A Second Start (3rd day of shooting)

Photo by Jennifer Eberhardt
(Click to enlarge)

You are so sweeeeeeet. Your comments and likes on Facebook. Funny or tender. Or both. But for those who don't have Twitter, Instagram or Facebook where i published live yesterday and today material from the shooting that had me busy this week-end. Here are 4 pictures. Of which the first visual of the couple André and i are embodying on film (above).

When i think of it, the last time i did the actor, it was in 2006. For a sweet project where i played a clown for 3 months in a small Parisian theatre. Getting back to it is far from being painful. Especially when it's others who struggle. Who juggle with the singing exercizes of a soprano neighbour. Who ache from holding the lights. Who make tea, lunch, dinner, or makes you decent on film.

What's next? Berlin in February. A city i will happily discover then.

(Click to enlarge)

(Click to enlarge)

(Click to enlarge)

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*Direction, script, part of André, production : André Schneider who patiently teaches me German, natürelich. For real life. Not on film, don't worry.

*Dir. of photography & sound : Jennifer Eberhardt who promised me to share Sufjan Stevens once she's seduced him.

*The blog of Deuxième commencement

 

Looking for Eiffel

The shooting of A second chance started today. I like when projects come to reality. When the idea that grew in an artist's brain becomes physically concrete. And the realization is André Schneider and Jennifer Eberhardt respectively director and director of photography taking control of the Franco-German feature film (produced by Vivàsvan Pictures) in which I gladly give my silhouette and my tender irony.

This morning we gleaned pictures of the market along the Edgar Quinet boulevard in the direction of the infamous Tour Montparnasse. Before that, I took them to one of Brancusi's Kiss and the surprisingly smiling fish by Berdal. André wished to see Jean Seberg's grave. With our friends Google and 3G, we found the division 13 where the actress of JL Godard's A bout de souffle rests.

Nibbled a baguette de campagne. Caught a glimpse of the Eiffel tower from the metro. Outdoor section of line 6. Drank a hot chocolate/coffee/tea with Léonard Lasry who will compose the film's soundtrack. And ended our Parisian day by shooting a scene at a terrasse place Emile Goudeau, in Montmartre, yes, in the winter, absolutely, wrapped up warm and captivated by the project I suggest you to follow here. Then in theatres hopefully soon.


Click here to read the French version of this post.

 

Monday on the roofs of Paris

Click on the pics to enlarge

Click on the pics to enlarge

Click on the pics to enlarge

My warmest gratitude to the friend who took Tilly and I on the roofs of Paris.

 

Lost in translation with love and wastewater

You can't imagine better brain gymnastics: in 2 hours time, from a technical translation on energy production by wastewater treatment plants, from the french to the english, a quick stop by the coffee machine to have a bit of a discussion with myself on what terms are best suited, to another translation from the english to the french of a poem meant to become a song. I'll be lucky if words of love and rapture don't mingle with effluents and measurements of redox potential and nitrate and ammonium...

 

To read the French version of this short post, click on the flag:

My arm is in Amélie

Screen capture from my flying by moment in Amélie

When I was telling my friends that my arm was in Amélie, they thought I had gone nuts. The excerpt with my arm was shown on the Cesars night (the french Oscars). By the way, it almost won an Oscar. [I had lunch with Audrey Tautou, but that's another story.] It was a time when I was doing a lot of crap casting calls and, when I was lucky enough to be chosen, it was for an advertising in which I was blurred (for Société Générale) or another which was never displayed (Kléber), or for a catalogue promoting dowdy clothes… (the XL shirt had to be adjusted to me with needles ; catalogue for summer clothes, pictures shot in the winter, in Vincennes woods devastated by a tornado, I was nonchalantly holding a fishing rod, wearing a shirt(another) with short sleeves that had been cut with scissors because they hadn’t got the right one.

Oddly enough, I can’t find this catalogue.