Some stills from today’s thrilling penultimate shoot.
Filed under Flowers
Tagged as buckets of blood, films, tragic beauty
The smell of strawberry and chocolate syrup will never leave me.
Both are great smells.
I think so too. I know this kind of post will make (dull and very boring) people leave the blog and good riddance, but to me this image was too arresting not to put up.
Glad you did. I guess the image could have tipped to the macabre, but to me it looked like death by strawberry syrup, not violent or ugly: quite gorgeous, in fact. Not even death, really, more like just a sugary overdose, a sleeping beauty. Who is the beauty, by the way? Has Duncan’s elegance. . .
You have hit the nail on the head: as people inside the cafe also said the same thing. It was just a sugar froth, not anything genuinely scary. The beauty is Yukiro, Duncan’s Swedish co-director. I really think he does look completely exquisite.
You should have seen the residents’ expressions in chichi Shimokitazawa…..
The Japanese equivalent of WHAT THE HELL..?
Those arms. That collarbone. Those lips. That pair of lashes!
I know, really. Unbelievable. He (definitely not ‘she’) is a very interesting person, actually, and fast becoming a great friend of ours. A person slightly on the outside of things, like us, never just a ‘drag’ artist – he wants to go deeper. We are already talking about the next film, which will be more sincere, and less trashy, no budget b-movie. Yesterday was SO MUCH fun I have realized that I am totally at home on a film set (if we are the ones making the movie). Until D just suddenly came up with the idea last December I never would even have entertained the idea. A really great group of people, though, even if the final result will be utterly ludicrous (and the acting is, on the whole, mainly deliberately, but not always, rather dire). Still, it is very funny, and that was always the intention. D has a very good ear for satire and parody (this is our loosely rendered version of The Wicker Man).
As Elizabeth Taylor said, it’s not the having, it’s the getting.
Always favoured a black wedding , though not in person; and miss Havishams gothic weddingroom adorned with spider webs and lbnl Polanski’s vampyre ball are also great favourites of mine.
This is more in the flesh. Flowers, satin, silk and blood, like streamers of a bridal bouquet gone rampant upon the bride. Party gone wild. She is just there, after the recent onslaught, though still made up to the eyeballs. I like the black bra, the snake in the ruined garden of Eden.
Should think that chocolate and strawberrys only can be smothered by big dollops of cream. So glad they stayed au naturel, dans leur jus.
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