deleted
name: Something I really
pausing
to bite at the perimeter of a small biscuit as his coffee turned lukewarm in
its mug.
deleted
name: I kind of like it, I enjoy it
when in a movie an actor or an actress... um,
swallowing
deleted
name: when they’re required to look at photographs, when when the film has to
have some sense of their... history, the character’s history, and the actor or
actress involved... There are photos, of, very obviously photos of the actor or
actress themself, from their own... God damn
from their own, their own family photos, pictures of them as children or
teenagers or... but these are their own photos that they’ve used, are using as
props. I like when that happens, I like that sense of... real history becoming a part of a, of a fake one, just that basic
falseness of a movie. It creates an odd frisson between the, the actual character in the movie and the life of
the actor or actress playing the part of that character. It’s almost like the
movie is harnessing so much more by using real, these real photos... where each frame
of the movie becomes, is sort of coded
with an intimacy it wouldn’t otherwise have, not, that it would not get with
just props. But then there’s no real way to tell whether they are just props, unless you know the photos
in question if it’s, the photos themselves have become celebrated in some way.
The
room now fell to such quiet Brother Skunk could hear his host’s fingers at the
novelty of beard upon his face.
deleted
name: She told me she grew to hate the movies, or certainly, she grew to hate
going to see them.
