Actress Clare McCann pleads for donations to cryopreserve 13yo son's body after he took his own life
McCann says her 'worst nightmare' was realised when Atreyu died on Friday after months of relentless bullying at NSW public school.
'It breaks my heart beyond what words can compare to share that in a moment of unbearable pain Atreyu took his own life,' she wrote in a post on social media.
'This was not his fault. He was let down by the schooling system as he suffered horrendous amounts of bullying.
'Now I humbly beg of you to help me preserve his life and help me fight against this inhumane landslide of child suicides caused by unchecked bullying by schools and teachers.'
McCann, who rose to public attention in Channel [V] shows Blog Party and Clublife, describes herself as an actress/writer/director and is an organiser of the Sydney International Women's Film Festival.
A friend of McCann's, Scarlett Wathen, has now launched a
GoFundMe
campaign to raise $300,000 to cryopreserve Atreyu's body.
At the time of publishing it had raised just under $3000.
McCann wrote that Atreyu's body would need to be cryopreserved within the next seven days, otherwise 'the opportunity for him to live again will be lost forever'.
'We only have one chance left to cryogenically preserve his body within the next 7 days. If we miss this window, we lose the chance for any future revival that science may offer. This is about hope and justice. Refusing to let my son's story end in silence,' she wrote on the GoFundMe page.
She said the money would go towards immediate cryopreservation and legal transportation, medical and legal services for the procedure and a trust in his name to protect his legacy.
McCann said any money raised above her target would go towards a national campaign for anti-bullying education and reform, legal action and support for other families 'impacted by systemic negligence'.
'I had begged the school, the Department of Education, and Children's Services to intervene. I have medical records, psychologist reports, a formal PTSD diagnosis from his doctor, and emails proving I raised the alarm repeatedly. But nothing was done. No one stepped in. And now, my beautiful boy is gone.'
She vowed to use her public platform to ensure what happened to her son would never happen again.
Lifeline: 13 11 14.
Young people seeking support can phone beyondblue on 1300 22 4636 or go to headspace.org.au.
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Sydney Morning Herald
5 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘So bad, it's good': The two-minute soap operas changing the way we watch TV
F ated to My Homeless Billionaire Alpha. Tricked into Having My Ex-husband's Baby. Signed, Sealed, Secretly Married. Believe it or not, these are not the blurbs of teenage fan-fiction erotica. Rather, they're select titles of one of the fastest-growing media phenomenons: vertical micro-dramas. Known as 'duanju' in China, vertical micro-dramas are feature-length movies fragmented into about 60 to 120 bite-sized episodes of one to two minutes, and filmed specifically for smartphones. 'The fundamental storytelling you see in the mainstream market is still there, but everything is really quick – the pacing, tone, all of it,' says Daniel Chua, a producer at Australian vertical production house Turtle Media. In terms of the stories they tell, Chua says they most closely resemble traditional soap operas or telenovelas, replete with cliffhangers, romance and 'crazy shenanigans'. However, micro-dramas pack the intensity of an entire soap into a minute-long episode hundreds of times over. Despite micro-dramas still being a 'sunrise industry', Chua says they have gained momentum. Production houses span the globe – from Content Republic in China to DramaBox in Singapore and ReelShort in California. The latter even overtook TikTok as the most popular entertainment app in Apple's US app store last November. And they're expected to keep growing. China-based industry watchers iiMedia Research estimate the vertical micro-drama market will be worth over $21 billion by 2027, up from $7.9 billion in 2023. So where did these micro-dramas come from, and how did they get so popular? Where did it begin? Short-form videos gained serious traction during the COVID-19 pandemic, says Meg Thomas, a PhD candidate in the University of Queensland's school of communication and arts. 'With everyone stuck at home, platforms like TikTok and DouYin [China's equivalent to TikTok] really exploded,' she says. 