flamenco shot list

It was a bit of a tall order: three short films and three travel channel episodes. In four days. It didn’t leave a lot of time for preproduction. We fueled ourselves on a cocktail of adrenaline and sunshine, funny jokes, and the joy of mixing filmmaking with travel and red wine. Chris woke at dawn the morning we were to shoot his film, and wrote his shot list while the rest of us were still sleeping. When I opened my eyes, only a few hours after the previous night’s party, he was already in costume, working on his laptop.
“Going to get some props, be right back,” he said while Adam grumbled over to brush his teeth.
“Did you sleep at all?” I asked, blinking myself awake.
“A bit.” He rushed out the door.

     I had planned to figure out my film and write my shot list after we finished shooting Adam’s short, but the shoot spilled right into the party. So then I decided to figure out my film and write my shot list after we finished Chris’ short. But by the time we completed our day and drank our beers and took photos of ourselves, it was time for the flamenco show, and I was breathless trying to keep up with them, dizzy tired, wondering how they were able to walk so fast through the crowds at La Ramblas while simultaneously eating falafal sandwiches. We met Javier at the fountain at the Plaza Real right in the middle of all the elegance and light. I gave up and threw away my sandwich half-eaten.
     “I love this club,” Javier said. “It’s my favorite place to hear flamenco music.” A small stage bathed in red light. The audience packed in around it.
     The guitarists played their first chords when it came: that little shiver of an idea, first only a single sound, then the whole sound design, then a rush of color and motion. A man on the stage started singing when I took my notebook and tiptoed to the bathroom. Nobody said anything to me, the girl leaning against the wall in the bathroom, scribbling away into a notebook while the music echoed ghostlike through the walls from the stage. I don’t know how long I was in there, but when I finally emerged, I was triumphant and the show was over.
      “You missed the show!” Javier said. “You didn’t even get to see the dancer!”
     “Yes, but I have my film!” I held up my notebook, flushed and beaming.
     “You missed the dancer,” Chris said, his voice husky.
     “Yes, but I have my film!”
     “Dude, were you crying?” Adam turned to him.
     Chris didn’t answer. Just shook his head a little. “That was the best dance I have ever seen.”
     “Yes, but I…” I lowered my notebook, deflated. “Oh. Oh…”

Comments

  1. grecochica1:04 AM, May 25, 2009

    I actually thought this was going to be about alcohol. Can you tell I haven't had a drink in a while?

    ReplyDelete
  2. bat-sheva11:03 PM, June 04, 2009

    one shot vodka, one shot maple syrup, a heaping handful of cayenne pepper...

    ReplyDelete
  3. grecochica1:03 AM, June 16, 2009

    clearly you don't cook often, a HANDFUL of cayenne pepper! That would be an overflowing shot of red stuff. I barely tolerated 1/4 teaspoon.

    I guess that makes you a spicy mama

    ;-)

    ReplyDelete

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