How director Denis Villeneuve created the suspense of 'Sicario' and why he's remaking 'Blade Runner'; The Broad is about to open its doors and art critics are critical; Harry Nilsson fans lobby the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.
Why the Broad's inaugural exhibition misses the mark
The Broad, in downtown Los Angeles, is set to open its doors to the public in just two days.
Drawing from the exhaustive collection of billionaires Eli and Edythe Broad, the museum’s inaugural exhibition contains artwork by major contemporary and postwar artists like Andy Warhol, John Baldessari, and Roy Lichtenstein.
(Maya Sugarman/KPCC)
But The Broad’s inaugural show isn’t exactly setting the art world on fire. Reviews from some top critics — including the Los Angeles Times’s Christopher Knight — have been mixed to negative.
One of the more vocal critics is Eric Gibson. He’s the Arts in Review Editor at the Wall Street Journal, and he joined us on The Frame to talk about the difference he sees between a museum and a personal collection, where The Broad fits in to LA's art world, and what it can do to spice up its future shows.
Interview Highlights:
When you first walked into the museum, what were you hoping to see? What did you actually find?
I was hoping to see a personal take on the period covered, which is art mainly from the 1980s to the present. Traditionally, the idea of a private collection is that it's personal — the collector is buying what they like, what they're interested in, what they feel strongly about, and it's often slightly different from what you can find in a museum. A museum goes for the historical, the chronological, they want to connect all the historical dots.
So I was expecting and hoping to see the Broads' personal take on the art of the recent past, but what I found was that, if you had blindfolded me and taken me into the building, I might easily have thought I was at the Whitney, or the Museum of Modern Art, or any institution. It was really indistinguishable from a museum collection.
Los Angeles already has a pretty good collection of large museums — there's the Getty, the LA County Museum of Art, and the Museum of Contemporary Art, to name a few. Where do you see the Broad fitting in to LA's art world right now?
I think it's an outpost for a high concentration of a certain phase of contemporary art, and I think it will be useful for that. I mean, LACMA doesn't have room to display 2,000 works of contemporary art, so this is a very good opportunity to have that in-depth focus. But as for the material itself, it isn't anything that you couldn't see at LACMA or in any other museum.
Meaning you think The Broad should be a complement or an alternative, not a mirror of those other institutions.
Exactly. It would have been much more valuable if it had had some or all of those artists or covered the period, certainly, but in a different, much more personal way. So then you could go to LACMA and see the art of the '80s and '90s, and then you'd go to the Broad and you'd come away with a totally different take on it and go, "Ah, yes, this guy's doing something really interesting and personal here."
(Maya Sugarman/KPCC)
The Broad is free, and isn't it a good thing that people can, for free, see a collection that they'd pay $20 or $30 to see at MoMA or the Whitney?
Oh, absolutely, I think it's wonderful. I think it's exceptionally generous of The Broad Museum to allow this. But as I say, they are in a fortunate position that they can do this — I think the endowment of the museum is something like $200 million.
They didn't have to let people in for free, but they are, and I think it's wonderful that they're doing so. But I don't think it's a judgment against other institutions who can't let other people in for free.
If you could help shape the future of this museum, what would you have them do? How should they go forward with their collection?
Here's one thought: I didn't see any Realist painting or Realist sculpture in the collection. There are all kinds of artists at work now — I think there are more contemporary artists at work now than ever before, and yet what we're seeing here is a very narrow segment of them. I would suggest that they be more adventurous and look outside the mainstream. The collecting needs to range far more broadly than it has been.
Harry Nilsson — lobby hard to get him in The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame
In a few weeks, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame will announce their nominees for the class of 2016. Those names will be voted on by the 700 or so Hall of Fame members — artists, producers, music critics, executives and others involved in the industry — and inducted into the Hall next April.
The nomination process — headed up by Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner and producer Jon Landau — is famously opaque. The only firm criterion is that the artist’s first record must have been released at least 25 years ago. Beyond that, it’s anybody’s guess. And every year when the nominees are announced, rock fans are up in arms about who didn’t get picked.
So what does it take to get an artist into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? The powers that be aren’t saying.
Is there any way to reach these guys? Could music do the job?
