THE RED CAR DRIVE



Wheels sticking to the warm tarmac.
The never ending road. Full darkness.
Two rings of fire to guide him.
Next stop neverland. Quick left turn.
For a short moment, the lights of the valley on the left side of his wounded face.
Red, greens and yellows.
Engine roars like a wild beast.

"Drive away from the lights"

Noise's too loud.
Clock ticks as fast as the beat of his red blooded heart.

"The Yellow line, follow the fucking yellow lined road".

Shadowy figure rises. In the distance, closer and closer.

"Need to push that brake. Fast"

Bourbon mixed with E, flowing in his veins.
Time's broken=Slo-mo moves.

-------[Clutch brakes down.
The wheels of the beast spitting smoke and fire.

LAST desperate attempt to ease the pain.

"Stop the colors, stop them now"

Eyes closed, car stopped. Afraid to see the truth?
Smell of burned rubber and smoker's sweat sliding along his cheek. Summer hell in San Fernando.

Her figure crosses the rings of fire.

High heels sticking to the warm tarmac.
The never ending beauty. Full Color.
Two green glowing eyes to charm him.
Next stop loveland. Quick move out of the red beast.
For a short moment, the reflection of her short dress in his wounded eyes.
Red, greens and yellows.
Heart pounds like a wild beast.

Redrose's interpretation of Alex Prager's Picture "The Big Valley"

PATTY HEARST




"Oh Lord, Patty! Oh, Lord!"

DJ WHAT?




Shaky BEATS
HUGE playground
Fascinating, Dazzling
DIRTY CORRIDORS
never ending CORRIDORS
LASER glows
ALL around HIM
A 1000 faces
in the DARK
GREEN LASER SHINES
D&B
FUCKS HIM UP
BIG TIME
Not to worry
Stay HIGH
DJ HYPE
mike in hand
POETRY on
the DANCE FLOOR
NOISY BUGGER
FAshioN VicTIMS
STUDIED
TRASHY LOokS
What THE HELL waS ReDRosE
Doing There?
ALL's fucked UP***


Friday night at FABRIC , london, pitching a film script on the dance floor.

IN CHAINS, NEVER IN LOVE

it DOesn't MATTER where you go, DOes IT?

SO RED THE ROSE




They both got up in the forest of dead roses and moved towards the stricken castle. They walked and staggered in fine formation toward the moat. The water was cool clear blue. They passed through the gates and up the wide marble stairs to the tall lone turret on top...where they could see all the way home.

Quoted from Sydney Pollack's "Castle Keep"

ELLE (L) UNDER THE FIREWORKS

Redrose went back to his blog. The night lights made his heart smile once again. Bright lights, small city, figures burning under the rain and her face in the close distance. Sweetness and charm in her smile, drops of water running down Redrose cheeks. Her boyfriend in the distance, Red lights in Redrose eyes.

Redrose's 5th of November in Lewis, watching her eyes shine under the fireworks.

DIAL M FOR MOORE



At the moment people who are using shamanism and magic to shape our culture are advertisers. Rather than try to wake people up, their shamanism is used as an opiate to tranquilize people, to make people more manipulative. Their magic box of television, their magic words, their jingles can cause everybody in the country to be thinking the same words and have the same banal thoughts all at the exact same moment.

Alan Moore the magician and the shaman

YOU FREUD, ME JANE?

Then I dreamed I was in a huge
theatre where one of my motion
pictures was being shown.
But the theatre was absolutely
empty, not a full seat anywhere.
On one wall was a gigantic
mirror, and when I looked into it,
I didn't see my own face...


Alfred Hitchcock Presents Episode 69: The Three Dreams of Mr. Findlater (1957)

FAYE FADES AWAY



Jake Gittes:There's something black in the green part of your eye.

Evelyn Mulwray: Oh, that. It's a... it's a flaw in the iris.

Jake Gittes: Flaw?

Evelyn Mulwray: Yes, it's a sort of birthmark

A LOVELEY WAY TO SPEND AN EVENING





"What is it that you fear?", she whispered, while looking straight into Redrose's eyes. Fear, he thought, was not of his concern, and was in any case related to the situation he was living or had lived with her. It was time that worried him more than anything else. Clocks. The flow of the river.


So Redrose thought he should think twice before answering. Slow it down, don't rush. Don't make it hard on both of you.


"Nothing" he replied back. A predictible answer. But how could Redrose explain? He and his notion of indirect faithfulness, of being there for a few only. Unable to embrace humanity in its whole, he had made a choice. A choice based on a simple fact: be there for the ones you care. And Redrose could only care for a few. Very few.


She was one of them. An important one. But she, fragile she, expected something else. And that something he could not give. How much longer would social codes make her suffer? Her past, her losses, her betrayals, her bleeding heart didn't help. And the word love, abused, violated to such extreme we don't even know when and how to use it. Our mistake, underrated mistake.


Her request was a projection in time of the intangible.


