Home Video or Short Film

"Brothers at Lake" is an experimental short film by Make Me Creative Studio. While on vacation, I used my iPhone 14 to film a pelican floating near the shore. Nearby, my sons were playing catch, and beneath their laughter, I could sense a tension growing. Sensing a brewing conflict—and knowing every good story needs one—I turned the camera on them. Over the next half hour, I captured 24 minutes of footage that would become the film. When our flight home was delayed, I edited it on my laptop, completing ‘Brothers at Lake’ just as we were boarding.

Like it or not, you have to admit this is no longer just a home video. So, what makes the difference, and how can we use the incredible technology in our pockets to tell better stories?

I had captured other video clips and photos from that trip, but I would have struggled to turn them into anything meaningful. For example, here’s a video I attempted to capture of my sons with their great-grandfather. A fond memory, but by the time I got the camera out, the moment had already passed, and I spent 48 seconds just trying to figure out who the subject of the video was. I doubt you’ll make it to the end of this clip.

When making a film or documentary, I’d never say “action” and then try to figure out the story. Yet, when we pull out our phones to film, we often hit record and hope our subjects will reveal a story for us. But that’s not the subject's job—that’s the filmmaker’s. There’s a reason we have directors, authors, and painters: without a lens and interpretation, there’s no story, only data.

For this short, I brought a lens. I was filming a pelican when I overheard my boys antagonizing each other. Rather than stepping in as Dad to calm them down, I decided to make a film about sibling rivalry—my interpretation was rivalry.

Could I have made a film about siblings getting along and having a great day at the beach? Absolutely—that’s how most of the day went. But in that moment, it would have felt forced. When a scene has inherent tension, a storyteller must use it, as a sculptor uses clay.

Having decided my story was sibling rivalry, I had to make some choices about how I would portray my characters. Nico, the gentle 10-year-old, and Roman, nearly a foot taller at 12, with a mischievous glint in his eye that said, I’m willing to risk it all. Nature had given me my protagonist and antagonist. From the moment I hit record, I framed the story around this dynamic—keeping Nico centered in the frame while Roman came and went like a predator toying with his prey.

Note: This level of planning may sound unnecessary for home videos, but when you look at your footage or hear others’ stories, you can often sense when these choices aren’t made—and you’re less engaged as a result.

It has to be said: the boys gave spectacular performances. With a few reminders not to look at the camera, they stopped seeing me as Dad and started treating me as the director. Mom, Aunt Val, and Uncle Paul joined in, though Mom wasn’t entirely thrilled. Fortunately, the boys were captivating enough to keep her from saying, “Put the camera away and help me.” They were mostly having fun, with only a few flashes of real aggression. As I mentioned earlier, a different storytelling lens could have produced a film about two boys getting along at the lake, but I didn’t want to.

Instead, I captured and edited it all through a cynical lens, using an old piece of ambient stock music from a past project and quick cuts with disjointed audio to heighten the brewing rivalry and mania of my characters. The result may not be your favorite film, but it’s certainly not a home video.

Proof we had a light-hearted trip to Lake Winnipeg: