Come see Pez the 480, the thesis film that I directed!!! It will be screening Monday December 14th in Norris Theater at USC at 7:00 PM and 9:00 PM.
Two very different people fight over the possession of a Pez Dispenser for two very different reasons.
Pez is a dark comedy that takes place in an alternate suburbia where bright colors and out-of-this-world hair and makeup are the norm. Be ready for a fun and entertaining visual feast!
Synopsis: In a colorful suburban land, goth outcast Alicia DeWhitley happens upon a rare Eiffel Tower Pez dispenser while shopping with her perfectionist-to-the-T mother, May. Instantly growing attached, Alicia wears the dispenser as a necklace, carrying it on her body day and night. Meanwhile, Barry, landscaper extraordinaire and slob, witnesses Alicia's purchase only to realize that the Eiffel Tower Pez dispenser is the last one he needs to complete his epic Pez dispenser collection, thereby confirming his entry into the Guinness Book of World Records.
A cat and mouse game ensues as Barry does everything in his power to retrieve the precious Eiffel Tower Pez dispenser from Alicia's grasp, who holds onto it as if it were her last link to a fading memory...
This short film is the most advanced and well-funded project put on by the prestigious USC School of Cinematic Arts.
This project has been shot on state-of-the-art Sony digital HD, edited on Avid, recorded in the Spielberg Sound Stage, mixed in ProTools, scored by a professional composer and live orchestral arrangement.
I am pulled from my warm dark room into the cold light, forced to breathe, gasping for air from my restricted lungs. Something wraps around my neck, choking me, scaring me. Screams and shouts of panic fill the room as men and women in white surround me. “Cut it off, she can’t breathe,” yells one man. A shaky female voice screams in pain, confusion, and terror. In the heat and the yelling I slowly crack open the crust that seals my eyelids and see an eye staring back at me, my first blurred image. Close to death, still not breathing, I curiously look at the eye watching me. It is my very own eye reflecting back at me through the lens of a gigantic family video camera. That moment is my first, documented and preserved on the film of a dusty VHS tape buried in my families’ garage bookshelf.
Back in December of 1987, my Uncle, a photographer, asked my eight-month-pregnant hormonal mother, Stacey, if he could film my birth. Thinking it was quite an invasion of privacy and not something anyone should have the opportunity to watch and relive, my mother refused. But lying in her hospital bed at three in the morning, she soon changed her mind and decided she would let her brother film her first birth. Eventually she also changed her mind about having a natural birth. My mother, a yoga teacher, has always believed that anyone can control pain through breathing. She insisted that my dad take a special mother/ father “yoga breathing” class so that he would be her breathing coach. At four in the morning after hours of labor and my father’s lack of motivational breathing assistance, my mom got the epidural, a great moment for eventual viewers of the birthing tape.
Growing up I knew this birth tape existed but it was completely off limits to me. More off limits than the rated R movies lying next to it! I would beg to watch it, not really because I wanted to see a close up of my mother in birthing action, but because I was not allowed to see it “until you are fourteen.” I could only imagine what “mature” content was emulsified into the film. Certainly I, a mature twelve year-old, was mature enough to handle whatever graphic image the treasure-of-a-tape held!
January 13, 2002 I finally turned fourteen. It was my first day back from my wonderful three-week winter break. I had spent a good portion of my break thinking about the moment the tape would enter our VCR. In history class I watched the clock slowly tick down the minutes until the grand viewing that was surely to come after school. But after school, after presents and after cake I mentioned the tape and my parents said, “Lindsey, you are not allowed to watch it till you are fifteen, remember?” “I am ready!!! I am mature enough,” I angrily yelled. I lost that fight for the next two years.
Eventually my parents broke down and we all watched my birth tape together when I was sixteen. As soon as the tape started rolling I wondered why in the world I had ever had an interest in watching it! Thankfully the tape was muted for the most part but the whole experience was incredibly awkward. I witnessed the heated argument that ensued when my father whispered to my mother, “maybe you should try and be more quiet” and my mother’s angry response eventually leading the epidural. It was very disturbing watching my bloody umbilical chord tightly wrap around my neck nearly kill me... until at a few seconds old when I stare right into the camera and smile. We all rewound that image several times in awe.
