Jere quería hacer todo un plano secuencia desde un plano general fijo (que fue lo que él terminó entregando), pero yo hacía cámara y sinceramente lo que veía que pasaba en cuadro no me convencía para nada, no estaba contento con la interpretación de los actores (no se les puede reclamar mucho, son solo chicos), ni con la iluminación lograda, y me molestaba el hecho que desde un plano general poco se podía apreciar de las acciones que Salinger describía en el capitulo adaptado.
Así que mi sugerencia fue hacer mas planos, cosa de poder concentrarnos en cada plano en la acción que los chicos tenían que hacer y poder mover las luces a nuestro gusto que al tener planos mas cerrados no nos iban a complicar tanto. Lo hicimos y este fue el resultado:
Así que mi sugerencia fue hacer mas planos, cosa de poder concentrarnos en cada plano en la acción que los chicos tenían que hacer y poder mover las luces a nuestro gusto que al tener planos mas cerrados no nos iban a complicar tanto. Lo hicimos y este fue el resultado:
Este fue el texto adaptado:
I forgot about that. I forgot she always sleeps in D.B.'s room when he's away in
Hollywood or some place. She likes it because it's the biggest room in the house. Also
because it has this big old madman desk in it that D.B. bought off some lady alcoholic in
Philadelphia, and this big, gigantic bed that's about ten miles wide and ten miles long. I
don't know where he bought that bed. Anyway, old Phoebe likes to sleep in D.B.'s room
when he's away, and he lets her. You ought to see her doing her homework or something
at that crazy desk. It's almost as big as the bed. You can hardly see her when she's doing
her homework. That's the kind of stuff she likes, though. She doesn't like her own room
because it's too little, she says. She says she likes to spread out. That kills me. What's old
Phoebe got to spread out? Nothing.
Anyway, I went into D.B.'s room quiet as hell, and turned on the lamp on the
desk. Old Phoebe didn't even wake up. When the light was on and all, I sort of looked at
her for a while. She was laying there asleep, with her face sort of on the side of the
pillow. She had her mouth way open. It's funny. You take adults, they look lousy when
they're asleep and they have their mouths way open, but kids don't. Kids look all right.
They can even have spit all over the pillow and they still look all right.
I went around the room, very quiet and all, looking at stuff for a while. I felt
swell, for a change. I didn't even feel like I was getting pneumonia or anything any more.
I just felt good, for a change. Old Phoebe's clothes were on this chair right next to the
bed. She's very neat, for a child. I mean she doesn't just throw her stuff around, like some
kids. She's no slob. She had the jacket to this tan suit my mother bought her in Canada
hung up on the back of the chair. Then her blouse and stuff were on the seat. Her shoes
and socks were on the floor, right underneath the chair, right next to each other. I never
saw the shoes before. They were new. They were these dark brown loafers, sort of like
this pair I have, and they went swell with that suit my mother bought her in Canada. My
mother dresses her nice. She really does. My mother has terrific taste in some things.
She's no good at buying ice skates or anything like that, but clothes, she's perfect. I mean
Phoebe always has some dress on that can kill you. You take most little kids, even if their
parents are wealthy and all, they usually have some terrible dress on. I wish you could see
old Phoebe in that suit my mother bought her in Canada. I'm not kidding.
I sat down on old D.B.'s desk and looked at the stuff on it. It was mostly Phoebe's
stuff, from school and all. Mostly books. The one on top was called Arithmetic Is Fun! I
sort of opened the first page and took a look at it. This is what old Phoebe had on it:
PHOEBE WEATHERFIELD CAULFIELD
4B-1
That killed me. Her middle name is Josephine, for God's sake, not Weatherfield.
She doesn't like it, though. Every time I see her she's got a new middle name for herself.
The book underneath the arithmetic was a geography, and the book under the
geography was a speller. She's very good in spelling. She's very good in all her subjects,
but she's best in spelling. Then, under the speller, there were a bunch of notebooks. She
has about five thousand notebooks. You never saw a kid with so many notebooks. I
opened the one on top and looked at the first page. It had on it:
Bernice meet me at recess I have something
very very important to tell you.
That was all there was on that page. The next one had on it:
Why has south eastern Alaska so many caning factories?
Because theres so much salmon
Why has it valuable forests?
because it has the right climate.
What has our government done to make
life easier for the alaskan eskimos?
look it up for tomorrow!!!
Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield
Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield
Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield
Phoebe W. Caulfield
Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield, Esq.
Please pass to Shirley!!!!
Shirley you said you were sagitarius
but your only taurus bring your skates
when you come over to my house
I sat there on D.B.'s desk and read the whole notebook. It didn't take me long, and
I can read that kind of stuff, some kid's notebook, Phoebe's or anybody's, all day and all
night long. Kid's notebooks kill me. Then I lit another cigarette--it was my last one. I
must've smoked about three cartons that day. Then, finally, I woke her up. I mean I
couldn't sit there on that desk for the rest of my life, and besides, I was afraid my parents
might barge in on me all of a sudden and I wanted to at least say hello to her before they
did. So I woke her up.
She wakes up very easily. I mean you don't have to yell at her or anything. All
you have to do, practically, is sit down on the bed and say, "Wake up, Phoeb," and bingo,
she's awake.
"Holden!" she said right away. She put her arms around my neck and all. She's
very affectionate. I mean she's quite affectionate, for a child. Sometimes she's even too
affectionate.
Hollywood or some place. She likes it because it's the biggest room in the house. Also
because it has this big old madman desk in it that D.B. bought off some lady alcoholic in
Philadelphia, and this big, gigantic bed that's about ten miles wide and ten miles long. I
don't know where he bought that bed. Anyway, old Phoebe likes to sleep in D.B.'s room
when he's away, and he lets her. You ought to see her doing her homework or something
at that crazy desk. It's almost as big as the bed. You can hardly see her when she's doing
her homework. That's the kind of stuff she likes, though. She doesn't like her own room
because it's too little, she says. She says she likes to spread out. That kills me. What's old
Phoebe got to spread out? Nothing.
Anyway, I went into D.B.'s room quiet as hell, and turned on the lamp on the
desk. Old Phoebe didn't even wake up. When the light was on and all, I sort of looked at
her for a while. She was laying there asleep, with her face sort of on the side of the
pillow. She had her mouth way open. It's funny. You take adults, they look lousy when
they're asleep and they have their mouths way open, but kids don't. Kids look all right.
They can even have spit all over the pillow and they still look all right.
I went around the room, very quiet and all, looking at stuff for a while. I felt
swell, for a change. I didn't even feel like I was getting pneumonia or anything any more.
I just felt good, for a change. Old Phoebe's clothes were on this chair right next to the
bed. She's very neat, for a child. I mean she doesn't just throw her stuff around, like some
kids. She's no slob. She had the jacket to this tan suit my mother bought her in Canada
hung up on the back of the chair. Then her blouse and stuff were on the seat. Her shoes
and socks were on the floor, right underneath the chair, right next to each other. I never
saw the shoes before. They were new. They were these dark brown loafers, sort of like
this pair I have, and they went swell with that suit my mother bought her in Canada. My
mother dresses her nice. She really does. My mother has terrific taste in some things.
She's no good at buying ice skates or anything like that, but clothes, she's perfect. I mean
Phoebe always has some dress on that can kill you. You take most little kids, even if their
parents are wealthy and all, they usually have some terrible dress on. I wish you could see
old Phoebe in that suit my mother bought her in Canada. I'm not kidding.
I sat down on old D.B.'s desk and looked at the stuff on it. It was mostly Phoebe's
stuff, from school and all. Mostly books. The one on top was called Arithmetic Is Fun! I
sort of opened the first page and took a look at it. This is what old Phoebe had on it:
PHOEBE WEATHERFIELD CAULFIELD
4B-1
That killed me. Her middle name is Josephine, for God's sake, not Weatherfield.
She doesn't like it, though. Every time I see her she's got a new middle name for herself.
The book underneath the arithmetic was a geography, and the book under the
geography was a speller. She's very good in spelling. She's very good in all her subjects,
but she's best in spelling. Then, under the speller, there were a bunch of notebooks. She
has about five thousand notebooks. You never saw a kid with so many notebooks. I
opened the one on top and looked at the first page. It had on it:
Bernice meet me at recess I have something
very very important to tell you.
That was all there was on that page. The next one had on it:
Why has south eastern Alaska so many caning factories?
Because theres so much salmon
Why has it valuable forests?
because it has the right climate.
What has our government done to make
life easier for the alaskan eskimos?
look it up for tomorrow!!!
Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield
Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield
Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield
Phoebe W. Caulfield
Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield, Esq.
Please pass to Shirley!!!!
Shirley you said you were sagitarius
but your only taurus bring your skates
when you come over to my house
I sat there on D.B.'s desk and read the whole notebook. It didn't take me long, and
I can read that kind of stuff, some kid's notebook, Phoebe's or anybody's, all day and all
night long. Kid's notebooks kill me. Then I lit another cigarette--it was my last one. I
must've smoked about three cartons that day. Then, finally, I woke her up. I mean I
couldn't sit there on that desk for the rest of my life, and besides, I was afraid my parents
might barge in on me all of a sudden and I wanted to at least say hello to her before they
did. So I woke her up.
She wakes up very easily. I mean you don't have to yell at her or anything. All
you have to do, practically, is sit down on the bed and say, "Wake up, Phoeb," and bingo,
she's awake.
"Holden!" she said right away. She put her arms around my neck and all. She's
very affectionate. I mean she's quite affectionate, for a child. Sometimes she's even too
affectionate.
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