A passionate group of musicians, writers and producers recently gathered in a Pasadena recording studio to make a pitch for an artist they believe in: singer/songwriter Harry Nilsson. And Frame contributor Anny Celsi was there.
Producer Rob Laufer with Nilsson albums (Credit: Gabriel Szoke)
Nilsson died in 1994, and although he won two Grammys, wrote hits for Three Dog Night and The Monkees and was cited by The Beatles as their “favorite group,” he’s not exactly a household name today. But as music producer Alan Boyd relates, people often don’t realize how well they know his music.
“All you gotta do is start singing some of his songs,” Boyd says, demonstrating. 'Everybody's talking at me...’ Oh yeah, I know that one.” ‘I can't live if living is without you...’ “Yeah?” ‘You put the lime in the coconut...’ Invariably somebody will go, “That's all the same guy?”
“He was innovative, creative, his music is incredible,” says 60’s pop chanteuse Evie Sands. “People love it to this day, even those who may not be aware that it's Harry Nilsson's music.”
“He set the bar for artists of his time,” says songwriter Todd Lawrence. “He was an influence on everybody in his time, and he's really been virtually forgotten in the time since, and written out of the narrative. And I think he needs to be written back into the rock and roll narrative.”
Producer Rob Laufer and singer Evie Sands (Credit: Gabriel Szoke).
Lawrence, known professionally as Milo Binder, wrote the song “Let’s Put Harry in the Hall,” which is being recorded today. The crew is hoping the tune will inspire other Nilsson fans to help storm the walls of the rock and roll castle. And that, somehow, it will reach the ears of whoever holds the keys.
While producers Willie Aron and Rob Laufer put the finishing touches on the track, musicians, friends and family of Nilsson mill around the green room, noshing on hummus and swapping Harry stories.
Nilsson is perhaps known best for partying hard with his drinking buddy John Lennon. But “he was a sweet guy, very intelligent,” remembers songwriter Stephen Kalinich, who met him through Brian Wilson. “He was one of those larger than life characters, but I think in his crazy humanity he touched a chord that we all have within us.”
Alt-country crooner Syd Straw calls Nilsson’s voice “soulful, heartbreaking. I like to hear that level of emotional intensity, even naiveté.” She remembers meeting Nilsson at a recording session. “I took Harry’s paw in my paw,” Straw recalls, “And we just held hands the rest of my session. He liked that approach somehow.”
With the instrumental track completed, it’s time to bring in the choir. Aron passes out lyric sheets, then moves to the piano and begins banging out the tune. The singers gather around to learn their solo parts, which echo familiar lines from Harry Nilsson songs.
“Me and my arrow…”
“I can’t live, if living is without you…..”
“One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do….”
Past fan efforts aimed at getting the Hall’s attention -- including letter-writing campaigns and online petitions – haven’t made much of a dent, according to Los Angeles Times pop music writer Randy Lewis. “Because the nominating committee, they feel like, we know what's important and that's what we're going to act on,” says Lewis. “And a lot of times that leaves fans unhappy.”
But Todd Lawrence and his band of Harry-philes think it’s worth a shot.
“Here's the deal,” says Lawrence. “Every musician I know -- and I know a lot of musicians -- all love Harry Nilsson. So to have him be relatively unknown out there in the world - boy, when you get musicians together, he's not unknown! And I think that's the disconnect, and we're trying to say to the Hall of Fame, whatever it is you think is important or you think is worthy, this is our guy. We think he's worthy.”
Willie Aron leads Harry Nilsson chorus (Credit: Gabriel Szoke).
As the group of 20-plus singers moves to the microphone, Aron reminds them, “Okay, let’s just bring our spirits, and our love of Harry, to the music!” And as the music kicks in, everyone raises their voices together:
“Put Harry in the haaa—aaaall!”
Filmmaker Denis Villeneuve: From the suspense of 'Sicario' to the pressure of 'Blade Runner'
“Sicario” is an intense film about the Mexican drug wars. It focuses on how U.S. authorities try--sometimes using borderline if not illegal tactics--to battle the cartels.
The film centers on FBI agent Kate Macer -- played by Emily Blunt. Director Denis Villeneuve, who also made “Prisoners” and “Incendies,” wanted audiences to see things from Macer’s perspective, where she’s constantly guessing about what’s going on and in whom she can place her trust.
