The Glamourous Life of the Movies

Ever since we watched Breathless together, Ciro and I have been alternating real kisses with old-movie-style kisses where you keep your mouth closed and toss your head gently back and forth. The message they send is one of silliness rather than the intended filmic passion, but they are their own kind of fun.

I'm editing "Aperture" (my thesis film) which makes me fidgety/obsessive and restless/tired, as editing usually does. I suppose I ultimately find it fulfilling, and it is absolutely necessary on this project - while I normally prefer a director/editor divide, this is a film made of mostly stills, many of which advance the film's emotion rather than its action, and by stepping outside of the editing role, I would also stop being the director - the decisions about rhythm and image order carry too much of the film. (I will have a sound editor, who will receive copious notes but a great deal of freedom.)

Ciro has been assisting me by telling me that it is not time for a break yet (I ask about every five minutes), bringing coffee at regular intervals, and taking care of technical and setup stuff so that I don't have to spend time on it. He is pretty good. Or really mean. During the shoot, he would not let me help him, of course. All I had to do was pick up an extension cord, and -

Ciro: Leave that stuff to the camera department.
Romie: I am sort of camera department.
Ciro: No ma'am. You're sitting with a pencil, talking about feelings.

I need a fancy director hat, or something. With lots of plumes, and a veil. And a functioning cannon.