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A Lazy Afternoon (Sean/Karl chat)
Nov. 18th, 2005 08:11 pmThe small regional jet lifts off from Te Anau, bound back to Wellington. It’s courtesy of the production company and I’m surprised the small wilderness runway can accommodate it, but no matter, I’ve got a week of downtime for the moment while the crew shifts everything back to the North Island. I can put up with yet another hair-raising plane ride.
But this wholesale packing up and moving the film gives me a feeling of fond nostalgia remembering Pete and his satellite directing and his multiple second units. And can you even call it a second unit when you’ve got six or seven of them? It seemed like every corner of New Zealand had a crew from Rings back then. I have to admit that some part of me still misses that, no matter what evil came after it. This movie is nowhere near that scale. Fuck, not many movies will ever be like that again.
I’m bloody knackered, hiking around in the wilderness for two weeks, making like a Viking wannabe, carrying a fuckload of gear. I’d like to get in something relaxing like rock climbing or surfing, but my contract this time prohibits me from indulging in any dangerous sports, up to and including both of those. And bungee jumping, which is weird, cause I’m not into that so much. Must have me confused with Orli. I snort. Not fucking likely.
Something relaxing . . . thinking of Rings puts me in mind of Weta Workshop and maybe I’ll go bother them when I get back, although I’m sure they’ve got their hands full with that Narnia thing and of course, Pete’s little monkey project.
There’s somebody else that said I could bother him, but I don’t know him well enough to know whether he was just trying to be nice, or whether he really wouldn’t mind me. I’m still leery of hanging around Dave too much after the last debacle, but spending time with someone who seems to have the makings of a good friend . . . sounds like fun.
I stay home for a couple of days, taking Smokey out for a long trail ride, Ire tagging along. I deal with some other things around the house and garden that won't wait, and then pick up my phone, scrolling for the number I saved.
( We'll see where we land, yeah? )
But this wholesale packing up and moving the film gives me a feeling of fond nostalgia remembering Pete and his satellite directing and his multiple second units. And can you even call it a second unit when you’ve got six or seven of them? It seemed like every corner of New Zealand had a crew from Rings back then. I have to admit that some part of me still misses that, no matter what evil came after it. This movie is nowhere near that scale. Fuck, not many movies will ever be like that again.
I’m bloody knackered, hiking around in the wilderness for two weeks, making like a Viking wannabe, carrying a fuckload of gear. I’d like to get in something relaxing like rock climbing or surfing, but my contract this time prohibits me from indulging in any dangerous sports, up to and including both of those. And bungee jumping, which is weird, cause I’m not into that so much. Must have me confused with Orli. I snort. Not fucking likely.
Something relaxing . . . thinking of Rings puts me in mind of Weta Workshop and maybe I’ll go bother them when I get back, although I’m sure they’ve got their hands full with that Narnia thing and of course, Pete’s little monkey project.
There’s somebody else that said I could bother him, but I don’t know him well enough to know whether he was just trying to be nice, or whether he really wouldn’t mind me. I’m still leery of hanging around Dave too much after the last debacle, but spending time with someone who seems to have the makings of a good friend . . . sounds like fun.
I stay home for a couple of days, taking Smokey out for a long trail ride, Ire tagging along. I deal with some other things around the house and garden that won't wait, and then pick up my phone, scrolling for the number I saved.
( We'll see where we land, yeah? )