The Frame's John Horn talks with director Denis Villeneuve about how he set the suspenseful tone of "Sicario," how Kurosawa's "Seven Samurai" and the score from "Jaws" inspired him, and why the new "Blade Runner" sequel he's making will satisfy his long-held desire to make a sci-fi film.
INTERVIEW HIGHLIGHTS
Where did you and [Taylor] Sheridan [the screenwriter] get the inspiration for the story and the style that it was told in?
The movie is really like you're holding a flashlight in a dark room. It's like you are discovering slowly the truth with the main character. Kate Macer's character, Emily Blunt's character, is based on a real FBI agent working nearby the border. I know that terror was very inspired by this woman and the birth of the project happened when he met her and he decided to create a project to see a female evolving in that man's world.
This film is very tense. How did you and your team -- editor Joe Walker, cinematographer Roger Deakins and composer Jóhann Jóhannsson -- create this atmosphere of foreboding and doom?
First of all, it all started with Taylor Sheridan's screenplay, that fear was so alive in the screenplay from the start. So my job as a director was to protect that drive and when we started to edit the movie, I said to Joe, I would like the tension to be alive without music. So we edited the movie without music, without any single note. It was important for me to extract from each scene it's full potential without having to deal with any music that will help us. Then, Jóhann came on board after that process and I told Jóhann that I wanted music that the audience will feel before they hear it.
I said the example of music I have in my mind, which is one the best scores of all time, is "Jaws" -- kind of barbaric, powerful, dark sound. Jóhann went away and came back with that fantastic score that is by far the best score I've ever had for one of my films.
When you are talking with your department heads and your cinematographer Roger Deakins about the look and feel of this film, what are the kinds of things you are referencing and what was the common ground that you guys kept coming back to?
For me, the main reference was a Kurosawa movie, the "Seven Samurai," one of my favorite movies of all time. One thing that strikes me is how Kurosawa was able to bring tension with immobility, stillness and silence. There's a lot of sequences in this film where nothing is happening, we are waiting for action. We are waiting for violence and that weight is so frightening and there's so much tension. I think there was something he was able to do with minimalistic effect with the simplicity that Roger and I were trying to aim for.
There's a scene with Alejandro, played by Benicio Del Toro, where he's interrogating a prisoner and we have no idea what happens. I'm wondering if that was always your intention, that you were not gonna show what happened in that scene and that the audience was gonna come to its own conclusions?
We had a very tight schedule and I wanted to have as less things on the editing floor as possible. We shot that movie with just enough movie. So to answer your question, what you see on the screen is what we shot. I wanted to evoke things by suggestion.
So necessity was the mother of invention here.
Yeah, that's always the case with movie-making. All filmmakers know we always want more money. But in a way, I think that my answer is not that good. John, I think the real answer is that it's not driven by money, it's driven by the idea that when you are making a dark and violent movie, I wanted the audience to feel the impact, the threat and the ugliness of violence, but I don't want to make a show out of it. I prefer to go in the poetic suggestion.
All of your past films are very dark. Is that the kinds of films you're drawn to? Are you that dark as a person yourself?
No, I think I'm inspired by those things because cinema is a powerful tool to explore our shadows. Honestly, I would love to do a comedy one day but I think the comedy would look more like "Dr. Strangelove" than anything else. In a way, it would be a dark comedy.
I have to ask about "Blade Runner" because I know you've been working on a sequel for that film. It's obviously a hugely beloved movie that has a cult following. How does that kind of pressure, that this movie is so well-revered, affect your approach to it or are you able to separate that out as you approach making this film?
Every movie that I did in my life so far, there was a huge responsibility. When I was doing a movie about the situation in Lebanon -- I was talking about war and victims of war. I had a responsibility towards those people. In "Sicario," I have a responsibility towards Mexicans because I was trying to depict their reality with authenticity. I'm used to working with a lot of pressure and I'm okay with that. I love risk.
This new "Blade Runner" project is, by far, the riskiest project of my life, but there is something deeply exciting at the same time about that. It's a decision that I made not as I was flipping a dime. It's not something I decided one morning. I thought a lot about it. The screenplay, I must say, is very powerful and I'm one of the biggest "Blade Runner" fans. So it was not possible for me to say no.