If a video camera was the first image I ever saw, a bottle of cranberry juice must have been the second. Perhaps a bottle sat by my mother’s hospital bed and I happen to lay eyes on it. Growing up, while most of my classmates wanted to be ballerinas, ice skaters and professional basketball players, I wanted to be a cranberry picker, inspired by the sleek images of men standing in bogs on the Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice Cocktail bottle.
I wrote a letter to the Ocean Spray Company and they sent me three Ocean Spray towels and a VHS tape on how cranberry juice is made, a documentary of sorts.
While some of my classmate’s parents discouraged them from being anything but doctors and lawyers, my parents encouraged me to be whatever I wanted, and that included being a professional cranberry picker. Because of my parents, I grew up truly believing that I could accomplish anything if I set my mind to it. It was great being raised by two hippies (my mom had meet at age 39 and my sister at age 42) because their goals as parents were to raise my sister and I in a place where we could be and do whatever we desired. My grandfather wanted my dad to be an insurance seller and my father’s decision to pursue his passion in the arts was not supported by his close-minded parents, and my mom faced a similar struggle when she decided to be a yoga teacher. My parents know what it feels like to grow up in suburbia under parents who want their kids to follow a straight, pre-determined path, and so my parents raised my sister and I in Los Angeles, a city they believed we would be exposed to amazing opportunities and life a variety of viewpoints. I grew up eating falafels, Ethiopian food, and hamburgers, believing that I could be a cranberry picker or a famous actress if I wanted to. I went to a Sikh daycare center where I insisted on wearing a turban, and I attended a Jewish pre-school, making my parents light Shabbat candles on Friday nights. My parents took me to museums before I could talk, and I believe that being introduced to so many diverse cultures and experiences at such a young age has shaped me into the open and artistic person that I am. I played AYSO soccer in the Beverly Hills League with girls who had designer cleats, even though I have never lived in Beverly Hills or owned a pair of expensive shoes. When money was tight, my family moved in with my grandmother. When my dad’s designs sold, we took a trip to Hawaii. But I would not trade my house located a block away from Little Ethiopia and half a mile from an Ashram and a Greek Coptic Church, even though I did not feel safe going outside at night.
Despite my early desire to go into the cranberry industry, my occupational goal changed to filmmaking when I was nine, the Ocean Spray VHS quickly retiring to the bookshelf nearby my birthing tape. Like most children, I watched my fair share of Sesame Street and sitting next to that off-limits birthing tape were tons of Disney movies and Winnie the Pooh tapes. But I enjoyed making movies so much more than simply watching them; I found sitting on a couch for hours in front of a television screen boring. Making films on the other hand, is never boring. I first got hooked because I could make my entire fourth grade class, including the teachers, laugh and smile with my films. I also found that my films appeal to a wide audience because I depict a variety of viewpoints, probably due to my diverse Los Angeles upbringing. I made my first film at nine years old, a comedic report on global warming. My classmates laughed at my lead character, a gorilla puppet, and even my teachers chuckled over my homemade cardboard model of an electric car. The fulfillment I received from seeing my classmates have fun watching my work inspired me to keep going.
From there the videos never stopped. Though my two best friends, Molly and Marie, are at Ivy League colleges studying medicine today, before college, film was our game. During the week Molly, Marie and I would write scripts, storyboard and be ready to film the following weekend. Our other friends would go to the mall and to movie theaters on Saturday nights, but we were “on location” in my backyard, filming with a camera in a plastic bag so that we could run through the sprinklers to insinuate a thunderstorm. From commercials to music videos and even our own monthly version of Saturday Night Live called Tuesday Midmorning Afternoon Live, making music videos and comedies truly made me happy.
Here are some very silly music videos that I have made through the years with my sister Jane. I swear that the videos I make today are a lot better! They really make me miss my long hair!
A ridiculous one
Here is a more recent music video that I did with Jane (but by recent I still mean a long time ago, I swear)!
In sixth grade we made a drama thriller for the talent show where I played a girl who got lost in a forest where a serial killer who escaped from prison was on the lose. In seventh grade we made The Mitosis Ballet for biology class where Molly was the nucleus, a few of us were chromosomes and we re-enacted in dance form a narrated version of mitosis from interphase through cytokenisis. In eighth grade we reenacted the civil war and I discovered iMovie, a simple Apple editing software that really brought my films to the next level. I would sit in front of my computer editing for hours, and not much has changed today, except now I work on a professional Avid system and edit for NBC at my internship.
