Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Harry Potter frenzy

Potter fanatics bet on who will die in final book

BY DWAYNE STEWARD
Newsday
Entertainment reporter
July 17, 2007

Harry Potter fanatics are rounding the bend this week as they cast online bets predicting who will die in the seventh novel.

William Hill, a British online sports betting site, stopped taking bets earlier this month after it was flooded with disproportionate wagers. The betting was at 33-1 for Potter's downfall before Hill pulled the plug.

Instead, the Web site decided to take bets on how Potter would meet his demise. Most Hill gamblers are betting he'll take his own life. Hill also has Harry Potter's nemesis, Lord Voldemort, at odds of 9-4 for killing the boy wizard.

After author J.K. Rowling announced the possible death of two characters last year, enthusiasts and bookers were off, plotting whom the unlucky pair would be.

WagerWeb.com and SportsInterAction.com soon added their hands to the firestorm, taking bets for or against the hero's survival. WagerWeb closed betting after 451 bets were cast, but the online bookmaker is considering taking more bets because requests continue to pour in, said spokesman Dan Grody.

WagerWeb listed 19 pairs of characters for clients to cast wagers, eight of which included Potter. Payouts range from $100 to $4,000.

Fifty-three percent of WagerWeb gamblers predict it will be Potter and Voldemort who meet their ends, followed by Potter and Snape, with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley as the third likeliest to die.

Visual Conquest

A Peronal Narrative

By Dwayne Steward
www.PointsSouth.net
The Poynter Institute
July 16, 2007

The light around me is suddenly extinguished. My spirits drop, failure taking the place of naive expectations. The camera hanging at my side taps my rib cage, harder with every frantic step. I look around in a panic. In a moment the world of journalism has shifted and for the first time I feel like quitting.

I was standing in the middle of a drum circle on Treasure Island at sunset visually covering a story for the first time and all I could think was, Where's my notebook. After coming off a successful story just 24 hours earlier, I proudly declared that I would not write that week and instead produce a Soundslides show, where I'd edit audio and photos and combine them in a program I had no idea how to use.

Don't worry Dwayne, I thought confidently. You have a room full of technological geniuses at your disposal. This will be a cinch. Right? Wrong.

Unfortunately, my attempt at visual conquest was void of one simple fact. I had no idea how to use a camera. I entered the project ready to take pictures for Facebook or my grandmother's scrapbook, not for a professional publication.

Let's retreat back in time and set the stage for the nervous breakdown that followed once I removed my writing hat and donned that of a photojournalist.

My father is a computer programmer. More like a computer demigod. And my archenemy, for reasons my mother refers to as "personality cloning." So growing up I detested everything that was a part of his repertoire.

Megabytes, gigabytes, programming and system analysis were completely abhorrent. My father made many attempts to pass down his trade and failed miserably. While he described how he assembled and programmed the computer that still sits in our basement, I'd be elsewhere mentally, deciding what outfit to where to that night's school dance or what would become of Ross and Rachael in the next "Friends" episode. He soon realized I was a lost cause and these moments began to disappear.

Becoming a true Freudian example, I entered adulthood subconsciously detesting all that was high-tech. So when I was handed a Canon Rebel digital camera and unpacked the Marantz digital recorder, a familiar wave of nausea set in.

Not willing to panic just yet, I called on colleague Erik Oeverndiek, who gave me a crash course in contrast and lighting.

"If it's going to be dark, you want to make sure to set your ISO pretty high," Erik said.

"What's an ISO?" I asked.

"It's the film speed," Erik said. My brow furrowed in confusion, signaling him to continue. "The higher the ISO, the more light comes into the camera when you take the picture."

"So what lens should I use?" I said, massaging the creases in my forehead.

"It doesn't really matter, just depends on how close you want to get," Erik said, handing me the camera.

"Why are there so many buttons? What are all these icons for?" I said, the nausea returning. Oh God, what was I thinking? I can't do this, I thought as my mind reeled.

