toxxicat

look at this adorable face. he looks like such a beautiful, intelligent being.
then I got this text message at 3 AM-
The cat shat under my pillow. Am going to the laundromat.
spyder, you fuck. your days as our love muffin are numbered

If You See Something, Say Something

If You See Something, Say Something from Caitlin Mae Burke on Vimeo.

Vassar College 2008, Senior Narrative Project
Written and Directed by Clyde Folley
Cinematography by Caitlin Mae Burke

bye bye hairzes

before



after



and apparently- this is what it looks like in the morning:

BOSSAY

SAM RYAN, YOU ARE ALL UP IN MY INTERNET GRILL

STEP OFF (but plz don't because I feel like this is the new tin can phone)

In other news, no one has made me cry today. But the night is young, the drinks will be aplenty (H won a free happy hour! If I actually get out of work at a normal person time, I can go there!) and I'm sure I will
1. propose marriage to Ali
2. text inappropriately
3. break a glass
4. leave an ancillary article of clothing somewhere
5. wish I'd eaten more before drinking

My most recent complaint has been that my life has been completely unbloggable. Jesus. I sound like a Diablo Cody character.

I started atumblr, but that's just because the internet is more interesting than I am, and have cooler stuff. See also: these.

I am currently redigitizing essentially an entire library of material for the work Avid. (As if I need to differentiate between "work Avid" and "home Avid.") I amuse myself with typos-- video for Hannah Montana's "Nobody's Perfect" misspelled as Nobody's Prefect makes me think of a particularly insubordinate private school youth... with a leather jacket over the uniform, smoking by the polo fields. But this is my first glance into the Hannah Montana phenomenon, and I'm feeling old, because I don't really get it, at least not the FRENZY- consumer-wise and otherwise. Or why someone would pay $50 to learn to dance like her, with a plastic mat and a tacky blonde wig. But those people pay dollahs and those dollahs go to womanboss who then pays me, and all is good as long as I make rent and don't eat often enough for it to get expensive.

Yesterday, I thought I had diabetes, but then it was Taco Tuesday, and everything righted itself.

stars and cars and barmen

There's been something sort of magical about the crappy built in flash on my canon rebel recently-- maybe november's making me want details glossed over into a blinding pale, maybe I like catching people's squinty faces when I hit them with it in the dark bar.

I think my aesthetic sense is disintegrating. This is an important factor to weigh, considering the dslr is now five years old, has already had one serious emergency room visit, and I have "graduation presents"/fourth quarter opportunities to potentially upgrade/accessorize for the camera. the old girl's pretty beat up for a five year old, and I find that the photos I've been taking digitally are vastly inferior to film shots.

Maybe instead of buying myself a better flash/nicer prime lens to replace the mini-zoom (training wheel lens) that came with the camera, I should spend $$ on a photo class and actually learn how to move beyond mediocre.

Regardless, I love this girl and her broken glass (first of two, maybe three, that fell victim to the high spirits of last night.)

more mayakovsky

The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.

It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.

meggieversaire 2008

man, being in your midtwenties BLOWS.

Metonymy because SYNECDOCHE IS STUPID

Sometimes I see movies and I get a little incensed, and then it takes the L train 20 minutes to show up to Union square, and I'm alone, and when I'm alone and bored and incensed I write myself long emails about what I did and didn't like about the stupid movie on my phone.

this is one of those times. All phone autocorrects and half thoughts preserved for posterity.

Alright, Charlie Kaufman. We get it. You are a brilliant brilliant man and your first foray into both directing and writing a film should be nothing short of the second coming of Christ, or at least close to mad men in terms of sheer ineffability. Forgive me, I am tired, as I just sat through your opus, all six hours of it, and I have to say, I am impressed. Somehow, you figured out a way to make me hate phillip Seymour Hoffman. I thought it couldn't be done.

Sparkly moments- emma watson playing samantha Morton, the house on fire, adele's paintings, olive's tattoos. I wasn't much impressed with the cinematography, but the production design was impressive, the make up effects were well rendered and not, in my opinion, excessive.

Bit this film is just pretentious. It's everything I hate about Williamsburg- superiority complex plus substance equals giant minus of sincerity. I get it, ck. I know the definition of synecdoche, I see how you implemented it (and how!) I understand your film but I still think it is arrogant of you to make it. Its a good chuckle at the expense of the. Everyman. That's not to say I think films should pander to the lowest common denominator. But rein it the fuck in, ck. I am a well educated woman, I know my film theory, I know my literary devices. I GET it. And my first reaction was still a big fuck you.
If you wanted to create a work, which was clearly a labor of love on your part, that smugly disregards it's viewer after the first ten minutes, then you have succeeded (and how!) but I didn't appreciate it. I don't like reacting so negatively to anyone's work, especially someone I respect. But I am appalled and I want my twelve dollars back.
Sincerely, Cmae

Sent from my iPhone

I will edit this in the morning when I'm more coherent. But I will say, i am fucking PUMPED to see The Wrestler, especially since the trailer uses a baller springsteen song.

Now I am quietly waiting
for the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.

--


And no one will tell you this, but you can’t be a man. Don’t even try. Be a woman. It's powerful business when done correctly. Do you understand what I’m saying, dear?

potentially fatal side effects

Okay. so I received HORRIBLE news at the boxdoc this weekend. Apologies for setting up what might appear to be an overshare, I promise the severity of this announcement has nothing to do with gynecological health.
We were discussing something and she asked me if I drink a lot of caffeine or diet soda. I drink a lot of caffeine IN my diet soda, and since I've left college I don't have coffee with the same frequency because I jitter, which reminds me of anxiety, which makes me worried that I'm having anxiety, which makes me concerned about the fact that I'm no longer being treated for anxiety, which generally brings me right to the precipice of an anxiety attack, which is fun for absolutely no one. In any case, I drink diet coke in the morning as a nice routine wakeup... I like exchanging pleasantries with the middle aged indian man in the 8th street subway stop with his giant diamond pinkie ring; he likes that I almost always have exact change. I have a few more during the day... maybe two more on a bad day. What can I say? I like artificial sweeteners, I like keeping my caffeine high, I love guilt free cola flavor.

But apparently, my body DOES NOT love these things.

So my doctor told me that I need to stop drinking diet coke.

This news has not actually sunk in yet. (Partially because I'm now drinking more diet coke just to be defiant.) Diet coke (and its special occasion niece, diet orange sunkist) are my lifeblood. I am defined by the silver can or the red topped 20 oz bottle. I love the way it feels in my hand. I love the way it tastes, warm or cold. I am fully addicted to diet soda. And now some bitch with an MD is telling me that I should gradually wean myself off over the course of the next month, "just to see" if it'll make a difference?

