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Day out of Days

Bucharest, December 9, 2001

Went to visit the set to get a "feel" for the atmosphere. Studio in the dark surrounded by vast, long walls. Would look good on a POW camp. But lots and lots of people inside. Dressed to kill. The cold - two prophane heaters blasting a circle of heat - and for the characters, eachother. Buckets of blood. Now,that's what I call a serious period piece.I spend an hour. They have been shooting for almost two months.

My bit is the bloody, grand and lovely finale. Directors surfaces in red specked overalls and the hands of most of my collegues can't be shaken because of this richly divided red gluey syrup. Set looks well done. People look wacky. Nice mood. Gentle. Sincere. Quiet. Tired too. I understand why my agent had such trouble trying to reinforce the 12hr turnaround. Meaning, work 12, rest 12. It's an hour's drive, back and forth. The first time I gave them 10. Ever. Travelling time two hours a day, not including winterconditions. It figures.

I'll figure "look" and interpretation in the next days. Get fanged. Get a head made because it will have to land on the floor without me. One thing I'm hoping for and trying to smell out is the wink in the eye of the film-maker.

Patrick Julienne. Buckets of blood sound like we have a chance. He's kind and shy and modest. Talk further tomorrow. I'm thinking of bleached hair. But then I'm stuck with that for a while. Will see.

I go back to the hotel. It's a fine place. Middle of town. With a cafe and a gymn. The Duke Ellington band is playing somewhere tomorrow. They invite me.


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