Pass the scalpel, doctor.

Pass the scalpel, doctor., originally uploaded by Dustin Harrison-Atlas.

4th of July Finale

4th of July Finale, originally uploaded by Dustin Harrison-Atlas.

Truly DC at her finest… celebrating independence one crackle at a time.

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Abstract fireworks, 2009

Abstract fireworks, 2009, originally uploaded by Dustin Harrison-Atlas.

Getting into playing with light, rather than just capturing light the way we see it.

Maybe it will listen me up a bit.

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Be a lion in the edit suite (and put words where you want them?)

I’ve never left an educational experience so angry.

Today I attended a documentary editing seminar at American University put on by a team of eccentric filmmakers named Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert. In 2006, Bognar and Reichert received high acclaim (from Sundance and PBS, among others) for their feature doc A Lion in the House. The film follows five families who have children suffering from pediatric cancer. It is a devastating, emotional rollercoasters that was shot over a six year period. Tragically, not all of the children lived to see the film released.

For nearly three hours, Bognar and Reichert discussed editing techniques, file management, character development and story arcs. Much of what they preached made good sense and was worth listening to (minus their quirky tag-team presentation). However, over time the truth came out: to tell the perfect story they would purposely cut events from different days together and make it look like they were happening within moments of each other. They did it “for the good of the character arc.”

In one example, they followed a teenage boy into the hospital for a checkup where he was told he needed to gain weight and if he refused to eat they would have to put him on a feeding tube. At the end of the sequence, he was put on the feeding tube, and puked all over himself. Bognar and Reichert took more than their fair share of artistic liberties to the point where their assemply was downright dishonest. It did make for a good story, however.

That example was peanuts compared to this:

Here’s the kicker. In the final chapter of the film (which, by the way, is four hours long and was aired over two nights on PBS), the filmmakers were taking a last look at one of the families (I’ll leave the names out) to see how they were coping with the loss of their daughter. The mother’s tone in the interview was much darker than what the filmmakers wanted the film to end on. But within her last interview, the mother showed moments of softness that were wonderful. So, to complete the film in the mood they had planned, the filmmakers cut out all the dark material and put the soft stuff together in an artificial order (including completely out of order and out of context). The mother’s jumbled words made perfect sense when heard out loud. However, the problem is, it’s not what the grieving mother meant, or even truly felt.

Naturally, I called the filmmakers out in the seminar on the first issues of cutting the days together, but they dodged the question with a shoddy answer. When they admitted to the practice of reordering words and phrases, I raised my hand again. Now knowing better, they refused to call on me.

It is my opinion that Bognar and Reichert should not be teaching filmmakers how to edit unethically, nor should American University invite them back. This editing seminar should be followed up with a seminar on editing and storytelling ethics. I surely plan to attend and will most definitely bring up Bognar and Reichert’s egregious filmmaking practices.

Verdict:

Suspended, without pay.

Eccentric (definition): deviating from the recognized or customary character, practice, etc.; irregular; erratic; peculiar; odd.

A letter to my brother in South America, on Obama.

Kids.

My eyes just welled up with tears at the realization that we have not talked about this momentous occasion, this powerful experience, this overnight transformation into a brave new world.

So let me talk about the air in America right now: It is light, and happy. And for the first time in many years, people’s hearts are filled with elation, and, simply put, joy.

I went down to the White House at 1am, after Obama gave his victory speech. As I sat in the passenger seat on the way to the White House, we pulled up beside two black ladies waiting for the red light to turn. I looked out the window at the driver. Both of our faces were dead serious. And then I raised my fist at the window and stuck out my thumb and smiled. She did the same. She then started honking her horn wildly, rolled down her window and began screaming, overwhelmed with a sense of joy, and freedom.

Dylan, it was incredible. People were laying on their car horns and cheering all over the city, all over the country and all over the world. They were slapping hands, hugging and singing. They were singing songs of hope, and victory (hey, hey, hey, goodbye). They were running through the streets, flailing their arms. It was a celebration for democracy. A beam of light (more than a glimmer) of hope for the future.

After the votes had been tallied, it seemed as though the angry weight of the world had been lifted off our shoulders.  But as I think about that sentence, maybe it’s just the opposite. Maybe America can be proud to carry the weight of the world again, and be proud to be a gentle force for good. A good world where all creatures have freedom from want, freedom from fear, freedom of speech and freedom from oil.

People feel saved. Which makes him a savior, which puts a lot of pressure on the man, and sets him up for failure. But he will do his best, and he’s going to have the world to help him succeed.

Let’s talk about the effect his victory had on the black people in America.

Whoopie Goldberg said something wonderful the other day. She said that when Obama won, she felt like she could finally put her suitcase down. She could feel like an American, not an African-American descendant of a slave. This was her country now too. What a nice thought. And how sad to think that a person of her stature felt this way all these years.

A more extreme example of the happiness shared by black people is this: one big black dude (6’7) was running around campus leaping like a ballerina. With each powerful jump he flew higher and higher in the air. And then he started to yell, “What’s up now people? We got niggas in the White House! We got niggas in the White House!” Maybe he could have been a bit more eloquent with his word choice, but his sentiment was clear: My people can do anything now. And so can I.  And with each step he flew higher and higher, because he no longer had a ceiling holding him down.

It’s going to be a more peaceful world from here on out.

Yes, we can. And, yes, we did.

Go buy yourself an American flag and pin it on your backpack, cause you can be proud to be an American again.

Peace and love,

Dusty

PS: The victory margin: 364 electoral college votes to 162. You only need 270 to win. Vote tally, you ask? 65,340,608 to 57,358,053. Huge.