The klieg lights are shining brightly on the scene. The set is all quiet for the take. Two actors mumble their dialogues. I stay hidden in the shadows of my room, and let my eyes roam before the action that is unfolding before me. I am but a silent voyeur, seeing everything and yet uttering not a single word.
"Cut! That was a good take!"
"Make-up, pakipunasan nga ang pawis!"
"Set-up na tayo for sequence 52. Yung kabilang kwarto ang gagamitin."
All is a pandemonium as the gaffers set-up the new lights for the next scene. In a corner, an actor seats silently, his eyes closed as if lost in contemplation. His mouth is slowly moving, a litany of words that is to be his next dialogue. I do not hear what he says, nor, do I suspect, really care what it is. After all, I still play the role of the silent voyeur, seeing everything and yet uttering not a single word.
The minutes march progressively into hours, and the chaos settles into a routine. Rehearse, take, set-up. A repetitive drill broken only by an erroneous delivery of a dialogue or a sudden intrusion of an obtrusive background noise.
Then there is a noticeable lull in the activity. I arise from my desk to scrutinize what is happening. They are done with the shoot. The lights are already turned off and being dismantled. The crew slowly mills about, their glassy eyes betraying the fatigue of the long day just finished. They slowly file out of the house, zombie-like in their movements.
I close all the lights and lock the doors of the house. Darkness and quietude blanket my surroundings.
But even then, I remain a silent voyeur, seeing everything and yet uttering not a single word.
"Cut! That was a good take!"
"Make-up, pakipunasan nga ang pawis!"
"Set-up na tayo for sequence 52. Yung kabilang kwarto ang gagamitin."
All is a pandemonium as the gaffers set-up the new lights for the next scene. In a corner, an actor seats silently, his eyes closed as if lost in contemplation. His mouth is slowly moving, a litany of words that is to be his next dialogue. I do not hear what he says, nor, do I suspect, really care what it is. After all, I still play the role of the silent voyeur, seeing everything and yet uttering not a single word.
The minutes march progressively into hours, and the chaos settles into a routine. Rehearse, take, set-up. A repetitive drill broken only by an erroneous delivery of a dialogue or a sudden intrusion of an obtrusive background noise.
Then there is a noticeable lull in the activity. I arise from my desk to scrutinize what is happening. They are done with the shoot. The lights are already turned off and being dismantled. The crew slowly mills about, their glassy eyes betraying the fatigue of the long day just finished. They slowly file out of the house, zombie-like in their movements.
I close all the lights and lock the doors of the house. Darkness and quietude blanket my surroundings.
But even then, I remain a silent voyeur, seeing everything and yet uttering not a single word.
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