Sitting in Johannesburg, capital of South Africa – land of paradoxes and social divides, STARTING for the third time this film called TRIOMF (a miss-noma for this movie with its history for DISASTER). But this time it’s really going…. I think…. unless… a bomb drops, a backer kicks the bucket, the lead actor has a nervous breakdown, or someone sues… or there’s a national strike.
And there is. A strike. The very day I arrived. The hospitals are shut, people are dying of their ailments, teachers are beating up kids who want to do their homework – the world has gone mad; since when do kids want to work?
Keep calm, Michael; this movie thing is making you live out your fictions. I go to bed for a day.
I awake and its still there. The strike. No movie. This is a hard-core strike like in the good ole days of Margret Thatcher.
Oh well, I go down to ”Expresso” in the chique northern suburb of Parkhurst quite far from strike zones, and have a coffee with Darrell Roodt, the most prolific South African director of Sarafina and Cry The Beloved Country et alia, including very small budget pics – his Yesterday in Zulu was nominated for an Oscar. We meet so he can suggest crew folk who will work for art and not lucre on small-time TRIOMF …
Now to the real grind of pre pre pre production to find the right car hire at zero rent a wreck prices, and the right bottom prices of everything needed. The strike becomes background on TV as I am not yet in hospital or enrolled in any school. So I’m going to just get on with prep and meet crew, and actors and stuff…. Good night or nite dear bloggers of the world united.
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