harrys early ford parts
My Superfilm
"Before we start you out on this multi-million dollar staging, Mr. Rawlings, we would like to learn more about this cover you are going to make. Can you tell us all about it?"
~~~
Of without a doubt! I have long dreamed about this opportunity, my superfilm.
OK, we start the ball rolling up on a foggy and battle-scarred countryside. Shell holes and bits of debris are evident as far into the mist as you can see. A town. Shots of exploded buildings. Artillery sits unmanned. Everything is calm.
Oh, and this film is all in black and white; existent high contrast black and pasty, and it won't be very wide--maybe something like 1.75, I am thought, but not wider. I want to be able to use widescreen shots when they trade and tighter shots for close-ups and such; morph the partition to my needs, the way Eisenstein wrote about it in "The Dinamic Honourable."
And then a line of feet walking through the mud. The bottoms of dresses attach to the feet, muddy and wet. The camera rises and we see the faces of women--some are old, some are junior, but all of them are very tired-looking, with wrinkles and indecency covering their faces--everything has to be dirty--and they look frightened. Escorting them, only only visible in the fog, are soldiers. The camera roams and looks at some of the faces. And then it focuses on one physiognomy, the face of a middle-aged better half, and then zooms in on her eye, into her pupil, exactly the way Unfaithfully Yours (1948) does it to launch the separate fantasies.
And then we are looking at the fa of a child. The woman as a young girlfriend. A voice calls from somewhere off-screen. The jail-bait hollers back. It's a call-response game, and the editing will be very kittenish, quick cuts that counter-station extreme visuals--I am imagining here a visual tonality in the vein of A Summer to Remember (1960). In as a matter of actual fact, I am ripping much of that film off for this section. The other express is that of a young boy. These two are outside, in some woods, on a summer evening.
The kids conclusion to go exploring and play somewhere else. They wander around through the woods. This whole portion of the film will be very quiet, with very little dialog, and when the kids do reveal they say things that only they understand, which is very much what childhood is like anyway. They penetrate to a clearing and a knoll and run around it a bit. Then they are tired and lie down next to one another on the insigne of the knoll and they begin to listen. A by no means of their ears--the sounds around them erupt. Shots of the snitch swaying. Shots of birds playing. Shots of bugs chirping. Shots of trees. Shots of sky. A hanker shot shows them in the foreground and their municipality in the background (I have a clear image here of Canterbury in the dissociate in A Canterbury Tale (1944)). Fleetingly the sounds of music are heard, very far in the space. The boy rises and helps the girl up, and then they run off back into the woods towards diggings (the town).
From here until the end of this section, I am stealing from Marie, a Hungarian Scandinavian Edda (1932). The two kids are walking with adults (we don't see the faces of the adults)--twilight has begun to settle in. The kids have changed into nicer clothes (very adult-like). They are fussing and playing with each other. The boy will be doing something adolescent--maybe he's playing with rocks. The music we heard scathing from the last sequence is much louder, and as we follow the kids we see that they are attending a neighbourhood pub dance. It's outdoors with streamers and a chagrined band and lots of people and tables--but of those people and tables, all we ever see are the legs. The camera does some more visual playing as the kids pursuit each other around--they have become bored with dancing, which they tried at the behest of their chaperons. The boy definitely steals some candy, and the two end up on the road adjacent to the dance, eating.
The boy has walked the popsy home (presumably just a few houses away, as the music can still be audibly heard). She walks into the yard and stands behind the non-aligned. The girl asks for candy. The boy begins to foolishly merrymaking around--all of this is exactly like in Marie, except without the have one's way with. After this mime-playing, the girl mimes that she wants to be kissed on the cheek. The boy looks nauseous. She mimes it again, more forcefully. The boy turns away provoked, almost haughty (should look hilarious in his scorn-formal clothing), and then stomps off in the pointing of his house. The girl looks after him, an odd mix of pouting and count on. The camera zooms back into her pupil.
We are now looking again on the lass. She is digging. The camera tracks back and then pans to party that all the women are digging. It's a trench of some straighten out. Or is it? As the camera pans across the women, a soldier crosses in the foreground. Another is patrolling the horizon, the shadow of his gun ominous in the fog. The camera stops and focuses in on another the missis, quite a bit older than the last. Pupil zoom.
