High speed photography

There's no denying how awesome it is to see things in super slo-mo. Particularly when the subject of the photography is ultra-crazy fast, and the result has an unusual beauty about it. A fine example below.



So how do they do it? What kind of camera setup could produce one million crisp images a second?

Thanks to the miracle of modern technology - this particular footage was taken with a digital camera: the Shimadzu HPV-1. According to the site, it takes 312 x 260 resolution images up to 1 million FPS. That probably takes a lot of light. You'll notice that the camera is black and white - that makes sense, given that it's probably hard enough capturing that volume of luminance information such a small window of time. Color data probably requires too great of resources.

However, decades ago - before the advent of amazing cameras such as the Shimadzu HPV-1, you still saw some amazing high speed photography. Even at "bullet time" speeds. How did they do it?

Conventional film cameras use a shutter. It regulates the precise duration of light exposing a single frame of film. Without a shutter, ambient light would quickly over-expose any ordinary photographic film - leaving a featureless white image.

However rapid a shutter may be, it still is a mechanism that has an upper limit of how quickly it can operate. (Even a single time... thousands of times a second is another story.)

While I am sure there were many different variations (or entirely different approaches), the following method was used to get around the limitation of the shutter:

Don't use one.

That's right - eliminate that limitation. So what then? How do you keep the film from being overexposed?

Keep the scene in total darkness.

Sure, you'd keep the "lens cap" on (or whatever the equivalent is) on while setting up the shot. But when it got time to roll, lights out.

Then comes the matter of film. If a 35 mm frame was *very* roughly one inch tall (to simply this example), and film strips are just a sequence of these - shooting 50,000 frames in a second would require 50,000 inches of film in a second. That's 4167 feet of film. About 3/4ths of a mile - in a second. That's movin'.

So they add a lot of leader - get the two spools going damn fast, and when the actual film is unspooled and entering the brief window of time it could be under the aperture -

Then-

They hit the strobe light. That's right, rather than blocking the light except for brief moments - they supply the light at brief moments. That's the trick. The strobe must be very bright and precisely timed. These flashes produce the images that expose the insanely sensitive film as it whizzes by.

Of course- they also need to trigger whatever event they were planning to photograph, and hope it all goes off as planned in the extremely small window of time available. Otherwise, it's time to load up another mile or two of film and try again.

The downward spiral of comic book hero franchises

I have a simple theory about why comic book franchises tend to start strong, and then by film #3 it's more marketing and visuals than actual filmmaking.

Character bloat. It starts off as an interesting look at a hero and an arch-villain. Then, which each successive installation - more heroes and villains get added until it's a ridiculous ensemble.

Take the classic example of the Batman franchise.

#1 - Batman (1989). 71% on RT. Hero: Batman. Villain: The Joker (total: 2)
#2 - Batman Returns (1992). 77% on RT. Hero: Batman. Villain: The Penguin. Wild card: Catwoman (total: 3)
#3 - Batman Forever (1995). 44% on RT. Heroes: Batman and Robin. Villains: Riddler and Two-Face (total: 4)
#4 - Batman & Robin (1997) 12% on RT. Heroes: Batman, Robin, Batgirl. Villains: Mr. Freeze and Posion Ivy. (total:5)

-then the Nolan reboot-

#5 - Batman Begins (2005) 85% on RT. Heroes: Batman. Villain: Scarecrow. (total: 2)
#6 - The Dark Knight (2008) 94% on RT. Heroes: Batman. Villain: The Joker. Wild card: Two-face. (total: 3)

Let's take another example: Spider-Man.

#1 - Spider-Man (2002). 90% on RT. Hero: Spider-Man. Villain: Green Goblin (total: 2)
#2 - Spider-Man 2 (2004) 94% on RT. Hero: Spider-Man. Villain: Doc Ock. Wild card: Harry Osborn (total: 3 )
#3 - Spider-Man 3 (2007) 63% on RT. Hero: Spider-Man. Villains: Venom, Sandman. Wild card: Harry Osborn / New Goblin (total: 4)

Another example: Superman.