Redrose was looking at her. "We waste these moments by discussing a future that might not be, always one step ahead of ourselves." And after a short pause, while her eyes melted in the darkness of the room he concluded, "This is now and this is us. Future has no reason to be"

VOCALE POLLY MAGGOO

There was no need to shout. Redrose was upset, very upset and could not write a note on the blog about his friend Polly as he was planning to. So he thought he should hang that picture anyhow, just to convince himself to take it all as a joke.

Confused about this silly note on the blog?

So was Redrose on that Friday afternoon...

AND ON THY CHEEK
A FADING ROSE





Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

Excerpt from John kaets' "La Belle Dame Sans Merci"

GIVE MY LOVE TO THE SUNRISE

Redrose was spending another rainy afternoon in his new town. He was quietly walking back home when a few drops of water started knocking on his head, hammering with grace his confused thoughts. For a moment, words he was once trying to forget, came back to life. Very specific words, almost meaningless on their own but so powerful when united. "We could have gone off together" words said.

Something was still haunting him. Another blurred piece of the puzzle that composed his broken life came into the light at the very same moment his mouth whispered "together". His cinematic memory was still playing him some painful tricks, but at this stage fo the play handling pain was not an issue. For Redrose, it was just like opening an umbrella on a rainy day.

Elsa: After that I knew I couldn't trust him. He was mad. He had to be shot.

Michael: And What about me?

Elsa: We could have gone off together.
Michael:Into the sunrise. You and me? Or you and Grisby?
Elsa: I love you.

Michael:One who follows his nature keeps his original nature in the end.But haven´t you heard ever of something better to follow?

Elsa: No.

Dialogue from "The Lady from Shanghai", 1948, directed by Orson Welles

IN ME TOO THE WAVE RISES

Virginia Wolf's words took a sudden meaning while Redrose watched the picture of that blue sea. The loneliness of the soul, the desperate search, the commitment in order to survive.

In me too the wave rises. It Swells; it arches its back. I am aware, once more, of a new desire. Something rising beneath me like the proud horse whose rider first spurs and then pulls him back.

Virginia Wolf's "The Waves"

SIR ALFRED'S FLOWER SHOP



I've always dreamed of
a murder in a tulip field.
Two characters: the killer
behind the girl,
his victim. As his shadow
creeps up on her, she
turns and screams.
Immediately, we pan
down the struggling
feet in the tulip field.
One petal fills the
screen, and suddenly a
drop of blood splashes
all over it.

Alfred Hitchcock in François Truffaut, "Hitchcock Interviews" Touchstone Edition, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1983.

ANOTHER KIND OF FLOWERS













Eight and a half mesmerizing flowers.
The Valley Girls.

http://www.alexprager.com/

BROKEN FLOWERS









The first time he saw those roses in front of that white fence, clashing against that blue sky he felt strangely moved, almost aroused. A simple stripped composition.


Then the colors melted and took various forms. Shadows won over. The flowers turned into bright faces. Still, their beauty moved and aroused.

TO THE UNFINISHED BEAUTY

As many others, Redrose still wondered why that epic graphic novel Big Numbers never made it till the end. Alan Moore and Bill Sienkiewicz, both misunderstood. Forever lost in NeverLand.

FADING FLOWERS

A new story should start with the end of the story that preceded it. In this case, the end is marked by an image: the picture of some fading flowers in a garden. Roses to be more specific. Motionless companions which were once the reflection of his solitude.

This is the final sequence of that script:

SEC 37- EXT DAY- REDROSE'S HOUSE

General wide shot. REDROSE packs a last box into the car. He looks back at the house and hands the key to the landlore. They shake hands. The landlore starts walking towards the main gate and opens it.

The car drives away between some trees while the camera pans down revealing the dying Roses next to the pool.

End credits.

But Redrose had another ending in mind. The true ending of his story, the one that would link him to the new story:

THE NEW STORY

The new story starts on a computer screen, while this man, named Redrose, decides to write a blog. End and beginning take place on the same day but could not be more different. Redrose do not know where to start. He improvises and writes, almost on the go some words that come to his mind: waste, alone, time, silence, past, betrayal... He needs to put some order in those words. Right now he can't. So he stops writing and starts remembering the important sequences of the day: the last glimpse at the garden before leaving the house, the phone call to his neighbour friend, Dick Laurent, and a goodbye to Polly while hiding behind his sunglasses. He remembers abandoning friendship at his best.

But Redrose did not feel sad. Nor happy. He had become almost emotionless. Unable to accept other beings emotions, he was only able to express his own through images, through montage, through the only faithful lover he had: Cinéma.

But Cinéma and flowers could not be the answer to everything. Time was running out and Redrose could not keep on avoiding his fate, so he decided to leave in order to come back with a better knowledge of love and emotions. Just like a little prince would do. But deep down inside of him, he knew he wouldn't come back. Still, the images of those flowers haunted him. He had to see the big picture again in order to make up his mind once and for all. So he did... or was about to do at the moment he was writing this blog. Uncertain future which would, hopefully, open up his heart again and allow him to go back to his flowers.