So I’m in the middle of writing an essay about Robert Flaherty’s “Man of Aran” a supposed documentary film about the life of a family who live on the Isle of Aran.

Firstly, the actor (yes, actor) playing the titular role isn’t even from the isle of Aran, the wife and child, though indeed from the island are neither related to the man nor even each other.

In the film they hunt for basking sharks, using equipment that hasn’t been used there for decades, make oil out of the sharks livers for the lamps in their houses despite the fact that the houses are clearly lit by electricity.

They then farm potatoes by scavanging soil from cracks in the rock (or as the film would have it, magic it from thin air as according to the intertitles “the land [...] has not soil!”). They cart it around on giant baskets on their back… despite the fact that in reality they had donkeys and horses to do it for them. They also break rocks to make room for these potato farms… you’d think after hundreds of years of living on the island they’d just grow the potatoes in the same place?

A boy fishes from the edge of a vertigo enducingly high cliff and spots a basking shark. He’s about 14 years old… and acording to the film the sharks migrate every year in their hundreds. You’d think he’d seen sharks loads of times, not to mention seen his father hunt them and know that basking sharks are harmless and not man eating. Yet the boy looks absolutly terrified and runs off to tell his mother.

The film shows one shot of waves crashing against the cliffs after another, in fact I’d wager half the film is images of waves. Beautiful as they are, they kind of lose their majestic impact after a few hundred times. Not to mention the fact that no matter how violent and high the waves go… the wee boat the father rows around in seems fine. All the danger is done in the editting and music.

You won’t believe the title for the essay I have to write about it.

“Does Robert Flaherty’s  ‘romantic vision’ invalidate the ethnographic status of his work in a film like Man of Aran?”

Seriously.

My film is closer to reality than this one and it’s about a bearded lady in a circus who’s star performance consists of a single clown, a knife thrower and a man of indeterminate age in a wheelbarrow. Oh, it’s called ‘Shaved’ now, BTW. And it’s nearly finished!

Romantic vision my arse.

How productive updating my blog actually is is up for debate.

Anyway, as the title suggests I’m making a movie. Everything is underway. I’m part of a great team and we’ve got an awesome script. I’m very excited.

The film is called No Freaks Allowed and concerns a Bearded Lady, Mary, who shaves off her beard in order to escape the circus to which she is enslaved and finally become free of the abusive tyranny of the ringmaster, Brian. With the help of Frank the clown and a few other circus freaks, she suceeds in getting her revenge on the ringmaster and leaving the circus to acheive her dream of getting a job in the finance sector.

I’m the art director and have been working hard to make sure the film looks gorgeous. I’ve been going for a 1900s feel, with victorian costumes and old school circus lettering and colours. Haven’t done much in the way of costumes or set props, I’m just waiting to see what locations and actors we can get. I’ll maybe put up some sketches and collages I’ve made. If I’m not to busy writing essays for my other modules…

Speaking of which, I’d better get back to my review of Paris is Burning

Laters

~Sparkyissickoftalkingaboutperformanceinthedocumetaryform…

I’m just going to write my first post. It doesn’t really matter what it says, as long as I get it out there. I used to blog all the time. It was easy. I just wrote whatever your mind was thinking about at the time. Who cares if no one reads it. This is more for me than anyone else.

You can start with all your intellectual musings after you get this first one done. It’s simple.

This is all I have to say.

Wow. That was all I had to say. Man. Maybe I really shouldn’t be blogging. I mean. I’m only adding to the detritus that already litters the internet.

Holy crap I’m poisoning the internet. I’m the cyber equivalent of a litterer. I’m that bastard who drops the juice carton right in front of the bin instead of disposing of it sensibly. I’m the reason the internet can’t have nice things.

Neurosis isn’t flattering.

Well. This seems like a good enough place to end the post.

Oh my god. I think I did it.

~Sparkymadehisfirstpost…