In 2003, a team of four film and television students from Bond University's FITV department produced a quirky, off-beat short film project entitled Rocket Science (d. Chris O'Kelly, 2003), a hilarious if slightly overlong action-comedy hybrid of Guy Ritchie, Quentin Tarantino and Rob Reiner's trailblazing mockumentary This is Spinal Tap (1984). Now in their final semester at Bond, the team has assembled yet again—this time to shoot their final film school project, the original film's sequel, Rocket Science 2: Lost in Paradise (d. Manolo Andrade Gorab & Chris O'Kelly, 2004).

I find myself on the set of Rocket Science 2 on the team's second day of shooting, stills camera at the ready and pen and paper in hand. The scene is, narratively speaking, a relatively simple one, but the logistics of the shoot itself constitute a film student's organisational nightmare—a little person, dressed in a pink rabbit outfit (Lee Witchello), is to chase an overweight man in a ladybug suit (Eric Wilson) through a carefully choreographed web of obstacles that include an elderly woman, two workmen with a ladder, and a blonde, bikini-clad bombshell. I arrive on set at about nine o'clock, just as the mall in which the shoot is taking place begins to come to life. They're finishing up the last Steadicam shot of the morning (and of the film), and it's just as well, as the mall's shop proprietors are beginning to get a little 'antsy'. I write in my little black book of notes, "There're film students everywhere. It's like a who's who of the Bond University FITV course…" In fact, the only notable absence is the film's original director, Chris O'Kelly, who's been sent back home to Germany on account of illness. One of the film's two producers, Manolo Andrade Gorab, has been forced to take his place and is doing what appears to be a rather bang-up job. (The film's other producer is Thibaud Epstein who doubles on set as the 1st AD.)

The crew breaks for breakfast (which they eat from a huge cardboard box-cum-trough of McDonalds) and I make my way over to Woting Cai, the film's cinematographer and camera operator. I ask him about the Steadicam, which he sums up very succinctly (if somewhat obviously!) as having been rather heavy, and I realise that I'm not really all that prepared for an on-set interview. Instead, before I leave for the train station, I wind up shooting some Super8 footage of the guys as they set up for the next shot.

The major differences between RS1 and RS2 (as they are affectionately known by the production team) are, for the most part, technical ones. The sequel is to be bigger, longer and generally more insane (as the dwarf in the rabbit costume might have already suggested) and it's also to be far more elaborate in the complexity of its set pieces—where RS1 concludes with a (failed) bank robbery, RS2 ends with a two-car explosion. On top of this, the team is, for the first time on a project of this size, working with 16mm film, a format that they've had some experience with in the past, but which certainly poses a whole new set of challenges. Bond University's FITV course allows students to work on film before their final semester projects, of course (there's a course dedicated to cinematography and lighting, for example, taught by recent Edwin Scragg Award winner Mic Collis), but only on these major, final semester projects do students get to really expose themselves some celluloid.

The RS2 team, with a budget of a little over thirteen thousand dollars, are shooting on the university's Arriflex 16SR2 and have chosen to use a Fuji 250T stock, favouring the cooler look of Fuji over the warmer look offered by Kodak. When I speak to them again, after the shoot's completion and a day before the telecine process is to take place, both Cai and Andrade Gorab cite Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (d. Guy Ritchie, 1998) as a major source of visual inspiration. (I ask if they're planning on putting the film through a bleach bypass process in order to get that genuine Lock, Stock feel, but they simply can't afford it.) Indeed, the film's story reeks of Ritchie's influence—the film is (and the boys are the first to admit it) little more than a 'calling card' film: a piece of generic fluff that might, with a bit of luck, help them get their foot in the industry's door (Andrade Gorab in particular has no misconceptions about Rocket Science 2 being 'art,' which he readily admits its not). I ask the pair if the team plans on working together again in the future, the answer to which is a resolute "yes," but which is slightly jeopardised by the group's decidedly multicultural make-up—Andrade Gorab is Mexican; O'Kelly is German; Epstein is French; the film's production designer, Benedicte Ringnes, is Norwegian; and Cai is Chinese.

On the evening of my visit to the set, I return to my room on campus where I write down some initial thoughts on the shoot and on the film in general. A little while later, via my personal website, I receive an anonymous 'tip-off' from a disgruntled crew member, suggesting that my article is going to do little more than glorify an absolute debacle. According to this cynical cyber tipster, RS2 is going to be a visual and cinematographic disaster: "there's no lighting to speak of, or measuring, or focus-pulling. They just point and shoot, like video". I'm shocked, of course, but can't help but wonder: the original Rocket Science felt like the perfect project for video—there was nothing overly dangerous about just pointing the camera and shooting, shooting, shooting. Surely, though, the team would know to be far more disciplined with celluloid? I make a note in my little black book to ask the boys about this when I see them next.

Needless to say, both Cai and Andrade Gorab flatly deny the tipster's comments. In the vein of a Steven Soderbergh (whose name isn't mentioned explicitly, but who serves as a fine example), Cai's goal was never to 'overdo' the film's lighting scheme, instead privileging both natural and practical lights over the more artificial and borderline theatrical of the traditional 'quality' picture. The original Rocket Science was very much a mockumentary and—while the sequel definitely isn't (it's more a 'straight' fiction than its predecessor)—Cai and Andrade Gorab predict that anywhere between seventy-five and ninety percent of the film has been shot with a free-wheeling vérité style. The fact of the matter—and what the tipster failed to realise—is that RS2 is supposed to feel gritty, raw and rough around the edges. Cai has shamelessly experimented with the visuals on this film, carelessly mixing daylight and tungsten colour temperatures and following boldly in the footsteps of a man who Cai calls his only source of inspiration, Australian expatriate cinematographer, Christopher Doyle.