#1 - Superman: The Movie (1978). 93% on RT. Hero: Superman. Villain: Lex Luthor. (total: 2)
#2 - Superman II (1980). 87% on RT. Hero: Superman. Villains: The trio of Ursa, Non, Zod. (total: 2 - yes, I know there are three names but effectively they act as a single unit. They arrive together and leave together.)
#3 - Superman 3 (1983). 23% on RT. Hero: Superman. Villains: Superman(!), Ross Webster, Badass Computer Thing(?) Wild card: Gus (total: 4-5? This is a strange one due to the Superman duality and the computer-thing.)
#4 - Superman 4: The Quest For Peace (1987). 11% on RT. Hero: Superman. Villains: Lex Luthor, Nuclear Man. (total: 3). [But it must be said: This film was a piece of crap on so many levels it's hard to pin the problem on anything a subtle as the # of heroes and villains... ]


And recently, Iron Man:

#1 - Iron Man (2008). 93% on RT. Hero: Iron Man. Villain: Obadiah Stone (total: 2)
#2 - Iron Man 2 (2010) 75% on RT. Heroes: Iron Man, War Machine. Villain: Ivan Vanko (total: 3 - BUT, it's easily argued that Hammer as another Villain, or Black Widow as another hero. And then there is Nick Fury... )

So what might we take from this mini-analysis? Perhaps the sweet spot for comic book heroes is film # 2 - with a hero, a villain, and a wild card. More than that spreads the screen time to thin, and doesn't permit the title protagonist to develop a true relationship with a villain (that the audience can see is evil, and must be stopped). And it could be that a "wild card" character keeps things from being the usual white hat vs. black hat buildup & showdown.

3D films - coming at us

Even casual filmgoers must have noticed the significant increase in "3D" format films being offered today. What used to be a somewhat rare and genre-niche format (think Jaws 3-D) is now being attached to major works by established directors - such as James Cameron's forthcoming Avatar. And in recent years, several films released in 3D have done well both critically and at the box office (such as the animated features Coraline and Aliens vs. Monsters). Of course this surge in 3D has also has the genre-niche, "axe flying at you" sorts of films you would expect to find from years ago - such as My Bloody Valentine and upcoming The Final Destination.

What is driving this? Why are we suddenly seeing this new wave of 3D films?

Unfortunately I'm not any kind of connected Hollywood insider, and cannot say for certainty what is driving the new studio support- but I do have a few guesses.

1. The most obvious reason is cash. I've noticed that the tickets for 3D films typically are a couple dollars more expensive. I assume this cost is justified by the studios with some kind of argument about the greater expense associated with the production/display of a 3D film--but this argument holds little water. There are many, many more costly variables in film production, and films already have wildly different budgets and are made with varied cinema technology; yet, the $100m budget blockbuster and $5m budget indie darling both cost $12.50 at the local cineplex. Yet, we aren't charged more for films that were more expensive or harder to make. Thus, it seems that 3D is just a thin justification to charge even more.

2. There's no real "home" market yet. Because you MUST go to the theater for the gen-u-ine 3D experience, they have a monopoly on that experience. (And can charge whatever they like for it, see above.) It this way, it's like the entire film industry before home video... again. And once the 3D home system becomes common, folks like George Lucas will re-master & sell you the Star Wars trilogy again but this time in 3D (...and perhaps, now Han Solo won't shoot it all).

3. Piracy. Offering films in a format that isn't widely available to home audiences might be seen as a shrewd move to thwart piracy. After all, the 3D presentation renders traditional "hidden video camera" piracy methods useless, because the single lens will capture the blurry superimposition of both images. But as many of us already know, the claim that the public is to blame for piracy is largely false; the high-quality copies that leak to the Internet almost always come from within the industry, in places like DVD duplication houses. The crappy, wobbly home video camera pirate copies have never put a dent in Hollywood's wallet and never will. So when there's a home market for 3D films, the pirate copies will emerge just as before, from within industry; but for the time being, there's little opportunity or incentive to pirate a 3D film.

4. Not the technology. It's not like Hollywood has been waiting for the technology is mature. The blue-red "amalgam" approach to 3D has been around for decades. The more popular, modern "linear polarizer" method has also been around a long while. While the miniaturization of cameras and the advent of superior digital rendering / compositing has made production less of a hassle, but the tech hasn't been a true barrier. The capacity to make decent 3D films has been around for decades in one form or another, although somewhat relegated to specialty theaters like IMAX. The biggest improvements in film process in modern times - high-def digital cameras and non-linear digital editors - didn't inherently enable 3D more than it enables the standard 2D.

However, CG is a relatively new form of animation, and it's particularly well-suited for 3D to begin with: the computer simply renders out the scene from two slightly, perfectly offset perspectives, creating two video files for the same scene. More complex, yes, but hardly as difficult as everything that goes into CG in the first place.

As for the projection, it's slighly more complex than a typical strip of film running through a projector, but not much more complex than a typical digital projection situation. In the case of modern linear polarization methods, the big trick is the material of the screen itself (reflects back light more perfectly) and, of course, the glasses.

Of course- this brave new world of digital cameras and robust desktop non-linear editing has empowered to common man to steal the thunder of Hollywood. You too can make a 3D film if you are driven to do so. Here's two examples of 3D for the mere mortals:

Check out MAKE: Magazine, volume 14 for a homebrew guide to 3D using linear polarization. I haven't tried this... yet.

