The shooting of "Buried Alive" went very smoothly, even beyond imagination.
The burden of the entire crew is concentrated on Renly, and other tasks are reduced to a minimum. The filming progress of the crew depends entirely on the quality of Renly's performance. If he is in a bad state and keeps making mistakes in a scene, one card will be enough. A few hours, and a whole day's work is in vain; if he's in good shape and only needs a few takes to get the job done, or even a surprise, then there's nothing wrong with shooting five or six scenes a day.
Fortunately, Renly is in excellent shape, even hot.
In less than five days, the shooting progress has been pushed by two-thirds, far exceeding expectations; in the next two days at the fastest and four days at the slowest, it is estimated that the film can be completed smoothly, even for a single film. This is really incredible for an independent film with a small cost, small space and small format.
This is good news for the cash-strapped crew. If the shooting time exceeds two weeks, the existing funds will be exhausted, and they have to stop shooting and seek additional investment. If things do not go well, the work may be shelved forever. There is a lot of dust here; but now, the crew was able to complete the shooting in ten days, and even left more leeway for later distribution and promotion, which is undoubtedly great news.
The filming went on smoothly, the entire crew was in high-speed operation, and even the mercenaries were happy. For them, the filming went smoothly and they left with money. This is undoubtedly the most pleasant cooperation experience, no need I don’t need to deal with complicated personnel relationships because of my extra work. I just need to watch the performance next to me after finishing my job. Such an easy job is rare in the current global economic crisis.
But Renly's personal condition was getting worse.
The boundaries between reality and fantasy in his mind are getting blurred, and his sleep quality has plummeted. Since the airtight experience, he has been awakened by nightmares every night.
In the dream, he was buried under the desert. In the dilemma, he used his mobile phone to look for various channels for help, but no one paid any attention. Everyone had a cold face, no facial features, no expressions, no emotions, and they replied coldly and uniformly. "Sorry, there's nothing we can do either." He was just abandoned in the desert waiting to die silently.
Otherwise, I dreamed that I was tied up with five flowers and thrown into a deep pit. The terrorists stood by the pit, grinning and shouting in Persian that he did not understand. Then they picked up the shovel and started to deal with him. The soil was like a rainstorm. When he got down, his eyes widened and he was stunned, but he couldn't use his strength at all, he could only watch himself being buried alive, and his blood became cold and stiff in despair.
After the filming started, this situation became more and more frequent, and he might even be woken up twice or three times a night, and the sleep time and sleep quality were both declining in a cliff-like curve. Covered with bloodshots, even the footsteps began to become light.
To make matters worse, once, after waking up from a nightmare, he began to become confused, unable to distinguish whether he was Renly or Paul, and strongly doubted that he was Paul—but this time, he was successfully saved, and after being saved, The memory of being buried alive in the desert still haunts him firmly.
Although this happened only once, it still left Renly in a trance. At lunch today, he fell asleep while sitting, then woke up without warning, in a cold sweat.
After a day of shooting, Renly returned to the hotel early to try to rest, but his eyelids were too heavy, but he couldn't sleep, his muscles were sore and tired, but his brain was very clear. In desperation, Renly can only take out the script and start reading the content of tomorrow's shooting. Although the script of "Buried Alive" is not complicated and there are not many lines, it is hidden behind the text, and the content that cannot be seen is the actor. where the space to play is.
Turning over and over, he fell asleep before he knew it. In his drowsy sleep, he always felt that something was disturbing him, and he was very annoying. An annoying fly buzzing in the ears. He closed his eyes, touched it subconsciously, and then started with a piece of gravel. The stumbling feeling was so real that he was startled, opened his eyes suddenly, and sat up, his head ruthless. He slammed into the wooden plank, the sharp pain made him grin, but he didn't have time to pay attention to it. He glanced around in a panic, and his breathing stopped instantly—
He was in the coffin, and the sand was falling. This was not a hotel room. This was the place where he was buried alive.
A dream, it's a dream, he's Renly Hall, he's sleeping on a hotel bed right now, it's just a nightmare. He swallowed, admonishing himself, but it was all so real, the sound of the sand falling, the gravel piled up on his chest, the air that was so hot that it was almost boiling, the flashlight that flickered and flickered The lights, and the sound of the phone vibrating like thunder in my ears...
