Screenplay Experiment 1
Feedback –
– Mobin
The story is engaging making the audience uncertain of what is reality and what is a dream, brilliantly explained yet loses itself and it’s meaning midway through, and has many grammar errors and mistakes. Despite this very creative and deep thought was put into this, making it very impressive and interesting to see the result on film.
– Jary Poe Villanueva
This is a story of Kevin who seems having a nightmare, specially that alarm clock. The story is good,. Action is very detailed and engaging. Only thing is, action paragraph is too long. Perhaps cutting it in five lines maximum or cutting each sentence to add suspense. Overall, I visualize the story as I read screenplay.
– Ervin
I like the overall messages and values from the story, and how morals are the foundation of the plot. However, I think that the story falls flat when it comes to character development, as we never understand the boy’s actual mentality and how he feels about his mother. This leads to us not really caring for the boy or his mother, and I feel we should see the boy encounter other characters and see how he reacts to them.
Screenplay Experiment 2
Feedback –
Good job on taking the original story and turning it into a script that continues where the story left off. I expected that you would have adapted the story directly, but what you did was cleaver so well done. My only criticism would be in the formatting. I would add in transitions (like fade in at the start and fade out at the end) and slim down the paragraphs to only include actions as they happen. Other than that, I wouldn’t change anything. The story is good the way you have written it. – Shaquilla
-Jary VIllanueva
I like how the story goes. The action are very convincing and engaging. I like the idea how it ends where Carol looks for Kevin and really brings a tension in that scene. Good job
– Ervin
I like how this story continues from the other, making it feel almost like a serial show. the darkness is also consistent throughout both stories, it also leaves us at a cliff hanger as we near the end, though in some ways it feels unfulfilled after we finish reading it, and both stories are too similar I feel, not showing us totally different perspectives.
Screenplay Experiment 3
Short Story Experiment 1
The sweet aroma begun to trail and surrounds me to a point where I could not hold back my tears as they trickled down my makeup. His soothing hand rose up my cheek drying my eyes and filled me with a warm fuzzy perimeter around my heart. My toes not once became cold as the words jittered with excitement out of my mouth. For better for worse I said. For richer for poorer I said. In sickness and in health I said. He gave me more than I’ve ever asked for. I, I was just a young, poor Romanian girl from the outskirts of town. Whereas he, he was this tall, dark but not quite handsome much older man who had a vision for me. He knew me for my way of words, not only in Romanian but my English he would say it was as flawless as the lips it left. With deep breathes he would take me into his broad chest and whisper that I am his wife, his lessor, his lover and that an obedient silent wife is a good one.
Every day, every night and every point where I would try to resist from my destiny he would guide me back on track. Through the boarders, through the airport and the air tight boot. He gave me a new home, with other young women with his friend looking after us. He consisted gave me more than I could ever ask for. He told me he had to leave me in my new home for a while whilst he goes back for my family so we intertwines into one last intimate night together. Breathes from deeper to sharp, his broad chest overpowering mine and it was as if it was our wedding night all over. He arched his back as his harden words said whisper that I am his lessor, his lover and that an obedient silent wife is a good one. His soothing presence made this all easier. He told me that what happened that night was something I will always remember.
He never warned me that it was something I could never forget. The sharp breathing is now constantly in my ear. The over powering weight is now constantly upon me fragile heart. The intimacy which once was passionate and meaningful now constantly aggressive, violent and sold for more than a loaf of bread. Written By Russie Travis & Daniel Dorgu
Short Story Experiment 2
The perfume that lays on her skin, her lengthy hair that drapes down far past her shoulders and her dark eyes that are both chilling yet warming is all I can fix myself upon. The way that she takes the center stage when she elegantly walks into a full room and empty’s it with her presence. Seen as a princess to other but she is my queen. She tells me stories about her previous life, lies and lust but not even a gust of wind a draw me apart from her. Although nature tried to tear her apart from me. Clouds fly by, stars would start to die but I will always be by her side. Over the years the beats started to slow down until she could no longer be alive in my arms, fantasy but still in my reality. She laid still every day over the sheets. Now her once red with love now blue without life. I may have loss her heart beating in this life but she lives on in another kingdom.
