It has been raining a lot although this is not the season for such rain.
There are times I have longed for the rain; deepest pleasure is listening to rain falling. Feeling alive, at ease if I’m under shelter.
Out in rain as a young man I swam through billowing waves watching pure droplets of water sheeting from sky blend with brine. Lightning over horizon reminded me of pages from the comic book adaptation of Frankenstein I’d been reading; a classic in comic form.
Drawings of Victor walking through a storm
hope bubble’s bloom
aspirations of harnessing life
force of electricity, superimposed over the watery scene
I bobbed along doing my best to stay afloat.
Since then I have often thought it my most enjoyable beach experience; alone, inside the water rather than looking below it as Dali depicted himself doing as a girl child, peeking under the surface from the relative safety of the shore.
Here I was; there I had been,
swimming most dangerously in the meeting of rain to sea,
devoid of shelter; I love to see the rain fall from inside the ocean.
I have been part of a tribe of film makers. We are a tribe who come together for a period of time that is scheduled into a process of hard work and magic. The tribe agree to follow a leader on a path. The path is scheduled into a process of hunting, gathering and collecting. Once everything at any point in the process of the path is present and exemplary a step is possible and often when possible the step is taken.
Obviously, we have been making a movie. We are not an actual tribe so much as a work group; thinking of us as a tribe helps, especially in the rain. I love standing quietly on location in the rain sometimes. I have two specific comparisons: somewhere in Victoria out of Melbourne I once played the part of a WW2 refugee being corralled into a rail-side sheep-pen on what was meant to be the hottest day of that particular year, we were making a mini-series The Dunera Boys (1985) it was the first time I had literally acted in opposite circumstances because while we were filming this sequence the weather was sleeting. The first time literally because it isn’t unusual to encounter this sort of situation in an acting class; an improvisation exercise that requires you to say one thing and do another, or where you may ask someone what they are doing and they say the opposite to what they are doing and you then adopt the activity they have stated. Meryl Tankard has a terrific exercise that requires you to deliver something in three different concurrent ways such as: Dreamily, Electric Toaster, Fire. Keeps you on your toes.
So anyway here we all were dressed in our undergarments including shoes and socks, meant to be having a break out in the fresh air as refugees and it is freezing cold. You act, ‘it is a very very hot day!’ and yet you are freezing your armpits inside out. I did not love that on the day. It would be doubtful that any of us loved actually doing that. We were able to shoot the scene because the sleet and rain would not register on the camera; Warren Mitchell and Bob Hoskins had moments to do in the sequence and it all needed to be shot so we were shooting it. There were a dozen or so of us in the sheep-pen including a couple of sheep for a while. I felt reasonably comfortable with the sheep because I had studied sheep husbandry at college and understood their perspective.
The sheep were not at all impressed with the situation but they were well tended and not over stressed in any way. The actors on the other hand were reasonably stressed simply by way of the fact that we were all so cold; otherwise though in those moments before a take, with my hand on a sheep’s back just between ‘stand by’ and ‘action’ sleet sounds so different to rain; wouldn’t say I love it. The second comparison is recently working on Rabbit in the Adelaide Hills during some big storms. So many rabbit spirits in the Adelaide Hills.
I read some Bukowski sitting around on location. His poem : the burning of the dream … It took me back to younger days.
This comes out partially processed. It does contain nuts because the machinery that processed it is full of them. You can link through to other thoughts. They do not always appear in any particular order.