These children's choirs met four years ago. Now they are finally singing together
The story outlined the most dangerous things to do during the pandemic, ranking them from bad to worse. McEndarfer wasn't surprised by most on the list, like flying and going to a restaurant. But the activity rated most dangerous, in top spot stopped him in his tracks. It was singing.
'That was a devastating blow to choruses around the world, especially with the insight that this was not going to last just a couple of weeks,' says McEndarfer, the Grammy award-winning conductor of the US National Children's Chorus, one of the largest youth choruses in the world. 'Imagine being a child engaging with so much joy on a daily basis, and then having that ripped away from you.'
But instead of dwelling on this new – and far quieter – reality, he decided to make the most of a grim situation by connecting his choir members with another chorus about 12,000 kilometres away over Zoom.
So, in 2021, the National Children's Chorus (NCC) and Australian Children's Choir (ACC) met online for an hour-and-a-half to showcase their digital musical projects, and to share how the pandemic was impacting them.
'There were several students who cried and were very vulnerable and open about their emotions,' McEndarfer says. 'Other students would then offer support and comfort. It was really beautiful to see – students who were a world away from each other connecting. They probably would have never met if it weren't for this unique situation. It was really healing.'
Now, about four years later, the two choirs will meet in person for the first time. Some 300 members of the NCC and ACC, ranging between the ages of 10 and 18, will share the stage at Melbourne's The Edge on July 16, culminating in a massive joint performance.
For Vincent Anderson, who was one of the NCC choristers on the Zoom call, the upcoming performance feels like a full circle moment.
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Sydney Morning Herald
2 days 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
2 days 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)
West Australian
2 days ago
- West Australian
What to Watch on TV: Happy Gilmore 2, The Assassin, Billy Joel: And So It Goes, Outrageous and Sold!
It's Adam Sandler's fault you never see your partner on the weekends any more. The comedian is largely responsible for millions of men discovering golf via his 1996 film, Happy Gilmore. The flick was a cult hit, putting the sedate sport firmly on the radars of young men around the world, who have now aged into the demographic that pop on their polos and hit the fairway for hours on end — much to the chagrin of their other halves. Bad news: a whole new generation could well get sucked in now that Sandler's film is getting a sequel. Thirty years in the making, it sees the comedian return to play his titular character, the short-tempered ex-hockey player who discovers he has a latent talent for golf. Ben Stiller is also back reprising his role, along with Christopher McDonald as pro-golfer Shooter McGavin and Julie Bowen as Gilmore's love interest, Virginia Venit. If you've seen the trailer, then you'll know we're likely in for lots of fun, though plot specifics are still a closely guarded secret. What we do know is that Gilmore is headed back to the circuit to try to raise some much-needed cash, and he's got a brand-new rookie caddy along with him for the ride. In good news for golf fans, some familiar faces from the sport pop up. Joining the roster are John Daly, Paige Spiranac, Rory McIlroy, Scottie Scheffler, Bryson DeChambeau, Brooks Koepka, Justin Thomas and Will Zalatoris, who all make cameos. None of these people mean much to me, but if you're across the game, you'll probably be getting excited. This could either be the best thing you see this year or the worst — there is no middle ground with Adam Sandler, and that's why we love him. I've never been much of a fan of the Piano Man — I've always found him pompous and a little smug. But after dipping into this expansive two-part doco, I have a new appreciation of the six-time Grammy-winning Rock & Roll Hall of Famer. I'm a tad embarrassed that I wrote him off without knowing much about where he came from and how he got to the top. This sheds some light via home movies, photos and intimate one-on-one chats — what a life he has lived. Want to feel soul-crushingly depressed? Watch this! OK, that's a bit unfair — comedian Mark Humphries' deep dive into why so many Australians are struggling to secure home ownership is well worth a watch. But, honestly, it will leave you raging. Hopefully someone important watches this and legislates change — fingers crossed (though that is hard to do when you're hiding behind them grimacing at a TV screen). Before there was Kourtney, Khloe and Kim, there were the infamous Mitford sisters, women every bit as trailblazing, scandalous and fascinating as their modern equivalents. These real-life figures are the focus of this period drama 'set against a backdrop of glamour, political upheaval and social change'. Starring Bessie Carter as Nancy (my fave sister), this has been getting heaps of great reviews — pop it on your watch list and be prepared to be outraged! This series is all about a middle-aged ex-assassin called Julie, played by British screen star Keeley Hawes, and hello — relatable much? She's living out her retirement on a Greek island when she's thrust back into her old world after a catch-up with her estranged son, played by The Good Doctor's Freddie Highmore, goes horribly awry. Telling you more would be to spoil the show's fantastic premise. Can't wait for you to see this one.
