‘A questing knight nears the end of his journey’. Featuring Adam James

Dir / DoP: Rollo
Cam Op: Sy Turnbull
Rambler wrangler: Tom Dean
Prod Co: fletcherwilson.com

This is a promo I made for the Genero.tv, David Lynch competition… Unfortunately not the winner. Here is the original pitch description of the piece:

A cinematic knights tale / public performance

Night. Firelight reflects in tired eyes, an orange glow shivers on cold moon lit chainmail. He smears a black liquid across his face in an attempt to remove it.

Cut to Day. A tired knight tramples through a cold forest, the camera attached to him, hovering. Condensation from heavy breaths escapes the vents in his helmet, we can feel the weight of the armour as he walks and of the world on his shoulders. Glimpses of other weary actions intercut; Frost melts in the armours joints, hands red with cold clasp a wet leather bound book.

Midday, he sits alone in a clearing, heavy armour and heavy breathing to recuperate. Macro shots detail the man opening and leafing through an old book, we can’t make out the words, but as he reads he mutters them under his breath. Behind him, in soft focus a red shape drifts past frame. The man pulls out a cling-filmed sandwich, its painful to open in the cold, but he does so with hunger.

The Knight walks. He takes of his helmet; his pale white skin is luminescent. He sings to camera. ‘I wanna have a good day today…’

Back in the clearing, having finished lunch, he enthusiastically forages, Ripping up the fallen leaves, climbing trees, a Knight possessed. The background comes into focus; a lone elderly woman in climbing boots and a North Face jacket watches the madness. He becomes emotional. The lady looks a worried. A macro shot as he digs into the earth and pulls up a large stick. A weapon.

The Knight walks, the sun is starting to set, in the distance we see the public walk by. His face is tired. He is nearing the end of his journey.

Wide shots detail the setting sun and his full profile; shining armour on top, warm trousers on his bottom half, his trainers sink into the sodden earth as he tramples between trees. We cut back in time, the Knight eagerly chats to members of the public. He sips from a carton of orange juice. He sharpens the stick he is carrying into a point. We see flashes of the opening shot, closer in, the dark liquid across his face is red.

The Knight walks. Twilight now, a blue hue falls across his skin. Joggers run past laughing. He continues, a long journey jump cut as the sun finally fades, he arrives at his destination, looking up. Looking worried. An orange glow tickles his face. Fire. A harrowing roar permeates through the audio track as it ends.