bluvelvet99: You always did subscribe to the idea that an artist should be given total and complete
bluvelvet99: You always did subscribe to the idea that an artist should be given total and complete freedom to create what he thinks needs to be created. It’s too bad your behavior didn’t match your ideology. You were defly afraid to make waves, or to misuse the money you were given to complete your short film.You didn’t even feel comfortable telling your actors what to do. Especially the one with the bald head. He played the villain, and might as well have been the co-director, because he’s been directing half the movie. Whenever he didn’t like a scene as you imagined it, he’d step in, dumb it down, and ruin your artistic vision. You’ve been working on this screenplay for 3 years. You couldn’t believe something so sacred to you was being manhandled so forcefully by somebody that YOU hired. This wasn’t a creative difference, this was practically a sexual assault. Like your screenplay was being groped on a subway train. Orson Welles wouldn’t have put up with this. You were losing sleep over this whole thing.But when sleep finally came that fateful night, you had a vision. It was your screenplay, but it/she was a women. She stood in a dark room, illuminating it with her beauty. The darkness around her was complete, but her light was unwavering. She had the face of an angel. But a face you couldn’t recognize yet.And that’s when he came. He came behind and began disrobing her, very forcefully, though she didn’t put up much of a fight. In order to do that she needed someone in her corner. To help her, and make her what she knew she needed to be. But no other figure appeared from the unending darkness around her. You watched in horror as this beautiful angel you created was groped but you did nothing.Then something weird happened. Suddenly you recognized the face. Not just that, you recognized the tits, the hair, and the impotent. plea for help. It was your mom’s. Then you woke up. You were sweating. Your cock was hard.You were thinking about something you haven’t had to think about since high school. Back when your classmates would tease you about how hot your mom was, and how big her titties were before punching you or stealing your stuff. those were the same bullies who unintentionally motivated you to become a director in the first place. So you could prove them wrong. but as much as you desired to prove them wrong, you also loved imagining them fucking her in the ways that they described. Then it hit you. you knew why you had that vision. You knew what the ending to your movie was going to be, and the final statement you wanted to make with it. This was going to be the best thing you ever done.In the morning you called your mom. You were a little jittery on a count of you being too excited to get back to sleep last night. You told your mom you wanted her in your movie. She was so excited. She loved the fact that you made your hobby your livelihood and she loved the fact that she could contribute to it. She had no idea how much she was going to be contributing.When you got to the studio you hit the set with a fire and passion you’ve never had before. Your still had a week left of shooting. Your mom’s scene was short, and it could be done on the last day. You just have everything else to do first. Your problems actor was still controlling and he still terrified you, but you knew you had to let him do his thing. You could see now that his meddling in your dream project was necessary to get the point of this movie across. You told the makeup and costume guys what you needed for the last scene. you told them that they needed to get it right beforehand because you didn’t want them on set for that scene. They were confused, but also invigorated by your unconventional auteurism. Then the day came. You were shooting the scene in your basement. Only three people showed up. You, the film’s villain, and your mom. You told them that the crew would be there shortly. You gave them their coffee. you prepared it just for them. You, on the other hand, just had a shot of vodka, just to calm your jittery nerves. The coffee you gave them calmed their nerves as well. That’s because you got the recipe for a certain cocktail from your science consultant. You told him it was for one of the plot points. Either way, it was settling in their stomachs right now.Once their coffees were finished (well, your mom dropped hers on the floor with just a little bit left in it) you told them to get in costume. Which for your mom was barely a costume at all, and for your villain, was literally not a costume at all. As in, you got him to strip naked. They both did what they were told sheepishly. Your science adviser wasn’t kidding. If this stuff was strong enough to strip the villain of his strong-will and arrogance, what chance did your mom have?You gave your mom one of the prostitute costumes from a scene you decided not to put in the film. This was really happening. You shot off all the lights in your basement. You told your mom to stand in the middle of it. She was in complete darkness, with just enough light shined on her to make her visible. She was an island in a sea of unending black. You told her to stand there and look innocent. She had no problem doing this. She’s never acted before, but all she had to do was act like an oblivious woman high of her ass with drugs. So basically, she didn’t even need to act.Then you directed HIM in. You stumbled behind her. You told him to grab her and do to her what he did to one of the girls in wardrobe last month. As he reached in to grope her giant breasts from behind her, his cock pressed up against her back, and it began getting hard. You did too, so you let your pants down. Your cock was now exposed to the damp coolness of your basement.You told him to do what he does best. Direct. And you got him to direct your mom’s hand onto his hard cock. Your voice shook as you gave him this command. Your mom began instinctively jerking him off. you were glad you had the confidence to direct a scene with your problem actor in it without him butting in to stop you, but you didn’t need to do much directing from this point forward. All you did was keep the camera running. It was one continuous take. The scene took 20 minutes. And those 20 minutes unfolded the way you imagined them.You knew the next few weeks of post-production were going to be hell. But you weren’t afraid anymore. You were going to demand final cut. You were an artist god-damnit. Not only were not going to be pushed around anymore, you just finished shooting THE film about the struggles between a director and the forces trying to ruin his vision. As you watched one of these forces having the time of its life with your mom’s body, you knew you had the best visual representation of this truth ever captured on film .Everybody would know the lengths you went to. Everybody would know that this was your mom, and the man groping and fucking her was the man who tried to take your own movie away from you. You WERE the next Orson Welles. Although you’d grow to be an even bigger joke then he became. Cut! -- source link