I've been wanting to do sci-fi since the past 35 years. I understand the pressure I have on my shoulder but it's okay. I'm ready to deal with it. It's part of art for me to make project with pressure.
Why the Broad's inaugural exhibition misses the mark
The Broad, in downtown Los Angeles, is set to open its doors to the public in just two days.
Drawing from the exhaustive collection of billionaires Eli and Edythe Broad, the museum’s inaugural exhibition contains artwork by major contemporary and postwar artists like Andy Warhol, John Baldessari, and Roy Lichtenstein.
(Maya Sugarman/KPCC)
But The Broad’s inaugural show isn’t exactly setting the art world on fire. Reviews from some top critics — including the Los Angeles Times’s Christopher Knight — have been mixed to negative.
One of the more vocal critics is Eric Gibson. He’s the Arts in Review Editor at the Wall Street Journal, and he joined us on The Frame to talk about the difference he sees between a museum and a personal collection, where The Broad fits in to LA's art world, and what it can do to spice up its future shows.
Interview Highlights:
When you first walked into the museum, what were you hoping to see? What did you actually find?
I was hoping to see a personal take on the period covered, which is art mainly from the 1980s to the present. Traditionally, the idea of a private collection is that it's personal — the collector is buying what they like, what they're interested in, what they feel strongly about, and it's often slightly different from what you can find in a museum. A museum goes for the historical, the chronological, they want to connect all the historical dots.
So I was expecting and hoping to see the Broads' personal take on the art of the recent past, but what I found was that, if you had blindfolded me and taken me into the building, I might easily have thought I was at the Whitney, or the Museum of Modern Art, or any institution. It was really indistinguishable from a museum collection.
Los Angeles already has a pretty good collection of large museums — there's the Getty, the LA County Museum of Art, and the Museum of Contemporary Art, to name a few. Where do you see the Broad fitting in to LA's art world right now?
I think it's an outpost for a high concentration of a certain phase of contemporary art, and I think it will be useful for that. I mean, LACMA doesn't have room to display 2,000 works of contemporary art, so this is a very good opportunity to have that in-depth focus. But as for the material itself, it isn't anything that you couldn't see at LACMA or in any other museum.
Meaning you think The Broad should be a complement or an alternative, not a mirror of those other institutions.
Exactly. It would have been much more valuable if it had had some or all of those artists or covered the period, certainly, but in a different, much more personal way. So then you could go to LACMA and see the art of the '80s and '90s, and then you'd go to the Broad and you'd come away with a totally different take on it and go, "Ah, yes, this guy's doing something really interesting and personal here."
(Maya Sugarman/KPCC)
The Broad is free, and isn't it a good thing that people can, for free, see a collection that they'd pay $20 or $30 to see at MoMA or the Whitney?
Oh, absolutely, I think it's wonderful. I think it's exceptionally generous of The Broad Museum to allow this. But as I say, they are in a fortunate position that they can do this — I think the endowment of the museum is something like $200 million.
They didn't have to let people in for free, but they are, and I think it's wonderful that they're doing so. But I don't think it's a judgment against other institutions who can't let other people in for free.
If you could help shape the future of this museum, what would you have them do? How should they go forward with their collection?
Here's one thought: I didn't see any Realist painting or Realist sculpture in the collection. There are all kinds of artists at work now — I think there are more contemporary artists at work now than ever before, and yet what we're seeing here is a very narrow segment of them. I would suggest that they be more adventurous and look outside the mainstream. The collecting needs to range far more broadly than it has been.
Harry Nilsson — lobby hard to get him in The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame
In a few weeks, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame will announce their nominees for the class of 2016. Those names will be voted on by the 700 or so Hall of Fame members — artists, producers, music critics, executives and others involved in the industry — and inducted into the Hall next April.
The nomination process — headed up by Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner and producer Jon Landau — is famously opaque. The only firm criterion is that the artist’s first record must have been released at least 25 years ago. Beyond that, it’s anybody’s guess. And every year when the nominees are announced, rock fans are up in arms about who didn’t get picked.
So what does it take to get an artist into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? The powers that be aren’t saying.
Is there any way to reach these guys? Could music do the job?
A passionate group of musicians, writers and producers recently gathered in a Pasadena recording studio to make a pitch for an artist they believe in: singer/songwriter Harry Nilsson. And Frame contributor Anny Celsi was there.
