So, after a day off, which included a trip to Landmark's Bethesda Row to see "My Summer of Love" (quite delicious!) and a stop-off at home to wish the father well, I returned to Crofton to get ready for another long week of editing. Dave and I had no intention of working for very long last night, just a quick touch-up to a scene or two before watching the basketball game.
So much for that plan.
At 7:30 this morning, we were smiling with the realization that we might have fixed a MAJOR problem. Basically, there was a pretty dramatic gap in one part of the narrative and no apparent solution, but I had an epiphany and Dave ran with it and it just might work!
For those of you who make films--on whatever scale--there comes a day and a scene that turns out to be embarrassingly horrendously cringeworthingly awful. This can be for many distinct reasons (poor writing, poor acting, poor directing, etc.). But when it comes down to it, there is an unsettling realization that no matter what you try to do, this one particular scene is doomed beyond recovery. As of last night at 10:30, our "cathouse" scene was firmly relegated to the bin labeled "this will never be shown to anyone, not even the dailies." But then came my epiphany, and now the new-and-improved cathouse scene is a vital force in this ridiculous picture! I don't even know how it happened, but it did, and only time (i.e., viewers) will tell if we pushed it too far or added an even greater weight to the proceedings.
Seriously, the way this thing is shaping up, the only comparison I can make to it is David Lynch. I know that's sacreligious and audacious and brash, but it's something about the "off-ness" of it that brings that master to mind. Again, only time will tell.
Back to work...