It is one of my chief disappointments that life happens at 60i.

I'll explain.

Be prepared for three short paragraphs of nerd-talk, then on to the relevant stuff.

The term "60i" is video-nerd-speak for "60-frames-per-second, interlaced," which is the speed at which standard video is recorded. Basically, it means that my video camera takes 60 half-pictures per second, and then interlaces each half into a whole, for a very clear and crisp 30 frames of video.

But there are other standards for shooting. There is 30p, or "30-frames-per-second, progressive," which means that it takes 30 WHOLE pictures a second, instead of 60-half-pictures. Then, there is 24p, which is just like 30p except it only takes 24 pictures per second. (This is what movies are shot in).

If you want to think of the difference visually...watch an episode of COPS, then an episode of CSI, then watch Braveheart. COPS is shot in 60i...it looks depressingly like real life. It's full-motion...very crisp...and very...ummm...real. CSI, however, is shot at 30p. It's video's best attempt to look like film. (Video is MUCH cheaper to shoot and process than film is, so it would be very rare for a television show to be shot on film...though it's been done). It feels a little more...dramatic. A little strobe-ier, a little dreamier. Braveheart, and every other feature film for that matter, was shot on 24p. It looks like...well, it looks like the movies. The drama is more dramatic...less like life, more like movies. Things move a little slower. I can't explain it any better than to tell you to watch all three, and you'll see what I mean.

OK, enough with the video stuff. Here's the point: I don't want to live at 60i anymore.

Real life is to crisp...to clean...too real. It's the green flourescent buzzing over your head at the Jiffy Lube while you wait for your car to get done...it's the awkward hug you have with your dad after a saturday breakfast...it's the little bits of acne under your beard...it's the cell phone ringing in the theater. It's the difference between the triumphant moment at the end of the film where the two long-lost lovers embrace for the perfect kiss (the one that embodies every bit of passion, angst and energy that the audience has been storing up for the first 90 minutes of the film...and the one that ensures that they will always be together), and the lackluster first-kiss I had in a parked car outside of Talbot's at the Kenwood Mall (subject for another post). Real life is sharp, full-motion, crisp, and broad-scoped. The movies are dreamy, targeted, scripted, and narrow. And I can't help it, but every time I come out of a movie, I long to be back inside.

I'm getting the feeling I'm not expressing myself very well here. But I'll press on...let me know if this gets more clear.

It's interesting to me the way movies work on us. I think they work because they make us think of things that remind us of real life. For instance, I watched "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" last night, and the film opens with the bombing of London during WWII. During this very brief scene, my ears teared up as I watched a young English family scamper through their backyard into a homemade bomb-shelter, as blasts echoed in the streets of London. I was not, as you might expect, ever present at the actual bombing of London...nor have I ever been present at any bombing of any kind...ever. (I saw a car on fire once in fifth grade...that was about the closest thing). So why was I tearing up? Because I do know what fear feels like, and love for my family, and the belief that one or all of us may soon suffer pain or die. And the movie reminded me of those things...on a mostly subconsicous level, I think...and that made me cry. It reminded me of something that actually happened to me in my actual real life, and which I had actually stored in both my conscious and subconscious minds. A group of actors on a set surrounded by very expensive lights followed a script that some gifted writers had written. Then the film that was shot was brought to some gifted post-production guys, who added sound effects and lighting tricks, and made it feel like an actual bombing raid, and not a sound stage in northern London. Some guys, in real life did something fake to remind of real life, then mailed it to where I really live, so I could pay nine bucks to experience fake real life long enough to remind me of something real in my life.

And the amazing thing is...it worked. I cried a little bit in this otherwise unoutstanding film. And I left the theater regretting that real life is nowhere as great as the movies.

Huh.

Peace,
Justin