimmers and jump in the pool – a perfect way to relax after a long day. After her swim, Kathrine went looking for her Mum’s hair dryer, she started looking through her Mum’s bag when she found a little green box. Inside the little green box there was a collection of little, white, bullet looking things, with tiny little strings attached. On the outside of the box was a warning ‘use at own risk’. Straight away Kathrine knew what they were. ‘Mum’s on drugs! She exclaimed aloud; Kathrine’s Mum worked as a lab technician, so she was thinking it was a Breaking Bad situation. Kathrine gave her Mum the cold shoulder for the rest of the afternoon.
The next morning, Kathrine had a moment alone with her Brother, she told him the big secret, ‘Mum takes drugs!’ Kathrine proceeded to show her 11-year-old brother what she had discovered.
‘No, those are tampons!’
‘What are tampons?’
Kathrine’s eleven year old Brother with one sex education class under his belt realised at this point he was going to have to explain to his little Sister what tampons were.
After he explained what he knew about the menstrual cycle and what she had to look forward to, Kathrine wished they were drugs!
The crowd cheered, and Kathrine received the highest scores so far:
The Passionfruits – 9.5.
He Fudges – 9.25.
The Totes Lols – 9.
It was time for the intermission, the crowd was friendly and booze had made people all the more hospitable. I was newly single, I was sober, in a pub amongst smart people with similar tastes – I was intimidated. No, intimidated is the wrong word, but tonight I didn’t have the crutch that a partner or alcohol provides. I just didn’t know what to do, what people do, or what happens. Last time I was single in a pub I was a shit-faced ever-ready bunny and everything was so much easier. I guess I told stories back then, but they were one-on-one, highly exaggerated and no one clapped when I finished.
Courtesy of Now Hear This
Me and my Beanie, taking notes. Photos by Ross Waldron
Anyway, I got talking to people. I talked to a guy, Roger (or Rashad, I’m not sure, it was a pub), a civil servant from Canberra who studied microbiology or molecular biology at uni. I talked to a few of Mel’s friends, including Kathrine McLellan, and congratulated her on a great story. It really was a warm, happy crowd, and everyone was eager to talk. It seemed split pretty evenly down the middle between people who had been to plenty of live, storytelling events before and people who had never been. Live story telling is trending, strange, that when people have access to more and more content on a variety of rectangles that perhaps the oldest form of content delivery is having a renaissance. But this wasn’t exactly like Ugg listening to stories in a cave, more like kids telling stories in a tree house. Up in the attic telling stories, it was adults at play.
Marie McMillan. Photos by Ross Waldron
The first story teller after the break was Marie McMillan, a bescarfed lady with a slight English accent, she reminded me of a very camp, theatrical Sir Ian McKellan – like when he plays himself on Extras. Marie recounted several occasions when her approach to parenting got her ‘Busted!’ For example, she thought that ‘heads, shoulders knees and toes’ was a little simple for her children, deciding to teach them the parts of the body in Latin instead, so when her Daughter fell over at school, and the teacher asked her why she was crying she was able to say precisely ‘I fell on my rectum!’ She was so entertaining, telling her story with such animation and delivery, it’s hard to do justice with just a picture.
Marie received some great scores from the judges, and as the night proceeded the scores became all the more unyielding,
‘9.25’ The Passionfuits called out.
’11!’ from The Fudges, much to Shelia’s anger.
’Nope, I’m making that a ten!’ Shiela snapped back.
‘7’ from the Totes Lols.
The next story teller was Peter Grzic, with a story that could have been out of a nightmare.
Peter Grzic. Photo by Ross Waldron
‘Ever since I was a little kid I wanted to sky dive.’ Not Only did Peter want to skydive, he wanted to do it solo. For his eighteenth birthday his family got him a skydiving course, and after learning the correct way to fall out of a plane, the big day of his first solo jump arrived. The instructor explained to Peter that when you pull the rip cord, you pull it all the way out of the harness, but make sure to hold on to the handle – not a safety issue, but they charge you for the rip cord if you loose it. Peter being an eighteen year old uni student was determined not to fork out money for a rip cord.
Peter jumped out of the back of the plane, and his instructor jumped right after. Peter was having the time of his life, floating around, making sure to keep his eye on the horizon, and then the time came to pull the cord. Peter Pulls the cord and waits for the parachute to deploy. And he waits. Little did Peter know, a small spring had become jammed in the parachute. At this point his instructor jumped on to Peter’s back, put his knee down on it and ripped open his parachute – Peter at this point completely unawares.