'TikTok went from having 653 million users in 2019 to over 1.4 billion by 2021.' At the same time, Chinese romance web novels were booming. Selina Yurou Zhang, a film director at Turtle Media, says the creators of these novels began filming short trailers to promote their books, many of which attracted major attention from viewers. This opened the door for micro-drama producers to purchase the IP from popular online novels and adapt them into mobile-friendly videos. Since then, micro-dramas have travelled the globe, including Australia. Zhang and Chua's production house was the first to set up shop Down Under. It has released popular titles such as Light My Fire – which sees a woman fight to save her loveless marriage – and Fake It Till We Make It, which follows an event planner who hires someone to be her fake fiance following her partner's affair. Both videos claimed hundreds of millions of views over their first two weeks online. Why are they so popular? With clunky (and vaguely pornographic) titles like Captured and Bound by My CEO, it may be surprising that these melodramatic series are performing so well. However, Zhang says it's simply part of the evolving media landscape. 'People have short attention spans now. We have busy and stressful lives, and we just want to scroll on and on to see what's next. [Micro-dramas] are designed for that, designed to hook people.' We're also drawn to the intimacy of micro-dramas, Chua says. A vertical episode needs to frame one character – two at a maximum – at a time, thus bringing viewers closer to the story on-screen. Though Western media still prioritises landscape filming for traditional screens, audiences are becoming more open-minded. 'They're essentially importing a proven Chinese format into markets that are technically ready, but haven't yet developed their own vertical storytelling traditions,' says senior RMIT media lecturer Dr Daniel Binns. 'It remains to be seen if there's a Western appetite for this kind of content, though the overlap with BookTok's preference for formulaic romance suggests an audience is ready and waiting.' How are they made? Vertical micro-dramas are incredibly quick, and often cheap, to produce. Entire seasons can be shot in 10 days to two weeks, Binns says, using minimal sets and focusing on character interaction rather than elaborate production values. Nicholas Westaway – an Australian actor who used to star on Home and Away and worked as a production assistant on shows such as The Good Doctor, but has since moved into acting in micro-dramas – says he has filmed almost 20 verticals over the past year, including Double Life of Mr President. 'An average vertical is filmed in seven to nine days … I normally review scripts before committing to a project, so roughly two to three weeks before a production starts,' he says. UTS associate professor in media Alex Munt says verticals are becoming a 'mini studio system' in China, with many productions using the same sets and casts. 'They replenish the same screen stories [and tell them] in superficially different ways,' he says. 'They cost between $5000 to $10,000 to produce, making them microbudget productions shot with relatively small cameras, like DSLRs, and crews of four to five people. Most have a hyperreal look. The quality of the scripts and the acting is that of student films.' Loading This may not sound appealing, but Munt says their low-budget, corny aesthetic often works in their favour. 'Like television soaps, there's a comfort with the generic storylines and returning actors. There appears to be a sense of the 'so bad it's good', which suggests audiences outside of China engage with the content in a playful, fan-fiction way.' What does this say about our current media landscape? We're no longer as concerned about consuming media in a traditional, chronological way, Zhang says. All micro-dramas are produced with the idea that viewers may be dropping in halfway through a series, or watching out of order. Some may not even watch them at all, instead just listen to them while cleaning the house or walking to work. 'Traditional cinema shows, it doesn't tell. We have to do both,' she says. 'So there's a lot of voice-over … Our statistics show if you don't put the most obvious information in the dialogue at the beginning of each episode, the audience might skip.' There's also an economic dimension, Binns says. 'Vertical video platforms typically charge per episode or per series rather than subscriptions, which solves a key problem big streamers like Netflix face. They can generate big subscriber jumps for popular series like Stranger Things, but then struggle to maintain production momentum to retain those subscribers. The micropayment model makes the economics much more pragmatic – viewers pay for what they actually consume rather than betting on future value.' Could they take over the world? Verticals are expanding beyond China thanks to translation, Zhang says. 'You can add subtitles to shows very quickly with technology, or it could be voiced over. Then it's just remarketed globally,' she says. 'It's already been tested in another market, so you're minimising risk.' However, micro-dramas are usually culturally specific, Zhang notes. For example, A Flash Marriage with the Billionaire Tycoon features a contract marriage – something Western viewers are less familiar with. Subsequently, production houses like Turtle Media are prioritising original micro-dramas, which cater to local audiences. 'Story is king for us,' Chua says. 