Movies are not just a source of entertainment but pure magic that captures our imagination and emotions. As a teenager, I was besotted with the wonder of cinema. The moving images, the dialogues, and the music were like a symphony that trapped me completely. I eagerly watched every movie my school screened for charity; the cowboys and heroes like Monte Christo and Robin Hood were my absolute favourites.
My passion for movies only grew with time. I was fascinated by the intricate workings of the movie theatre, the film rolls, the mechanism of lights, projectors, and dark rooms. I was always on the lookout for anything related to films, and when my classmate gave me some discarded film strips, I felt like I had struck gold.
But I didn’t just want to collect the 16mm film strips. I wanted to showcase them in my private cinema, where I could revel in the magic of cinema. I had no money to buy a mini projector, so I had to rely on my imagination and ingenuity.
I took an old shoebox, my mother’s scissors, and my father’s Eveready torch and got to work. I cut a small hole in the side of the shoebox, just big enough for a single frame of the 16mm film strip to be visible. I placed the torch inside the box and turned it on, pointing it at the blank wall above my bed. Then I covered the door, window, and grill with anything I could find, like bedsheets and sarongs, to create total darkness.
My father’s Eveready torch
When everything was ready, I moved the film strip in front of the hole in the shoebox, and suddenly, I was transported to another world. The moving images flickered on the wall, and I was utterly mesmerised by the magic of cinema. Even though it was just a few feet of a film strip, it felt like I was watching a full-length movie. Of course, it was never a movie, for I could not move the strip at the speed of film projectors. It looked more like a still movie. But I felt good and had a sense of achievement.
I felt like a true innovator and creator then, and my passion for movies only intensified.
With my new-found passion for cinema and pride in my makeshift shoebox projector, I was eager to share my love for movies with everyone I knew. My siblings were the first to be subjected to my experiments as I assembled them in my tiny bedroom, closing all the windows and doors to make the room as dark as possible. They were my guinea pigs.
Being younger than me, they were easily impressed and eager to see what I had in store for them. Promising them a wonder, I switched on the Eveready torch and moved the film strip by hand. Their eyes widened with wonder and amazement as they watched the flickering images on the wall.What kind of movies were shown at the author's school charity screenings? How did the author eventually acquire a proper movie projector? Did the author pursue a career in the film industry?
As I became more confident in my abilities, when my classmates dropped in to hang out, I convinced them to my impromptu movie screenings. They were amazed by my makeshift projector and the shows I put on.
Looking back on those days, I realise that my passion for cinema was not just about the movies themselves but the joy of sharing that experience with others. And while my improvised projector may have been a far cry from the high-tech equipment used in movie theatres today, it was the start of a lifelong love affair with the magic of cinema.
Now, as I sit in a state-of-the-art movie theatre surrounded by fellow movie lovers, I can’t help but smile as I think back to those early days and my humble shoebox projector.
A Child of Curiosity How inherent inquisitiveness became a key driver in learning experiences. Denzil Jayasinghe · B orn in the mid-20th century, I am a product of the post-World War II era. My parents, who were teenagers when the war commenced, married in the 1950s. As a representative of the baby boomer generation, I was born under the astrological sign of Capricorn, the tenth sign of the zodiac. My birth took place at Zoysa Nursing Home, a renowned institution in Colombo, Sri Lanka, around 5 in the morning. Sri Lanka, known for its tropical climate, is a beautiful island nation south of India. This climate appealed to me, and I sought similar weather in my twenties, spending them in Dubai, where the winter resembles an Australian summer. Raised by religious parents, I held them in deep affection. However, the church teachings posed a paradox for a young mind, instructing one to love God more than one’s parents. I initially adhered to the Ten Commandments and other societal norms in ...
Shattered Innocence A story of a needle Denzil Jayasinghe · “Shattered Innocence. A Story of a Needle” by Denzil Jayasinghe is a short story told from the perspective of a lad who discovers their father injecting insulin . This discovery shatters his innocence as he grapples with the reality of his father’s diabetes and the fear and uncertainty it brings. The story explores themes of family, responsibility, and the challenges of facing difficult realities. T he pre-dawn light filtered through the window, casting a pale glow over a scene that shattered my world. We were lost in the quiet routine of getting ready — me for the apprenticeship, my siblings for school, and my father for his work. I wandered into my parents’ room, searching for the familiar black comb. What I found wasn’t the comb but a sight that froze me in my tracks. Father, stripped down to his white undies, his usually strong face creased with worry, was doing something… di...
High school Blues A Diary of Despair Denzil Jayasinghe · T his diary is a waste of time. I don’t see the point of writing down my thoughts when they are so obvious. I wouldn’t say I like this school. I hate these people. They are all bigger and stronger than me. They make fun of me for being skinny and smart. They think they are better than me because they can play cricket and rugby and throw punches. They are wrong. In the boarding school, it is even worse. I must share the dormitory with giants who snore like a tractor there. They take up all the space and leave me with a tiny corner. Some eat my food and steal my money. Some call me names and try to drown me while swimming when they feel like it. That is the worst thing that ever happened to me. I wish I could escape from this hell. I wish I could go back to my home, where I was happy and free and had my own room and my things. Where I had friends who liked me for who I was. Where I had teachers who knew me. But I can’t. I am ...
3 min read·Apr 1
Comments
Post a Comment