There once was a Titan named Atlas (blog 22)
As we walk into the main room so to speak, nerves are certainly on edge, and judging from peoples slanted expressions outside before we entered they all have their fingers crossed and are saying private little prayers to their various gods. Meanwhile back on the floor where the real action is about to unfold Alan, Daithi, the Land Lord, his agents and I are stood in a sort of horse shoe configuration as I watch the man's eyes scan the interiors and literally see his blood begin to boil. Yes we had utterly distressed the space, certainly to the naked eye, or more poignantly for the camera lense. And as this man's fury mounted his eyes darted from one adjustment to the next up along a fiendish scale of absurdities. Once again I cannot describe these elements as they are of course essential to the plot, but suffice it to say should you be in this man's shoe's your head might well have popped off. We made an 11th hour effort to placate what appeared an incoming tidal wave by clearly showing how easily all of this could be undone. Snapping point snapped, and then he let loose, and demanded a huge sum be placed into a bank account and held as a deposit until the house was returned to the condition it was in before we arrived, but that was not all, and as his eyes scanned further afield his temper spilled over and morphed into the following nightmare "In fact, that's it!! stop filming right now...".
Whatever words I had up until then been administering were now being splintered and smashed to pieces between the jaws of a near apoplectic fury, and so as my last vowel flew up the chimney to escape, a deathly silence descended. I looked about at some of the faces here gathered and expressions were grave to say the least, Edward Munch would have been hard pressed to paint the scene. Then I took a look down into myself and settled into a sort of inner quietude and we all simply stood stock still for at least 10 seconds, which seemed a lot longer at the time, while the prospect of all this good Will and luck, and talent and hard work, over a frenetic 11 weeks as well as significant costs seemed now sucked into a super silent inter galactic Black Hole. Zip. Sip. Gone.
If I am allowed to write this, I consider myself a pretty good judge of character, and when I first saw this gentleman in his car and he and Alan spoke briefly, I got a feeling from him that things would ultimately work out, I don't know why, but I said that to Alan as we drove away. And somewhere in this present gulf that little rope ladder was down there while way out of sight, as daft as that may sound. Then Alan O'Sullivan simply asked the gentleman if he could have a word with him outside, they both left the room as the rest of us stood and chatted politely. After a certain time elapsed Alan entered the room again and asked us to join them, I could sense the ice cap was lifted and the freeze thawed. This was true, but new requisites were in place, which once again meant a significant cheque to be lodged into an account as a holding deposit, and a letter drawn up from our lawyer to his, qualifying the affair, BUT! there was to be no more shooting until the cheque was in the bank, which for us was still disastrous as we did not have that money to spare. We all talked together some more in a slightly warmer clime, agreed on matters of responsibility, shook hands, and the guys turned on their heels and left.
Alan O'Sullivan had saved the day and shouldered in under this ominous weight like Atlas hoisting up our little world that is Spiderhole.
Alan and I looked to one another and then walked to inform an anxiously expectant cast and crew of the outcome. They were not to be relieved as such, because we did not have that golden key to deposit, and so some high Latin would now be called for in my next series of incantations. I was going to have to pull a plump turkey out of the next hat I came across, and that had to happen in the next couple of hours. We had managed to get up and rolling for about 1.30 on the first day after dealing with the mornings blizzard, and now we were all land locked once more having tasted a few hours sweet gallop over the meadows, our bob sled slamming four square into this obstacle and sending us all like some Scoobby Doo crew hurtling off and landing humbled on our rear ends, puzzled and bruised.
Right then!! that's it for today!! it's a RAP, this was 6.30 and we would probably have shot as late as possible into that night to make up precious time, but no no, that was not to be, so while everybody slowly broke the gear down, Alan and I were on our phones and preparing for a hard days night.
Daniel had been locked away in the upstairs toilet observing the events, and after he told me a story about what was happening to him as all the above was unfolding for us, and it seems he was in a shit storm of his own, the night he told me about the stress of his predicament at that exact time, while we lay in our opposite beds I laughed like I have never laughed before. And will one of these blogs get round to a description particular of that moment of hilarity. Daniel and I were crying with laughter together once again, but doom was skulking, what else could we do, wear sack cloths and wilt!!!!!????? NO way.
Whatever words I had up until then been administering were now being splintered and smashed to pieces between the jaws of a near apoplectic fury, and so as my last vowel flew up the chimney to escape, a deathly silence descended. I looked about at some of the faces here gathered and expressions were grave to say the least, Edward Munch would have been hard pressed to paint the scene. Then I took a look down into myself and settled into a sort of inner quietude and we all simply stood stock still for at least 10 seconds, which seemed a lot longer at the time, while the prospect of all this good Will and luck, and talent and hard work, over a frenetic 11 weeks as well as significant costs seemed now sucked into a super silent inter galactic Black Hole. Zip. Sip. Gone.
If I am allowed to write this, I consider myself a pretty good judge of character, and when I first saw this gentleman in his car and he and Alan spoke briefly, I got a feeling from him that things would ultimately work out, I don't know why, but I said that to Alan as we drove away. And somewhere in this present gulf that little rope ladder was down there while way out of sight, as daft as that may sound. Then Alan O'Sullivan simply asked the gentleman if he could have a word with him outside, they both left the room as the rest of us stood and chatted politely. After a certain time elapsed Alan entered the room again and asked us to join them, I could sense the ice cap was lifted and the freeze thawed. This was true, but new requisites were in place, which once again meant a significant cheque to be lodged into an account as a holding deposit, and a letter drawn up from our lawyer to his, qualifying the affair, BUT! there was to be no more shooting until the cheque was in the bank, which for us was still disastrous as we did not have that money to spare. We all talked together some more in a slightly warmer clime, agreed on matters of responsibility, shook hands, and the guys turned on their heels and left.
Alan O'Sullivan had saved the day and shouldered in under this ominous weight like Atlas hoisting up our little world that is Spiderhole.
Alan and I looked to one another and then walked to inform an anxiously expectant cast and crew of the outcome. They were not to be relieved as such, because we did not have that golden key to deposit, and so some high Latin would now be called for in my next series of incantations. I was going to have to pull a plump turkey out of the next hat I came across, and that had to happen in the next couple of hours. We had managed to get up and rolling for about 1.30 on the first day after dealing with the mornings blizzard, and now we were all land locked once more having tasted a few hours sweet gallop over the meadows, our bob sled slamming four square into this obstacle and sending us all like some Scoobby Doo crew hurtling off and landing humbled on our rear ends, puzzled and bruised.
Right then!! that's it for today!! it's a RAP, this was 6.30 and we would probably have shot as late as possible into that night to make up precious time, but no no, that was not to be, so while everybody slowly broke the gear down, Alan and I were on our phones and preparing for a hard days night.
Daniel had been locked away in the upstairs toilet observing the events, and after he told me a story about what was happening to him as all the above was unfolding for us, and it seems he was in a shit storm of his own, the night he told me about the stress of his predicament at that exact time, while we lay in our opposite beds I laughed like I have never laughed before. And will one of these blogs get round to a description particular of that moment of hilarity. Daniel and I were crying with laughter together once again, but doom was skulking, what else could we do, wear sack cloths and wilt!!!!!????? NO way.
posted by SpiderHole at
1:01 AM
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