It wasn’t till Peter and the instructor got back to the centre that the instructor explained that his parachute was ‘busted’. Strangely enough Peter’s first reaction was ‘Cool!’. It wasn’t until he had packed up his gear and returned it to the counter and the lady asked, ‘Where’s your rip cord?’ He remembered having it at 3000 ft. after he had pulled it out, but he didn’t know what happened to it, so he begrudgingly handed over the fifty dollars for it. Later when he got home he replayed the incident in his head, trying to figure out what happened to his rip cord – he had dropped it when the instructor had shaken him!
Peter told a great story, and told it well earning him an outstanding 9.5, 9.5 and a 9.5.
Next, Helen Townsend told us a heartfelt story from her past. Helen was always called the fat kid in school. The cute uniform never fit properly, and from the age of thirteen she became a connoisseur of diets. By the age of 20 she had begun the ‘Ice-cream diet’ – essentially all she could eat during the day was apples or ice-cream.
Helen Townsend. photo by Ross Waldron
It was 1967; one half of Helen’s mind was obsessed with sex and radical politics, the other half with food and dieting. She worked across the road from Woolworths, and outside Woolworths was an old jockey scale operated by a creepy man, a man that knew her well – she had herself weighed a few times a week there, ‘it was a special kind of public humiliation.’
On Thursdays, Hellen would creep past the jockey scale guy to get in to Woolworths to see the “Liquorice Lady”. ‘She was sex, with immaculate red lipstick and black beehive hairdo’. The Liquorice Lady extolled the virtues of her special organic, exotic liquorice, it would take the waste products from your system and improve your complexion. ‘The samples were free, it must have been partly my neurosis and partly my Scottish heritage, but I couldn’t walk away from that. ‘
One day though, as she took a piece of liquorice from the tray, the Liquorice Lady grabbed her arm and hissed ‘I KNOW you! You take, take, take, but you never buy!’
Helen quickly pulled away and made for the door, ‘As I made my way through the aisles of Woolworths all I could hear in my head was Fat Girl! Fat Girl! Fat Girl! I’ve never told that story to anyone. Not till tonight, forty-five years later.’
There was resounding applause, and the scores reflected the audience’s engagement, with 9.5 from The Passionfruits, a typically complicated 9.357 from The Fudges, and 8.75 from the Totes Lols
Tim Dennis told the penultimate story, about a road trip through country NSW. He was driving through a tiny town with his mates in the back of his ute. They passed some kids in the street, who started yelling and flipping the lads the finger, generally being brats. The lads laughed, turned around and went for another drag down the main street, more kids are there doing the same thing, and the lads were revving them up. They turn around again, and even more kids doing the same thing.
Tim Dennis. Photo by Ross Waldron.
They drive on to the motel, but need to go out for grog. They jump back in the ute and find a drive through bottlo. After they enter the drive through, another ute enters the opposite end so he can’t drive on. Tim looks in his rear view mirror and sees legs kicking out of his ute as some guy tries to get in, another guy approaches Tim, leans through the window and CRACK, lands a punch on Tim’s jaw. This was the first time Tim has ever been really punched.
They managed to get back to the motel, but still needed to get some more supplies. They head back out, Tim’s driving and the lads are in the back. As they’re driving, a siren goes off, and Tim is pulled over by cops. It probably would have been fine, but Tim’s mates jumped out of the ute and ran off, leaving Tim ‘BUSTED!’
Tim was fine, he was taken to the station but he wasn’t over the limit or anything, still he had to walk back to the ute – 6 km or something. He got back to the motel, asked how many drinks his mates had, they said around nine or ten. Tim lined up eight shots – he remembers the first five. Next thing he remembered, he was being held by his pony tail vomiting on the toilet.
Tim received a 9, a 7.75, and a 8.25.
The final story of the night came from CJ. CJ approached the mic and spoke.
‘I can barely speak, but I can…. I like feet. Did you know there are 26 bones in the foot?. Breasts are boring!’ He made his pro feet, anti breast agenda very clear over the next minute or two, when he received a suggestion from the audience.
‘How about a story?’ someone asked.
I won’t get in to the fine details, but he essentially had a naughty dream about feet while he was on a plane. Then he walked off, receiving a 7, 7.25, 7.25.
‘That’s one of the great things about Now Hear this, we don’t know what kind of stories we’ll get – that’s also why we don’t go out live!’ Mel laughed as she returned to the microphone. Sheila tallied the scores and came up with the final verdict.
