It's a real movie
Spring has descended in LA, a strange, gray spring, and I'm recklessly overdue sending a newsletter. In my own defense (not that anyone has accused me of anything...), my reluctance to send updates has stemmed from an utter lack of updates to send. Editing a feature takes forever. Or at least this particular movie took this particular post team of two forever. I think we've learned a few tricks for next time. I hope we have.
The good news is, it wasn't all tedium and Laramie pulling balls of lint off her big sweater, pacing the tiny house. The dark void was illuminated with pinpricks of enormous joy. It's insanely cool to work with a good editor, whether or not you're married to him. (Possibly cooler if you're not married to him! Who can say?) To put a scene together, and have it be better than you imagined. To make tiny, incremental adjustments, refining refining refining. (I guess that's where joy and tedium collide.) To lay in a music track that just works. And perhaps the greatest joy of all is slashing entire scenes, nixing all the bits that don't work. We were at 117 minutes with our first cut, and now we're down to 92. The bulk of it is working now. It's a real movie, you guys.
My life has revolved around this project for so long. Even in the months where I was on another job, or R was, even when we weren't actively working on it every day. It's wild to think we'll be done soon. We'll lock picture, and we'll hand the files off to the sound designer and the colorist. In a few short months, we'll start submitting to festivals. Our exec producing team is already putting out feelers to distributors. BUT. ALTHOUGH. HOWEVER. I have to remind myself: though the movie is almost done, we're just getting started getting it out there. We're not out of the woods yet.
So, yeah. What else?
I really liked Losing Alice, an Israeli psychological thriller-ish series about a middle-aged director whose marriage falls apart as she and her movie-star husband are sucked into an intense new project. Of course you liked it, says my mom. Yes, of course I did. BUT. I'm happy to report my marriage is firmly intact.
I bought a pair of vintage men's Levi's. Boot cut. I like them in theory, but I'm having trouble adjusting to the new silhouette. I haven't worn boot cut since—2006? 2008? (My straight-leg jeans don't look right either. Pls hit reply and tell me what the fuck jeans you're wearing.) Once I'm earning a paycheck again, I want something more like this or this. I also want these Brunch slippers, "designed to be worn indoor, outdoor, and all moments in-between." New York is copping LA so hard.
How to sum up all the tacos since I last 'slettered? There were perfect crispycheesy birria tacos, with consomé for dipping, natch, outside Boise. The best mushroom memelita and spot-on birria again in San Francisco. And in San Antonio, the OG puffy taco (served, hilariously, by a disaffected 20something who claimed not to like puffy tacos), plus the most incredible deep fried corn empanadas we'll drag J + CW back for every time we visit.
xoxo, I've missed you,
Laramie
You'll be hearing from me on June 1, even if I've got nothing but a new taco. As always, here's your trusty taco map.
The good news is, it wasn't all tedium and Laramie pulling balls of lint off her big sweater, pacing the tiny house. The dark void was illuminated with pinpricks of enormous joy. It's insanely cool to work with a good editor, whether or not you're married to him. (Possibly cooler if you're not married to him! Who can say?) To put a scene together, and have it be better than you imagined. To make tiny, incremental adjustments, refining refining refining. (I guess that's where joy and tedium collide.) To lay in a music track that just works. And perhaps the greatest joy of all is slashing entire scenes, nixing all the bits that don't work. We were at 117 minutes with our first cut, and now we're down to 92. The bulk of it is working now. It's a real movie, you guys.
My life has revolved around this project for so long. Even in the months where I was on another job, or R was, even when we weren't actively working on it every day. It's wild to think we'll be done soon. We'll lock picture, and we'll hand the files off to the sound designer and the colorist. In a few short months, we'll start submitting to festivals. Our exec producing team is already putting out feelers to distributors. BUT. ALTHOUGH. HOWEVER. I have to remind myself: though the movie is almost done, we're just getting started getting it out there. We're not out of the woods yet.
So, yeah. What else?
I really liked Losing Alice, an Israeli psychological thriller-ish series about a middle-aged director whose marriage falls apart as she and her movie-star husband are sucked into an intense new project. Of course you liked it, says my mom. Yes, of course I did. BUT. I'm happy to report my marriage is firmly intact.
I bought a pair of vintage men's Levi's. Boot cut. I like them in theory, but I'm having trouble adjusting to the new silhouette. I haven't worn boot cut since—2006? 2008? (My straight-leg jeans don't look right either. Pls hit reply and tell me what the fuck jeans you're wearing.) Once I'm earning a paycheck again, I want something more like this or this. I also want these Brunch slippers, "designed to be worn indoor, outdoor, and all moments in-between." New York is copping LA so hard.
How to sum up all the tacos since I last 'slettered? There were perfect crispycheesy birria tacos, with consomé for dipping, natch, outside Boise. The best mushroom memelita and spot-on birria again in San Francisco. And in San Antonio, the OG puffy taco (served, hilariously, by a disaffected 20something who claimed not to like puffy tacos), plus the most incredible deep fried corn empanadas we'll drag J + CW back for every time we visit.
xoxo, I've missed you,
Laramie
You'll be hearing from me on June 1, even if I've got nothing but a new taco. As always, here's your trusty taco map.
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