Brooke showed me this magazine spread on the seven steps of being a director. Step one: purchase a rubik's cube. Step two: jumble it up. Step three: get on a roller coaster and attempt to solve the rubik's cube over the course of the ride while everyone watches. Repeat step three until complete. It went on from there.
I finished shooting film three the night before last and Jebus if the metaphor above ain't damn accurate. Every shooting cycle for these films is traumatic and stressful. It's a full moon to my werewolf. The adage of 'all that matters is what gets on film' (or in my case, DV tape) is correct, but man, getting that stuff on film, it's like rolling a boulder up a mountain (well, actually, my reference there is slightly off, because maybe if there was footage of Sysiphus getting to the top he wouldn't have to roll the boulder up every day?).
Anyway, the process of figuring out where your legs need to take you to so that you can point your magic movie box at something or someone so that eventually it might add together with something else and mean something is, yeah, a mountain.
For this past film, I had other stuff in the can from the weekend, but I was pretty sure a bunch of Terrence Mallick shots wouldn't get this project off the ground alone, so the bulk of my story I shot on Wednesday night with two actors. Whatever could have gone wrong that day more or less did, from the time I woke up (4:30) onwards (and I was whistling in the dark with no real plot or story for my actors; just a situation) but somehow, when it came time to shoot, everything fell together into one beautiful, nine-minute take in which the world sang in harmony for my camera.
Now I just need to wipe the ambiotic fluid off this screaming infant of a film and blanket it up into a bundle and put a little hat on it.
So that in three weeks I can do it again.
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