Host Melanie Tait.
photo by Ross Waldron
‘In third place, we have Helen Townsend (Liquorice Lady Story).
‘In Second place – Kathrine McLellan (Tampons Story)
‘And finally, in first place we have Peter Grzic!’ (Parachute Story, Listen to it here: ‘Busted’ PETER GRZIC (Slam Winner))
Mel thanked the story tellers, congratulated the winners and wished Sheila a fond farewell – it was her last Now Hear This before heading overseas. The audience, now exhausted after maintaining a state of perpetual applause, began to slowly clear the room. It was a school day tomorrow after all.
I did the rounds as The Attic cleared out. Again and again that night I was asked ‘What do you do?’ With each introduction the idea became more cemented into my head. ‘I’m a Writer and Screen Editor. Mostly creative non-fiction at the moment. At the moment? No, I’m studying again, full-time. When I finish? Well I’d like to get in to documentary film making. Yeah, I had a great night, next month? Yep I’ll be here, fingers crossed I’ll be telling a story…’
I saw Belinda on the way out and told her more about my blog idea, she recommended The Yarn, another story telling event in Gleebe. I’ll have to check that out too, but my next stop on this story telling adventure is The Story Club on the 7th of August. It should be a good night; it’s going to be part of the Storyology Festival, with a collection of international guest invited to tell a story. Until next time, Stay Tuned!
LIVE – Part One – Talking Writing and Story Telling, 25 July 2013.
LIVE – By Jacob Harrison
Part One – Talking Writing and Story Telling, 25 July 2013.
I crossed Victoria Road in Rozelle on a particularly cold July evening. After making my way from the City and its barrage of unpleasant smells, noises and people, Victoria Road seemed idyllically quiet in comparison. I made my way up the road passing inviting restaurants and cosy pubs, until I had to left the well-lit street and entered the darkness of Callan Park.
‘It was a psychiatric hospital,’ I learned later from a tall, scarf laden man, ‘The grounds are huge, there’s even a swimming pool further along, and you probably passed the tennis courts on the way in.’
I really hadn’t been paying attention to the facilities. All I could make out was the looming silhouettes of sandstone buildings, tiny isolated cottages, enormous old fig trees – it must be beautiful during lunch hour – but not right now. Now it was dead creepy. I heard the cackling of fruit batts above me and scurrying of possums in the trees that would kick the old flight or fight response in to action. Occasionally a dog-walker or jogger emerged from the darkness, I held on to my copy of Palahunik’s Damned tight just in case I needed to go upside anyone’s head. I still had no Idea where I was going, I just followed the occasional dimly lit green sign pointing the way to the NSW Writer’s Centre.
Copyright: Gibson Nolte
mail@gibsonnolte.com
I entered the building through the kitchen – I really was lost – it wasn’t until I made my way to the foyer of the historic Garry Owen House that I got an idea of the grandeur of the place. A restored Georgian Mansion, once an administrative building and school for nurses in the old Callan Park Mental Hospital, it now serves as the NSW Writer’s Centre. As the foyer began to fill up I realised that I was amongst the youngest there – which is always nice, but I thought there would have been a younger demographic attending a discussion on live story-telling events. At first I felt a little out of place and a little bit dumb in this company; a tweed jacket with leather elbows, maybe even a smoking pipe would have made feel a little more comfortable, but I needn’t have worried. The crowd was open and chatty, the atmosphere made all the more hospitable by the surprising warmth of the building and the fragrant odour of mulled wine.
I am a major fan of Live Story telling – even though I have only experienced it through my ear phones so far. I want to experience the Sydney story telling scene, and this was a great opportunity to get a lay of the land; a discussion on live storytelling events, made popular through podcasts like The Moth, This American Life and RISK!, usually held at bohemian style pubs and bars in Brooklyn and other hip and faraway places. I expected more twenty-thirty somethings, but the fifty-sixty somethings were representing tonight.
Copyright: Gibson Nolte
mail@gibsonnolte.com
The Audience made its way into an adjacent room where we were joined by the nights panellists. The panel consisted of Sheila Pham, her articles and personal essays have appeared in Kill Your Darlings and The Big Issue Australia, she is also a producer of Now Hear This story-slam held at the Arthouse Hotel on Pitt Street. Also on the panel was Ben Jenkins, writer and comedian; along with his own blog abafflingordeal.com, Ben is a contributor to The Vine and The Daily Life, as well as co-creator of the live storytelling event, The Story Club at The Raval in Surry Hills. Finally Belinda Lopez, Executive Producer for ‘All the Best‘ on FBi Radio, Belinda has worked extensively in documentary radio and journalism at home and abroad, she can be seen telling stories at live events all around Sydney.
