Thursday, March 25, 2010
It all began last winter.
It started with a passing thought, developed into a full-fledged idea, became tangible when we scribed it on paper and settled in our minds as a finalized goal: to make a movie filled with mystery, intrigue and stripes.
Yes, a movie about Waldo.
However, through the complicated and ever-shifting characteristics of college life, our promising project was put on indefinite hiatus--until now that is. Using a film competition put on via our church ward as a catalyst, Waldo was finally able to come into fruition through our camera lens.
In odd, yet successful combination with two of my latest interests--1920's noir private eye flicks and "The Office"--our freshly finished project, "Where's Waldo: The Movie," contains elements from all three. I, of course, play the part of the detective (see nerdy shot of me attempting to spice up life in the newsroom below).
The movie follows the Scooby Doo-esque adventures of a band of college students attempting to find the elusive Waldo, all the while encountering a myriad of colorful characters of lore on their pursuit.
The movie was a blast to make. Hopefully the end result is just as entertaining. I give you "Where's Waldo: The Movie."
Watch part one here:
And part two here:
Sunday, March 7, 2010
The night began as any other typical Saturday evening would in Provo. A sense of restlessness, a flurry of activity and socializing, a crowded University Ave.--oft making any vehicular travel frustrating--and the expectation of a good movie with friends.
This particular Saturday’s movie selection was the much talked about “Slumdog Millionaire,” a film offered through BYU’s international cinema program—one of the University’s hidden gems (or so I thought). Turns out the movie was quite well-known judging by the roughly 437.6 people standing in line, reproducing approximately the length of the LaVell Edwards football stadium. I seemed to have underestimated the attraction of Mormons to the “clean flicks” editions of good rated R movies. We were forced to re-strategize our night’s goals.
After strolling over to the Eyring Science Center and playing with the assortment of gadgets and science experiments strewn about the building’s main area, we had collapsed in a thin hallway where we were admiring a glass display of Russian nesting dolls along with the seemingly unfit placement of a zebra Beanie Baby named Ziggy.
Enter “Spencer”—real name omitted for his protection (not to protect his safety, but future dating opportunities). Donning a Star Trek shirt and a disarmingly large grin, he greeted us in the small corridor. After a bit o’ small talk, he offered to give us a tour of some of the facilities he has access to as a physics major, forebodingly known as “the basement.” We weren’t sure why he would offer such an opportunity, but intrigued we ventured into the depths of the science center.
Appearing like some secret lab out of a James Bond movie, the basement was very cool-looking—in a sterile, mad scientist sort of way. “Spencer” led us down to one of the larger rooms with a bright yellow sign attached to the doors, reading:
“Big Scary Laser: Do not look into beam with remaining eye.”
We all laughed at it (somewhat suspiciously, I might add), and slowly proceeded to enter the room. A quick scan of our surroundings told us that this place was every nerd’s paradise. There were some computers in one corner, others scattered about, lasers and other contraptions on lab tables, a pair of light sabers in a box near us and a ridiculously complicated-looking math equation taking up an entire white board.
Eagerly, our geeky tour guide showed us around, tossing out terms like “Strontium,” “inferatory” and “U.S.S. Enterprise” (Trekkie reference) as we explored. Admittedly the tour was pretty fascinating and our escort’s enthusiasm for his surroundings a little infectious. However, we began getting bored so we said our goodbyes.
We walked back to my car enlightened, worn-out and grateful that our Saturday nights usually consist of activities with other life forms above ground.
Thank you Spencer, wherever you are, for such a special evening.