I would soothe myself
With the frosting of a sweet word
As I gave it to you
And its splendor would carry us to sleep
And that was enough
But people are louder now.
I would celebrate your smile
And the canopy it raised
To protect us from the sun
And the heat of contempt
And that would carry us to sunset
But people are louder now.
But the smallest pleasures are stale
And the peace we knew, deleted
Here depleted by stones the others threw
And this is where we stand
Our heads in the fucking sand
Because people are louder now.
We made a movie about people you don’t see in the big movies. We made it with our bare hands, unassisted by money or its absurd expectations. We made it because nothing was going to stop us from willing these characters into existence. This modest film that isn’t particularly flashy, but refuses to shut up. It has something to say and it comes from my soul and those of my collaborators. For you, it’s another show to skip as you navigate the deepest online waters. And that’s okay, you will find what you need out there. For us, it’s an affirmation that story matters, story heals us if we give it a chance, even if it doesn’t seem that inviting at first. Like tequila. I am proud to share this with you, and proud of my friends who gave it their all to bring this to life. It’s called The Tumble. It’s here for you if you need it.
Scenes for the web. Based on stage plays and writings by Jaime Cruz.
A Cultured Animal Presentation
George C. Taylor III
Featuring music by
19 Cent Feast – facebook.com/NineteenCentFeast
Cultured Animal – soundcloud.com/culturedanimal
Dillon Petrillo – soundcloud.com/dillonpetrillo
For the Benefit – soundcloud.com/forthebenefit
Ryan Archibald – soundcloud.com/ryandarchibald
A Stranded Band – soundcloud.com/a-stranded-band
TO VIEW THE UNINTERRUPTED VERSION OF THE FILM, CLICK HERE
There is a yearning to be closer
And to sing praises of those days
When we sat in the room, all of us
Corazon Salvaje wailing melodrama
Rattly headphones let us in on the show
The fog of an overworked estufa
Carne con chile acercando las ocho
One caught in the tangles of her hair
The other one high heeling the place
Desires a career impersonating Selena
Neither buried nor above ground
We spent few moments at peace
Afternoons either bright or pale
Before the oldest found her apron by the stairs
And the youngest found her busted carriola
And the one in the middle just sat in the room
Crouched at the behest of pen and paper
Sat in the heat of prayer and heresy
A shortage of hearth there
But never short on warmth
No shortness of color when the wind kept us inside
Respite is all we asked for
This is what I miss
Still and always miss
As I ready to give The Tumble a final chopping, some fine advice…
“I want to be an Editor!” I remember my young self saying those words proudly on my first day of Film School. It might have been because of the fascination I had towards the equipment (I had the unusual chance to experience tape-to-tape editing during my childhood and the rise of ‘affordable’ NLE’s created an entire new world for me to explore). It might have been the appeal of a quieter environment, when compared to the busy life on set. Or, I’d like to believe, I was already aware that editing is an excellent directing school (but clearly, I was not).
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ERICKSON: Clearly no one cared to gather, did they?
WINNIFRED: I’m sorry Father, I told everyone at the store…
ERICKSON: Don’t trouble yourself, Winnifred. You’re here and that is all that matters.
WINNIFRED: But this is disgraceful. Don’t you find this disgraceful?
ERICKSON: A little, yes. But at the end of the day, we are only responsible for doing our part.
WINNIFRED: Then what’s my part Father? I have a feeling I overstepped my bounds with this mess.
ERICKSON: Did you care about Erma?
WINNIFRED: Yes, of course! That’s why this is so disappointing. I don’t even know why we’re even putting her ashes in the ground.
ERICKSON: Is this not what she wanted? I thought you were following her wishes.
WINNIFRED: Did you have any conversations with her on Sundays? After mass?
ERICKSON: I’m certain we spoke plenty of times–
WINNIFRED: –Because she was there every sunday.
ERICKSON: And as I mentioned to you, we spoke plenty. I understand what you’re asking and I will tell you: it is unfounded remorse, what you are feeling.
WINNIFRED: Oh Father, I wish we could wrap this feeling in a bow and call it remorse.
ERICKSON: I apologize for offering my support.
WINNIFRED: Please don’t. You’re in the right to correct me. This is not my affair. I am only here to pay my respects. Even if I am the only one, I should not be glorified for taking the time to show up. Though I must say, I appreciate you taking the time to show up on short notice.
ERICKSON: I am merely a servant, Winnifred. We are on the same boat, so there will be no glorifying me either.
WINNIFRED: This is awful, can we place the urn in the ground already?
ERICKSON: I will follow your lead.
WINNIFRED: Coming from a priest, I find that horribly distasteful.
ERICKSON: Winnifred to be honest, you have been distasteful all afternoon.
WINNIFRED: Excuse me?
The priest takes the urn from the cremation table and puts it in the ground.
WINNIFRED (CONT’D): Father Erickson, what are you doing?!
ERICKSON: May the love of God and the peace of the Lord Jesus Christ bless and console us and gently wipe every tear from our eyes: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
He starts to leave.
WINNIFRED: Father! Father Erickson don’t you leave, do you hear?!
ERICKSON: Go home, Winnifred. She won’t hold it against you.
Winnifred lingers, even after he’s nowhere to be seen.
#creativespringboard is something I started to help myself write on a regular basis and to become better friends with discipline.
I took this word and wrote a one page play.
I will be posting new work and source materials here in hopes it might help someone other than myself also.
Write something. Create something. I’ll keep working too.
This caught my attention: