Digital Storytelling in the Video Age

Tyler Jones on the Southern Makers Documentary

Tyler Jones and his team at 1504 Pictures make documentaries, commercials, music videos, and short films. While 1504 works across diverse genres, each of their projects share a common quality: a love of storytelling. Whether the story is about a not-for-profit’s efforts in its community, a band’s search for meaning, or the importance of place, 1504 uses the narrative power of documentary to tell sophisticated stories.

Short films currently dominate the internet, and therefore, dominate media. Jones explained that film’s primacy results from its universality compared to other forms of expression. “Film is the universal language. Writing does not travel well. Film is a way to let people see and hear real people,” Jones said. Think of it this way - how often have you watched an un-subtitled video from somewhere like East Africa of Southeast Asia? Ok. How often have you read something, un-translated, from a newspaper or magazine from East Africa or Southeast Asia? Film conveys emotion, excitement, wonder. Film provides visual stimulation that anyone can understand, regardless of the language they speak.

That’s why Southern Makers partnered with Jones to create a short documentary film about the artistic process, featuring four Southern makers. Jones traveled across Alabama, spending time with Chef David Bancroft of Acre in Auburn, Andrew McCall, a basket weaver from Lowndes County, Mary Anne Pettway and Lucy Mingo, two of the Gees Bend quilters, and Artist Butch Anthony of Seale.

With Bancroft, Jones wanted to show the hunting process all artists must go through as they think about the materials that will make up their works. Since Bancroft is a chef, they went turkey hunting. McCall and Jones wandered the woods looking for wisteria for basket weaving in what Jones called the “gathering” process, a step more focused and preparatory than “hunting.” After the hunting and gathering comes creating, where the women of Gee’s Bend have been creating their own improvisational, abstract style of quilts since the 19th Century. Finally, Jones filmed Butch Anthony, artist and curator of his own Museum of Wonder, to show the installation process. The film will show makers making, from start to finish.

Jones explained that the name of his company, 1504 Pictures, was a reference to the Renaissance. 1504 was a pinnacle year for Italian Art, a time when art stopped being created for art’s sake. In 1504, art began to develop layers, a voice, commentary beyond what was depicted. Jones and his team strive to bring the spirit of 1504 to their work, skipping surface level skimming and taking deep dives into complex, layered stories. Watch a couple of their videos, and you’ll find their efforts have been successful. 

SANTAAAAA!!!!!

WORDS Evans Bailey 

Who are we? Why are we like how we are?  Is it something engrained in our essence since birth, or do we learn to be ourselves over the course of our upbringing? Can we change who we are? Those questions and a little bit of Christmas cheer are the subject of this month’s film.

“Oh no,” you might say, “I’m not sitting though another one of those movies in black and white with subtitles. I’ve had enough of your artsy-fartsy stuff Capri Theatre, thankyouverymuch.” Well there’s nothing to worry about here, because we are talking about 2003’s Elf, a film so fluffy and light it makes cotton candy look like a Wendy’s Baconator.  

Buddy the elf (Will Ferrell) is an orphaned human raised amongst Santa’s elves at the North Pole. He is a true elf through and through, from the goofy shoes and hat, to the strict diet of candy, candy canes, candy corns, and syrup. One day, Buddy learns of his true origins, a magical place named New York City, and his real dad, a ball-busting children’s book publisher played by James Caan. His foundations rocked, Buddy sets off in hilarious fashion for the big city to see if he can get pops off the naughty list.

Buddy finds work at, where else, a department store and in its North Pole Christmas display.  While moonlighting as a fake elf, he meets his romantic interest Jovie (a pre-TV Zooey Deschanel), who’s a little burned out on the whole Christmas-thing. Buddy’s elf antics create havoc at work and some serious upheaval in Caan’s professional and personal life. Buddy tries to warm over his grumpy dad’s heart, and even manages to almost put in a “regular” day’s work (complete with “work clothes”), but its mostly all for naught until the end. The plot meanders a bit, but thanks to Santa’s late arrival, Buddy’s elf skills, and some (almost cheesy) Christmas spirit with an assist from a singing Jovie, Elf has a charming ending that ends up falling firmly on the side of nurture and human’s ability to change their cold, Christmas-hating hearts.

Elf is stupid fun, but it is most definitely fun.  Ferrell and a great supporting cast (Kyle Gass from Tenacious D, Ed Asner, Amy Sedaris, Peter Dinklage (“he’s an angry elf”), Mary Steenburgen, Bob Newhart, Andy Richter) are clearly having a lot of fun with the material, and director John Favreu’s (Iron Man, Made) light touch keeps the film from losing too much steam in its muddled middle.  Immensely quotable (“Not now arctic puffin!”), Elf is a modern Christmas classic that even a ball-busting children’s book publisher can enjoy.