I'd rather not. I'd rather be irritated/uncomfortable/inconvenienced FO-EVAH than give up the chemical delights of my daily drink. Diet Coke's seen me through an epic spectrum of life alterations, and I just don't think it's fair to abandon it now. (spoken like a true addict.)

I quit smoking (pretty much once and for all, except "socially" about once a month) after I graduated. I got a job, then I got another one, and an apartment and all sorts of real life stress without a chemical crutch. Now things are going moderately well, I am decently happy. And then there's this bombshell.

I am going to miss you, diet coke. I really am.
But we'll have our day again sometime soon.

best of the internetz

Today's such slow going at work that I considered starting a tumblr for all the extraneous reading I've been doing.
My task today is this:
Find music to send to our composer.
Which means I'm using music licensing sites.
At the risk of some sort of infringement, I'm not going to identify the sites, but when I've used them in the past, it's always been amusing how some people describe their songs to potential buyers. This new site I'm on today has a FABULOUSLY odd selection.

here is what I would consider a reasonable blurb:
Atmospheric piece with synth and strings pads and acoustic guitar arpeggios. Slowly builds up in emotion and drama.

here are the descriptions I've been reading as I search for "anthem" music:
note: these are copied EXACTLY from the site

Tainted water drips in a romantically lit sewer tunnel and the freelance art director sells it as sensual irony, client claps approvingly. Robotic rodent sex slaves rejoice when this pushy and uncomfortable track underscores their path to freedom.

Confident and bright, with a self-assured attitude built for taking on the day (in a corporate-training-video sort of way). Features a bass player just happy for a gig and guitarist who idolizes The Artist Formerly Known As.

Imagine yourself lost in the jungle... on the moon, with a monkey.

In the heart of Africa lives Mutambo. Hes cool and likes to dance a lot.

She's still there in the streets...all crazed and proud tea somebody?.well, what can you do about it it's her way to live... and she loves it like that I bet ya.

I'm a nerd. But a nerd that's part of the democratic process.

I wish I could actually vote no on prop. 8. But I can make a cheesy sign instead!

trudging slowly over wet sand

hide on the promenade
etch a postcard:
How i dearly wish I was not here

mumbled to the core.

i has a shiny new business card
So I failed pretty triumphantly towards the end of the NYFF, but in my defense there were heaps of Jewish holidays in there, and I went with Clyde to one of the Oshima movies (Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence) so I think I did my duty to cover a variety of festival related events. Apparently I missed all of the good, sexy Oshima movies, but seeing David Bowie punk a japanese general in guyliner with cheekbones that just wouldn't quit was worth the price of admission.
That, and the cameo from the most irritating character in my favorite-ever-film (The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover) as yet another bizarro, unexplained boy soprano character...
Whoops. According to IMDB, this is false. But how many platinum blonde, hunchbacked English lads were there to choose from in the early 80's?
Apparently, a lion's share.

All you need is bun

NYFF Update:
Hunger
Wendy and Lucy
I'm Gonna Explode
Waltz with Bashir

Shorts:

Cry Me a River
I don't feel like dancing
This is her

Forthcoming:

Gomorrah
Afterschool
Chouga

---
Remember the story I wrote from the emergency room while waiting for ryan to potentially have his toe amputated?
Apparently, the saga continues, but this time with bun bun as the protagonist:

Once upon a time there was a bunny named Bun Bun. He was small and soft,
with white fluff and very expressive ears. He traveled around in the handbag
of his good friend, Zelda Mae Bun. While she was at work, he would emerge
from the bag and sprawl upon her head in a puddle of white fluff, or hop
about to nibble on important documents. He was the happiest bunny in the
whole wide world, and wrote several novels under the name Bun Scott
Fitzgerald, dedicating them to his one true love, Zelda.

But then one day, Zelda Mae decided to join a gang and eloped with a shady
Thai cineast. She threw her handbag into the East River, with the poor
little bunny still inside, and ran off to live at the Film Forum, only
emerging to feed on a mysteriously powerful demon rum called Sparks in the
hippest dives in Brooklyn. But being sound of health and quick of thought,
the little bunny climbed atop a corpse floating nearby, and used the
vibrating ring of Zelda Mae's iPhone to propel himself back to shore. There,
he hopped carefully through the forest of used hypodermic needletrees,
eventually climbing back into the dark mean city.

Once back on land, the incredulous Mr. Bun hopped into a nearby bodega,
where he spent several days disguised as a toilet brush - an item rarely
used by the locals. He survived for nearly a week by eating nothing but
spaghetti and velveeta. And then one day, to his great surprise, Zelda Mae
wandered into the bodega sporting a fashionable new handbag. Shocked and
horrified, the little bunny watched as Zelda Mae sauntered over to the
cooler to gather a great quantity of sparks. The quick-thinking bunny then
hopped into action, diving into Zelda Mae's fashionable new handbag while
she was distracted with her beverage acquisitions. There he hid as he waited
for his once beloved friend to finish her transaction, wondering how he
would broach the subject of their separation.

It was then, with great horror, that Bun Bun realized he was not alone in
Zelda Mae's fashionable new handbag. Grabbing a nearby lighter that should
not have been there at all, the handsome hare illuminated a wicked looking
feline creature curled up in what was rightfully his napping spot. The awful
creature let loose a terrifying hiss and revealed a set of retractable used
hypodermic needleclaws from its ugly little paw. The dread beastycat raised
its needleclaws high, poised to deal the sweet and wonderful bunny a deadly
blow. But the lovable ninjabun was ready for the hellkitty, quickly wielding
his recently sharpened switchblade...

Will the clever and adorable triumph over the despicable cat-thing? Or will
vice and wickedness persevere to make Zelda Mae a most macabre pair of bunny
slippers? Stay tuned for our next episode:

Along Came A Bunny
Or
There Will Be Bun

In which Caitlinmae is disillusioned by gawker

I moved to NY, and I got REAL earnest.
Funny how life works out.

I just revisited Gawker for one of the first times since graduation... I've been successfully off Perez Hilton for a few months longer than that. I read this post and literally felt nauseous. I read Jessica's limelight inducing blogpost, which I thought was a sincere and reasonable critique of the Tracie and Moe mega-faux pas (Why oh why don't I have more vital occupations than the internet.) But these attacks by Gawker commenters, this spewed vitriol? It actually turned my stomach. Not to mention that I've BEEN that girl, crying in supermarkets because everything is so foreign and you feel so lost. I've also been vegetarian in Paris, albeit briefly, and if Harris hadn't been there as my guide, I wouldn't have had anything to eat nearly the whole time.