Producer Rob Laufer with Nilsson albums (Credit: Gabriel Szoke)
Nilsson died in 1994, and although he won two Grammys, wrote hits for Three Dog Night and The Monkees and was cited by The Beatles as their “favorite group,” he’s not exactly a household name today. But as music producer Alan Boyd relates, people often don’t realize how well they know his music.
“All you gotta do is start singing some of his songs,” Boyd says, demonstrating. 'Everybody's talking at me...’ Oh yeah, I know that one.” ‘I can't live if living is without you...’ “Yeah?” ‘You put the lime in the coconut...’ Invariably somebody will go, “That's all the same guy?”
“He was innovative, creative, his music is incredible,” says 60’s pop chanteuse Evie Sands. “People love it to this day, even those who may not be aware that it's Harry Nilsson's music.”
“He set the bar for artists of his time,” says songwriter Todd Lawrence. “He was an influence on everybody in his time, and he's really been virtually forgotten in the time since, and written out of the narrative. And I think he needs to be written back into the rock and roll narrative.”
Producer Rob Laufer and singer Evie Sands (Credit: Gabriel Szoke).
Lawrence, known professionally as Milo Binder, wrote the song “Let’s Put Harry in the Hall,” which is being recorded today. The crew is hoping the tune will inspire other Nilsson fans to help storm the walls of the rock and roll castle. And that, somehow, it will reach the ears of whoever holds the keys.
While producers Willie Aron and Rob Laufer put the finishing touches on the track, musicians, friends and family of Nilsson mill around the green room, noshing on hummus and swapping Harry stories.
Nilsson is perhaps known best for partying hard with his drinking buddy John Lennon. But “he was a sweet guy, very intelligent,” remembers songwriter Stephen Kalinich, who met him through Brian Wilson. “He was one of those larger than life characters, but I think in his crazy humanity he touched a chord that we all have within us.”
Alt-country crooner Syd Straw calls Nilsson’s voice “soulful, heartbreaking. I like to hear that level of emotional intensity, even naiveté.” She remembers meeting Nilsson at a recording session. “I took Harry’s paw in my paw,” Straw recalls, “And we just held hands the rest of my session. He liked that approach somehow.”
With the instrumental track completed, it’s time to bring in the choir. Aron passes out lyric sheets, then moves to the piano and begins banging out the tune. The singers gather around to learn their solo parts, which echo familiar lines from Harry Nilsson songs.
“Me and my arrow…”
“I can’t live, if living is without you…..”
“One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do….”
Past fan efforts aimed at getting the Hall’s attention -- including letter-writing campaigns and online petitions – haven’t made much of a dent, according to Los Angeles Times pop music writer Randy Lewis. “Because the nominating committee, they feel like, we know what's important and that's what we're going to act on,” says Lewis. “And a lot of times that leaves fans unhappy.”
But Todd Lawrence and his band of Harry-philes think it’s worth a shot.
“Here's the deal,” says Lawrence. “Every musician I know -- and I know a lot of musicians -- all love Harry Nilsson. So to have him be relatively unknown out there in the world - boy, when you get musicians together, he's not unknown! And I think that's the disconnect, and we're trying to say to the Hall of Fame, whatever it is you think is important or you think is worthy, this is our guy. We think he's worthy.”
Willie Aron leads Harry Nilsson chorus (Credit: Gabriel Szoke).
As the group of 20-plus singers moves to the microphone, Aron reminds them, “Okay, let’s just bring our spirits, and our love of Harry, to the music!” And as the music kicks in, everyone raises their voices together:
“Put Harry in the haaa—aaaall!”
Filmmaker Denis Villeneuve: From the suspense of 'Sicario' to the pressure of 'Blade Runner'
“Sicario” is an intense film about the Mexican drug wars. It focuses on how U.S. authorities try--sometimes using borderline if not illegal tactics--to battle the cartels.
The film centers on FBI agent Kate Macer -- played by Emily Blunt. Director Denis Villeneuve, who also made “Prisoners” and “Incendies,” wanted audiences to see things from Macer’s perspective, where she’s constantly guessing about what’s going on and in whom she can place her trust.