'Our writers have worked in the film and television industry for over 20 to 30 years. Understanding the fundamentals of storytelling helps us create original content, rather than just regurgitating.' Loading They also work more slowly than their Chinese counterparts, often producing 10 to 15 series a year compared to 70 to 100 in China. While Turtle Media sees progress in micro-dramas outside of China, Munt is less convinced. 'Vertical dramas lure audiences with a soft pornography feel. They cast attractive young actors – often not wearing much and playing out cliched storylines fuelled by lust, desire and transgression – in a middling way.' Are there pitfalls? Zhang and Chua say micro-dramas have become a training ground for emerging actors, directors, screenwriters and cinematographers. However, the MEAA recently released a warning to those auditioning for verticals, citing potential unsafe practices due to the nature of the stories, lack of stunt or intimacy co-ordinators, and so on. This doesn't apply to every production house, Zhang notes, especially those like Turtle Media, which produce less content per year. 'Verticals are like a baby, so when people highlight these negative comments, it breaks my heart because we don't want to be like that [at Turtle Media]. This genre is still growing and if we don't treat it properly, it won't grow in the right direction.' Westaway says he has only had positive experiences in the vertical space, and hopes specific negative experiences won't tarnish the industry as a whole. 'The vertical space is creating many jobs for cast, crew and other creatives. I hope it continues to,' he says. 'If productions fall short of modern industry standards, I hope industry bodies view those situations not as opportunities to punish or make an example of anyone, but as a chance to guide companies to improve and make better overall working environments that can ripple out to the whole industry.' Five popular micro-dramas to watch 1. Fake It Till We Make It (Turtle Media) An event planner enlists someone to be her fake fiance following her partner's affair. As they navigate this sham engagement, jealousy, secrets and societal pressures threaten their growing bond. 2. The Killer Is Also Romantic (MGTV) Two secret agents are about to be married, but when they both suddenly disappear, it's revealed they each work for opposing assassins' organisations. 3. Forever Was a Lie (DramaBox) A girl is taken in by her mother's family after her parents go bankrupt. However, years later, the nanny's daughter encourages the family to turn on her. 4. Fake Married to My Billionaire CEO (ReelShort) After Sam's ex cheats on her and steals her money, Calladan Vandalay marries her at first sight. But he leaves one vital detail out: he's secretly the richest billionaire in the country. 5. Secret Surrogate to the Mafia King (ReelShort)
The Age
5 hours ago
- The Age
‘So bad, it's good': The two-minute soap operas changing the way we watch TV
F ated to My Homeless Billionaire Alpha. Tricked into Having My Ex-husband's Baby. Signed, Sealed, Secretly Married. Believe it or not, these are not the blurbs of teenage fan-fiction erotica. Rather, they're select titles of one of the fastest-growing media phenomenons: vertical micro-dramas. Known as 'duanju' in China, vertical micro-dramas are feature-length movies fragmented into about 60 to 120 bite-sized episodes of one to two minutes, and filmed specifically for smartphones. 'The fundamental storytelling you see in the mainstream market is still there, but everything is really quick – the pacing, tone, all of it,' says Daniel Chua, a producer at Australian vertical production house Turtle Media. In terms of the stories they tell, Chua says they most closely resemble traditional soap operas or telenovelas, replete with cliffhangers, romance and 'crazy shenanigans'. However, micro-dramas pack the intensity of an entire soap into a minute-long episode hundreds of times over. Despite micro-dramas still being a 'sunrise industry', Chua says they have gained momentum. Production houses span the globe – from Content Republic in China to DramaBox in Singapore and ReelShort in California. The latter even overtook TikTok as the most popular entertainment app in Apple's US app store last November. And they're expected to keep growing. China-based industry watchers iiMedia Research estimate the vertical micro-drama market will be worth over $21 billion by 2027, up from $7.9 billion in 2023. So where did these micro-dramas come from, and how did they get so popular? Where did it begin? Short-form videos gained serious traction during the COVID-19 pandemic, says Meg Thomas, a PhD candidate in the University of Queensland's school of communication and arts. 'With everyone stuck at home, platforms like TikTok and DouYin [China's equivalent to TikTok] really exploded,' she says. 