For our first exterior shots we met at 9 am in front of Casa Mila, aka La Pedrera (the Quarry). We were in our mobile unit headquarters (van) that also doubled as our dressing room/make-up room/craft service/storage/fortress of solitude/and anything else we might possibly need while Gayxample traipsed around the centre of the Eixample , shooting XAVI’s arrival scenes to the big city.
It was starting to look like it would rain, but the sky seemed to be keeping it zipped up for us at the moment, and that wouldn’t be the only thing looming over us on that early morning of March 10th.
Gaudi’s architecture always proved to be the perfect setting for wandering tourists, who could easily be spotted because they looked liked someone had taken them off an assembly line and outfitted them with a digital camera, sandals, shorts, a desperate need of a tan, and probably instructed them to move about the city in flocks, like geese migrating to the nearest photo op; all with a map firmly in hand and -- most importantly -- an innate sense of when not to walk into a shot.
Babeth and I became impromptu transit officers, security detail, tourist directory, and answered the never ending “are you filming a movie?” -- all in the name of art.
We tried several shots of XAVI in front of La Pedrera while the sun played hide and seek with us; with tourists walking in and out of our shots, with a reflector – without a reflector. And then the sky unzipped and relieved itself.
It was then that a cab ran over a motorcyclist and Babeth donned yet another hat, and became a beat reporter: “Yes, Charlie, I’m standing outside of La Pedrera in Gayxample, where earlier today…”
All the while, Xavi, waited for all of this to be sorted out and someone to yell “action.” Although, I must say, that these delays inadvertently played well into the overwhelmed feel that XAVI’s character should be experiencing after arriving in the big city. That, at least, had gone splendidly.
By the time we got to Enric Granados our extras were waiting for us. Idel and company were there, Gerard Valdivia, and a little later, Maria, who would point a lost XAVI to his uncle’s house, arrived. Once Christian showed up we were set. As artistic director, Babeth (who’s now donned at least 5 different hats) gave Christian and Gerard (kisser 1 and kisser 2) a few minutes to get better acquainted before cuing them to shove their tongues down each other’s throats.
Just then the city’s street sweepers showed up trying to make a cameo of their own, but Babeth (yet again) used her powers of persuasion, and our shooting permit, to get them to come back a little later while we shot the scene.
All that hustling about makes a crew hungry. It was definitely time to eat.
One of our sponsors is the restaurant Lurantia, so we went there; where aside from a delicious meal, we had the added pleasure of witnessing Marcelo drift off to la-la land, as he fell asleep before the end of the first course. We all watched him in utter fascination. The day had definitely taken its toll on Mr. Jack-of-all-trades, and we knew there was more to come. Rafa would be waiting for us at 3 pm in Poble Nou with the new make-up artist.
Ladies and Gentlemen: I’m afraid I must get serious for a moment. It is my distinct honour to introduce to this blog and to the Gayxample shoot, the incomparable, authentic, Mr. Gluten free, muse of muses: Ivan Bertran.
At first it seemed he was a little too flamboyant. But take after naked take (in a professional setting, of course) we came to discover his true genius. He has a bright future ahead of him. He doesn’t have a manager at the moment, in case anyone wants to scoop him up.
We were once again back at the apartment in Poble Nou with Rafa and Kikko in full body make-up, and revving to go. With only a skeleton crew, we made short work of shooting all of Álex and Ivan’s bed scenes.
Tomorrow we have a full day of more exteriors with new actors, new equipment, a car mount, a new restaurant, and probably more than a few “are you filming a movie?” Cenzo Álvarez De Haro - Translated and adapted by: Norman Giovanni Zelaya