Who knew that once I actually got to the city as a resident my skin would thin to the snarkattacks of the media blog I'd loved from Poughkeepsie? When I was lonelylost in Prague, I'd read Gawker and feel homesick. I found Riese via bloggorea, and that's been nothing but a delight. But now that I have a 11211 zipcode and live in hipster Disney World, I certainly haven't hardened in a way that's made this sort of thing seem acceptable.

I'll stick with Jezebel from now on, Mr. Denton. I like their politics infinitely more, and they don't seem to be out for blood nearly as ferociously as your more profitable blog.

Old Jews

Look ma! Someone paid me to take pictures of the elderly!

On the nature of septembers

I rewatched my czech film last night, and found it sorely lacking in several areas in which I was once quite proud of it.
You can be the judge, it's on vimeo:



By Your Side from Caitlin Mae Burke on Vimeo.

(also, it bothers me a little bit that I can't select the preview image.)

This film is not nearly as tight as I thought it was two years ago. The storytelling is far too concise, the writing seems limited. It's too brief. But I think Chris did a GREAT job making it beautiful... and I could easily use it on an editing/art design reel.

I am starting to realize certain unglamourous things about my behavior in prague... None of these are disheartening, but they certainly color the memories. In short, I was a ridiculously irresponsible drinker, lived way too hard, gained an absurd air of entitlement, and was generally unbearable to some of my classmates and professors. But SOMEHOW, I managed to hook hannahschorr and samryan, and they're still around, only having known the violent, slightly unhinged caitlin that I presented for those five months in that country.

Have I mellowed over the past two years, or do I simply feel less justified in raving bitchery? Can I look at my creative output from that time and be as impressed with myself as I was when I had just returned?

I think it matters little. I was pleased with myself then, and currently can actually see quite an improvement: both artistically and interpersonally.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman is my life coach.

Lester Bangs: Aw, man. You made friends with them. See, friendship is the booze they feed you. They want you to get drunk on feeling like you belong.
William Miller: Well, it was fun.
Lester Bangs: They make you feel cool. And hey. I met you. You are not cool.
William Miller: I know. Even when I thought I was, I knew I wasn't.
Lester Bangs: That's because we're uncool. And while women will always be a problem for us, most of the great art in the world is about that very same problem. Good-looking people don't have any spine. Their art never lasts. They get the girls, but we're smarter.
William Miller: I can really see that now.
Lester Bangs: Yeah, great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love... and let's face it, you got a big head start.
William Miller: I'm glad you were home.
Lester Bangs: I'm always home. I'm uncool.
William Miller: Me too!
Lester Bangs: The only true currency in this bankrupt world if what we share with someone else when we're uncool.
William Miller: I feel better.

Spooked.

Tonight, amidst the writhing, nubile flotsam of Bedford Avenue, I turned a corner and nearly bumped into the one ghost I've allowed myself in the past few years. I'm reasonably sure I gasped audibly, I sidestepped away from his forward motion, ducked my head, and skittered away, tail between my legs.

I couldn't express what had just happened to Claire. Nothing had happened. Just like nothing happened ten months ago that caused me to behave this way. But I was seriously spooked. This ghost, Coach... originally to hannah (and later, to me), he died when heath ledger died, that the two were just one destructive mass of wasted talent. This is a spectre of grumpy three am threats when we slept on the couches in the air conditioning, of white hearts on the fourth of July, of Wednesdays.

Every Wednesday last summer, the not-yet-ghost-Coach and I would watch two or three movies, and drink two or three bottles of red wine. He'd cook me steak frites and I'd run down to the store to get more peanut oil, not quite daytime drunk at this point, but well on the way to a bordeaux tinted laziness. He liked dark toned movies set in Europe or the 50's, I learned to like red meat. He was a bartender, and self destructive in the necessitated by his vampiric schedule. We had a ball. And then we were stupid-drunk and hooked up. It was very quotable. and he got weird, as he had a girlfriend, and I went back to vassar.

I've been in touch with our mutual friends and I knew I'd probably see him again, but I was more expecting it to be on my terms, and with some warning. So, it was probably immature of me to bolt when I saw him on the block tonight. But sometimes, awkwardness is unavoidable, and the best course of action is to dart away.
Or something.

Man, i totally got "coach-ed" again tonight, unintentionally!

EXPOSURE

My dear dear friend Travis was shooting promotional material for Summerstage (really cool internship!) so of course, I forced him to interview me. I am full of opinions, and apparently full of sass. Here's the link- I totally didn't stay past Born Ruffians, because no amount of indie rock love for VW was worth weathering that storm.

http://www.summerstage.org/index1.aspx?BD=21253

I am such a tool, in my white ray-bans. Wish I could embed this video. Also wish they used the bit where I said I was sixteen years old and went to the Death Cab summerstage show for my Bat Mitzvah

A collection of Wall-E backlash links

Now I feel bad for picking on the little guy
because apparently hating on Wall-e is the cause celebre.

the clearinghouse for criticism on AV club

Wall-e isn't nice to fat people on Slate


best article title ever on NYTIMES

Don't let me down, Wall-e

Okay. I am going to sound like the biggest grinch ever. I am prepared to look back at these words and cringe over how pretentious I sound.

But as much as i LOVED wall-e as a movie, I have some huge problems with it as a text. And as children's movies are often the most pervasive texts that shape our impressionable pudding brains, I'm worried it's more insidious than marketed.

I was talking with sisner (melissa's sister laura, who is basically my older-sis-hero-figure) who was a gender studies major at smith. She took some fantastic gender and cinema class and the way famous professor gave a lecture on how Pixar is usually really progressive in terms of the coding of their films. While in most of them, the characters are gendered, there are also frequent examples of non-gendered characters (most of the secondary toys in toy story, a lot of the fish in finding nemo, etc.) For the characters who are gendered, the storylines infrequently celebrate rigid adherence to the binary/roles. The male father fish in Finding Nemo raises his son without any question from his anemone community; Buzz Lightyear (the hypermasculine toy! the high tech toy!) is portrayed as a sterile piece of technology, while Woody and Mr. Potatohead et. al are classic favorites appreciated by both children and thus not ever totally rejected. Sure, there's instances in Pixar films where characters shoehorn themselves into their gender roles for safety, but overall, these films aren't about heterosexual love or the masculine/feminine place in society. Also, the characters aren't villianized or ridiculed for defying social conceptions of their "place" based on gender, which is a HUGE step forward for Disney. (don't get me staaaaaahted on not only gender but ethnicity in disney movies. So upsetting)

I was so gleeful when I saw Wall-e that I actually exclaimed out loud and clapped my hands and acted like a six year old. I had SUCH high hopes for Wall-e, and it didnt disappoint. That robot was ADORABLE and I dug the message and I cried for about 45 minutes of the movie. And not just little tears at the requisite "all hope is dashed" moments- I cried when Wall-E went home to his trailer. I cried when he left his cockroach friend behind. I cried big fat sobby "Notebook" style tears for this movie. And then I went home and thought about it and realized that I was more than a little hurt.