Fifteen minutes later I was just as unskilled, but at least I had some clue what I was about to take on. So I bounded out the door, swinging my bag of technical equipment at my side like a schoolboy on his first day of kindergarten.

At first, all was well on the technical front. I was taking pictures, talking it up with the drummers and their wives, getting ambient audio, and was even at one point pulled into the middle of the drum circle to dance by an intoxicated middle-aged woman.

As the sun set and the gathering of rhythmic inebriation reached its peak, I lifted the camera as I'd done 53 times before, aimed into the crowd and pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

I looked at the screen and an error messaged flashed menacingly, as if the camera was plotting its hostile takeover.

Panic ensued.

I frantically pressed the black button to no avail. I felt the cold hard claws of defeat begin to take hold. I pulled out my phone and called Jason Fritz, the photographer on my beat. As I reached into my pocket I also realized my notebook was now missing. My eyes welled with tears. While retracing my steps, Jason finally picked up the phone.

"Hello."

"Oh my God, Jason, I'm having a nervous breakdown," I sobbed into the phone. "The camera isn't working, the last few pictures I took are blurry, it's flashing some error message at me, and to top it all off I've lost my notebook that has all the names of everyone I took pictures of."

"Dwayne, calm down," Jason said, slightly giggling on the other line. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find your notebook. I'll head back to the newsroom and try to find a manual or something."

"OK," I said, sounding like my 7-year-old niece after spilling her milk.

I hung up the phone and went back to look for my notebook, which was poking out of the sand a few feet from the crowd. As I was digging it out of the ground my phone buzzed against my leg. Jason hadn't found a manual but suggested I put the camera on the automatic setting and turn on the flash. But 42 more clicks later my ineptitude failed me again and the camera shut off.

The screen was now flashing an icon signaling the battery had died. Of course I had not thought to bring a spare. A small tear fell down my cheek. Why did I think I could ever do this?

I gathered my composure. Camera be damned, I'm getting this story. I took out the recorder and pulled the lead drummer to the side to grill him on everything he knew about the event. I also went back to record more ambient sound before heading to my car.

Though I may have lost the battle, I wasn't going to lose the war. I got back to the newsroom, my spirits low, but fought the urge to reach for the pen and went through my pictures with Jason. He suggested I go to bed and continue my fight the next morning.

I awoke with a vengeance, ready to divide and conquer. I solicited the help of Poynter visual coaches Kenny Irby and Sara Quinn, who offered constructive criticism that propelled my project forward. I locked myself in the computer lab with Jason and learned how to edit my photos in Photoshop, how to edit my audio on Soundtrack Pro, and how to compile it all in Soundslides. I was a man on a mission and not even my own self-doubt would stop me.

In the end, I produced a 2-minute audio recording in sync with a couple dozen photos. My father has yet to see the project. Hopefully my exploration of the multimedia frontier will lead me to the conquest of another, namely our flailing relationship. My mother, however, was elated at the fact that she found the Web site on her own, making my Soundslides show a postmodern masterpiece.

After a life of cringing at new programs and avoiding technology, I've finally destroyed that unconscious uncertainty and replaced it with a craving for the unknown.
I'm now ready to take on journalism multimedia with a determined fervor.

Watch out, Flash, here I come.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Treasure Island drum circle

Click HERE to view a sound slide show I created about a drum cirlce on Treasure Island in Florida for PointsSouth.net.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

The "Rocky Horror" Phenomena

The 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' experience
The film is one of the longest running ever -- and now at a St. Pete Beach theater it's so much more.

By Dwayne Steward
www.PointsSouth.net
The Poynter Institute
July 2, 2007

~Click HERE to see a Web site (I helped create) for "Rocky Horror" at the Beach Theatre~


Scott Mullins struts into the Beach Theatre wearing black lace full-body lingerie, complete with fishnet stockings and a floor-length velvet cape. He doesn't draw so much as a second glance from chatting theater patrons.

