After our impromptu accomplishments on the first day of filming, we decided that today would be the day to conquer the shot of all shots. You may have read one of my previous posts regarding my urban exploration adventures with Saul to the top of Brighton's very own answer to a skyscraper: Sussex Heights (cue plethora of drum rolls/deep synths). Following the incredible views from the dingy 27th floor stairwell, we had pre-planned to head up there to capture the entire duration of sunrise, in order to create a time-lapse shot. I didn't know what that was before Saul told me, so don't worry, but basically it's when you film something that takes a while, and then speed it the fuck up. It looks well cool. Trust.
The strata of clouds visible through the darkness at around 6 am made for perfect conditions. After all, we are documenting the 'realer' side to Brighton, so a bit of cloud and an overcast haze made for a fitting pathetic fallacy. However, in hindsight, I think that 6.20 am on a Sunday morning was a bad time to play 'door-bell Russian roulette,' in an attempt to gain entry to the towering apartment block. After sporadic buzzing, and a few disgruntled responses, we decided that we might have been defeated when an extremely angered resident replied 'Please can you leave immediately! You don't know how much you are disturbing us! I don't even know you!' Words to that effect, anyway. As Callum put it, I don't think it is feasible to expect a half-asleep, post-inebriated individual to welcome 3 unknown scraggy student film-makers into their apartment block on the Sabbath. Had we carried on we probably would have got headbutted, and no-one wants that on a Sunday morning.
Without allowing for any negativity to set in, we headed for the 17th floor of the car park opposite, where we were able to freeze our nuts off and capture the break of day in full. Done. At last. A few more aesthetically depressing cityscape shots followed, along with another two or so interviews with some Brighton folk, including a xenophobic street-cleaner and a wheelchair-bound street-drinking Yorkshireman "accountant." A wrap for the weekend then, and considering nigh on all of it was completely unplanned, things are taking shape. On things go. We have a schedule now.
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