Aug 22, 2008

In The Desert You Can't Remember Your Name...

Today, for instance, I was so happy to take a swim right outside my door early in the morning, that I locked myself out of my room. Apparently, it happens with some frequency in the rarefied desert air. However, since it is so darn hot, it was quite refreshing to wait for the maintenance guy in my dripping swimsuit, which pretty much dried out in seconds. While I waited, I even attempted some tai chi in the grass. Blame it on the heat, my darlings.

Then I took a ride through town in my ovenmobile, found the little downtown nestled against the spectacular hills (see below) and went to see Rosemary's Baby, whose amazing DP, William A. Fraker was there to tell stories about this legendary movie. He said he loves, admires and respects Roman Polanski. So do we! He said Polanski is a visual storyteller and that's because he comes from the Lodz film school. Hear, hear. (Yet listen to the way he uses sound. It is unbelievable).
The film still holds up. Visually it is a marvel. It is entirely disturbing in ways that one can't really rationalize. It is also very funny and over the top and it still gives one the creeps. This amazing film is 40 years old, people. It is fresher, and more daring than most of the crap made today. I have written about it elsewhere in this blog. I am a die hard Polanski fan.

At sunset, these mountains look incredible.

It's a good thing it is barely bearable to be outside in the middle of the day, because otherwise I'd be at the pool or communing with rattlesnakes in the desert. As such, I'm happy to go to the events of the festival where I will learn how to market my film, be discovered like Lana Turner at Schwab's and my life will change forever. Seriously, I want to see some shorts as well. See how we fare among the competition.

Inland Empire.

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