Greta Gerwig was on TCM picking films tonight and talked about inspiration/influences for Barbie.
She explained how “authentic artificiality” was the catchphrase for filming Barbie and named The Red Shoes as one of the films that captured that so well.
And after the film showing, she expanded on that catchphrase and how it influenced Barbie:
“I wanted it to feel like…and we always asked ourselves…how would they do this in 1959? If we were making it in 1959, would you use front projection, rear projection, how would we composite this shot, what would be the thing that we’d use then. Because to me I wanted to give myself the constraints of what a movie world is. Whatever Barbieland was was a sound stage, that it had a lid, it had an edge. And we looked at different versions of the design too, where we would see a corner joined at the end of the stage. Because I wanted that sense of being contained in a box. There’s so many examples in The Red Shoes where you both feel the edge of what the painting is but then you can also see the illusion and depth that it creates. And it was that type of juxtaposition I was interested in.”
She also named two easter eggs in Barbie for any Red Shoes fans out there:
Ken’s cateye sunglasses are inspired by the glasses on Lermontov in the train scene.
The scene Barbie walks up to Kate McKinnon’s house is shot to mimic the scene where Vicki walks up to Lermontov’s mansion in that great big dress.
She kept mentioning the “handmade” aspect of the visual in The Red Shoes. So this comment really resonated for me:
“There’s something exuberant about Powell and Pressburger’s joy of making. It feels like, ‘Well, why don’t we try it like this? Let’s make it like this.’ It feels like it gets at the heart of what I was hoping for Barbie, which…at its heart—it’s play. It has that play of cinema that I love.”
It’s a fitting statement for a movie about a child’s toy and extends to the wider realms of creative pursuits, where real life pressures often constrain child-like play and we lose the joy of making we once had.
Don’t forget the play aspect of creativity. At heart, we’re all still kids with our paint sets and dolls having fun making things and telling stories.
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Absence Ushers, Fate Declares!
Pitch blackness came with a shutter. Devoid of all outside this formless realm. That which materializes here is the product of Malevolence or Benevolence, judged in the corporeal plane, tried here…
In this accursed place, it always felt there was no logic.
Nor rhyme, substance, only purely cryptic.
The pirate was brought here in many ventures.
Encountering specters, spirits, fragmented pieces of his own soul.
Forcing answers to remove discord troubles.
Ordinary referred to this merely, nightmares or dreams.
His sole’s felt cold, as a small tide rippled through his toes. Recognizing this place he stood on a solid sea, but the wave’s were fluid… Separated layers of water… Impossible.
In the real world, after he blacked-out, the Stranger recently met and took him to his place. Noticing this rogue broke out with a dangerous fever. Sweat rampant poured from his forehead and droplet’s collapsed onto his torso. Forcing the concerned gunslinger to remove the Captain’s shirt and noticing his countless battle scars… This didn’t appear to be a courtesan. He was shocked.
A blanket was placed on him instead with a cooling rag on his forehead to dry combating the fever and balance his temperatures.
In the parallel -- thick, dense, rain wept instead. Kuro shouted out, “What th’ seven hells… I-Is going on!” Silence followed for a moment.
A new visitor was here.
Abruptly breaking through sound, a feminine voice brought thunder-streaks with distorted laughter, echoing in absence.
Meanwhile on the surface… Terrifying puzzles continued to unravel to the bystander, “What kind’a plague or sickness is this! Are you cursed?” Looking over at the pirate’s chest, his heart physically was thrumming against his body, elastically and almost inhumanely beating against his thinnest walls even the loose blanket couldn’t conceal it. The slumbering man's facial features were distraught, fidgeting with affliction.
Who on earth did this cowboy bring in? This wrangling, rough-weathered man’s room was an array of whiskey to moonshine bottles emptied and a complete mess, he was an avid low-spirit drunk. A duet-picture framed, of a departed partner left on the nightstand. He wasn’t far different from the sailor. They both in that pub-crawl, in kismet decided for once to try to overcome their vices. Each carrying weighted grievance and unprecedented burdens.