Nerd Alert: Computer Chess, Reviewed

WORDS Evans Bailey  PHOTOS Jon Kohn

Computer Chess is an artsy/mumblecore version of the recent Ed Helms vehicle, Cedar Rapids. There’s a shitty hotel, a convention for nerds in a shitty convention hall, some partying, a hooker, and a convention head who thinks way too much of himself. But, where Cedar Rapids goes through the motions of a simple “don’t be so uptight” tale (WITH DRUGS), Computer Chess goes off on far more thought-provoking tangents (WITH DRUGS).

As the title implies, the glasses and short-sleeve-with-a-tie-wearing characters (and one girl) are gathered together to pit their chess playing computers against each other in a tournament to see which computer gets to play the convention’s human leader in a classic man v. machine matchup. Stuck together over some lost weekend in the late seventies or early eighties, the film loosely follows each team of programmers as they proceed through the tournament and interact in-between matches. There’s the academic squad, who’s leader may or may not be in cahoots with Pentagon, the loose cannon, who knows about the feminine side of programming but not how to reserve a room, and conspiracy spouting “fans.”  

Shot in a grainy gray befitting of the era, Computer Chess leaves Cedar Rapids in its wake based on its depth. The depth comes not from the chess action, which is rarely featured, but from the characters post-match (sometimes hazy) musings on chess and the burgeoning realm of artificial “intelligence.”  There is a dark current to the film, too. All of the players clearly love chess, the theory, and the competition, yet they gather together to play their favorite game by proxy. These are people who have poor social skills, ostracized by others, who don’t want to directly interact with one another in a “safe” place. The darkness is greatly underscored by the spookiness surrounding with the Cal Tech team. Their computer seems to be on the fritz, making suicidal moves that torpedo their chance of repeating as champions, but their young programmer learns in a late night session with the lone girl that his computer only wants to play (*GASP*) human opponents. We don’t learn until later that the Cal Tech device may be the second coming of HAL 9000.

With no real protagonist and no overarching message, the faux-documentary vignettes and tangents can be a little confusing at times. But there’s some deep stuff going on here, a little bit of the surreal, and a fair amount of squirmy humor too (and LOTS of cats). The young programmer’s almost three-way with some cult-like members is particularly cringe-inducing.

Released earlier this year to some fanfare at the Sundance Film Festival, Computer Chess is the fourth feature from Austin-based director Andrew Bujalski (Funny Ha Ha). The film has cult-potential, but the directing style and the lack of any recognizable actors (except maybe Wiley Wiggins, a/k/a Mitchy Cramer from Dazed and Confused) will probably keep Computer Chess from reaching Lebowski-like status. There’s also not enough heart here to make a classic.  In the end, the computers win.

Computer Chess runs at The Capri from November 29.

Feature Film at The Capri: Shaun of the Dead

WORDS  Evans Bailey

Shaun (Simon Pegg), is a loser. Thirty-something, he works a dead-end job washing machines and TVs. He lives in a dumpy flat with two buddies from college -- one asshole and one dimwitted, part-time pot dealer, Ed (Nick Frost). When his girlfriend gives him an ultimatum request for one dinner date after he spends their anniversary at the local pub, the Winchester, Shaun is too lazy to get a reservation in time. He also thinks his step dad hates him, but isn’t man enough to talk it out. His sole ambition is to go to the Winchester (“we do the quiz”) and laugh while Ed imitates an orangutan.

Sounds like a classic set up for a coming of age tale, right? The man-child gets a mentor or maybe faces some adversity, or both, and one montage later he can barely recognize his former self. He takes responsibility, takes initiative, and is interested in more than just the bottom of a pint glass. 

That’s probably what would happen in a shitty film. But Pegg, Frost, and director Edgar Wright (who co-wrote with Pegg), have something entirely different in mind. It’s nothing short of the zombie, sorry, “zed word,” apocalypse!

The first zom-rom-com, Shaun of the Dead, is a fresh, funny film, which follows Shaun on the very bad, no-good day when the dead rise to feast on the living. Even after the zombies show up, he can’t quit the Winchester. Before stopping for a pint and a little listen to Queen from the jukebox, he first has to lead his mum, step dad, girlfriend, her flatmates (David and Lucy), and sidekick Ed on a violent romp through the zombie-infested gardens and streets of London. Back at the pub, he keeps his shit and what’s left of his gang together (except literally for David), while the oncoming hordes force all of his immaturity issues right to the forefront. Shaun finally meets his problems, and a slew of the undead, right on the head and finishes the film a better man.

The high quality of the film is the product of the sharp writing from Pegg and Wright, who also teamed up on the underrated Hot Fuzz and this year’s World’s End.  They make too many calls and reference to classic zombie films to mention, but showed such appreciation for the genre that George Romero cast Pegg and Wright as zombie extras in Land of the Dead. In the midst all that tongue in cheek, though, the film weaves equal parts slapstick, trivia nerd bait, touching moments and gory violence befitting any undead infestation into an engaging story. Combined with Wright’s energetic direction, Shaun is truly “fried gold.”

