This movie is going to kill me very slowly and painfully in a way that the Swedes could never have pulled off, much less dreamed of in a thousand and one frozen Swedish nights. Every decision to save money or "increase productivity" has exploded in production's face and then been thrown at the crew like shit thrown by a psychotic pack of monkeys, aka the assistant directors and PAs. I am going to explode soon and heave a lens into someones cranium. I am going to explode and burn one of our overpriced trendy locations to the ground. I am going to explode and then consume the explosion and watch it turn into an ulcer and an even more severe reliance on alcohol. Good lord, I am a small cog in a vicious machine that spits out crap while consuming all that is good and pretty in the world. "Shrink," a movie about people who make movies written by a thirty year old boy who can't tuck his shirts in but still ties a double Windsor every day. What. The. Fuck.
In happier news I went surfing before our night shoots twice and even slept on the beach for two hours and woke up with the sun. I also successfully completed a really nice late drop into a head high wave and then smacked the shit out of the lip. I think I finally kinda sorta know how to surf. God is in the little moments of joy that mean nothing to anyone but you.
Peace out, bitches!
That's Hollywood. Keep it happy. Keep it simple, same thing I told Moose. Come swimming. . .
ReplyDeleteThanks. I'm trying to keep it simple but the "smartest guys in the room" keep making it complicated and annoying. Whatever.
ReplyDelete