Or for people that might want to capture their more extreme moments in glorious 3D, a company called Tachyon has created a relatively inexpensive and robust system. It uses the red-blue method, and apparently has its own editing package, too. Also very curious to try this.

And as the final word... let us not forget porn. Regardless of your tastes and sensibilities, new technology has been driven by horny men. Once there is a simple (not necessarily cheap, mind you) way to watch 3D at home (hands free), you can bet there will be enterprising and greedy folks producing incredible amounts of 3D porn. That's partially why VHS won, and why broadband internet was born-- it met new demands for adult entertainment. And when the market for this new form of porn appears, the floodgates will open and this format will start to become standardized. But until this happens, it will remain a mere curiosity--and Hollywood will retain their monopoly.

Even though the idea of 3D porn is scary and perhaps even less needed than HD porn, if that's what it takes to usher in the new era and steal the fire from the studio overlords, so be it.

The State of Indy film, Pt 1.

As many folks have observed, the concept of "independent film" has become nearly meaningless. However, the beginnings were clear enough...

Once upon a time (e.g. the era of Easy Rider), independent film referred to the films that were made outside of (...independent of...) the established and all-powerful Hollywood studio system. Traditionally, the studio system worked because most films were shot on sound stages (as opposed to on location), and the equipment only had to move around the studio lot--increasing efficiency by cutting travel time and cost. This equipment was expensive, difficult to use, and most of all... heavy.

A Mitchell BNC(R) 35mm film camera - used by Hitchcock, for instance - weighed 135 lbs and was broken down into 7 separate cases. It was usually mounted on a rolling studio dolly because conventional tripods could not practical or safe. Taking this camera out of the studio and on location was a major ordeal. Even if you could afford this camera, it was painful to use outside of the studios.

It wasn't until the advent of smaller cameras that independent film was possible, using cameras such as the popular Arriflex 16 BL. It still was heavy and expensive compared to today's HD camcorders - but it was light and cheap compared to the studio-only cameras. This allowed films like Easy Rider to be made...

I mention this film because it played a role in Hollywood's early awareness of having to cater to the diversity of audiences - rather than expect them to gobble up whatever films the produced (because they had no alternatives, really...)

Just before Easy Rider came out, the 1967 musical version of "Doctor Dolittle" was released by 20th Century Fox; it was an expensive and elaborate film, intended to be the film of the year for that studio (or any other). When it flopped, it was an painful financial loss for the studio, and a clear indication that they were totally out of touch with what modern (particularly young adult) audiences were looking for. And in 1969, when Easy Rider came out - this crappy looking, shocking, tragic and somewhat bizarre film was resonating with the youth in ways the studio system could never have anticipated.

The studios did not regard independent film as a serious threat (or opportunity) at this time, but it did get their attention, and pave the way for other brave folks to try other films outside of the physical and intellectual domain of Hollywood.

Filmmakers want in on the video game racket

A recent article in the LA Times partially explores the recent fad of major film talent dabbling in the world of video game development by interviewing Gore Verbinski, who has declared his intentions towards gaming with gems such as this:

When we design a game here, my mantra is "gameplay first." We start on a game with the way controlling it feels in your hands.

I suppose this was intended to demonstrate that he "gets" gaming and will not attempt to re-create the early cinematic-based games from the early 90s. A classic example of why this doesn't work has been embedded below for your, uh, edification?



Although I am glad that Gore recognizes that games revolve around gameplay... is that something to boast about if you want to be taken seriously? That's the most obvious possible thing about making games. That's like a game developer starting a band and saying, "When we record an album here, our mantra is, 'music first." No kidding?

I do not mean to imply that Gore's efforts are doomed, or that he is not capable of making a kickass game. But there's quite a lot more to making a good game than the mere recognition of the importance basic mechanics. It's true that even professional game developers get those wrong sometimes... but then again, professional filmmakers also occasionally get the basic mechanics of visual storytelling wrong. (Perhaps Gore's third Pirate film was an example of this, smashing storylines together until you could care less.)

While Gore focuses on his own games, he's also backing away from an actual film based on an extremely cinematic video game: Bioshock. This game is positively lousy with atmosphere and story - and might be one of the few games that could be simply recorded while played, edited, and shown as a film.



The official word is that Universal put the brakes on rather than face massive cost overruns, and would only do it overseas with a smaller budget.

