Levi Cranston, the filmmaker, was born in a conch shell upon Australian shores during the 90s in an Aries moon-phase. Indeed all Australians know that it is a Pelican—not Storks—who are responsible for children. This is why they have pouches in the first place. Well, Levi’s maternal Pelican was a lousy one, and on her deliverance from Cairns to Sydney she took a roost in the Great Maiwar River and forgot all about the child. The Pharoh’s Daughter, working at GoMA’s Cinémathèque, discovered the reed basket, felt pity, and raised the child as her own on a healthy diet of World Cinema—where Levi learnt to read from subtitles. Levi graduated with a Scholarship Degree in Film Production but, oddly enough, was quoted he “didn’t mind much of University,” and was overheard that he “truly learnt” from “Tarkovsky, Bergman, Kurosawa; the Nouvelle Vague, Czechoslovak Film Miracle, Ozploitation....Kuleshov and Soviet Montage Theory; Michel Chion and Walter Murch; Kieślowski and Cassavettes....André Bazin; Antonioni....that he weeped openly in The Piano and The Tree of Life and always during the last 1/8th of Trois Couleurs: Rouge; Bresson’s Notes on the Cinematograph; May Gibbs’ Gumnut Babies; the new Ottolenghi cookbook....Henry Lawson; and John Wilcockson’s guide to Bicycles and Bicycling.” Others have called him “ostentatious,” or “camp.” Levi has currently completed his first project on 16mm—FELIVAND’s “Trajectory”—and is slated to shoot a Music Video Triptych in early Feb, has an unreleased Short Form called “Solus”, and has begun making notes on Road Rage on an Olivetti Lettera 32.