The only aesthetic decision that worries me slightly—or, at least, the filmmaker in me—is that of Cai to lean towards close-ups (often shot, in this case, with telephoto lenses) instead wide shots—a decision that seems slightly at odds with the film's being, by all accounts, an 'action flick'. Up until now, our casual interview has been rather civil, but now I can't help but cite the recent calamity that was The Bourne Supremacy (d. Paul Greengrass, 2004) (coincidentally, another sequel), in which the close-up handheld cinematography of DOP Oliver Wood (in conjunction with the film's schizophrenic editing) made the film almost impossible to watch without getting a headache or having an epileptic fit. Cai respectfully disagrees—or least, he disagrees that this will happen with Rocket Science. Less problematic, in my mind, is the decision to instil a sense of movement—be it camera movement or movement of the actors—in every single shot of the film. After all, if RS2 's supposed to be a 'calling card' film, then certainly the goal is to be as unrelenting as possible for all seventeen minutes of its short duration—if anything, this explains the overload of visual 'gimmicks' in the picture: the handheld aesthetic, the cranes, the helicopter shots and the Steadicam, all of which have been used by the boys to infuse their footage with sheer kinetic energy.

A couple of days after I speak to Cai and Andrade Gorab, a couple of my friends, who attend the film's official in-class rushes presentation, tell me that, yes, Rocket Science 2 looks pretty dreadful: the shots are dark, out of focus and generally unprofessional—in short, they're just plain amateurish and really kind of ugly. It's a tremendous blow for me, especially after having taken the boys' word after the bizarre incident with the anonymous crew member and his comments on my website. Well , I find myself thinking, he obviously must have been right. Clearly, despite what they had to tell me, they shot their film like they were shooting videotape.

A few days later, I'm stranded at Robina train station in the torrential rain when, completely out of the blue, who should nod at me as I pass him in the kiosk but the film's wayward co-director, Chris O'Kelly! Now, obviously, I had no idea that he'd returned from Germany (or that he'd miraculously recovered), but what's more, I'm just glad to see someone that I know—a feeling that's only heightened by his generous offer to give me a ride back to the university. Ironically, our 'driver' is Andrade Gorab, and I can't help but ask him (partly in my role as 'gonzo journalist' and partly as a genuinely interested friend) what the Rocket Science rushes look like. I'm rather interested in what he has to say, especially given my 'new information,' but surprisingly enough (or maybe not surprisingly at all), his reaction's a completely positive one—he says that they look outstanding. In fact, in case I don't believe him (perhaps), he actually invites me to come and visit the NLE suite in which O'Kelly, himself and his editor, Frida Michaelse, are currently cutting the film. I tell him that I'd be more than pleased to, even if I don't know when I'll get around to it.

Although their time at Bond—and therefore, in the country—is rapidly coming to an end, the Rocket Science 2 team already have major plans for the future. When speaking to Cai and Andrade Gorab, it's made abundantly clear that RS2 is little more than a 'stepping stone' film for them, resting snugly somewhere between the miniDV shorts of their past and (hopefully) the big-budget 35mm blockbusters of their futures. Whether one agrees with this 'calling card' mentality or not, one can't help but admire the progress that the team's already made—blowing up cars on 16mm a mere year after making a miniDV heist film.

Before they leave the country, however, the team hopes to complete a short documentary that will focus on the garish nightlife of Surfer's Paradise, following a cast of colourful characters (cops, taxi drivers and strippers) through the neon-lit jungle of Surfer's and through a single night. The team hopes to shoot the film on miniDV, using a Canon XL1 with 35mm lenses.

By chance if not by design, I wind up finding myself down in the vicinity of the editing suites at the same time as Andrade Gorab and his editor, Michaelse. Again, for the second time in two days, I'm invited to come in and see some of the rushes. Oddly enough, I'm nervous. As ridiculous as it sounds, I now feel as though I have something more than just passing interest in what this film winds up looking like—I'm not merely a passive observer anymore, but the film's self-proclaimed unofficial journalist! As much as I'd like to not give a damn, I can't help but hope but the footage looks great. I can't help but hope that my anonymous tipster and my friends from the rushes screening were all completely out of their heads. I can't help but hope that this footage really works.

And it does. The aerial shots of a pristine and beautiful coastline, the rack focus shot of two gorgeous-looking, ice-cream licking 'babes,' the slow-motion introduction to the 'paradise' that's soon to be so rudely interrupted by the absurd mechanics of RS2 's plot…it all looks so perfectly clichéd—it all looks so, well… right. The film's not merely an action comedy, but a satire on the whole idea of what the Gold Coast is—a satire that the film's photography highlights and reinforces. I breathe a sigh of relief. And to think that I had such a strong personal investment when all I had to do was write a little article!

At the end of my second meeting with Cai and Andrade Gorab, I couldn't help but ask whether or not there would a Rocket Science 3. The idea certainly inspired some smiles. But why not? From miniDV on RS1 to 16mm on RS2 ; surely, the final step is RS3 on 35mm, to be immediately followed by four full-on careers in the same league as Lock, Stock 's Guy Ritchie?

Regardless of what comes next for the RS2 boys—whether it's a trilogy-making second sequel or a gradual disbandment back to their respective corners of the world—one can't help but admit that they've certainly got something going for them. They're unpretentious, hardworking and they know what they want from the industry. What's more, however, they know how to get it, and when you're as passionate as these guys are, it's only a matter of time. All it takes a good plan, a good team and a bit of talent. The rest will write itself, right? After all, it's not like it's rocket science.

view.finder, Iss. 145, Jan. 2005