'TikTok went from having 653 million users in 2019 to over 1.4 billion by 2021.' At the same time, Chinese romance web novels were booming. Selina Yurou Zhang, a film director at Turtle Media, says the creators of these novels began filming short trailers to promote their books, many of which attracted major attention from viewers. This opened the door for micro-drama producers to purchase the IP from popular online novels and adapt them into mobile-friendly videos. Since then, micro-dramas have travelled the globe, including Australia. Zhang and Chua's production house was the first to set up shop Down Under. It has released popular titles such as Light My Fire – which sees a woman fight to save her loveless marriage – and Fake It Till We Make It, which follows an event planner who hires someone to be her fake fiance following her partner's affair. Both videos claimed hundreds of millions of views over their first two weeks online. Why are they so popular? With clunky (and vaguely pornographic) titles like Captured and Bound by My CEO, it may be surprising that these melodramatic series are performing so well. However, Zhang says it's simply part of the evolving media landscape. 'People have short attention spans now. We have busy and stressful lives, and we just want to scroll on and on to see what's next. [Micro-dramas] are designed for that, designed to hook people.' We're also drawn to the intimacy of micro-dramas, Chua says. A vertical episode needs to frame one character – two at a maximum – at a time, thus bringing viewers closer to the story on-screen. Though Western media still prioritises landscape filming for traditional screens, audiences are becoming more open-minded. 'They're essentially importing a proven Chinese format into markets that are technically ready, but haven't yet developed their own vertical storytelling traditions,' says senior RMIT media lecturer Dr Daniel Binns. 'It remains to be seen if there's a Western appetite for this kind of content, though the overlap with BookTok's preference for formulaic romance suggests an audience is ready and waiting.' How are they made? Vertical micro-dramas are incredibly quick, and often cheap, to produce. Entire seasons can be shot in 10 days to two weeks, Binns says, using minimal sets and focusing on character interaction rather than elaborate production values. Nicholas Westaway – an Australian actor who used to star on Home and Away and worked as a production assistant on shows such as The Good Doctor, but has since moved into acting in micro-dramas – says he has filmed almost 20 verticals over the past year, including Double Life of Mr President. 'An average vertical is filmed in seven to nine days … I normally review scripts before committing to a project, so roughly two to three weeks before a production starts,' he says. UTS associate professor in media Alex Munt says verticals are becoming a 'mini studio system' in China, with many productions using the same sets and casts. 'They replenish the same screen stories [and tell them] in superficially different ways,' he says. 'They cost between $5000 to $10,000 to produce, making them microbudget productions shot with relatively small cameras, like DSLRs, and crews of four to five people. Most have a hyperreal look. The quality of the scripts and the acting is that of student films.' Loading This may not sound appealing, but Munt says their low-budget, corny aesthetic often works in their favour. 'Like television soaps, there's a comfort with the generic storylines and returning actors. There appears to be a sense of the 'so bad it's good', which suggests audiences outside of China engage with the content in a playful, fan-fiction way.' What does this say about our current media landscape? We're no longer as concerned about consuming media in a traditional, chronological way, Zhang says. All micro-dramas are produced with the idea that viewers may be dropping in halfway through a series, or watching out of order. Some may not even watch them at all, instead just listen to them while cleaning the house or walking to work. 'Traditional cinema shows, it doesn't tell. We have to do both,' she says. 'So there's a lot of voice-over … Our statistics show if you don't put the most obvious information in the dialogue at the beginning of each episode, the audience might skip.' There's also an economic dimension, Binns says. 'Vertical video platforms typically charge per episode or per series rather than subscriptions, which solves a key problem big streamers like Netflix face. They can generate big subscriber jumps for popular series like Stranger Things, but then struggle to maintain production momentum to retain those subscribers. The micropayment model makes the economics much more pragmatic – viewers pay for what they actually consume rather than betting on future value.' Could they take over the world? Verticals are expanding beyond China thanks to translation, Zhang says. 'You can add subtitles to shows very quickly with technology, or it could be voiced over. Then it's just remarketed globally,' she says. 