Well, I do not remember where I was going. I have no desire to look and we get to the (short) 2 nd stage ...
Second Stage: A "Auteur" of baptisms and communions
After the fiasco of the Tyco VideoCam and seeing that I was unnecessary, I decided to expand view, but as they had a real camcorder, then fell into an infernal spiral of Playstation and computer games, leaving parked my passion for recording authentic bullshit.
For a few years later, the day of kings, they decided to surprise me and gave me a camcorder "real": a Samsung with its zoom, the battery and everything. A thousand excited and quickly found myself as I went outside to burn to dogs, people and other elements worthy of being filmed. As the idea of walking exercise on hidden camera and a passion I also went through a severe creative slump, I decided to park the camera.
But it was the real fever of baptisms, communions and weddings coming up in the bosom of my family, who did start the camera.
So are recorded for posterity shaky image recordings (AKA: me and my fucking pulse), flat hand-held camera with arty pretensions and a special fixture for everything that had nothing to do with the event which allegedly portrayed as balloons, drunk, and the glasses on the table. Win Wenders
Quite a go ...
Stage: Mediocrity Like
I must say that the beginning of the year, I was thrilled to meet a very new elective called "Media" and learned that, among the various objectives that arise, was the one to make a script and subsequent "staging." It was an incentive to dust off the camera, which was extremely boring.
For during the course of this proved to be a nightmare, yes, descojonante, thanks to the surreal character dedicated to teaching that I've been fortunate to run into in this life porca: Manuela.
say that a person stuck in the past, in fact still believe you live in the late 70's, when he was relatively young, and whose taste film focuses on three authors: the worst John Huston (Juston as she said) "Paseo between love and death," Fellini's "And the Ship Sails On ..." Almodovar and "The Flower of My Secret."
This teacher was devoted throughout the year to say the most hilarious ewes, which are fully reflected in the respective book "Media" (Remember Gentlemen! JOURNAL OF CLASS), which was a continuous class fun. Besides, the continuous demands of the more radical students did not help that the environment is conducive for audiovisual creation. They came to ask the poor cast Manuela, Those sons of bitches ...
Then I came here, condescending and too cynical attitude to demonstrate to the class full of rednecks who the fuck film controlled. They do not prove anything, because of my shyness sick syndrome, and I spent the entire course held under the aegis of a notebook in a vertical position to keep me looking him in the face every time I ask something. But with the short would be different ...
NO!
The aim of the course, how mundane game, was the realization of a screenplay with a corresponding short, and two interviews, all revolving around a theme chosen by the group of participating students. In my case, Mr. Achiever me quickly recruited his trio called Actimel Team (paranoia that was fucking with this shit Manuela name). Say, a broad brush, that Sr.Triunfador has everything, is good at sports, has a 10 average in high school, speak English / French / German shit, like the girls and have an eye to surround Maybe the best of the best. Beside him caught the nearest him, Mr. Son of a Bitch. A guy whose only talent is asshole fuck life as was amply demonstrated in the ignominious trip to Granada. The thematic thread that would turn the project were: "The youth of today"
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to work, we spent 2 months making the vague state Manuela changed every time he approached to look at how we progressed, which going to be talking to be flipping pages of any book without rhyme or reason, with the face of oppression. So we gave feeling to be working. And when asked for results, the two spent the suckers I killed myself and had to stop fooling with a display Manuela inventive improviser. From time to time was pointing to ideas and dialogue on a page, but I looked so horrible that I was ashamed to call them ... so horrendous that ended up as part of the short ...
Talega, a special young
Argument: The epitome of sad freak, fat and stupid (Fran Aguilar) is facing an exciting day in store for him as a collective beat finale. Comment
comprehensive : Well, the idea of having the freak of my environment par excellence (Fran Aguilar) to make a short, and came from earlier times, when we delight all with their Schwarzeneeger great imitation in Commando and sang his version of "Aire" by Jose Merced, something truly LEGENDARY. But he knew he was about to fuck the recording it entirely, although it is now thanking you for your participation in the film, because otherwise it would not have been possible. To begin with, everything went according to my style fast-running-that-is-the-last-day, and Mr. Aguilar did not appear. The bastard had fallen asleep, and carrying their fault delayed 3 hours, something unforgivable in the work plan had assigned to each person. We went to film the sequence of the first on the road from the famous "Square" in my neighborhood. Originally passed at 12 am and how missing all actors involved in the chase, because I had the bright idea of recording Aguilar running down the road without people, and then at 19:00 pm film the other outlet with the group chasing behind. Overall, the jet lag is not noticeable in the image, movie magic ...
other scenes I filmed the whole wafer for various reasons, that if such an actor had been with his girlfriend and had 15 minutes to shoot, if they were hungry, if they had to leave house soon, blablabla ...
Anyway, that was always improvising and the geek fan character role, we took the first knocked on the door, looking for the younger brother of F. Aguilar, for lack of players and other anecdotes that I'm not counting the work, for fatigue finger cot. Given
disaster was only that size, the value and the bull. So, after a tough day for me, not so much for others, in which late-night and all appeared on Sunday and the short set and put in a CD for presentation on Monday (day D). The mere sight of short Sunday night, gave me a sense estomagante, as when a father tells his son that kings do not exist, something like that. My short I thought it was terrible, the worst thing I have begotten in my life. Nonsense narrative non-existent script, bad direction, multiple failures raccord ...
Anyway, had a great reception in the class, despite my misgivings and my face continuing anger at what he was seeing. It was clear that the public was an asshole and did not approach any film. Today, I caught up to him fond of this work, has some endearing that I could not see in your day. You may see the enthusiasm with which I was employed to finish something decent. In the Roger Corman, in a single day.
The post was long but it's late, I'm tired and I say
FIN
NOTE: Any day I edited with new content, as a Director's Cut.
