“I want to make a film,” he says. “I want to make a film without words.”
“Will it have a title?”, she asks.
“No. It won’t have any words. No title or dialogue or narration or even credits. I won’t even write a script. I’ll come up with the whole thing in my head before I film it, and then I’ll draw it out, just to have a permanent record on paper.”
—-
“I gave my film a name,” he says.
“I thought it wasn’t going to have any words,” she says, even though she knew he would do this.
“I don’t think I’m going to put the title in the actual film, but I need to refer to it as something.”
“No, you don’t,” she argues. “If you give it a name, you won’t be able to separate the two, even if you don’t put the name in the film itself.”
“Well, it’s too late. I’ve already named it. I can’t un-name it.”
“What’s it called?”
He smiles. “It’s called ‘Waiting for Someone.’”
She shakes her head, but he ignores her.
—-
“I wrote the script for my film,” he says.
“I thought you weren’t going to have any dialogue?”
“Well, I don’t, but I still need a script. It’s more like an outline of all the visuals, I wrote it kind of like a short story.”
“You’ve come a long way from your original vision, you know.”
“That’s just the creative process. That’s what happens. Things change.”
—-
“I decided to put a single line of dialogue into my film,” he says. “It’s right at the end.”
“Really? Why did you change your mind?”
“It adds a little bit of mystery to the whole thing. It’s okay, though. You can’t actually hear it - the film is still silent.”
She would say ‘what happened to your vision?’ but she knows it won’t help anything. She stares at him instead. He smiles. She pretends to smile back.
—-
“I decided that I have to put credits into the film,” he says.
“Why?”
“A lot of people put work into this. It wouldn’t be fair to leave them unrecognized.”
—-
“I put the title into the film after all,” he says.
“Oh.”
He looks at her. “Yeah.”
She stares at the ground.
—-
“I had an idea,” he’ll say. He’ll smile at her and laugh because he’ll be so satisfied with himself for coming up with it.
“Oh? What is it?” She smiles. She has long since given up on trying to help him. What’s the point? He’ll just end up sabotaging himself no matter what she does.
“I want to make a film,” he’ll say. “A film without words.”
She’ll stop for a second. He’ll look at her expectantly. She’ll open her mouth. She’ll close it. She’ll open it again.
“That sounds great.”
He’ll smile. She won’t. He won’t notice.