Short Story Experiment 3
I wake up, out of breathe heart pounding, blood racing, head sweating i look towards the alarm that never stops ringing, i hate that bloody alarm. i rip the plug out of its socket. i turn back to the oblivious wall that once showed me my future. those days when i used to forget what i actually cared for. Everything black and soar i rest my head between my palms, wiping the sweat from my forehead. calming myself, telling myself that I’m not going insane. and everything will be okay. Death is not an option this time i tell myself, i won’t go out like a fatherless cub that ends up turning psycho, literary American psycho, American shooter painted on the news that kills high-school piers out of revenge psycho. i manage to take a few breaths without inhaling the ungodly air. part time satanist, theology’s theories i share with my uneducated students. i flip open the laptop and fire it up, take the last cigarette and spark it up. burning my finger in the process. My life is content, a story written on paper that has ink spilled and smudged all over it. My life is a vulnerable mess, a unclean diet that deserves to rot and die, the door slowly whispers my name, i get up and stumble towards the door, i feel the water surrounding my feet i open it quickly, heart beating slowly, but hard it changes pace now, fast but sharp i grab the baseball bat slouched outside my room door, i won at little league, no longer little that bat measures up to the length of my arm. i rest my back up against the turning wall, sweat drips down the side of my ruff cheeks. The grip loosens as my palms start to sweat, lost in own paranoia i start to hallucinate endlessly, i turn running towards the end of the hall as if I’m running off the end of a 50ft cliff, I stop, pause, drop to my knees as i can’t recollect what my own eyes have witnessed. the bathroom door broken in left half open, i start to crawl towards it not being to understand the paradox I’ve been left in. using the bat as a cane I’m able to pick myself up, walking slowly desperately crying out for help i look at the body of my mother, laid across the floor with a bottle of morphine and needles smashed across the bathtub, lines of heroin placed perfectly horizontal untouched, pure white lines i feel the urge to endure, carefully i examine my mothers arms to see the point of entry where she decided to end her course. motherless now i stumble around like a lost cub, trying to figure out the next step in expressing this anxiety, i grab a unopened packet of needles, it stumbling out of my hands i manage to hold onto one, i open the draw and find a spoon, take off the belt that’s placed awkwardly around my waist, aggressively tying it around my bicep biting onto end of the belt, slowly scooping up the white broad lines, placing it on the spoon, using my lighter to awkwardly light it up,watching it sizzle and boil transfixed on its true nature, i use the needle to withdraw the liquid substance, i sit back and rest my neck on the edge of the bathroom tub, sitting next to a dead women that i once saw as my mother. i.. slowly.. start.. to.. forget..
The first image i tried to compose was the “ghosting effect”
Here is an example of the type of effect i was trying to compose.
Tutorial – In this video i plan to explain and explore the advantages of masking within adobe after effects and successfully mask a different background into a still image. At first i found it difficult understanding the concept and skills acquired of masking but after going through it with a fellow student things became more clearer and i was able to come out with this.
Without Sound
With Sound and edited audio
Viewpoint:
My film is portrayed from a third person view
Treatment-
‘Backwards’ is a short piece drama where a young girl suffers while dreaming while awake
Risk Assessment-
Equipment:
Crew:
Actress – Temi Akinsanmi
I'm not a philosopher or theologist. I'm not a God nor demon I'm not the end of the world nor the beginning I'm not an artist nor sculptor. I'm not pain or suffering. I'm not happiness or kindness i'm not the flaw in the world nor the perfection society prays for. I'm not the crack in the wall nor the man who fixes it i'm not the love you dwell on night after night nor the hatred you feel in your soul I'm not the bottomless pit the world sees through nor the light at the end of tunnel I'm not the man who walks on water nor the man who condemns men to hell I am not the wind nor the sun But I Am an alchemist the one who dreams endlessly..
Daniel Dorgu's Blog 