Wall-E and EVE didnt have to be gendered. They're ROBOTS. They didn't need to have a heterosexual love affair. They could have had nice neutral robot love, and I would have been happy. If they had nice low key gender performances, I could have given it the go ahead. In fact, our lovely Wall-E isn't hypermasculine- he's a bot. He's a bot that wants to be loved and is more than a little emasculated and loves musicals- he's a metrobot. EVE, on the other hand, is a bitch on wheels. For me, therein lies the problem.

EVE is an OBVIOUSLY female robot. She's all rounded surfaces (hello, vagina!) and receptacles for civilization saving organic material. Her acronym pigeonholes her as not only a woman but THE woman. The original. The standard. But EVE herself is a bitch on wheels, what with her machine gun arm and her laser vision. She has an important part to play in the maintenance of humanity- unfortunately, that part fits neatly within her gender construct. Outside of her directive, however, EVE is a self sufficient, goal oriented, high functioning/high technology being. Which would be a wonderful message to the young ladies in the audience about their own capabilites lacking limitation. But herein lies the problem:
the film CLEARLY faults EVE for stepping outside the gender boundaries. She can be an independent woman, but as we're meant to empathize with Wall-E, she becomes an ice-bitch just because she's trying to do her job, and she's less anthropomorphized than he is. EVE's all "directive" this and "directive" that, when Wall-E just wants to hold her hand, like he saw in the musicals (another delicious reactionary bastion of strict adherence to gender codes) she misses out on the "connection" he's trying to make with her.
EVE is being denied love because she won't behave like a woman should, and forget her job to put emotions first. But why does EVE have to be a she in the first place? and why is she lambasted for having priorities beyond finding a nice boy-bot and making baby-bots? Is that even possible?

I loved Wall-e, much to the contrary of what I've said here. It made my heart sing, it made me cry, I loved the fat people and I worried about our world. But now that I'm thinking of Disney movies as universally acceptable texts, digested without question by masses who look to them as "safe" material for their children, I get uneasy.

Why can't our non-gendered robot friends just get along happily without heterosexual concerns?

Riding Tall

Riding Tall: A Horse Connection in the Hudson Valley from Caitlin Mae Burke on Vimeo.

Heyo! I figured out how to get it online!

deleteria

I promised myself I'd go to bed early so I could go to work early and Get Things Done.
I spent $$ I should be saving for rent (so I can move out of my parents' apartment) on a cab, so that I could get home at A Reasonable Hour.
I am still awake, putzing around online.
Sigh. But David and I spent a good two hours (with the company of his israeli cousin and courtney donner) deconstructing early ninties television. He quoted equus, I giggled into my third glass of wine on an empty stomach. We're pure class, and I'm so glad to have this brand new partner in crime whilst my former p-i-c's have deserted me for larger scale adventures (see: Las vegas, new orleans; card playing, cocks.)
--

I was the recipient of a backhanded catcall in the half a block I walked home tonight. Someone started shouting "Excuse me, excuse me." Which is of course the cue to avert your eyes, pick up your pace, and get where ever you're going without recognizing the Caller. But this guy went a step further-- into balls out honest territory.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! I'm desperate. Honey, I'm desperate."

Well, glad to know that if I was the last woman on earth, it'd still be okay. (I looked cute today too! Like a sailor!) He kept shouting until I was out of earshot.

--

Today I'm trying to figure out two things.

1. Do I like cats? Many of the flatmates Claire and I are considering want to bring cats. This would not bother me. But I am considering getting one myself, and I wonder if I have the emotional reserves to love a creature that could do just as well without me.

2. Do I want my hair cut like Edie Sedgewick, or Andy Warhol?
(to be honest, I'm leaning towards Andy.)
OR

Except, roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair

This is the summer of my discontent, gravelly voiced, working class songsmiths weaving melodies from the lower registers-

endless amounts of Tom Waits, Nick Cave, Bruce Springsteen... Stephen Merritt, the National.

My womb music was bruce springsteen, I was possibly conceived during the Born in the USA tour, 1985. I don't know if that makes the space he takes up in my soul any less cliche, but I will draw upon the wisdom of Sabina Carlson to justify my shameless devotion to the garden state, springsteen love and all--

...Grow Wings from Your Wounds...We're all stellar, our friends, because we've had to claw ourselves out of the suburbs and onward to the stars--- through that brick red dirt of South Jersey and the apathy weighing ankles like boots coated in clay...
I am in love with New Jersey... and if you've never photographed broken glass in an abandoned casino in Asbury Park with a bohemian princess... if you've never seen the electric factories glow like angels on I-95...if you've never wished on a streetlamp when you couldn't see shooting stars... don't tell me New Jersey isn't beautiful...

Film comment--
My Winnipeg. My Winnipeg. My Winnipeg. So sentimental and bitingly nostalgic and genuine, in the best way possible for an ambivalent, experimental film about a mixed bag hometown, and escape, without answers.

production stills- driggs, ID

filmgeek social networking

I wish there was some sort of community like goodreads or lastfm to record recently viewed films. Actually, I take that back. I don't necessarily want that published.
The weeks since graduation have seen a dramatic flux in my cinematic intake. I fully blame david lieberman, as for six of the first eight days I spent in new york were in his company, and we watched movies for probably four of those six days. It's sick, I'm viewing voraciously.
In no particular order, what I've been watching over the past week and a half-
Stuck
Savage Grace
Serenity
Judy Berlin (with Eric Mendelsohn and Edie Falco at YFFLC)
Wanted and Desired (in a hotel in Driggs, Idaho)
My Winnipeg (with Guy Maddin)
Bottle Rocket

Tonight I want to go see Beauty in Trouble at the Angelika (czechs! might be able to go with my film school roommate! czechs!) but I could also, you know, leave the apartment for the first time today and go read in the park rather than sit in the dark.

