Click Click, Is It Done Yet?

Yes, the famous quote from Stevie Wonder doing a Rubik’s Cube. I know, that’s not the best possible taste in humor, but it kind of feels like how these films are going. I phone up the various people and ask if each bit’s done and I get the usual answers, although sometimes I get a new answer and another block in the puzzle has slotted into place.

This week I’ve achieved getting my property revalued in preparation for getting a new mortgage to pay for all the production and post-production expenses so far incurred and committed. I now know there is more than enough equity and although it would have been nicer to pay for these things with profit from sharedealing, I can still allow myself the joy of dancing one of those Snoopy dances with a grin that goes well beyond the borders of Smugland. In fact, I am deep into the territory of the Smugwumps.

Today I phoned Martin at the graphics company. “Are the graphics shot yet?” I ask. “Yes, we finished them yesterday,” he replies. “We’ll deliver them to Tru-Cut this afternoon.” I call Tru-Cut to let them know. “Can you send us some kind of order, by the way, so we can generate an invoice?” they ask. “Yes, I’ll do it later,” I reply. Yesterday I did something similar for the labs.

So those things are in hand and Last Train chug-chugs forward a few more yards towards its cinematic conclusion although I fully expect some ridiculous unforeseen crisis to crop up at any minute. You know, like, “Oh, so-and-so’s daughter has had a baby and it’s got ginger hair! We can’t possibly do your film now!” Or, “Oh, we sold our business to the old man outside and he burned your negative to keep warm while sleeping on the streets!” Or, “Oh, sorry, my head just exploded.”

Nevertheless, I’m feeling lucky and, indeed, Simon the editor has sent me two spare EDL’s. So I phone the Michelle, the re-recording mixer on Fate & Fortune. “Hi, there. How are you?” I venture as my opening gambit. “Hi, there. Listen, it’s a really bad time right now. Can I call you back?” comes the reply, a classic Kasparov response studied from numerous books, no doubt. “No, worries,” I counter, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Which is met with, “Okay, bye!” and my king-sized project is in check once again.

Still, what the hell. Tomorrow is another day, right? Right. I keep pushing my pawns towards the back row.

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