Given the increasing cultural (and $$$) prominence of video games it's not surprising that a segment of folks from other industries would become interested. Film folks might appear to be the most natural fit, given the technical complexity, long time lines, and huge budgets both industries have in common. That said, I'm not so certain that the skill sets are that easily translatable. They are vastly different arts, on vastly different platforms. While they might correctly assume that many gamers are the same people that watch their films - they may not realize the very different expectations a single person might have towards the two different mediums. You may have captured their hearts and minds with a film, but to do the same with a game is an entirely different affair.

This desire to crossover is nothing new, and is actually a wonderful thing in terms of generating new ideas and maturing both artforms. However, biology thoughtfully reminds us that the hybrid offspring of two different species is often sterile. We may learn a lot about each art by trying to combine them, but will probably not end up with a new species.

I hope Gore and the other gaming dilettantes prove me wrong and bring gameplay AND storytelling to new heights. Until then, I'm just irritated that it is delaying the premiere of a film version Bioshock... I think Gore would do a fantastic job of that.

I have seen the future and it is a dirty brown sweater

Having recently seen the latest (final?) installment of the Terminator series, I am once again struck by Hollywood's notion of post apocalyptic humanity. Regardless of the precise form of Armageddon that befalls humanity, there are a few things we can count on:

• The survivors will have a disproportionate representation of folks that were likely models or professional athletes before the advent of zombies / nuclear holocaust / robot uprising / plague.
  
• Hygiene will be largely unaffected. White teeth, smooth skin, and shaving tools are going to be common. (Of course, only if you are a hero. The unnamed riff-raff will still be filthy.)
• No clothing will have bright colors. Browns, grays will dominate. Snug leather garments with many belts, straps, and clasps will dominate daily wear; worn woolen sweaters dominate indoor / evening wear.
• Despite the shortages of water / ammo / fuel / food/ medicine / etc, mascara and eyeliner will still be freely available. In fact, cosmetics in general seem to have survived.

So despite the inherent horror we might associate with the end of life as we know it, it sounds like a fairly sexy period of future history. (But I suspect that the film version of Cormac Macarthy's The Road will provide a stark contrast.)

As an aside - the recent (and excellent) Star Trek is an interesting case. This series has a significant difference in tone compared to most sci-fi, because it is essentially taking place in a utopian society. Or more specifically, the Federation represents a utopian society. They wear brightly colored jumpsuits and enjoy constructive racial tensions. Meanwhile, the races outside of the Federation... those who reject the utopian ideals and antagonize the cosmos... look like post-apocalyptic humanity. Monochromatic palettes and tight-fitting garments with complex fasteners. Hmmm.

The new era of art & entertainment?

The jaded consumers of art occasionally like to make the cynical observation that "it's all been done," and that there's nothing fundamentally new in terms of themes or representations. I won't take the bait on arguing that either way.

Instead, I'd like to throw another variable in the mix: the mashup.

This is an approach to art that doesn't focus on generating new content; it focuses on the re-use of items in novel ways to produce an effect that is unique from the individual elements that contribute to it. The lexicon of mashup includes terms like hack, mix, bend, blend, hybrid, layer, and tweak. Let's look at some examples:

One of my favorite practitioners is the video mashup artists Eclectic Method. Here's one example of a film mashup - in this case, the works of Quentin Tarantino.

Eclectic Method - The Tarantino Mixtape from Eclectic Method on Vimeo.

In that example, clips from different Tarantino films were juxtaposed in a way to illustrate themes and parallels. The mashup effectively serves to showcase the Tarantino feel: the bold use of music, stylized violence, pop cultural references, and clever dialogue. Yet, this synthesis is interesting and fun to watch - not just a dry analysis like my previous two sentences.

Here's another example from Eclectic Method that illustrates the more abstract application of the mashup. Rather than using whole sequences or even several seconds of "sample" to create something - only very small pieces of video+sound are used to create a rhythm. The esoteric group of video clips are used like instruments in a complex sequence.

Eclectic Method - Just A Micro Sample Test from Eclectic Method on Vimeo.

But not all mashup is done via editing media. Consider "circuit bending" - the hacking of electronics (often toys) to produce unexpected results. "Music" is often a result but anything is possible.



From there, things get even more abstract. For instance, the hijacking of computer hardware to make music. In this case, the geek classic "Imperial March" from the Star Wars saga.



Continuing in this theme is the following piece of performance art(?) that combines a Tesla coil, a "Faraday suit" and again... the Imperial March.



Perhaps even more "meta" is the use of a laser cutter to perform the famous "Super Mario Brothers" video game theme:

lazzor music! from hypatia on Vimeo.

Does this constitute a true mashup? Who knows? I'd argue that anything that produces an interesting result from a non-obvious juxtaposition is a mashup.

And to contradict my earlier statement, I'd like to assert that no, it hasn't all been done.