Now a demoiselle of about 20 is before us. She puts on a hat and dives into Paris. This part is going to be a city film, something rather like Nogent (1929) and In Well-spring (1929) and A propos de Nice (1930) and the like; we dedicate the girl around on the day she spent living it up in Paris and depart into free-form documentary. Shots of the Champs-Elysees. Shots of a number of people along the boulevard. Portraits of neighborhoods--everybody will be clamoring to see Montmarte. Oh, and this detachment will be shot as a silent, so it will have the only score of the total film... I am thinking a frolicsome concertina, something lively and truly Parisian. And the background is spring, so there has to be some shots of blossoming flowers and blossoming friendship.
Night comes. Shots of conurbation lights. Things become more exciting. Clip gets quicker. We see Parisian unceasingly-life. Cabarets. Champagne. Everywhere tissue and decadence. One automatically thinks of the blackjack sequence in So This is Paris (1926). Indeed, this IS Paris. The rhythmical pattern steadily quickens. It will be modeled after the throbbing of The Man with a Movie Camera (1929), become more in the land of the living sensitive and more dense until things feel like they will hit the roof. Champagne. Laughter. Legs. Then hurriedly a shot of dawn over the city. Things are all at once tardily. The night revellers are returning dwelling-place. The morning life is awakening. We look after the woman as she stumbles jubilantly institution. She collapses into bad, fully dressed. She stares up at the ceiling, euphoric (pissed). Pupil zoom.
Back to the woman shovelling. The soldiers importance the group to line up in front of the hole they have dug. The soldiers are still (always) shadows in the foreground and vapour. The women begin climbing out of the ground, muddy as ever. Some have trouble. The camera pans across as they climb. It focuses on one strikingly young girl as she uses her shovel as a crutch. Perhaps she is very wonderful, but it's hard to tell under the dirt. Novice zoom.
Now we are looking at the same girl, unspoiled and all made up, laughing, looking her youthful age, and very, very good-looking. She is with her beau, a strapping young lad who I guess to be something like Douglass Montgomery. The two are in a town park, merrily whispering proclivity promises to one another as they stroll. It is winter and thick, fairy-tale snow is falling. This is going to be an Impressionistic Fairy-tale Comedy--imagine a fluffy, graceful-hearted Menilmontant (1926). And with judicious. There is going to be a lot of visual and audio disjunction; Woody Allen conference over a camera roaming in search of subconscious externalities; also lots of philosophical non-sequiters ala Godard.
But back to the plan: the couple's happiness is destroyed when they learn that war has been declared (perhaps through a winsome "It's War!" sign in the snowy city). The boy is precise to enlist, but the girl decides to do all she can to keep him from contemporary. She hatches frivolous schemes to keep him from enlisting; perhaps a kidnapping plan, and maybe a plot that will land him in send up the river and make him unqualified, and she might even desperately try to separate oneself a demolish his kneecaps, arguing to him all the while why it is better for him to put an end to. Finally she threatens to drown herself if he enlists. The boy at the end of the day relents and promises to stay. The two include. Air raid sirens blare, and within moments explosions are licking the air on the vista. The two faces stare in horror, their features highlighted by the phosphorescent of the nearing blasts, the increasing brightness and clear-headed indicating their proximity. The boy breaks the hold and tries to get the girl to run with him, but she is frozen. She can't look away. Neophyte zoom.
Back to the girl, considerably more fed up to here with and dirty, watching the women attempt out of the hole. The soldiers yell and get them to border up. The sobbing of several women, quiet through the start, becomes noticeable. The camera pans across the faces of the now-aligned women, their backs to the trench. A few of them can only just stand. We stop on a middle-grey woman, looking stout and proud. Schoolboy zoom.
It is the same woman, wearing an army foster's outfit. She is staring out on the horizon where a unrestrained b generally group of soldiers is marching towards the burgh. The troops arrive; she asks about a notable soldier. She searches the town for him and in the long run finds him. He his her husband. The two have a brief round-the-clock to catch up in the midst of duties before an abuse breaks out in the early morning hours. The residuum of the sequence follows their course in the conflict, the man desperately fighting and the woman desperately healing.
It is easiest to contemplate of a Band of Brothers (2001) happening, but I would like it to be much more Russian-rooted. I am outlook very bold visual flourishes in the stratum of Kalatozov; The Cranes are Flying (1957) is my embryonic model, but certainly there are many instances from The Unmailed Correspondence literature (1959) and Nail...
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