I grew up surrounded by videos. I owned hundreds of them – VHS movies or videos of films. So, to me, the words ‘video’ and ‘film’ were largely synonymous. As a spectator all I saw was the final product, which I called a ‘film’, and the closest I got to the medium was dissecting my VHS tapes. These were my prized film reels, endless loops of magnetic tape. I just assumed from the word that movies were shot on something called ‘film’ though I had never seen a film camera before. So when my friends showed up on the scene one day with a camera, which spat out VHS tapes, I said, ‘Okay, let’s go make a movie’. As you can see, I was not a techie. In fact I didn’t even know what the word ‘medium’ meant until I took Media class in grade 11.
Around that time, the term ‘digital video’ started appearing in conversation, and I remember first seeing memory cards being tossed around. Photography students running through the halls like someone just died. I didn’t get it. All it did for me was to make me think a little harder about what ‘film’ meant – how was it different from the stuff in those tapes of mine? In retrospect, thank god digital arrived when it did because I could have easily entered my adult life without ever knowing what ‘analog’ meant. Jokes aside, I inevitably ascribed to the consumer understanding of motion pictures; soon, in sight, in mind, digital was the only medium around me. Sure I learned a certain degree of digital terminology just by living in this world but I never delved into it. Despite offering a practical skill, it didn’t seem hands-on to me.
It felt elusive and intangible. I saw all the creative controls as existing behind a layer of complex technology. And since most tasks on a computer were already a mystery to me, I gave up and stuck with acting. It wasn’t until a few years ago, after being baffled by the fact the cameras on the local ‘Movie of the Week’ shoots had no film cartridges attached to them, that my final question was answered – there’s no such thing as high definition ‘film’!
To this day I have never shot on film before. No surprise, I’m sure. I’m a kid of my generation. Throughout my scattered experiments with videography I’ve never even come in contact with any part of the original filmmaking process. However, my frustration with the intangibility of digital technology has made me often wonder about the lure of ‘film’. Despite having no experience with the medium, I have accumulated thoughts, feelings and ideas concerning this potent medium we call ‘film’. I’ve just spent the last four years in university studying the theory behind filmmaking, which has played a significant role in channeling these thoughts. But it wasn’t until I first studied Norman McLaren, that I finally entered into the mystery, riveted by this image of a man alone in the dark with one little light examining his reels. There was something inherently special about this process of making a ‘film’.
Though I had never connected with celluloid in this way before, I somehow intuitively understood that ‘film’ would suit me. I saw myself alone in the dark, overlooking a flat bed of trims, pieces, all my raw ingredients spread out in front of me. I could see my elements. I could touch the pictures I’d created, hold them in my hands in their native state. It’s a sensory thing – the chance to be physically connected every step of the way, watching my film take shape inch-by-inch, frame-by-frame. From that moment on I knew that the two, ‘film’ and ‘video’ were completely different in terms of creative process. The vision of a band of die-hard filmmakers, purists who wouldn’t switch over to digital if their life depended on it, suddenly made sense.
Around that time, the term ‘digital video’ started appearing in conversation, and I remember first seeing memory cards being tossed around. Photography students running through the halls like someone just died. I didn’t get it. All it did for me was to make me think a little harder about what ‘film’ meant – how was it different from the stuff in those tapes of mine? In retrospect, thank god digital arrived when it did because I could have easily entered my adult life without ever knowing what ‘analog’ meant. Jokes aside, I inevitably ascribed to the consumer understanding of motion pictures; soon, in sight, in mind, digital was the only medium around me. Sure I learned a certain degree of digital terminology just by living in this world but I never delved into it. Despite offering a practical skill, it didn’t seem hands-on to me.
It felt elusive and intangible. I saw all the creative controls as existing behind a layer of complex technology. And since most tasks on a computer were already a mystery to me, I gave up and stuck with acting. It wasn’t until a few years ago, after being baffled by the fact the cameras on the local ‘Movie of the Week’ shoots had no film cartridges attached to them, that my final question was answered – there’s no such thing as high definition ‘film’!
To this day I have never shot on film before. No surprise, I’m sure. I’m a kid of my generation. Throughout my scattered experiments with videography I’ve never even come in contact with any part of the original filmmaking process. However, my frustration with the intangibility of digital technology has made me often wonder about the lure of ‘film’. Despite having no experience with the medium, I have accumulated thoughts, feelings and ideas concerning this potent medium we call ‘film’. I’ve just spent the last four years in university studying the theory behind filmmaking, which has played a significant role in channeling these thoughts. But it wasn’t until I first studied Norman McLaren, that I finally entered into the mystery, riveted by this image of a man alone in the dark with one little light examining his reels. There was something inherently special about this process of making a ‘film’.
Though I had never connected with celluloid in this way before, I somehow intuitively understood that ‘film’ would suit me. I saw myself alone in the dark, overlooking a flat bed of trims, pieces, all my raw ingredients spread out in front of me. I could see my elements. I could touch the pictures I’d created, hold them in my hands in their native state. It’s a sensory thing – the chance to be physically connected every step of the way, watching my film take shape inch-by-inch, frame-by-frame. From that moment on I knew that the two, ‘film’ and ‘video’ were completely different in terms of creative process. The vision of a band of die-hard filmmakers, purists who wouldn’t switch over to digital if their life depended on it, suddenly made sense.
I know now that there is a unique bond forged by working with tangible media. Whether it is Norman McLaren or Steven Spielberg, there is something that intrinsically binds these artists to the film medium, regardless of depth of field or questions of aesthetic preference. What I have heard thus far for choosing ‘film’ is the conviction that there is something in this hands-on experience of making ‘film’. As Roger D. Wilson (independent filmmaker) says, and it seems to me now the essential truth, “it’s the process”. This felt reality of being inside – of bodying the creative act – cannot be realized any other way.