Here is a recent music video that I edited.
That dusty old bookshelf in my garage reflects my life well. My parents love making art so on one shelf is their art, on another is the art my sister and I have made throughout the years. But the rest of the bookshelf has been taken over by my films. As it turns out I have my two most life changing moments on tape. The first, the survival of my complicated birth, the second, a short film of me submitting my USC film school application.
I worried that I would not be able to afford tuition at USC, but as teachers and artists, my parents were struggling with their finances and this actually ended up giving me a great financial aid package. USC even paid for me to live on campus despite the fact that my house is six miles away. But did I belong at USC where the film school is composed of largely white upper class students? It felt awkward knowing that I was the first Jewish person my suitemate from Kentucky met. As I began to immerse myself into student life at USC, I began to realize how important my unique upbringing was to me because I differed greatly from a lot of the students around me. Today I realize that because I grew up exposed to such diversity of wealth, race and religions, I have a unique voice and all of my experiences allow me to make better films.
Now a senior at USC, I still don’t own a car and I can’t put personal funds into my films like most of my classmates can to have elaborate stunts or shoot in exotic locations. But I believe that my understanding of the world from differing perspectives has made me into a more insightful filmmaker and will continue to help me portray different perspectives. I am not rich or poor but I understand what it means to be a part of both worlds. I think this gives me an advantage from the boy who sits next to me in my film theories class; he went to a predominantly white private school in upstate New York and he has had limited interaction with people who are different from him racially, politically and financially.
I still live near the USC campus and even though I don’t relate well to the many sorority girls and rich film hipsters, I have done very well as a filmmaker at USC. Every time I visit home I have another DVD to add to that dusty bookshelf. Today VHS tapes of my early short films and now DVDs of my college films follow the birthing tape and the Ocean Spray tape. A few dusty open spots remain open on the shelf… spots reserved for what is coming next.
My younger sister Jane goes to the Hamilton High School Music Academy. The high school is public music magnet and so the programs in music, dance and theater are very strong. I must admit it is rare for me to go see a high school play and actually enjoy it, but this play is seriously the most professional thing I have seen in a long time. I see most of the USC School of Theater plays and Cabaret at Hamilton was better than most plays I see at USC.
Though the musical is being put on at a high school, this is not the PG version of the musical... in fact it is apparently the raunchiest version filled with abortion, nazis, sex and of course, cabarets in the 1930s in Berlin. Yes it is high schoolers coming out on stage in very revealing outfits and sensually dancing, but I swear you forget that when you are watching the show.
I have seen Cabaret before and I forgot how intense the story is. The musical really hit home for me because it deals with the beginning of the nazi takeover in Berlin and my family came from Berlin and Vienna, though many members of my family did not make it to the states. Of course the hallaucost has especially intense meaning for me as a Jewish descendent of family members who did not make it, but everyone watching the show was moved.
The two most intense moments for me is when the very flamboyant Master of Ceremonies, Emcee, does a dance with an actor in a gorilla costume. This is the first scene after intermission and the entire audience laughs as Emcee comically dances with the gorilla singing the song If You Could See Her
Here are the lyrics.
I know what you're thinking: You wondered why I chose her Out of all the ladies in the world. That's just a first impression, What good's a first impression? If you knew her like I do It would change you're point of view.
If you could see her through my eyes You wouldn't wonder at all. If you could see her through my eyes I guarantee you would fall (like I did). When we're in public togtheer I hear society moan. But if they could see her through my eyes Maybe they'd leave us alone.
Why can't they leave us alone.
I understand your objection I grant you the problem's not small But if you could see her through my eyes She wouldn't look Jewish at all.
Read that last line of the song. While the audience laughs because dancing with a gorillas is funny, the song suddenly takes a dark turn as the audience realizes that the gorilla is a metaphor for how Jews were seen. This scene is very poignant and really struck a harsh chord with me.
Here is the scene I am talking about from Cabaret the film.
The other scene of the film that also deeply impacted me the very last scene of the musical when Emcee reveals that he is actually Jewish. He slowly and dramatically drops his robe to reveal that he is wearing the concentration camp uniform and the big yellow Jewish star.
Cabaret is a poignant and deeply impacting musical and I recommend the Hamilton performance of the play! I will probably be going to see it again!
