Film School Reflections
A brief reflection about my experiences at Sheridan College.
Itās been one year since I collected my bachelorās degree from Sheridan College in film and TV production. I took a year-long break just so that I would be able to collect myself a bit more, because even by the final days of my time in there, I was facing a lot of burnout from having made a thesis film that deep down, I know could have been a lot better.
But Iām not going to write this to say I was never happy with it. Iām happy enough with the fact that I am able to say I directed a short film, but I also know that I probably didnāt have enough of an impact on where my own career would be suddenly boosted, and Iām some sort of a world-famous filmmaker. Iām just happy enough with the fact it exists, even though I think that the final days of my time at film school gave me a sense of satisfaction on that front, I still felt a little empty as a result of the burnout.
What exactly am I to say about my time there? I thought Iād fully leave behind everything that Iāve experienced in high school because of the clique-ish subcultures that you begin to see then; and of course they continued their way well into college. Of course, with film students, thereās only a handful of ways that an entire cohort of students would be divided up: there are people who are cinephiles, others who only really seek out bigger movies, and then there are people who donāt even watch movies at all.
Thatās where things get really interesting, right? I was able to find some people who I was really in line with in terms of our overall taste in art, but then itās also what ends up separating me from some of my other classmates too. It didnāt help that of all the people whom Iāve at least became mutuals with on Letterboxd within the program, I stood out from all the others just by nature of having thousands of followers compared to the most-followed student other than myself only being well within the hundreds. Not to brag or boast about any of that either, but I also found that maybe I was also being judged by other students just based on that alone.
If anything, it made my time at Sheridan all the more interesting. At the end of it all, there are only a handful of students who I still talk actively with - even after I was made into an admin of the Discord server for the students (and dropouts) of my own cohort too. Which I guess is the reality of it all, especially when so many of us have our own separate philosophies about what constitutes a great film, and thus reflect the sort of things that we want to make.
But of course, it wasnāt going to be the normal film school experience for most. Late in my first year, we were made to switch into an entirely online format because that was when the COVID-19 pandemic had hit in, and really, how exactly are you supposed to work around with that? I didnāt have the plans initially to become a screenwriter, as I wanted to focus on being an editor in post-production since that was where I knew I was having the most fun. Yet the pandemic shifted my focus towards taking classes that were focused on writing and others on directing.
In retrospect, I might also be glad that I made that shift because I found that screenwriting was actually the one thing from this time that I was enjoying most. It became the one thing that I really wanted to improve my craft more than anything, and I also felt that it was where I had the most freedom. To add to that, it also felt like when I was taking screenwriting courses, these were the classes where I felt that I was getting the most support from peers, which was something that I really needed in order to get myself through the final year of the program.
Which, that also brings me to talk about the films that I was able to work on. If the truth were to be told, I was completely burned out even on something that I thought I loved dearly by that point. Burned out to the point that I even thought about dropping out, yet I had a lingering thought in the very back of my head that I could not drop out if I already made my way through at least half of the program completely fine. That burnout even got to me to that point where I wasnāt even writing film reviews so often anymore, because trying to balance out film criticism with filmmaking isnāt as easy as I thought itād be.
And yes, I got rather cocky during my time there. I was cocky enough to the point where I thought I was going to turn out okay, when I had classmates that were more interested in becoming the next director of a Marvel movie or even the next Christopher Nolan. But even people like them can come a long way, because I didnāt identify simply enough with being the ānext (insert famous director name here).ā I was someone who wanted to start small and then go big when I had the chance.
It even hit me during the time when I was making my own thesis film too. I was burnt out to the point that I was even unsure of myself, and simply wanted to get it made more than anything else. Iām happy enough with the film as is, and I even made notes as Letterboxd reviews came in and noted that it could have been a whole lot better than it was (although occasional five star reviews dropped in from friends). At a certain point, that self-consciousness would just eat me up even after graduation, where reality just flung in after the celebration of picking up my degree.