Branding Broadway

Disney's The Lion King as Culture and Commerce
FILM 212- THe MUSICAL
Sarah Kozloff

It is often forgotten that first and foremost, film is a business: a multi-billion dollar enterprise forged on the heartache of bad box office returns and delight of surprise successes. The art form may not have progressed to its international status were it not for the lucrative returns garnered on successful implementation of a formula or a well conceived experiment. Perhaps one of the greatest manipulators of this formula is the Walt Disney Corporation. Using anthropomorphized animals, celebrity voices and catchy, upbeat and current sounding or thematically appropriate songs, Disney has drawn audiences by producing a familiar product in various iterations of the aforementioned formula. Starting with Snow White (1937) the company has produced a stream of exceptionally well-received animated features, many of which earned Academy Awards, even before the advent of the “Best Animated Feature” category in 2001. It is no small surprise, therefore, that as consumer culture matured and product tie ins became a normal and fiscally advantageous feature of live action films, that Disney’s animated films increased their already impressive product through marketing tie ins.
In expanding the already well established brand, it is not shocking that Disney turned to Broadway to pursue further successes of its films. The Lion King, released in theaters on June 24, 1994, was put into production as a Broadway show only a few years later and opened on November 13, 1997. The film’s gross earnings seemed positive evidence that The Lion King as brand would translate profitably, even in a literal transference of the screen material to stage. But when noted experimental theater maker Julie Taymor, fresh off successes with alternatively staged productions of Titus Andronicus and eclectic, multinational productions using puppetry, was courted to direct the project, the fate of the Disney musical brand was tempered by its amenableness to adaptation. Taymor’s drastically different shaping of The Lion King, which includes more African inspired musical numbers and highly stylized execution of the film’s completely animal cast can certainly be seen as an element of the musical’s enormous success. Yet it must not be overlooked how the consumer, courted by the Disney branding of the play, bought in not only to Taymor’s spectacle, but to the Disneyfied Times Square as a destination and the show, with its merchandise tie ins conveniently located next door in an enormous Walt Disney Company Store, as a consumable.
To properly consider The Lion King (on stage and screen) as an expression of the Disney brand, one must first look to the original film to process the dimensions of its success and explore their cause. During its theatrical run and re-release on IMAX, the film grossed $312.8 million, an unprecedented amount for Disney and the fifth highest domestic grossing film in history. It is also the best selling home video of all time, having sold over 55 million copies. “Although not unlike other Disney animated films that use catchy songs, rich animation, and a diverse cast of voices, The Lion King has grossed significantly more than early popular films such as The Little Mermaid (1989), Aladdin (1995), or even the only animated film to be nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, Beauty and the Beast (1991). It captured two Academy Awards and two Grammys for its music.” The film exists within the canon of the new Disney of the nineties (starting with The Little Mermaid and running through to The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 1996.) At this point, computer generated imagery was a relatively new phenomenon, and the inclusion of 3D images (such as the scene of the wildebeest stampede) made it an impressive development of the art form. The computer program used to actualize the visceral experience of the stampede was written specifically for the film’s production. These exciting new visuals contributed to the appeal of the film, as a technological development of the tried and true Disney animated feature.
Appeal it did, and to a vast spectrum of demographics. “The ''Lion King'' phenomenon is due to the unusually strong crossover appeal of the romantic adventure to kids and adults, and both genders. Most telling is the fact that many kids-and some adults- [were] already going back for repeat viewings.” Accessing all of these groups truly made the film a popular destination for the whole family. The film’s 89 minute run time and inclusion of pop musical songs by composer Tim Rice and lyricist Elton John helped infuse additional familiarity (especially to those comfortable with the Disney film equation for success.) Catchy songs such as “Hakuna Matata” and the ballad “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” were not only celebrated by film audiences, but also the music industry, who rewarded the composers with two Grammy Awards. Celebrity voice work by James Earl Jones, Matthew Broderick, Jeremy Irons, Whoopi Goldberg and Jonathan Taylor Thomas ensured that star power was also a draw. As mentioned earlier in reference to the “formula,” audiences are most comfortable with the familiar. Hearing James Earl Jones voice Mufasa connected Jones’ star factor and the amalgam of his on screen personalities to the character, lending a sort of context that a non-celebrity probably would not have provided.
Unfortunately, what is familiar is not always authentic, especially when a film attempts to depict unfamiliar terrain such as Africa. The Lion King’s illustration of the Pridelands (fictionalized Africa) is non-specific and involves very few references to the actual continent it is intended to represent, much less any individual nation within that environment. This is not entirely surprising, as the film was almost singularly produced by Americans and Europeans. Lebo M, a contributing composer who wrote the Zulu language chorus to “Circle of Life,” was the only African working on the film’s production team. This is a particularly resonant fact, considering the film’s creation during the fall of apartheid in South Africa. While he and Hans Zimmer did add some African elements to the score, only “The Circle of Life” has Zulu lyrics. Additionally, while the production team originally considered using African fabric patterns in the visuals of the backgrounds, this was deemed overly stylized and was thus rejected in favor of the vast, mystical expanses that made the final film. This lack of African elements, which would seem appropriate for the film’s non-ethnic geographical setting, was somewhat rectified by the 1995 release of Lebo M’s album Rhythm of the Pridelands. Nine of the ten songs on this record incorporate some Zulu lyrics, and several of the tracks would ultimately be incorporated into the stage musical. As the film only shows animals of Africa, and does not strive for connection to African culture (which is apparent in the lack of African crew members) the pop sound of Elton John and Tim Rice’s score did not clash with the artistic direction- there was little need for an authentic African sound in this “Dark Continent” Disneyland.
Proven with the earlier films of the 1990s, commercial success and consumable characters went hand in hand. “Because of the success of the first six animated feature films produced in the ‘new era’ of Disney animation (the Little Mermaid, 1989; Beauty and the Beast, 1991; Aladdin, 1993; The Lion King, 1994; Pocahontas, 1995; The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 1996) and their mass merchandising, Disney animated characters became ubiquitous for children of the 1990s.” Adding to this ubiquity were the well-selected marketing tie-ins. For The Lion King’s June 24, 1994 release, seven figurines were available with kid’s meals at Burger King, and noted advertiser Saatchi & Saatchi mounted a 10 million dollar campaign to unite the two brands. Disney animated features seem tailor made for promotional marketing, considering how the animated animals lent themselves to recreation as toys, through which the fantasy of the movie could pursue indefinitely through the invention of new story lines for the toy-character. Mark Crispin Miller, in his bitingly titled article, “Advertising: End of Story,” elucidates this point more clearly:
The convergence of the movies with both cartoons and ads makes sense, because the ad and the cartoon each present a fantasy of perfect wish fulfillment: that is, a wish fulfillment that seems both immediate and absolute, arising, on the one hand, from a purchase (which will make life perfect now) or, on the other hand, from the animated spectacle itself (in which the universe appears responsive to your wishes.)
While Miller addressed this concern towards the trend shift in Hollywood towards creating “cartoon-like” live action films, the theory certainly applies when the film is originally a cartoon. Not only can children follow Simba’s adventures on the screen, they can expand on his future with their own plaything. The astounding box office success of the film and the outstanding performance of its Burger King tie ins exemplify sales synergy. “Said a Burger King spokesman: 'This is the best Disney promotion we've done. Kids meal sales have tripled since we started (June 20). We produced 30 million premiums for the promotion, which lasts three more weeks.” The film feeds the frenzy for the toys, the popularity of the toys hypes the film and develops a cult around its characters, creating additional desire to become an audience member/participant in the movie.