The Frame's John Horn talks with director Denis Villeneuve about how he set the suspenseful tone of "Sicario," how Kurosawa's "Seven Samurai" and the score from "Jaws" inspired him, and why the new "Blade Runner" sequel he's making will satisfy his long-held desire to make a sci-fi film.
INTERVIEW HIGHLIGHTS
Where did you and [Taylor] Sheridan [the screenwriter] get the inspiration for the story and the style that it was told in?
The movie is really like you're holding a flashlight in a dark room. It's like you are discovering slowly the truth with the main character. Kate Macer's character, Emily Blunt's character, is based on a real FBI agent working nearby the border. I know that terror was very inspired by this woman and the birth of the project happened when he met her and he decided to create a project to see a female evolving in that man's world.
This film is very tense. How did you and your team -- editor Joe Walker, cinematographer Roger Deakins and composer Jóhann Jóhannsson -- create this atmosphere of foreboding and doom?
First of all, it all started with Taylor Sheridan's screenplay, that fear was so alive in the screenplay from the start. So my job as a director was to protect that drive and when we started to edit the movie, I said to Joe, I would like the tension to be alive without music. So we edited the movie without music, without any single note. It was important for me to extract from each scene it's full potential without having to deal with any music that will help us. Then, Jóhann came on board after that process and I told Jóhann that I wanted music that the audience will feel before they hear it.
I said the example of music I have in my mind, which is one the best scores of all time, is "Jaws" -- kind of barbaric, powerful, dark sound. Jóhann went away and came back with that fantastic score that is by far the best score I've ever had for one of my films.
When you are talking with your department heads and your cinematographer Roger Deakins about the look and feel of this film, what are the kinds of things you are referencing and what was the common ground that you guys kept coming back to?
For me, the main reference was a Kurosawa movie, the "Seven Samurai," one of my favorite movies of all time. One thing that strikes me is how Kurosawa was able to bring tension with immobility, stillness and silence. There's a lot of sequences in this film where nothing is happening, we are waiting for action. We are waiting for violence and that weight is so frightening and there's so much tension. I think there was something he was able to do with minimalistic effect with the simplicity that Roger and I were trying to aim for.
There's a scene with Alejandro, played by Benicio Del Toro, where he's interrogating a prisoner and we have no idea what happens. I'm wondering if that was always your intention, that you were not gonna show what happened in that scene and that the audience was gonna come to its own conclusions?
We had a very tight schedule and I wanted to have as less things on the editing floor as possible. We shot that movie with just enough movie. So to answer your question, what you see on the screen is what we shot. I wanted to evoke things by suggestion.
So necessity was the mother of invention here.
Yeah, that's always the case with movie-making. All filmmakers know we always want more money. But in a way, I think that my answer is not that good. John, I think the real answer is that it's not driven by money, it's driven by the idea that when you are making a dark and violent movie, I wanted the audience to feel the impact, the threat and the ugliness of violence, but I don't want to make a show out of it. I prefer to go in the poetic suggestion.
All of your past films are very dark. Is that the kinds of films you're drawn to? Are you that dark as a person yourself?
No, I think I'm inspired by those things because cinema is a powerful tool to explore our shadows. Honestly, I would love to do a comedy one day but I think the comedy would look more like "Dr. Strangelove" than anything else. In a way, it would be a dark comedy.
I have to ask about "Blade Runner" because I know you've been working on a sequel for that film. It's obviously a hugely beloved movie that has a cult following. How does that kind of pressure, that this movie is so well-revered, affect your approach to it or are you able to separate that out as you approach making this film?
Every movie that I did in my life so far, there was a huge responsibility. When I was doing a movie about the situation in Lebanon -- I was talking about war and victims of war. I had a responsibility towards those people. In "Sicario," I have a responsibility towards Mexicans because I was trying to depict their reality with authenticity. I'm used to working with a lot of pressure and I'm okay with that. I love risk.
This new "Blade Runner" project is, by far, the riskiest project of my life, but there is something deeply exciting at the same time about that. It's a decision that I made not as I was flipping a dime. It's not something I decided one morning. I thought a lot about it. The screenplay, I must say, is very powerful and I'm one of the biggest "Blade Runner" fans. So it was not possible for me to say no.
I've been wanting to do sci-fi since the past 35 years. I understand the pressure I have on my shoulder but it's okay. I'm ready to deal with it. It's part of art for me to make project with pressure.