My Batman is Better than Your Batman

Going through some old files I'd made awhile back I found something that reminded me very much of the irony of my every day life... just thought you'd enjoy it.

P.S. my Batman kicks ASS.

Voodoo, Though Evil, is an Instrument of the Truth

Only eighteen hours after wrapping the outdoor portion of this shoot, and I've already slept for twelve.

Looking back on the experience thus far, I feel as though there are no words to accurately depict the happenings of the past week. Through rain, coincidental accident, and insurmountable frustration we have persevered; but trust me, we're bruised, bloodied, and cranky as Hell.

A week before shooting, I went to each child-actor's house to speak with them and their parents about what was planned, my objectives, and just the general goings-on of the week to follow. One of the more experienced children said something that struck me as nightmarishly as Christopher Walken yelling at a cat:


CHILD ACTOR #1: Hollywood rule number one. Never work with children or animals.


Then he just stared at me.

Like blank-faced, fucking children-of-the-corn stared at me as if time had stopped flowing and thunder was rumbling lowly in the background.

Voodoo kind of shit.

Then his mom laughed, snapping me out of that horrifically foreboding moment, and the day went on without so much as a hitch or another hint of witchcraft.

When principle photography began and I saw Child Actor #1 again, it was as though the incident had never happened. No black clouds rushed in amidst maniacal laughter; no rolling thunder accompanied apocalyptic comments; no children-of-the-corn shit. Things were moving... normally, even.

But slowly and surely, in the background, some evil force worked relentlessly towards my going insane.

Every day a step closer. Every take another chance. Every line another opportunity.

At first, I wasn't aware of it. I was frustrated, sure - flummoxed, even, but I wasn't aware that what Child Actor #1 had said was one hundred percent, no-nonsensingly true. Voodoo or not, that little bastard was right.

Children are the kiss of death.

However, without hesitation or moment's thought for the well-being of his witchcraft, John and I pushed forward, take after take, line after line, ever closer to insanity in the pursuit of completion. And yesterday we achieved that marker: outdoor shooting's a wrap.

Let's hope Voodoo doesn't govern reshoots.