The door handler greets him without blinking and motions him toward the front of the theater.

Mullins, 42, strides down the red-carpeted aisle, steady in his sequined 6-inch platforms. Once backstage, he takes in the energy of audience members, who are already humming, rocking and tapping their feet. The musical inebriation about to ensue has already taken its willing victims captive.

When his cue arrives, the black feathered curtain parts. An ear-wrenching exclamation arises from the audience.

"The Rocky Horror Picture Show" is reborn once again.

Mullins has been here every Saturday, in his cape and high heels, for seven years. The small theater on 315 Corey Ave. in St. Pete Beach, Fla., is home to a weekly live showing of the movie and its hordes of followers.

"Rocky Horror," in its 34th year of production, has grossed more than $139 million nationally at the box office. That's small change compared with "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End," which grossed $142 million in its opening weekend this summer.

But after a disastrous screen debut in 1975, "Rocky Horror" has endured to become one of the longest-running films in history.

And, as with many "Rocky Horror" shows across the country, at this intimate theater on St. Pete Beach it's become so much more.

***

Flashback to September 1975. "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" movie premieres in Los Angeles at the Westwood Theater among the glitz and glamour of the Hollywood spotlight. The show had started as a stage musical in London 18 months earlier to rave reviews. It was equally popular in Los Angeles. But when it moved to Broadway, the New York critics slammed it so badly that it was pulled off the stage after 45 days.

The movie follows a straight-arrow couple, Brad and Janet, on a sexually ambiguous journey trough the world of the crazed Dr. Frank-N-Furter, "a sweet Transvestite from Transsexual Transylvania." The actors sing their way through conflict and calamity. Dr. Furter captures and brainwashes Brad and Janet, but both are saved by an unlikely plot twist.

Though the cast included future stars Susan Sarandon and Tim Curry, it made barely $22,000 during its opening weekend, and was snatched off marquees across the country.

Then something happened. A 20th Century Fox executive showed the film at a "worst movies" festival at the Waverly Theater in New York the following spring, where it struck a chord. "Rocky Horror" was soon stapled into Halloween pop culture, riding the crest of the sexual revolution and the gay rights movement. By 1977, the flop that was "Rocky Horror" was on its way to becoming an American cult classic, and a household name.

Mock casts across the country formed, and a 3-D participatory show was created. Fans dress as the characters, and perform their parts on stage as the movie plays on the screen behind them. Audience members come to the show armed with props, such as rice and toast, to throw during certain scenes, and shout along with the movie.

Hard-core fans have even created a gag script where they make small quips before and after most of the lines in the movie.

And one mustn't forget the Time Warp. The simple phrase "It's just a jump to the left" sends "Rocky Horror" audiences into a frenzy like no other. Legions of "Rocky" enthusiasts have pelvic-thrust their way into history books.

Thirty years after its flop–of–a release, the Library of Congress' National Film Preservation Board added the movie to the National Film Registry.

***

Flash forward to Tampa, Fla., in June 2007. It's 9:30 p.m. on a Saturday. Scott Mullins, an electrician in his day life, stands in his small peach-colored bathroom applying black eye shadow over stark white foundation. He paints his eyelashes with white mascara and pencils in his eyebrows.

This has become a Saturday night ritual for Mullins, who is in his 21st year of playing the infamous Frank-N-Furter at theaters around the region.

"I remember being dragged by a friend to a show in 1986 and afterwards she asked me if she could do my makeup," Mullins says.

He wears a "Rocky Horror" T-shirt and black boxers with KISS in orange and red letters across the back. He pins back his long bushy black hair as he tells the story. "We were hanging out with the cast at Denny's and they asked me to play Frank the next week."

He's been Dr. Furter every weekend since, performing first at General Cinemas in Tampa's University Mall, reaching the height of his notoriety nine years later at the Tampa Theatre and finally settling at the Beach Theatre. He's met four of the movie's original cast members and has played Dr. Furter more than 5,000 times in at least 25 different theaters.

In its run at the Tampa Theatre, as part of the Larger then Life acting troupe, "Rocky Horror" was performed to sell-out audiences of 1,500 every Halloween. The run in Tampa was deemed the largest Rocky Horror audience in history at last year's National Rocky Horror Convention in Chicago. Mullins considers those the good old days.

The Tampa Theatre expanded its facilities in 2005 for a mainstream audience and dropped the "Rocky Horror" act.

"We had heard of a cast performing at the Beach Theatre so we went to check them out and frankly, they sucked," Mullins says. That was in 2000, after the Tampa cast switched to only a Halloween showing. "So we showed the managers what we could do and they hired us on the spot. We've been there ever since."

The Beach Theatre has been a fixture in St. Pete Beach since 1939 and is one of the last small mom-and-pop theaters in the Tampa Bay area. Mullins and a long-time "Rocky" cast-mate, Ed Schneider, brought a portion of their cast from Tampa and soon after their first show they were packing the theater every Saturday.

"This is the best theater I've done 'Rocky' at," says Schneider, 28, who has been with a "Rocky Horror" cast for 10 years at six different theaters. He is now the director of the Beach Theatre cast.

The theater was recently purchased by famed screenplay writer Michael France ("Cliffhanger," "Golden-Eye," "The Hulk," "Fantastic Four") when the show was flailing financially. Schneider said that France has assured him that "Rocky Horror" will always have a home there.

"It gives us a charge because we know we're kind of helping to keep this place open. We're as much a part of this theater as the employees," Schneider says.

***

Back on Corey Avenue on Saturday night, a line forms down the Beach Theatre sidewalk as early as 10:30 for the midnight showing. The Mohawk and black-clothed crowd is joined by senior citizens, soccer moms and tourists. Many wear elaborate costumes mimicking characters from the film.

Schneider and Mullins attribute the "Rocky Horror" longevity to the hyper-crazed, accepting atmosphere the movie has created.

"In the simplest terms it's the people," Schneider says. "This is the place where you see the star of the football team and the president of the chess club."

Part of this "Rocky Horror" ritual is the initiation of "Rocky Horror" "virgins" before each show. People who have never seen a live performance are called to the front of the stage and must perform some embarrassing act before being deemed worthy to join the "Rocky" audience.

"Toady our virgins will be doing the Transvestite Relay Race," Schneider yells into the microphone. "Count it down: one, two, three, go."

The "virgins" are paired off male/female and begin stripping to their underwear and switching clothes in a frenzy. The winners raise their hands triumphantly and Schneider proclaims them "devirginized."

"It's the experience of the show that keeps you coming back," he says. "And you never know what's going to happen. In 10 years I've never had the same show twice."

The 40-member cast ranges in age from 16 to 43, including those who have been a part of the show from 20 years to two months. A second generation of "Rocky Horror" fanatics is starting to evolve.

"My dad was in 'Rocky' in high school. I've grown up on the movie and have always wanted to be on a cast," says Julia Golemon, 18, who plays Magenta, maid to Dr. Frank-N-Furter. "The first time I saw the show was when I was, like, 4."

John "Cookie" Kochen, 20, props manager and cast member since 2004, says that like Mullins a friend dragged him to his first show.

"I had such a blast and had to get involved," he says. "I got hooked and have been here ever since."

The 'Rocky' audience at the Beach Theatre now averages 140 each week, and reaches 200 on some nights.

***

After the crowd makes its way into the theater, Mullins joins Kochen and the props crew, which scurries to set the stage in time for the performance. In their haste, a spot light is dropped on Mullins' hand, spraining two of his fingers.

But the drag show must go on. Mullins gamely performs the first few scenes. But the pain refuses to relent, and he reluctantly abandons the stage.

In grand "Rocky Horror" fashion, an understudy steps in, not missing a line. The film's following, 34 years in the making, has provided a host of well-prepared replacements, keeping a cult classic alive.