The move from film to Broadway was not, as for other movie musicals, as secure a prospect in the 1990’s as it is currently, with multiple studios arranging theatrical departments rather than simply selling the rights to their intellectual property. In 1996, at the onset of production for The Lion King on Broadway, Disney’s only other venture from animated film to live action theater was Beauty and the Beast. At the time of The Lion King’s debut, Beauty and the Beast had been running for four years and was estimated to have brought in $150 million in profits. However, the show was little more than a literal translation of the film to the stage, with all the flash of the animation but little expansion of the narrative. “Disney's first Broadway musical, Beauty and the Beast--based on the film and directed by a theme-park veteran, Rob Roth--was a traditional stage confection that came as close as possible to being a literal, three-dimensional re-creation of the movie.” This seems, in hindsight, a safe bet for the Walt Disney Corporation; a live staging of an already popular and familiar plot could do little wrong in fostering brand identification and positive ties to the story line. But in terms of spectacle and artistry, the seasoned Broadway theatergoers were seemingly unimpressed by the pyrotechnics and dancing teacups of the live staging, some going so far as to consider it “a big tacky kid’s show.”
Developing The Lion King as the successor to this live action cartoon required breaking with tradition in order to embrace the theatre community than alienate it. As soon as theater-maker Julie Taymor was courted to direct the project, thoughts of the Disney musical as a palatable, “safe” translation of the film without any deviation from the original source could be quickly discarded. Taymor herself acknowledges that she came on to the project as a creative force, rather than a re-creative one:
‘I had not yet seen the film when Tom [Schumacher, Executive Vice President of Walt Disney Theatrical Productions] called and asked me to consider conceptualizing The Lion King for Broadway,’ explains the New York City based Taymor. Once she saw the film, Taymor was convinced that it was ‘good source material. It felt like a good story that one could elaborate on.’ She says. ‘naturally, it would be aesthetically different.”
In signing Taymor, the Disney executives were well aware of her theatrical background, which included productions across the Asian continent and studies of mime and mask making worldwide. The executives seemed eager to work in concert with the artist, rather than outwardly force her hand. Julie Taymor’s previous work is hardly evident of the type of literal translation that was utilized in the stage adaptation of Beauty and the Beast. Those familiar with Disney and Taymor’s experimental, eclectic theater expressed skepticism before the show’s release that the two defined aesthetics could coagulate into one successful show. “It might appear that Disney has hakuna matata’d right off the deep end. Taymor’s highly stylized theater work—using masks, puppetry, mime and other non-western techniques, seems as far from classic Disney animation (and from those dancing teapots in Broadway’s Beauty and the Beast) as one can imagine.” Yet it is exactly that incorporation of international elements, and the stylized artistic design of the stage musical that are often attributes considered causal for its wild success.
One of Taymor’s major departures from the production of the film involved more global creative input. Lebo M was not to be the only African to contribute to this project. Scenic designer Richard Hudson, who won a Tony for his work on the production, was born in Zimbabwe and lived there until he was eighteen. This permitted him a better understanding of “stylized Africa” based on first hand experience. His color palate and the textures utilized to create the set pieces evoke some of the images of fabric patterns and tribal art that the animators originally rejected in shaping the film’s landscape. Sound designer Tony Meola used sound effects recorded in Africa. He also insisted that percussionists situated throughout the house would add to the communal feel of experiencing theater, despite opposition from Disney. This is a practice unfamiliar in the global North, wherein the audience and spectacle are traditionally kept separate. By situating musicians amongst the audience, elements of communal international theater are employed, emphasizing the group experience over the individual’s.
Julie Taymor’s specialty in mask making, derived from Asian theater practices, instantly separated her musical from Beauty and the Beast through its representation of animated characters as amalgam between masked human/unmasked animal—to varying degrees dependent on the character. For example, the mask for the character Mufasa sits above the actor’s head, so audiences must divide attention between the actor-human and the still lion character elements. On the other hand, the mask for Scar, Mufasa’s brother, is mechanically articulated so that the actor playing the role can control the lion’s facial expressions with subtle movements of a control in his hand. In the movie, the characters are anthropomorphized and uniformly presented as animated animals. Their personage does not require the same reconciliation between costume and character, as the only disparate element is the idea of a talking animal—one with which Disney audiences have made their peace decades ago.
Critics lauded Taymor for her departure from the source material. “Taymor has turned the show into a gorgeous display of world theatre, with a more African sound than the film and an array of Asian theatre techniques, as well as her own theatrical contrivances to render onstage such fantastic things as a supercilious hornbill, a life-size elephant, a flock of gazelles.” Visual and stylistic departures aside, which could be expected in the translation of an animated feature to live action, the most profound changes accrued in the staging of the musical are the addition of new musical numbers, which also help to expand the material’s cultural source and create the experience of communal theater. Lebo M’s contributions to the Broadway score complimented Taymor’s international influence on what was otherwise the patented Disney myth. These materials, much of which was written originally for a concept album that accompanied the animated film’s score, depart from John and Rice’s pop fare and draw from Lebo’s South African background. Lebo wrote and arranged two new songs for the musical, and co-wrote four others. His compositions allowed for the inclusion of an intricate dance piece for the female members of the company called “The Lioness Hunt,” which not only focuses attention on the lionesses of the Pride Rock community (previously overshadowed by their male counterparts) but also allows for the addition of African style dancing in a way that the Western compositions of Rice and John do not. Ensemble numbers Lebo M composed for the stage employ the use of a South African chorus, singing in Zulu and English, which ties in neatly with Taymor’s extensive international renovations to the show. “Eight musical numbers have been added, ranging from African style choral music to new songs by Elton John and Tim Rice, the movie’s original composer and lyricist.”
The inclusion of new material was carefully positioned within the show, as to not unsettle audiences expecting only to see their familiar Disney friends. The first three songs in the Broadway production were all originally written for the movie by Tim Rice and Elton John. The second number, “The Morning Report,” was animated but ultimately not included in the film. The fourth song, “Chow Down,” is also a John/Rice composition. It is not until the fifth song, “They Live in You,” that original material by Lebo M makes its debut in a full ensemble number. This is also the first large scale singing and dancing number with primarily Zulu lyrics. However, while this is a departure, the familiarity returns with the final two songs before intermission- “Be Prepared” and “Hakuna Matata,” both of which existed in the movie. Taking stock of the first act of the Lion King as a stage musical, the material is evenly split between pre-existing songs written for the movie and new compositions for the show. However, the majority of the numbers that Elton John and Tim Rice contributed appear in this first half.
After Act I reassured audiences with comfortable musical numbers from the movie, Act II was permitted a bit more freedom to deviate in its adaptation and implement Lebo M’s contributions to the score. In this act, only one original number from the movie is included (“Can You Feel the Love Tonight”) and all other songs include a Zulu chorus sung by a South African chorus. Granted, there are fewer musical numbers in the second act, but this departure from the source material contributes greatly to the internationality of the production and strengthens its ties to its African setting. After setting up the movie music (written by white composers) and drawing the audience into the setting of the musical (with all of its international attributes,) Act II is allowed to expand upon the Lion King movie and flesh it out into a vibrant, multiethnic spectacle, rather than one constrained to what was established by the film version and, concurrently, what audiences would expect from a literal translation.
