PART 1 OF THIS SERIES HERE * PART 3 HERE
* Please respect our © of these images and avoid using/posting them elsewhere without permission. Ta.
* Please respect our © of these images and avoid using/posting them elsewhere without permission. Ta.
The Saturday shoot. The day dawned clemently enough but the forecast promised fried-egg temps, föhn winds and possibly thunderstorms. We got drenched walking home in one the day before, so it wasn't an idle threat. George St was decked out in more traffic cones than we knew existed in the whole damn world and there were a lot of orange-vested floaters mumbling into radios and looking like they would definitely prevent something untoward happening in the event of that unfolding nearby. As long as it didn't involve running and was near somewhere that sold pies. Were they security? We weren't sure, so we just walked past them like everyone else.
BELOW We love horses and don't care if no one else does, so enjoy this juxtaposition of delightful quadruped and boatload full of... well... something else entirely. They were about to descend upon us. BELOW THAT A respectable collection of vintage vehicularity, but I don't know one end of a car from another so that's all we can tell you.
 | LEFT Cool Loo's what? Apostrophe crime is never a joke and I'm adding twenty years to your sentence for forcing me to consider exactly what a toilet might actually be in possession of. Intrigued by the thought of air conditioned loos, though. Every seat must be an adventure. Lots of fancy coaches etc for the important people. Impressive. |
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Setting up outside the 'Book Shop'. Raising the world's largest reflector (we feared and respected its potential for just horrible mayhem if it had gotten loose at any stage) and checking levels etc. BELOW A mess of onlookers.
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 | LEFT Seriously creepy and just a little bit thirsty character actor. BELOW Very patient Fresian.  |
BELOW LEFT A lovely Percheron. I did warn you about the horses.
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It was starting to get uncomfortably hot: we were over it, the horses were over it and the crew were getting a little bit toey. Nothing much was happening, a few extras were making their runs then boom. The Weisz was unleashed.
BELOW This shot, for me, encapsulates the 'famous actor/celebrity' experience. The rather grotesque tension between the stares from several thousand slack-jawed strangers and the attempt to appear unconscious of scrutiny is difficult to convey, and I've been a conspicuous freak in some bloody conservative places over the years myself. Acting has its moments, but I'll never understand why people pursue fame for its own sake.
 | LEFT We assumed, from his air of general internalised importance, hat, Tshirt tucked down hard into his belt and errr... boots, that the big blue-shirted unit in this shot was the director. Oh contraire. He's the horse guy. I sometimes wonder if we are intrinsically bad people for thinking the things we do, or if we were are just victims of circumstance. BELOW Rachel fluffs her shit? It looked like she did. |
BELOW This is where I part ways with the 1%.
Nobody should be holding someone else's fucking umbrella- the end.
They broke for lunch and so did we. Part three coming up next.
Nobody should be holding someone else's fucking umbrella- the end.
They broke for lunch and so did we. Part three coming up next.
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