Thursday 5 April 2012

first scene for my film



Leonie advised me to treat my narrative as though they were chapters and list the actions that will take place in each part. Here is the script to my narrative and the actions that will take part during the sentances.


To an audience, I am elegant and weightless, balancing on the points of my shoes. An illusion.
  • Shoe is shown perfect 
  • the shoe goes onto pointe and the angle changes.
  • the shoe is shown to become battered and broken
My shoes are uncomfortable at first. They have to be broken.
  • the shoe is bashed
  • The shoe then is then scored on the sole
  • the shoe is bent and snapped
  • a hand places it onto pointe position

Together, the shoes and I, we have to train ourselves, many hours, days, weeks, years….

  • the shoe does a pirouette
  • camera angles change and the shoe is jumping
  • the shoe does more floor exercises
  • as it performs the shoe slowly becomes more broken and smudged. Fading to a screen of black.

Then comes the moment, when the crippling pain is gone – and I AM weightless, beautiful, soaring …. such a brief moment!

 
  • a ribbon appears on the screen as a beacon of light.
  • ribbons swirl around the screen graceful and light.
  • the ribbons drift to the ground as a pair of battered feet are in the middle.

 
Pain can be forgotten, shoes wear out.
  • the battered feet have bandages on them.
  • the shoe is wrapped up and put to the side

There is always someone waiting in the wings, hungry.
  • the shoes are on the left and the screen pans to a newer pair of shoes on the right of the screen.


I have the first scene of my film so far done.




New Script

Have alot of old updates to blog.

My altered script was as follows


   A ballerina's feet are her best kept secret.
   To the audience of a ballet performance, the ballerina is elegant and weightless thanks to her pointe shoes. However, what the audience see's is merely an illusion.
   Pointe shoes require breaking-in so that the ballerina may dance in them comfortably. Usually they are bashed, bent and scored and may even have pieces torn from them. Handmade from satin and canvas, these shoes may last from a few hours to a few weeks. And, after a show, the ballerina will feel like those battered pointe shoes. She may suffer broken or lost toenails as well as blisters, bruising and bunions. A dancer runs the risk of being crippled by her shoes, her own tools. She may protect her feet and her lively hood by taping her toes and stuffing her shoes with cotton wool but pain is always an inevitable thing. Art is so rarely derived from happiness.
   A dancer may train in these agonising shoes for up to twelve hours a day, increasing the risk of injury. One wrong turn could end a dancer's career. Some may even hide their injuries, such is the desire to hold onto a part they have been given in a performance. There is always someone waiting in the wings, hungry to fill their shoes.
   A life of a ballerina is full of training, which doesn't stop when they leave the studio. They must hone their bodies to be thin yet with muscle, not unlike an athlete. Their bodies are also the reason why ballerinas are born, not made: they are required to have a thin, elegant frame.
   A ballerina will spend weeks training for a performance, undergoing battling fatigue, injury and stress. But during the final performance, their hard work will pay dividends, for it is their chance to shine in the spotlight.
   In that one performance, the training, endurance, shoes and the dancer's body come together for a brief moment where all the hardship was worth it.
   In a way a dancer is like the very shoes she dances in. She is born, she is trained and injured, and enjoys a moment in the sun, then she is finishes her career when she cannot dance anymore and is thrown away from her company.
  
Although it was a true depiction of a ballerinas life, this was too much of an essay. Leonie went through my script with me a few weeks ago and this is the finished version which will be a narrative to my film. We timed it out and found that it came to a minute.


To an audience, I am elegant and weightless, balancing on the points of my shoes. An illusion.



Together, the shoes and I, we have to train ourselves, many hours, days, weeks, years….



My shoes are uncomfortable at first. They have to be broken.



Then comes the moment, when the crippling pain is gone – and I AM weightless, beautiful, soaring …. such a brief moment!
(‘in the sun,’) Show this in the images… swirling movement in sunlight?


Pain can be forgotten, shoes wear out.


There is always someone waiting in the wings, hungry.