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David Poland

By David Poland poland@moviecitynews.com

Morning in Cannes

And so it begins…

There are few things odder than going to so many festivals every year and then not quite knowing which way is up as you start one. But here we go.

The first line today is the line for credentials. You would think that journalists would know enough not to block the public sidewalk. No such luck.

People were lining up by the Palais last night with all the accoutrements of paparazzi… but I am told they are just gawkers with serious equipment and that they spent the night on the street. Access rarely seems like so much of a privilege.

And now, the press room doors open and the wild rumpus begins… again.

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INTERVIEWER
Do you outline plays before you start to write them?

PINTER
Not at all. I don’t know what kind of characters my plays will have until they…well, until they are. Until they indicate to me what they are. I don’t conceptualize in any way. Once I’ve got the clues I follow them—that’s my job, really, to follow the clues.

INTERVIEWER
What do you mean by clues? Can you remember how one of your plays developed in your mind—or was it a line-by-line progression?

PINTER
Of course I can’t remember exactly how a given play developed in my mind. I think what happens is that I write in a very high state of excitement and frustration. I follow what I see on the paper in front of me—one sentence after another. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a dim, possible overall idea—the image that starts off doesn’t just engender what happens immediately, it engenders the possibility of an overall happening, which carries me through. I’ve got an idea of what might happen—sometimes I’m absolutely right, but on many occasions I’ve been proved wrong by what does actually happen. Sometimes I’m going along and I find myself writing “C. comes in” when I didn’t know that he was going to come in; he had to come in at that point, that’s all.
~ Harold Pinter

“I love Los Angeles. Have I said that? I love it all. The earnestness. The artifice. The blowsy, sunny beauty. The bland, bland, pleasant weather.  The drama of traffic. I love that people don’t know how to make conversation and can’t recognize a joke at a hundred paces. I love that people care about silly things and embrace ridiculousness wholeheartedly. I had a serious conversation with a good friend about his fascination with channeling, for example. Channeling. “I don’t think you’re patient enough for it,” he said and all I could think about was Shirley MacLaine with ectoplasm coming out of her head. Of course I’m fucking patient I thought. I’m fucking spiritual. Shove that up your namaste. Ha ha ha. I love that I’ve become desperately un-English, in the immortal words of my friend Giles, and yet not quite American.”
~ Bumble Ward In The Present Los Angeles Moment

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