Last night we ate in the garden of the hotel. The sky above was breathtaking, like icing sugar on black paper, thick with stars. Got to bed at about 2am. We had to catch the sunrise tomorrow so wake-up call was at 5am. Shit!!!
Getting up was easier than I had expected. We drove out to the road that leads into and away from Canarvon for what would be the opening shot of the video.
It was still dark, and out there, before the sun comes out, it gets pretty parky, so I jumped into a production car by the side of the road and kept warm. Andy, Dougie and Neil went and got some coffee while we awaited daylight, and while the crew set up the camera and dressed the taxi.
Sunrise in South Africa is beautiful. It creeps up on you and then very quickly it's there and as bright as it would be at high noon.
The road was like that road on the cover of Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, straight as an arrow, disappearing to a perfect dot on the horizon.
We drove in our taxi up the road in order to come back towards the camera, we drove until we slipped over the vanishing point and then turned around. Our driver was pregnant and the taxi was an old classic Americana type thing, and comparable to steering a boat.
The go ahead was called and we set off towards the film crew, but 15 seconds into the drive we heard an almighty clatter.
I presumed we had hit a sheep or something but Andy noticed that the 'For Hire' sign had blown off and was dragging by its wire on the road beside the car. We stopped and Andy ran back to get it.
We put it back in position and then drove off again. It fell off again. Bollox!
We drove back to the crew, the art people reattached it, and we got the shot in the end.
The next shot saw us all head up to the corral where our 'man' was being held, in shackles, in a pen. Tom wanted an older man, someone who looked like he'd done things, seen the world, been in the wars.
A casting agency sent all types of 'older guy' but none of them were right so David, Tom's mate, went looking in Cape Town.
He went down the docks, the beach, the market, and found his man working out in a gym. 64 years old, with the best face. All weather beaten, cheekbones out to here, and fit as f**ck. Ideal.
So when we got there, he was already in his pen, shackles on. Tom pulled me over and told me not to speak to him and if I did speak to him, try and wind him up, be rude, annoy him. Because he wasn't an actor, Tom needed to get him worked up a little before the shot. It worked. He looked desperate and totally pissed off.
We came back to the corale later in the day where the crew had been blowing massive ladys legs up with helium canisters. The trouble was, because it was so hot the helium wasn't doing what it should.
These legs were the pregnant womens flag, their symbol. They needed to be suspended in the air but because of the heat, the legs just wouldn't go up. We watched 9 men struggle to get these huge womens legs above the horizon for an hour. It was comical. Some local children looked on in bewilderment.
Eventually though, the legs became airborne and we moved on to the last shot of the day. The nightclub.
We were due to leave at 5pm so it was kinda important that everything was set up and ready to go when we got there. It wasn't.
The South African crew were a little too laid back. Tom didn't lose it.
The window to the club had 6 cubicles with 6 pregnant women sitting inside, all glammed up. More pregnant women queued outside as we
shot Andy and me arriving.
Two buildings down the street, joyous singing could be heard. Womens voices, high harmonies, the sound of a womens choir rejoicing, then a sermon with alot of loud hysterical screaming. It was a funeral.
The funeral car was a volvo estate, all bashed up and dusty. It was amazing. So different from what we do in the west. Seemed alot more sincere.
The dining hall of our hotel had been converted into the interior of a nightclub. There was no alcohol. All the women drank tea and mineral
water.The art department did an amazing job.
This is the place that the boys are lured to. I had to act like I'm not too sure about the goings on, all these pregnant woman, no men, no alcohol!!!
They had constructed a catwalk where our pregnant supermodels would walk down, displaying their amazing costumes and huge beautiful bellies.
Then it was time to go. We said our goodbyes (quickly) and boarded the minibus.
The drive out of Canarvon was like the drive in. Everyone waved and we waved back. Nora had a wee cry in the departure lounge. She didn't want to leave. Me neither.
It was the coolest place.
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