Everything is too real, especially the pain from the head and arm, which is becoming more and more obvious. He raised his hand and looked at it, and then he saw that the back of his hand was covered with blood, and the mobile phone in his hand was soaking. The zizi trembled, and the memory rushed in in an instant.
A bomb was dropped just now, the lid of the coffin was shattered, and then the sand fell like a torrential rain, the mobile phone lost the signal, and his call was forcibly interrupted. Unbelievable strength, he tried to plug the crack with his shirt to prevent the sand from further venting, but the plank still broke after all, and the sand continued to fall, leaving him less and less time. If he doesn't go out, he really has no chance.
Yes, he doesn't have much time left.
Seeing the vibrating mobile phone in his hand, the light of hope suddenly ignited. The mobile phone that had lost the signal just now finally rang again. He had to let the outside world know that an accident had occurred in his situation, and the rescue speed had to be accelerated. This is his only life.
He immediately pressed the call button without any hesitation, "Hello? Who's there?" Raising the flashlight, the cream-yellow light could clearly see the fine sand falling down, there was a kind of poignant beauty. A sense of grandeur, but he was in no mood to pay attention to it at the moment. There was urgency in his voice, as if he had caught the last straw.
"Is that Paul Conroy?" The voice on the other end of the phone was unhurried, word by word. The deliberately clear articulation was so slow that it was unbearable. He had to interrupt the voice directly, "Yes, yes, I'm Paul, who are you?" He had to raise his hand to tuck his shirt tighter, as the sand continued to fall and the situation seemed to get worse.
"Paul, I'm Alan Davenport (Ala)." The voice on the other end of the phone was still clear and impatient, "I'm the personnel director of CRT."
"Yes, I left a message for you." He just hoped that the speed would be faster, and if it was faster, the sand was still falling, and the phone would be out of power, not to mention that the signal was still intermittent.
"Yes, I also heard from Rebecca Browning (Rebeing) of the State Department. Can you tell us about your current situation?"
The slow voice on the phone was really annoying, but he didn't have time to get angry now, because the speed of the sand falling in front of him couldn't keep up, and under the imminent life and death juncture, he didn't have time to pay attention to the other party, he just said irritably, "What's worse, there may have been an explosion, and now the sand has been leaking down, and it will fill up in about half an hour." The words were so flustered that he couldn't even organize his own language.
"Okay, okay, speak slowly, you try to be calm." He rolled his eyes, he was about to die, the other party even told him to calm down, but he gritted his teeth abruptly when he was angry, venting all his anger in In his hand, the shirt was actually stuffed into the crack little by little, which made him see hope, and he was engrossed in the work of his left hand, and he didn't have time to pay attention to the other party, "I'm here to ask you, who did you talk to on the phone with? ?"
The crack was finally plugged, and the sand finally stopped falling.
"Grass! Does this have anything to do with him/mom?" The irritability surged up, he couldn't hold back and scolded a foul language, but after all the struggles, he also knew that anger couldn't help at this moment, so he Take a deep breath, force yourself to calm down, try to get your brain working again, "Uh, robber, Dan-Brenner from the hostage team..."
ranwena.net
"Okay, Paul, I see, what about the media? I know your kidnapping footage leaked, but have you spoken directly to anyone about it?"
The other party interrupted his words and asked directly, his brows could not help wrinkling - why the other party wanted to know this, but the words still replied, "No, no no no."
"Okay, okay, okay, okay." The other party was obviously very satisfied with the answer, which made his brows tangled again, but out of the corner of his eyes was always distracted by the crack in his shirt. He didn't The way to concentrate on thinking, he noticed that something was wrong, but now it was a matter of life and death, and he couldn't care about those delicate and peripheral things, "Continue to maintain this state, we need to try to control the impact to the minimum range."
The anger broke through the shackles of the sense of crisis in an instant. He slammed the fragile lid above his head with his left elbow, and roared angrily, "The current situation is that I am in his/mom/ coffin!" The sand began to fall again because of the violent vibration, "I think the range is small enough!" He used up the last bit of strength in his body, the fear of death, the suffocation of being buried alive, the desire to survive, burst out at this moment. Extremely, "Save me! Save me!" His pupils were completely split, and he roared irrationally, "What the hell are you doing now? How did you help me? Ah? Ah!"
Like a drowning man, he struggled recklessly, but all his strength melted under the calm water. His body began to sink slowly, no matter how hard he struggled to no avail.
How he wished it was just a nightmare.