Friday, 12 October 2012

Model Citizen


Yesterday I found out what it must feel like to be a newborn giraffe.

Let me backtrack. As part of my shameless self-promotion campaign while I try to raise fund for my first feature film, I was interviewed by two local magazines and asked to do a photo shoot. That’s right, I would be stepping in the unchartered territory known as “in front of the camera”. How difficult could it be though?

First I was shuffled into the make-up room where I was met by a make-up artist I had worked with on a previous production…and by “worked with” I mean tortured on a daily basis to get the actors ready faster and faster each day due to a pressured schedule. He smiled as I sat down and, before we knew it, as he delicately painted my face, the photographer started rushing him along. So that’s what it feels like; interesting table-turning experience.

Then, as I sat waiting for my magical transformation, a flurry of people walked in, the editor, the art director... fussing over the clothes I would wear with the stylist and I vaguely remember the editor coming up to me and saying “Darling, for the second shoot, I want to see you crazy! Insane! Okay?” 

What?

I should mention the clothes. So we had two spreads to do, one would be jeans and a top and the other, a wedding dress to match the theme of my film. It’s fitting that the first time I ever wore a wedding dress would be for a photo shoot and not my actual wedding. But the dress wasn’t the problem. After sucking myself into python-like jeans and a lacy pink top, I was presented with the world’s most ridiculous shoes. Okay, perhaps not the most ridiculous, but bad for me, a girl who lives in her flip flops and sneakers. They were black velvet platform wedges; and when I say 'platform', I mean 'put-the-seventies-to-shame-platforms' and when I say ‘wedges', I mean '90-degree-angle-wedges'. The best part was that the sole of the shoe tapered into what felt like a pinpoint, so it was smaller than the base. Hence the newborn giraffe motif. I was wobbly on flat ground, but once we were out in our location: a field in the middle of nowhere with gale-force winds, someone was deliberately assigned to holding me upright and just letting go the moment we had to take the photo!

Oh and I have to mention the best part…as if the shoes were not ridiculous enough, the stylist had to tape pads to the soles to keep them clean. Yes, as in Always-Ultra-Dry pads! No wings. So for anyone who ever thought modeling was glamorous, try standing in padded stilts in the middle of a field while a herd of goats walks by. Did I mention the goats? I swear I’m not making this up. Only in Cyprus is a shoot interrupted so a herd of goats can pass through. I suppose we were in a field. In Cyprus. It was inevitable.

Finally the fluffy white dress came on and fortunately for me, the theme was ‘Runaway Bride’ so they made me wear sneakers (or tackies as we would say in South Africa). This is where I gained new-found respect for models. I stood in the field, with my back to the photographer and these were my instructions: Gather your dress, turn your body towards me with your right leg and take a step forward like you’re about to run, but don’t run, stoop your body forwards but not too low, not too high either, shoulder down, chin up, look forward and laugh. And go!

What the hell kind of pose is that?! Seeing as it was already a day for animal impressions, I think this move could only be described as ‘funky chicken’. The photographer giggling wasn’t helpful either and his gleeful statement “I swear I’m not laughing at you,” was very unconvincing. But he somehow managed to get some nice shots, so I forgave him.

So that’s it for my modeling career folks! Who would have thought making a movie could get so complicated…and there are more fashion-related events to come (where I will thankfully be behind the scenes) so stay tuned!

And if you're curious as to what all this is for, check out the link: 

Monday, 1 October 2012

Committed

There's a great saying that goes:

If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans...

Well, he must think I'm a riot! Up until recently, I was counting on a nice funding package so I could direct my first feature film in Cyprus. I'd been working towards this for the last two years (if you don't count the many years of build up and paying dues before that). Then lo and behold, the omnipotent crisis found the shores of Cyprus and those funds disappeared. And my whole life plan went *poof*

However, being the bright-eyed optimist that I am, I decided to find the opportunity within the situation and that's how the low budget feature film "Committed" was born. I sat down, wrote something that could be shot beautifully on a shoe-string budget and I have now reached the stage where the script is ready and fundraising has begun!