The danger in so drastically changing a widespread brand is the potential backlash against the unfamiliar stylized adaptation. The Elton John and Tim Rice songs from the movie musical are those that kept theaters packed in the summer of 1994. Yet audiences and critics alike seemed to warm to Lebo M’s contributions to the score, while indicating that something was lost in translation of the John/Rice songs.
The music is also not consistently successful. Most of the songs written by Elton john and Tim Rice for the Disney film have been carried over to this production, and the pair composed three new ones for the play. Their Hollywood Disney character now seems strangely out of place. Not so the other lyrics and music composed by Ms. Taymor and others: M. Lebo, a South African born composer and performer; Mark Mancina, who had assisted in the writing and arranging the music for the Disney film. The African chant, sung by a chorus of mainly south African singers, often using native languages, bestows a new authenticity and casts a spell over the proceedings from the moment the play begins.
Of the three songs John and Rice contributed to the stage musical’s score, “The Morning Report” was written for the film, edited out, and then re-added as additional material after its success on Broadway. The other two, as the above review indicates, were seemingly less palatable additions to the diverse expression of the narrative as conceived by Taymor.
Julie Taymor’s notable contributions to the adaptation of The Lion King into a more communal experience with international accessibility via its varied inspirations can be seen as a notable departure from the Disney brand’s staid formula. Yet judging by the show’s sweep of six 1998 Tony awards, including Best Musical and a Best Director nod for Julie Taymor (making her the first woman in history to win this award) as well as eight Drama Desk awards in 1998, the critical response was overwhelmingly positive. Popular approval was also exceptionally well established. Today, ten years after its debut, the show has made over 3 billion dollars worldwide and still garners over 1 million dollars a week in Broadway ticket sales.
The enduring fiscal success of The Lion King on Broadway plays positively into the idea of the impermeable influence of the Disney brand. “’For me it’s both the animation and theater,” Mr. Schneider [president of Walt Disney Studios] says. ‘We knew we would be able to attract the Disneyites,” he says. He was counting on the people who loved The Lion King movie to be first in line at the theater box office- and then draw the sophisticated theater crowd afterwards.” The show’s original home theater, the New Amsterdam, was physically connected to a large Disney Company store, in which audience members need not even wait until the end of the musical in order to sate their consumerist desires. The store was open during intermission, its doors inviting traffic flow between the theater and commercial space and permitting the spectators to possess their own personal, physical representations of the characters on stage before them, almost immediately. This combination of commerce and creativity was seen by some as an invasion upon the sacred art space of theatre by capitalism.
The theatrical embodiment of cartoon characters allows Disney and other corporations in the entertainment industry to transform what have become traditional capitalist strategies for attracting consumers… by creating environments and narratives through which spectators/consumers are creating interpolated into fictions produced by and marketed in both shows and stores, entertainment and retail based corporations allow bodies to inhabit commodities and so suggest that commodities, in turn, can be brought to life.
This attitude ignores the reality that the majority of audiences for big budget Broadway shows are not highbrow theater patrons comparing Lion King to Taymor’s Titus Andronicus. The major ticket sales go to tourists. Just as Disney World is an international destination, so too is Broadway, and the marriage of the two permits exceptional commercial success.
At this point, one would be remiss if one did not address the involvement of Disney in the creation of “the New Times Square.” Beneficial to its branding to have a show on Broadway, Disney’s presence was also seen as a positive contribution to the real estate value of the area. “The other time Times Square was reinvented was in the 1950s when it was the heyday of Broadway ‘was celebrated around the world as a vibrant theater district bathed in a flood of electric lights. A vital crossroads, it combined a communications and media center with a theater and movie district, hotels, restaurants and bars, office towers, and nearby garment show rooms and factories.” However, by the early nineties, the grey slush of shady dealings had sullied the Great White Way. In his efforts to make New York a safe, family friendly destination again (and bring in tourist revenue) Mayor Rudolph Giuliani courted Disney to develop the area, allowing them to make alternative deals with theater unions so their expanded projects would be able to succeed. Bringing the Disney magic to Times Square seems to have served this purpose:
A few years ago, it was home to hookers, dirty bookstores and grungy B movies palaces. Now a little stretch of 42nd Street, west of Broadway in New York City is the most happening piece of show biz real estate in the world. On one side of the street is the refurbished new Amsterdam theater, where Disney’s The Lion King, a stage version of Simba’s tale that opened to raves in November, is the hottest selling show in Broadway history.
At significant financial investment (The Lion King’s $20 million price tag was the highest in Broadway history at the time of its release) the expansion of the Disney brand to include commercial interest in Times Square tourism appears mutually beneficial; as the tourists flock to Times Square, they have the opportunity to invest in commercial aspects of the company that cleaned it up, through ticket sales and merchandise purchased at the 42nd Street Disney Company store.
The commercialization of Broadway as represented by The Lion King may disturb those for whom the stage is a sacred space, for fear that the marketing hand of Mickey Mouse may be quashing artistic freedom. Taymor repeatedly stated in interviews that the understanding with the Disney corporation was that she was allowed her creative freedom, and they were allowed to oversee her process. Rather than threaten to compromise her artistic vision, the arrangement Disney reached with Taymor was that in the event of dissent, they could part company rather than leave either party unsatisfied. Ultimately, Taymor was allowed almost complete creative control, albeit supervised. This agreement may be seen to protect the interests of both involved parties. Yet while it is far too easy to look at The Lion King as an extremely artistic commercial endeavor, a less cynical view might be to see how the Disney brand draws those inexperienced with theatre into the seats, planting seeds of love for the stage arts in audience members previously unmoved by live action art. “The Lion King is going to be seen, in this country and around the world, by masses of children and adults unacquainted with either her brand of theatrical invention or with the magical possibilities of theatre itself.” Experimenting with Broadway, reassured by the familiar Disney branding of the show, parents and children may gain exposure to an art form they otherwise may not have accessed due to its often alienating, highbrow façade.
The mid-1990s were the perfect time for the marriage of a proven commercial formula with more expansive artistry. The success of the film version of The Lion King, with additional interest raised by its marketing campaigns, created a product that fit neatly within the schema of the Disney musical. Investing in Times Square to promote a proper playground for its latest brand offshoot, Disney created a viable creative space in which they could still pursue commercial returns. The stage musical of The Lion King itself similarly expands the potential of the space inhabited by both the film and the then nascent concept of Disney on Broadway. In adapting this film for the stage, Julie Taymor discarded the processed safety of the film and saved the essence of the story, preferring to present it as accessible due to its international applications. Additions to the score by Lebo M permitted this permutation without isolating those who enjoyed the Tim Rice/Elton John music made familiar by the film. Expansion is perhaps the best phraseology employed when discussing how the stage adaptation differs from the film, and the possibilities created for the Disney brand by that difference. The marriage of Disney’s domestic appeal to the Asian and African elements of The Lion King permits audiences to experience not only theatre, but also the world, in a trustworthy environment. The commercialization of art seems mostly unpalatable, but in cases such as The Lion King, in which it exposes inaccessible audiences to major creative forces, one may be more willing to accept the branding of Broadway as a somewhat manageable adaptation of the times.