You Haven't Seen... The Little Mermaid?!

WORDS Evans Bailey

The Tipping Point’s Outdoor Movie Night
We’ve All Seen...The Little Mermaid: a review, kinda

I’ve seen The Little Mermaid. Disney’s animated classic about Ariel, the titular mermaid, and her quest to become “part of their [our] world.” You’ve seen it. Your mother has seen it. People in Poland sing along to “Kiss the Girl.” And if you have kids, you need to load up the SUV and take them to The Tipping Point in Hampstead to watch it on the lawn on August 7. I’m not going to sit here and recap the plot or try to get the catchy tunes stuck in your head. What follows is a man without kids’ take on a Disney classic through 2013 glasses.

Gut reaction: “This looks off.” Don’t get me wrong, the talent and hard work needed to hand-craft the over 1 million cells of animation to make The Little Mermaid makes for a staggering accomplishment, but time and technology have hijacked my brain to wonder how much better this would look if a computer did it. I do not like myself because of this.

Observation 1: The Little Mermaid is a fairy tale about true love and does nothing to hide this fact. There are a lot of adult themes swirling around in the deep blue, but the film never lets them get in the way of the fairy tale. The sea witch Ursula sounds like a demented plastic surgeon singing about “poor unfortunate souls” - the mer-people unhappy with their appearance. But she doesn’t come to a thematic end ripped from Dante’s Inferno in order to teach us all about accepting who we are. This is not Wall-E or Toy Story 3 where blatant grown-up lessons get hammered home despite the childish trappings. 

Observation 2: The star-less voice talent is still amazing. This was one of the last Disney animated films to forego traditional movie stars in favor of lesser-known stage and voice actors, but the differences shows. Jodi Benson (Ariel/Vanessa), Pat Carroll (Ursula), and Samuel E. Wright (Sebastian) stand out particularly.

Observation 3: Ariel needs a nap. The film is only 83 minutes long and moves at a breakneck pace as a result. Maybe Disney realized that candy-filled 6-year olds can’t pay attention for shit. In the first portion of the film, which takes up a single day, Ariel skips her big singing debut, finds all sorts of human gizmos in a shipwreck, escapes a shark attack, consults with a talking (idiot) bird, crashes a party, meets the man of her dreams, and then saves his life when his ship succumbs to the deep. Writing that sentence made me sleepy. It’s hard to see how Ariel could then wake up the next day and have enough time to go see Ursula to get some legs. I felt like Disney skipped the scene where Ariel takes a 30 minute nap while Flounder and Sebastian let us in on her gritty back story.

Observation 4: The ocean needs moms too. Ariel is at the mercy of her father, King Triton. Would all of this have happened if there were some moms around? “Ariel, dear, don’t you think you are a little young to have your fins magically removed?”

Observation Final: I know I said I wouldn’t do it...but the songs in this movie are ridiculously catchy. Kudos to Alan Menken and Howard Ashman. “The seaweed is always greener...”

Enjoy that ear-worm, and don’t be such a guppy. Go see this movie.

You Haven't Seen ...Vertigo?!

WORDS Evans Bailey

No biggie. All you have to do is work up the intestinal fortitude to lift up that rock you’ve been living under and get your vitamin D-deficient ass to the Capri Theatre on July 18 at 7:30. Bring some cash because you are going to need a beer or two (or five) to calm your nerves during the nail-biter that is Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo.

Jimmy Stewart (against type and, in 1958, 19 years removed from Mr. Smith Goes to Washington) plays a talented policeman forced into early retirement after a rooftop chase unearths his debilitating vertigo and acrophobia. He doesn’t stay retired for long. Upon the advice of his ex-fiancée Midge (Barbara Bel Geddes), he decides to get some stimulation in his life and takes a private eye job helping his old college pal, Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore). Gavin wants Stewart’s former cop skills to help him figure out what on earth is going on with his wife (Kim Novak). She’s disappearing for long periods of time and unusually immersed in her family’s tragic history. Is the supernatural at play, as Gavin suggests, or is it simply madness? 

There’s really only four characters in the film (or is it five?), and the big mystery gets revealed about halfway through. But it’s where Hitchcock takes Stewart’s character and the audience from there that’s led many far more established, experienced, talented, and better-paid critics to laud this picture as his magnum opus. Hitchcock weaves a ghost story, a love triangle (or rectangle?), drowning, falling, and intense psychological suspense with vivid scenes of 1950’s San Francisco to create a truly unforgettable film.

You like good things (you are reading MADE aren’t you). Gather all the change under your rock and go see Vertigo when it comes to the Capri.

I’m not kidding about needing the beer.