I was debt-ridden, most of my job applications were being turned down, and I didnāt think that any of this all was meant for me. Thatās not to say Iāve fully escaped those realms, because I havenāt, but the sad thing about all of this just came so clear to me: the reality of any artist is that youāre in a world that actively hates what you do, even when people consume what you do on the regular.
All this sounds discouraging. And you know what? How could it not be? Real life isnāt like the movies, they say. Not everyone could have that lucky break into the industry like Steven Spielberg did, and even as he showed audiences what his own life was like in The Fabelmans, it wasnāt all sunshine and roses. But thatās just life, right? Where weāre all living the realities as shown in your typical Italian neorealist film too (which a lot of my classmates hated, but you know what? Who could blame them?).
There was another point to which I felt like I wasnāt sure if this was really right for me. In my final year, I found myself getting so overwhelmed to the point where I just didnāt know if I was ever feeling like I was good enough for everyone else there to just be a mere crew member rather than to work in the creative positions. It wasnāt really helped by the fact that I was on academic probation in my final semester either, so that just turned those moments into serious business for me.
But there was one moment that sent me into a bit of a jolt in my final semester. It was a writing class where we were all sharing our pitches for either a theoretical feature film or a television series. One classmate, who I never particularly liked very much, had shared a pitch that was so incredibly racist, transphobic, and just all-around appalling to a point where I thought to myself, listening to my then-professor shut him down, āAt least I wonāt ever write something like that.ā It was a moment where I just thought to myself all about the subtle microaggressions that I remember dealing with in high school, being a person of colour with an interest in the arts.
It wasnāt the first Iāve remembered dealing with something especially awful from this one particular student. I remember when he was in the majority of my own directing classes, he would be talking over the professors a lot of the time with stuff that he was interested in. Granted, I had a habit of referencing a whole lot of other movies so I could show off my own cinephilia too - and in such moments, it felt great. Maybe now, Iād also cringe at the fact that this is what I used to do, but alas.
Itās one of only a few harsh memories that I do have of my time at Sheridan. In the later months of the semester, there was an Instagram page entitled āBFTV Confessionsā that compiled anonymous comments from students, supposedly within the program. But eventually, the posts grew more angry, and there were even a handful of evidently racist posts that were targeting another thesis film for prioritizing Asian crew members.
Of course, I was not entirely innocent, and I used this spot to rant about that one guy behind his back (one habit of mine Iām trying to get rid of), and I found a post about myself. Eventually, I began to resent a few other people in my program who I saw as better than me. I resented what feedback Iād received because it seemed to me in that moment that everything was false. False in the sense that I was being molded into a version of myself that I could not identify with anymore, but also in the sense that my own philosophies about what makes great art were no longer being respected.
I didnāt want it to put me down though. Itās all just school, right? All of this is one chapter of life that isnāt going to fully decide what weāre going to do in the next one, but it also left me feeling a little disillusioned - even to a point where the sort of Letterboxd reviews I used to write have now been shortened to two paragraphs (although in retrospect, I think this turned out for the best for me). And thereād be a moment in time where I think that it might be time to reflect on where Iāve come from, before I end up becoming more successful - though maybe that all would be another burden to carry.
Maybe Iām being a little too harsh as I look back at my time there, but I knew that I couldnāt give this a rose-tinted glasses treatment as much as itās something Iād want to. But Iām happy enough with the fact I had the experience so I could come back out of it all. I have a degree, and I suppose those things do look good on resumes. Wouldnāt it look better if you get a college graduate to work for you, where itās likely said person would have a better grasp of what theyāre getting themselves into? At least thatās what I thought.
Itās been a whole year since this existential nightmare began, and it hasnāt exactly ended. The least I can say is that Iām glad enough I had that experience, though part of me wishes that it could have turned out a little better in terms of relationships Iāve built with fellow classmates. The few classmates who are still actively talking with me though, Iām very glad to be friends - and thereās no regret in the friendships that Iāve built with my former professors too.
But maybe there will come a point where I think itās led me to something good.