Oh I don't know
I think it depends on the person in question.
By fucking bollocks, what do you mean?
( ,
Thu 21 Jun 2007, 10:02,
archived)
By fucking bollocks, what do you mean?
i mean that it's shite to think that what you see on screen is solely the director's vision
everything about filmmaking is compromise with others, and the editor has just as much control over the final film as the director, often moreso
( ,
Thu 21 Jun 2007, 10:07,
archived)
Well, that's true.
Depends on the size of production though, I guess. For instance- all the films I made at college were self edited.
EDIT- yes I realise they're not proper films, before you start on that one.
( ,
Thu 21 Jun 2007, 10:13,
archived)
EDIT- yes I realise they're not proper films, before you start on that one.
i would never say that student films weren't 'proper'
a film is a film, no matter what the budget
and lets face it, a huge budget is no guarentee of quality or entertainement *cough*pearl harbour*cough*
( ,
Thu 21 Jun 2007, 10:22,
archived)
and lets face it, a huge budget is no guarentee of quality or entertainement *cough*pearl harbour*cough*
Fucking Bollocks
in many ways the sheer tautology of this common vernacular expression most adequately conveys its intended semantic content; the recursive irony inherent in the phrase - that to describe bollocks as fucking is redundant as bollocks are basically for fucking, and that bollocks that are not used for fucking are in fact redundant - most accurately imparts the sense of utter uselessness the communicator wishes to attach to a concept when modifying it with these words.
( ,
Thu 21 Jun 2007, 10:11,
archived)
Redundant?
First you look into each other's eyes,
hold each other's hands,
taste each other's mouths,
then you make someone who lives in places
where they look out of windows
into other people's windows.
One of two poems I've ever written that I will admit to. ©™mark somerville
( ,
Thu 21 Jun 2007, 11:38,
archived)
hold each other's hands,
taste each other's mouths,
then you make someone who lives in places
where they look out of windows
into other people's windows.
One of two poems I've ever written that I will admit to. ©™mark somerville