Sheila asked, ‘Has anyone been to a live story telling event before?’ There was a resounding silence as the panel waited for a response and the audience surveyed each other. No one looked really sure if they had or hadn’t.
‘I once went to a story telling event in when I was in Brittain,’ the voice came from the other side of the grey head in front of me, ‘it was held in a castle.’ She continued to explain, but I’m not entirely sure what it was she went to, but it didn’t sound like a live story telling event – at least I don’t think so.
There was some time spent sorting out what is meant by ‘Live story telling event. A live story telling event is not a poetry-slam, or a book reading. It doesn’t stick to a strict script necessarily, and it isn’t fiction.
Sheila began by explaining the event she produces for ABC Radio National, Now Hear This. The event is held at the Arthouse Hotel in central Sydney from 7pm on the last Wednesday of every month, drawing a broad audience from RN listeners, business people winding down after work, hipsters, artists, writers – anyone after a good yarn. Each night has a broad theme, the potential story teller’s put their name in to a hat and if their name is drawn they have five minutes to tell their story. The winner is picked by teams of judges chosen from the audience with first, second and third place get a prize.
Sometimes stories work, sometimes there are flops. Some stories will make you laugh, some will make you cry, often both. They may not be able to air some stories on RN due to legal reasons, but the only censorship on the night is the story teller’s, usually to protect the innocent – story tellers, especially Australian story tellers are particularly self-deprecating.
‘What’s the ratio of happy stories to sad stories?’ A lady asked Sheila.
‘It really depends on the night, the theme and the audience. That’s part of the attraction of live story telling events; the spontaneity and the interaction between the story teller and the audience.’
‘Yes, but could you give me a rough estimate? Like sixty-forty, fifty-fifty?’
The panel exchanged raised eyebrows, no one could really answer that – but she really wanted to know.
No matter if the story is happy or sad or what the story teller is like, audiences are almost always supportive and engaged – unless they smell something funny.
‘People have an in-built bullshit detector.’ Ben piped in. ‘At The Story Club evenings there’s a somewhat more formal structure. They’re all true stories, but there’s a selection process and the stories are workshopped before the night between the story teller and myself and co-producer, but things can still go awry on the night.’
Ben spoke about one story teller he had workshopped with. Everything was prepared, and although digression and spontaneity can be exciting and embellishment expected, this one story teller just went over the top. No one was rude, but people stopped engaging with the story teller; out and out lies really stink the place up.
Belinda contested that this was not always the case; she recalled an experience she had at a live story telling event. A young Irish girl told a harrowing story, from her arrival in Australia to being tricked in to working at a property in outback NSW, so far out and paying so little that it was essentially indentured servitude, and she was eventually forced in to prostitution. The audience was utterly shocked and moved by the young girl’s story, as was the audience on this night.
‘Turns out she made it up!’ Belinda quipped, met by the audiences’ sounds of disbelief.
It was discovered during post-show drinks that the girl made it up; the revelation spread through the pub like chicken pox and people were equally as irritated. Although the story was false, she never said it actually happened to her.
Semantics. I would have been so pissed. It’s the empathy, the exposure of wounds, the compatriotism, the raw emotional connection between an audience and a story teller that initiates a kind of catharsis – that’s what’s drawn me to the live story telling scene. Or at least at this stage, story telling podcasts. It was interesting what Ben had said earlier, that there were plans to make The Story Club in to a TV show. They filmed some performances that on the night were exciting, punchy, and entertaining, but watching them back they were ‘boring as bat shit. It’s so hard to translate the energy of the night.’ I was looking forward to experiencing that energy myself.
Ben expanded on Belinda’s point, ‘What draws people to these events is a need for self-authenticity. That’s probably why a large portion of the audiences are often artists and writers, in their late twenties to early thirties – pre-midlife crisis types.’ Ben looked at the audience tonight, and continued, making reference to this audience, ‘We need more older people to come to these events – not old – but older than us. After all, we’re in our twenties, we haven’t done anything yet!’
The night came to a close and people began to leave, I said a quick thankyou and goodbye, and made my way back to Victoria Road through the darkness of Callan Park. As I walked, I slowly digested the evening. I had to decide what to do with this new information. Being an avid fan of story telling podcasts, I got used to feeling sorry for myself that I couldn’t get to a Moth live show in the States. Now I find there is indeed a thriving story telling scene here in Sydney, so what do I do now?
After years of passive learning, writing much but publishing little thanks to my own lack of effort mixed with fear, its time to take action. It’s time to put myself out there, get networking, try on new things and see how they fit. Sooner than later I would like to be able to sustain myself through my various media wares.
The first step has already be taken – this blog. I am going to slip up from time to time (before you comment I am well aware my grammar sucks), but doing so in public will give me the opportunity to learn from my mistakes, fast. My next step is to attend three story telling events in Sydney, culminating in telling my own story, live in front of an audience. I’ll start by going to the next Now Hear This, followed by The Story Club a week later. My third stop will be the following weekend, Tell Me A Story, then I’ll bring it back to Now Hear This at the end of August where I will hopefully tell my own story. I’ll report back on what the evenings are like – the stories, the story tellers, the atmosphere, the audience, and how little old me fits in to the nights happenings. Cross your various bits, wish me luck and Stay Tuned!
Popcorn Taxi – ANTIVIRAL + Q&A – Review
By Jacob Harrison
Monday, 29 July, Event Cinema Bondi Junction – Popcorn Taxi hosted a screening of ANTIVIRAL and live Q&A with Director Brandon Cronenberg (yes, son of THAT Cronenburg).
ANTIVIRAL is a film that is hard to place neatly into a box. Part sci-fi, part horror, with a healthy dose of satire ANTIVIRAL is a film about a possible future where the cult of celebrity is more of a ubiquitous epidemic than it is today. A future where the lust for knowledge and connection with the intimate private lives of celebrities has made some disturbing developments. Still, it wasn’t as disturbing as the media coverage of the royal baby.
ANTIVIRAL is Cronenburg’s first feature, and had the honour of being shown at Cannes. Although it received a warm reception, Cronenburg had one small gripe.
‘Nobody Laughed. It got zero laughs… and if no one laughs I assume they hate it, it’s supposed to be funny, but we got good applause after the end credits.’ croaked a sleepy Cronenburg, on the line from Toronto, still in his underwear. For him, it was 7AM and the lack of caffeine was palpable. The Aussie audience was more receptive to the subtle, dark humour.
Brandon Cronenburg
The film is visually and audibly stunning; it was a pleasure to experience it on the big screen in surround sound. ANTIVIRAL is basically a two-tone film – red and white; the stark, sterile whites of the set interlaced with the crimson of lipstick – or blood. You truly appreciate the ominous score of the film in the cinema. The score and original music is a mixture of different old-school synthesisers and acoustics by Cronenburg’s cousin E.C. Woodley. The sound underscores and enhances the films already ominous tone. There are a few great performances here from a troupe of talented actors, including Malcolm McDowell (Clockwork Orange), but Caleb Landry Jones (X-Men: First Class, No Country for Old Men) playing the lead role of Syd stood out. The film would not be the same without his brooding, icy screen presence – and man, can he take a beating. The pace feels a bit laggy at times, and eventually you do begin to tire of seeing poor Jones falling and writhing about, but all in all, a great flick. 8/10 if I had to put a number on it.
Malcolm Mcdowell & Caleb Landry Jones
The Cameo from Malcolm McDowell lead to some speculation on Cronenburg’s influences, but whether it be his cagey nature or the time in the morning, he was reluctant to give anything away, from influential films, directors or movements to what his next project might be. Although he admitted there are two or three projects he’s working on, he was reluctant to say much about them, but he did say he is likely to go down the sci-fi/thriller road again. After the distinctiveness of ANTIVIRAL, the next Cronenburg project will be one to look out for.
By the way, if you’re not a fan of needles, this may not be a film for you. Cronenburg explained that although they had a great art department, a lot of the needle shots were performed by a nurse on willing volunteers. ‘Most of it’s real, but there were some trick shots.’ Cronenburg sounded fairly sure it was all legal and above board.
I’ve just bought my ticket to the next Popcorn Taxi event, the screening of Upstream Color followed by a Q&A with Director Shane Carruth. I’m really looking forward to this. I decided I enjoyed Primer immensely once I had uncrossed my eyes and put my brain back together, and with mysterious allusions to Carruth watching Popcorn Taxi, how could I resist?
Malcolm Turnbull and the Need to Compromise
Malcolm Turnbull and the Need to Compromise.
This is an article of mine was published on Grapeshot On July 20. It examines what conflicts and compromises Malcolm Turnbull may have to make soon regarding the prioritising of the ETS roll out, referencing Q&A from Monday the 8th of July – and how things could have turned out differently.
Jacob Harrison.org --- 