It's best explained on our funding video on indiegogo.com. Check out the link and become a part of my Plan B!

http://www.indiegogo.com/committed




Saturday, 22 September 2012

Think Before You Speak

Think before you speak. The instruction is simple enough. Theoretically, we think faster than we speak, so our mouths shouldn't be able to beat our minds to the punch (or punchline in this case). And yet...

Here are some humdingers:

How many months are you?
I'm not pregnant.

And you must be her father.
No I'm her husband.

What a cute little baby boy!
That's a girl.

The list goes on and we've all uttered them. But my all-time favourite comes from my university days in Grahamstown, South Africa. It was my first year and we had a dress-up party with the theme "When I Grow Up..." So we had a fun combination of costumes ranging from surgeons to trailer trash. My good friend Nicky (this may or may not be her real name) went for a classic: the fireman. Never one to do half-measures, she somehow talked an actual fireman into lending her his uniform; the full outfit complete with the shiny red helmet. Needless to say, she looked great and we had a fun night.

The next day, I walked her down to the fire station so she could return the uniform. I just want to mention at this point that we lived in a tiny student town where any faux pas was magnified and rumours spread like wildfire (note the theme-relevant metaphor).

So in we go to the fire station - and you really have to picture this to get the full impact of the story. Two pretty little girls walking into an area filled with strapping young firemen all striding about purposefully. As we enter, they all come to a perfect standstill, like a flash mob in reverse, and stare at us. I should also mention that Nicky had her arms stretched out in front of her, balancing the neatly folded uniform and the shiny helmet as if they were a sacred offering. She had also included a slab of chocolate to say thank you. So, two little girls with a uniform and helmet standing in the fire station.

Finally the captain comes up to us to ask if he can help.

Nicky: Is John here?
Captain: No, he's off today.

And here is the beautiful moment where her mouth raced to finish line, leaving her mind far in distance, powerless to stop her. With all the firemen listening intently, she hands over the uniform and says to the captain:

"Please give these to John and tell him thanks for last night."

End of story. I won't elaborate on the collective facial expressions of the men, or how quickly we turned and walked out of there. All she had to say for herself after that was:

"You better pray we never have a fire because we can NEVER call the fire brigade again!"

Friday, 14 September 2012

A comeback...unlike John Travolta's, but a comeback nonetheless!

I have no excuse. Actually I have several very good excuses for my absence, but I won't bore you with those now (I'll save them for later).

So I'm back. With a refreshing new colour and *gasp* my identity revealed. I'll let you absorb the shock, which I'm sure can only be compared to discovering who Batman really is or who shot JR. I wanted to use a pseudonym so I could freely tell my stories, but considering my readership comprises solely of close family and friends who all know it's me, it was fairly pointless. Plus I have an exciting new project coming up that I'd like to share as...well...me.

I will, however, continue to use fictional names for the friends in my stories so that none of them abandon me or kill me in a fit of rage.

Where have I been all this time you may ask? I've been working like a demon on film productions in Cyprus. But now all is quiet and we can catch up on stories.

Also, with the crisis finally hitting the shores of our island, things in the film industry have seriously slowed down, which is why it's time to put our big-girl panties on and make a plan. My plan comes in the form of a low budget feature film...but more on that later.

I'll be checking in every Friday (or once a week at any rate!)

It's good to be back!


Thursday, 9 February 2012

Thursday Thought



Big dreams take Big time...apologies for neglecting the blog a little...I'll be back on track soon!

Hope this inspires you! Scary is good...it reminds you that you're alive!
Either that, or I'm just a megalomaniac...hmmm.


Thursday, 2 February 2012

Emergency Blog Kitten

Due to a very...um...adventurous week in Cypriot filmmaking, I have neglected my blog. Apologies.

So until I can regroup next week, I'm pulling out the 'Emergency Blog Kitten'.

Aw, look how cute...see you next week!