17 year old Kim Ho was one of the winners of ATYP's 2012 online writing competition Love Bytes, with his 3 minute take on first love, Transcendence. His prize? A mentorship with leading Australian playwright Tommy Murphy, and the opportunity to work with filmmaker Laura Scrivano on developing Transcendence into a longer piece, which became The Language of Love.
The aim was to pick up chicks by sounding like a Frenchman. Hasn’t really worked out yet. The winner of the 2012 film competition, Love Bytes.
Written by Kim Ho, Directed by Laura Scrivano
The Analysis of Love . . .
As you watch the piece, consider the following:
- Why is the piece called The Language of Love?
- Take notice of how close you are to Charlie in the beginning of the work. The audience sees him from two different perspectives. What effect does this have on you as a viewer?
- Identify the turning point in the film. Discuss the following techniques used to reveal the turning point in Charlie's character: filmic techniques: acting techniques
- The work deals with isolation as a theme. How this theme is presented through the piece?
- Consider the line “I’m afraid”. Why do you think Charlie might be afraid? What might he be afraid of?
- Listen to the text. Identify the line that resonates with you the most? Why did it grab you?
- Does Charlie ever tell Sam how he feels? Why? Why not?
The Analysis of Love Full Resource Kit: Download Here
Take up The Challenge!
A Guide to The Language of Love - Bathurst Regional Art Gallery Insert: Download Here
Any questions? Email our Digital Education Manager Adele.
Kim's Story - Making The Language of Love
In July last year, I submitted a three-minute monologue for The Voices Project’s Love Bytes competition, with the rather precocious title Transcendence. I’d scribbled ideas and lines on scraps of paper during maths; the filming and editing process took me a couple of hours. And while I was used to acting and liked telling stories, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I didn’t know this would be my first tentative step into theatre writing.
Fast forward six months, and I’ve just spent eleven hours on set shooting The Language of Love, a 7 – 8 minute version of Transcendence. It’s been an incredible journey, and completely unanticipated.
Never in my wildest dreams would there be people running about in order to realise something I’d created. I already have that feeling you get when you wake up and try to figure out whether your dream was memory or fantasy.
I thought I might share what I’ve learnt along the way.
The task of taking a monologue originally conceived as a three-minute story arc and filling it with more detail and emotion was actually quite challenging. It’s not a matter of simply adding more words; Dan Prichard (Fresh Ink Manager & producer of The Voices Project) encouraged me from our first meeting to tell another story with the same character. Or rather, to tell the same story in another way. I remember starting to dig around for inspiration about love. Jessica Bellamy wrote a great article about songs informing her choices as a writer, so I gave that a go.
I unearthed Lior, a singer/songwriter whose music is very sincere and gentle. I wanted to create a monologue that had the tenderness of This Old Love, but with enough edge to raise the emotional stakes.
For those who haven’t seen Transcendence, (SPOILER ALERT!) it’s about a boy falling in love with another boy in his French class. I was trying to show that love could transcend barriers, and maybe it was even more special when it did.
Homosexuality is still a sensitive topic, and I immediately felt pressured to write something that was candid but not disrespectful to the LGBT community. I wanted to write something that would make me cry just like the stunning ‘It’s Time’ advertisement for marriage equality, something that would resonate with people no matter what their sexuality. (Ed: It’s Time was directed by Stephen McCallum, who also directed the stunning Hunger for The Voices Project)
But I was scared. I couldn’t get over the idea that I might write something appalling and let everyone down. I kept asking myself: ‘What can I possibly say that people will listen to?’
Enter the interminably awesome Tommy Murphy, who would mentor me as part of the Love Bytes prize. Two of his most successful plays, Strangers in Between and Holding the Man, dealt with the stigma surrounding homosexuality, and the fear that stigma inspires. They are beautiful plays, and they are about taking first steps and more steps towards happiness. I remember devouring them in mid-spring.
I spent quite a few afternoons walking and talking with Tommy, discussing love and writing, theatre and film.
I was surprised at how many parallels we found between my character’s story and my own life: finding your voice as a writer is a lot like finding yourself and your sexuality. You feel like suddenly you’re in the spotlight, and people are judging you by what you say and do.
I’ll spare you all the details, but my talks with Tommy revealed some of these little titbits. I’m paraphrasing of course, and these are by no means ‘rules’ to be piously followed.
It suddenly appeared to me that there was one principle underlying all this advice. Tommy guided me through five redrafts, some of which were drastically different to the previous, but the overall trend in terms of finding my voice was from using the head to using the heart. I initially wanted my piece to engage with my audience at an intellectual level, and Tommy kept asking me to find the humanity in the piece, and explore emotions before ideas.
I used to think that theatre was shocking if it didn’t say anything, but now I appreciate that stories can be as simple as that: stories.
performing and writing monologues
Acting for Film
Acting may well have been, for me, the hardest part of realising the monologue. I’d only ever acted on stage, and I’m used to being over the top for irreverent roles. Stanislavski meant nothing to me, neither did Meisner, so having Laura Scrivano as a director was a godsend. She had directed across theatre and film, preferring actor-based directing to technical gymnastics. She sat me down over a few rehearsals and talked me through how to be authentic on camera.
Theatre, I learnt, is all about externalisation. The old lady in the back row with cataracts needs to be able to see and hear what’s going on, so gestures and projected voices are used widely and to great effect. Flail your arms about in film, however, and it’s too much; it looks like you’re overacting. Badly.
According to Laura, the trick is to internalise your character’s action more. The camera should be able to see ideas flitting around behind your eyes. On film, especially with close-ups, less is more.
Theatre has other conceits, too. For one, actors usually pause for laughter if the audience is particularly vocal (that is, tipsy). Toby Schmitz once mentioned he delivers monologues as if every audience member were part of his character’s mind. And the actors bow at the end, a sign that they have performed specifically for the audience, that it’s all been for them. In film, there’s no audience until the film is cut together and screened. You can’t wait for laughter; there isn’t any. You can’t talk to anyone; you have to hit an ‘eyeline’. Film acting, when you’re not used to it, feels very artificial. I can only hope my performance seems authentic on camera.
"I’ll never be able to thank atyp enough for putting their confidence in a schoolboy, and I’ve tried to write something that will resonate with many people. The Language of Love is a piece that’s incredibly special to me.
Just as Charlie wants to hold and comfort Sam, I hope my audience will want to step into the film and hug them both".
Each year we select outstanding monologues from The Voices Project to be adapted for film:
Visit our films page to watch the films.