Pictures are easier to read

All college graduates, barring allergies, should receive a puppy upon graduation. Right hand, handshake; left hand, diploma; right hand, leash. my delightful monster chloe is reclining in my lap like a playboy centerfold, eyes rolled back in her head, tongue lolling, saving my sanity.
I tend to get emotional/nostalgic/melancholy when I blog. While that seemed appropriate for Deadjournal/Xanga/Livejournal, blogspot is a blog for ADULTS. ADULTS modulate their emotions! So, I shall say that the past week has been a whirlwind of irritation, immediate sentimentality, relief and cleaning products. I possess a bachelor of arts and a slight sunburn on my chest (from where the robe and the hood separated, forming a v, or a heart shape- both relevant symbols.)
It was quite easy for me to get emotional, but as my mom pointed out- in a week or two we'll all mostly be doing the same things we were doing for the past eight semesters- except we'll be compensated handsomely for our work, and we'll be in brooklyn, not poughkeepsie.

i am already getting scolded for blogging when i should be doing laundry. I think i might start craigslisting for my own apartment today.

RT, IYSSSS, etc.

So --
My academic career in film is virtually completed. The friends/family screening of the senior projects was yesterday and was relatively well attended. Of course I arrived late and loudly, with Nancy and Randi in tow, but we made it through the two and a half hours without too much fidgeting.
I was definitely more preoccupied during this screening than during the academic review, probably because the film material wasn't as fresh/exciting as it had been that night, partially out of the inflated self worth that led me to get very huffy about who was or was not in attendance. It may just be a bruise to my insatiable self serving tendencies, but I'm a wee bit heartbroken that certain people didn't make the effort to show up last night... the film's fifteen minutes long and it is my whole heart and year's dedication.
I've been having a lot of issues with overinflated ideas of respect/disrespect lately, which I think might just be a coping mechanism I've developed to ease the transition from school to post school. But I think I've used the word disrespectful more times in the past three days than in the past three years. Why do I feel so self important that a different prioritizing can be perceived as an aggregious personal affront?

Because I'm tired, hungover (yay ryan's 21st!) and procrastinating on my final academic paper, EVER.
yeesh.

But yeah, it is what it is, and the films were absolutely incredible last night. i feel honored to be a part of the program.

an essay on my spring break.

Bored bored in the emergency room: spring break 2008
By caitlin mae
On Tuesday, a girl named caitlin woke up with a big smile on her face.
"I get to go horseback riding today!" she exclaimed. Caitlin was going
to her friend nancy's house and they were going to go on a trail ride
together. Caitlin worKed very hard all morning on her homework so
that she could have the most fun Tuesday she'd had in a long time.
This was, after all, spring break, and everyone knows spring break is
a wonderful time for overstressed college students to escape to the
tropics and in no way abuse alcohol, marijuana, or the personhood of
women.

Caitlin was reading her text book on film theory when her phone began
to buzz. "who could that be?" she questioned. She looked down at her
phone to check the caller id. What a surprise! It was her friend Ryan,
who had been over to watch a movie the night before. "I wonder if he
forgot anything?" mused caitlin. She picked up the phone.
"hello caitlin, I am outside your house."
"oh," said caitlin, "what can I do for you?"
"well, this is kind of awkward." said Ryan. "I think my toe might fall
off. Can you take me to the hospital?"
"oh dear!" caitlin exclaimed, thinking of her horseback riding date.
" If you can't that is okay." sighed Ryan.
"no,we should take care of your toe." said caitlin, grabbing her car
keys. "let's go to the emergency room. It will be a spring break
adventure!"

So caitlin and Ryan went to the hospital to find out if Ryan's toe
needed to be amputated. While he was seeing the doctor, Caitlin went
exploring and found out that the hospital had a pretty killer gift
shop. She bought Ryan a small, soft, brown stuffed bunny and a purple
and yellow get well soon balloon with a smiley face on it to make him
feel better.

Ryan and caitlin's friend Clyde had heard that Ryan was at the
hospital. Even though he thought this particular hospital was scary,
Clyde was locked out of the house, and decided to overcome his
obstacles, face his fears, chase his dreams and come wait with caitlin
while they sawed Ryan's big toe off. While she waited for Clyde to
arrive, caitlin drank a diet coke and decided to write a story about
her spring break adventure. This is that story.
THE END

Sent from my iPhone.

Sadie in the Jungle

A film by Erica Tronstad.
I did cinematography!
xoxc