Unless you're Philip Glass, of course.
You can claim that Koyaanisquatsi is visual art, or a revolutionary juxtaposition of images and sound, but, at the heart of it, I choose to believe that Glass was simply sensible enough to realise that working with actors was a very simple way to make a very complicated process even more so.
In fact, the process of working with actors appears to get conversely simpler and simpler the higher-up you go - because when you're dealing with a Star, who commands millions of dollars and their own trailer, you're not always dealing with them; you're dealing with their agents, and your assistants are dealing with their assistants, etc, etc, because once you're up in the stratosphere you don't necessarily have to actually do all that much. Just, oh, make the most important decisions on a day to day basis.
When the people you're working with have day jobs, and reservations about being dressed as giant pimps in the middle of a quiet suburban town, and curious things called - I believe - 'morals', then life becomes that much more difficult.
A star will do something because, at the end of the day, they're being paid to do it. Artistic integrity is one thing, but when you do something for a decent paycheque, your motivation is that much less grey.
A friend will do something out of one of several motive forces. One, they're doing it because they genuinely want to - which branches out into subsets of motives, because why oh why would they actually want to do whatever it is you're asking of them? Two, they're doing it as a favour, or because they owe you a favour, or some essential mechanism of exchange is involved somewhere.
Or, three, you're bribing them. Money, power, sexual favours, whatever; people experience a curious form of cognitive dissonance when it comes to helping out with filmmaking.
Much less likely, but fun when it happens, is that they actually like the idea of being on film and enjoy the concept of helping a wannabe director out. Which is sweet, but a little disturbing.
Let's put it this way. I have four - maybe five - people who are willing to help me.
The first is a mixture of one and two; they are travelling a long way to help me, but they're doing so because there's a complicated mixture of favour and counter-favour between us. There was an attempt to include elements of three in the transaction, but this has - hopefully - petered out. Secretly, person one also has elements of four, but hides them from the world at large.
Person two is coming because of a genuine belief in number four, and this scares me a little bit - they're expecting the process to be fun. Oh how I wish this was the case. Maybe it will be, and I'll be pleasantly surprised. But person two is, curiously, a genuinely good person who wants to help out. Which is also scary.
Person three is, I believe, genuinely curious about the whole thing. Other than healthy curiousity, their motives are also relatively altruistic.
And person four is doing it because I'm doing something for them in return. I'm not sure who gets the better deal, but needs must, I suspect.
Person five is ephemeral, and may not even turn up. Which is a relief, because otherwise I'd be worried that I had a perfect cast who'll all turn up on the day on time bright and shiny as a button, ready to help out. And this could not happen, because the universe wouldn't let it.
In case you're wondering what all this is in aid of, I confess; I'm nervous as hell. I have people travelling out to help me with something that is, in all likelihood, not going to ever be as sexy as I would like it to be, and they're all seemingly so helpful that I feel humbled by their very willingness.
Still, at this time in two days, it'll all be over, I feel.
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