'It's already been tested in another market, so you're minimising risk.' However, micro-dramas are usually culturally specific, Zhang notes. For example, A Flash Marriage with the Billionaire Tycoon features a contract marriage – something Western viewers are less familiar with. Subsequently, production houses like Turtle Media are prioritising original micro-dramas, which cater to local audiences. 'Story is king for us,' Chua says. 'Our writers have worked in the film and television industry for over 20 to 30 years. Understanding the fundamentals of storytelling helps us create original content, rather than just regurgitating.' Loading They also work more slowly than their Chinese counterparts, often producing 10 to 15 series a year compared to 70 to 100 in China. While Turtle Media sees progress in micro-dramas outside of China, Munt is less convinced. 'Vertical dramas lure audiences with a soft pornography feel. They cast attractive young actors – often not wearing much and playing out cliched storylines fuelled by lust, desire and transgression – in a middling way.' Are there pitfalls? Zhang and Chua say micro-dramas have become a training ground for emerging actors, directors, screenwriters and cinematographers. However, the MEAA recently released a warning to those auditioning for verticals, citing potential unsafe practices due to the nature of the stories, lack of stunt or intimacy co-ordinators, and so on. This doesn't apply to every production house, Zhang notes, especially those like Turtle Media, which produce less content per year. 'Verticals are like a baby, so when people highlight these negative comments, it breaks my heart because we don't want to be like that [at Turtle Media]. This genre is still growing and if we don't treat it properly, it won't grow in the right direction.' Westaway says he has only had positive experiences in the vertical space, and hopes specific negative experiences won't tarnish the industry as a whole. 'The vertical space is creating many jobs for cast, crew and other creatives. I hope it continues to,' he says. 'If productions fall short of modern industry standards, I hope industry bodies view those situations not as opportunities to punish or make an example of anyone, but as a chance to guide companies to improve and make better overall working environments that can ripple out to the whole industry.' Five popular micro-dramas to watch 1. Fake It Till We Make It (Turtle Media) An event planner enlists someone to be her fake fiance following her partner's affair. As they navigate this sham engagement, jealousy, secrets and societal pressures threaten their growing bond. 2. The Killer Is Also Romantic (MGTV) Two secret agents are about to be married, but when they both suddenly disappear, it's revealed they each work for opposing assassins' organisations. 3. Forever Was a Lie (DramaBox) A girl is taken in by her mother's family after her parents go bankrupt. However, years later, the nanny's daughter encourages the family to turn on her. 4. Fake Married to My Billionaire CEO (ReelShort) After Sam's ex cheats on her and steals her money, Calladan Vandalay marries her at first sight. But he leaves one vital detail out: he's secretly the richest billionaire in the country. 5. Secret Surrogate to the Mafia King (ReelShort)
Perth Now
16 hours ago
- Perth Now
‘Giving racism': Internet unleashes on Aussie's Japan post
An Australian influencer and business owner has been grilled amid claims of cultural appropriation during her holiday to Japan. The internet unleashed at All For Mimi founder Sophia Begg, known online as Sopha Dopha, after she posted a series of photos capturing her first day in Tokyo to her Instagram. Begg can be seen posing against a vending machine sporting a polka dot bandana, bright pink shorts and a baggy white t-shirt branded with Japanese characters 'Suki' which translates to 'like' or 'love.' Subsequent photos show Begg and her two friends, including employee Bailey, indulging in matcha and ramen while exploring the city. The 21-year old's post also featured Chinese rapper SKAI ISYOURGOD's song Blueprint Supreme playing over the top. With a following of more than 660,000 on the platform, critics were quick to unload on the TikTok star. Sophia Begg in Tokyo, Japan. Credit: Instagram @sophadophaa_ 'This honestly reflects white privilege on another level… being able to pick and choose parts of someone else's culture for aesthetic without needing to understand or respect it. Meanwhile, we as Asians grow up being shamed or mocked for these same things. It's not just a song or a vibe, it's a lived culture, and treating it like a trend is harmful,' one person wrote. 'Look good but it's giving racism,' said another. A third added: 'The casual racism is sending me LMAO.' Many of the people unhappy with Begg's upload took issue with the song choice given it is in Mandarin and is not by a Japanese musician. 'Girl I love you but please the song isn't even in Japanese,' 'You should change the song or remove it. its not even Japanese,' Despite calls for the influencer to remove the audio from the post, Begg has not taken it down or responded to the negative comments.