Captain yelled back into the void. “W-who is there?! Reveal yourself…” That damnable silence, called back… For a short-spell.
Until finally salvation.
“So hastily… No one desire’s sloppy rushes.”
“I can’t wait to meet you.”
“Didn't you state that you’d conquer me in that hell.”
“Remember; inside that pit for sinners?”
“I wonder, are you man enough?”
“Come on, I thought you held the answers…”
“Concerning isn’t, there’s more questions.” “Know this…”
“I will be your judge.” “Every wrong, every self-interest.”
“All the hearts you broken, Captain.”
Feet ran and traveled in the abundance of water-flooring trying to head to the voice. Being tormented, last time he solved this by punching his inferior-oppressor. This wasn’t the same force.
Frustratingly the womanly voice with a sultry undertone, almost demonic, let a laughter amused by his failed attempts to strike against the untamable air. Only met with invisible connections. “Just who are ye?! What gives you th’ right t’ judge me?” He said frantically before recomposing trying to control what should be his, but unable.
Once again it taunted in the dark.
“You act so innocent, oh but you’re so deadly.” “So am I…”
“When you breathe it’ll be a hassle with me, silencing and muzzling you my beloved Captain.”
“You lost your dominion here. This place isn’t yours alone.”
“No sanctuary. “ “No haven.”
“You’ll find power, it belongs to me.”
Ominously whispers traversed and shook the realm. He felt his mouth gagged, unable to ask the dark anymore.
“Until our proper meeting. Try not to die.”
"Everything will be explained."
The rain fast-forwarded before a hailstorm of sanguine ichor and accompanying fallen bodies began to plummet like meteors into this tormented plane. Every single person buried to rest by Captain’s doing, or involuntarily ability to protect. His eye’s shot in horror, a lifeless cadaver like an anchor drop was going to squish him, holding his palm open to protect himself.
He tried to scream but instead woke up in reality, before his savior who equally exhibited terror. After seeing this paranormal shit, one needed a drink again.
Rushing to the Captain’s aide, “W-woah are yuh’ alright partner? How are you bleeding? Cut yourself? Hold on!” Still stricken in terror, trembling, never had the pirate felt so powerless and felt such a raw connection from what partaken in these psychedelic trips… This was indescribable.
His palm actually was bloodied, the same one that tried shielding himself at the end of that frightful encounter.
Recomposing from the dystopia. The wanderer attended to his bloodied palm by surveying and bandaging it, no cut’s visible or wounds noticeable by the naked-eye, almost if another’s blood entirely.
“Name’s Castro Cassidy, take it you’ve got another story, aren’t tellin... I can't help but be interested.” Understandably trying to get answers, like someone with a sense of law.
Settling down and looking on the side of his bed. He was going to confess truth, who he was.
However, a disturbing turn occurred; he took notice of that photo of the couple, that other man, 'his partner', of this gunslinger. He recognized, Captain shot that man down in a life-or-death stand-off, a bounty hunter.
Damn... From dangerous event, to anew.
Fate always, catches up.
The man who saved Kuro, went unhinged from his sorrow, letting demon's devour his problems, as many chose this path. The Blackguard, knew this well.
Seeker gulped noticeably heavily, and tried to subvert everything. "What a scary, nightmare! Pretty real one at that... Can't express enough you fending for me, listen I'm sorry ye had t' see that. I clumsily forgot but thank you fer this and even back there against th' goons." Inside mentally screaming... That voice, told him, he was going to be judged for heart's that were broken. Is this a cruel result?
He wasn't just in the room with anyone, the pirate, was with a Lawbringer with former deduction expertise, even if dulled from poor habits. Although once a former; bounty hunter, he changed his life around. Until his partner passed...
Both heightened Miqo'te's instincts were sticking up. A rift of tension felt between them.
One thing known -- ...no felt.
Captain needed to lie himself out of this to survive!
The often accompany butterfly, the spirit-guide, was soaked in blood observing and hiding behind the window-seal, cleaning it-self with teeth grown.
🌊 ♫The Hider♫ - Reference - Last Chapter 🌊
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