Near – A feature film – Shot in 1 Take

Dear friend,

We would like you to support our film Nēar’ by simply clicking ‘follow’ on our campaign in the link below. It would mean the world to us as we need 500 followers in order to be considered for the full grant. The more followers we get, the more chances of winning and the movie being produced.
Near
The project is almost fully funded — so our money goal is minor. However, we cannot stress any more on the importance of the followers.

 

What’s the Story with Near?

Nēar follows 17-year-old, Julian played by Skylan Brooks (Inevitable Defeat of Mister & Pete, Southpaw, Netflix’ The Get Down, Crown Heights) upon his escape from the hospital on Christmas Eve, the day which is literally to be the last day of his life Julian decides to search for his estranged father, this is Julian’s last known living relative. Oh, and did we mention that this will be the first American feature film shot in ONE TAKE? Yes, one take, not Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Birdman, not Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope, and not last year’s indie one-take German breakout Victoria,  well, because it’s a German film.

We have also been given the opportunity to create our film with “CtrlMovie”. This a cutting edge film-technology software/application that gives the filmmaker the ability to create several outcomes to their film. This curring edge technology championed by filmmakers Tobias Weber & Chady Eli Mattar allows for multiple endings and various choices to be made by the audience. This means — YOU will control outcomes and choices for our protagonist Julian. These choices are made seamlessly without interruption in the viewing process along w/ a linear option of the film which would play in the one take option only.

How can you support us?

Please follow the link below and support our campaign:

www.seedandspark.com/near

 

Best regards,

Lionel

Bundle of Joy

I tried so hard to make him see sense, but Cecil refused to listen to my good advice. In the end, I had to be very fierce with him for his own good. I arranged for extra tuition and every evening I inspected his exercise books to make sure he was concentrating on his studies.

He did study hard, a pious boy, but still, when I went into his room, I found small drawings scattered all over his youthful chamber. It was difficult for me to hide my anger. After everything I had told him he was still painting like a messianic madman. My only son! Here I was making money so that he could have a good life, but all he wanted to do was paint like an absent-minded simpleton. He told me that he wanted to share his feelings with the world because they are so strong. I tried to control myself but he was so obstinate. I called Cecil into our living room and said,

“I have noticed you are still painting, even after I forbade you to!

Cecil just looked at the ground in silence.

“Cecil, I am talking to you.”

I could feel my anger rising.

“Why are you disobeying your father?” I asked angrily.

“Dad, you say we should follow our talents. Painting is my talent.” Cecil answered.

“Talent? You think painting is talent? You should follow a talent that will bring you a good life. You are not going to have a good life through painting. I have already told you. You should become a lawyer.”

“I don’t want to be a lawyer.” Cecil replies.

“Listen to me, Cecil. You know nothing about life. Without a good education and a good career these days, you are nothing, do you hear me?” I shouted at him. Cecil said nothing again. In the end I was so angry that I unbuckled my leather belt and started whipping him, yelling,

“Today I will teach you a lesson you will never forget. Obey your father, respect your father and follow you father’s advice. Otherwise you are nothing. I will not let my son be a nothing, never, never, never.”

Cecil just stood there and said nothing. He just flinched every time I hit him but he did not cry out at all. I felt my blood beginning to circulate faster; I started trembling with incorrigible anger, and begun whipping my recalcitrant son harder and harder until Cecil’s mother came out of somewhere and started screaming,

“Help, everyone help, he is killing my son.”

She grabbed my arm and tried to stop me, screaming at the top of her voice. I stopped. Cecil still said nothing. I recovered my breath and waved the belt buckle in his face,

“Now let that be a lesson to you,” I said, trembling and breathing hard. “If I see you painting one more picture that will be the end between you and me.” Cecil walked out.

My heart was pounding in my chest as if it feared that my soul wanted to carve its way out and run off out the front door. I looked at my wife, and she looked back at me as if she did not recognize me. We looked at each other in the half-light of the setting sun, searching for words that did not exist. For the first time, I realized that I was growing old.

After that particular encounter with Cecil, I never really saw my baby boy painting again. In fact, I hardly saw Cecil at all. Oh yes, he greeted me in the morning with the customary ‘Morning Pa’ but that was all. Whenever I came home in the evenings, Cecil was never to be seen. If I asked his mother, she replied, “He is doing his homework.”

Every day!

“He is doing his homework.”

And if I tried to insist that he come out of his room, she still repeated, “He is doing his homework. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

 

Liturgy

Adjatay, of the Bwiti cult, was well known throughout the villages and even beyond. His fame rested on solid personal achievements. As a young man of sixteen he had brought honor to his village by killing Achi the cat with his bare hands. Achi, a black panther, the most elusive and strongest climber of all felines had terrorized the villagers with its uncommon hunger for human flesh. Adjatay, unusually tall and huge for his age, tracked the feline in the most hostile forest in the land and killed it.

In the traditional cults of the Bwiti; the individual is often submerged under the weight of his family. With the development of a trend of individualism, each man now wants to have his own ancestral relics and administer the rites of his cult apart from his brothers.  Adjatay is clearly cut out for great things. He is still young but he has won fame as the most notorious feline killer. Age is still respected among his people, but achievement is evermore revered. As the elders say, if a child washes his hands he can eat with kings.  It is now time for Adjatay to wash his hands through the initiatic rite of the Bwiti. Through dialogues with the ancestors, Adjatay will become Nganga, which means an initiated man. Adjatay will have developed a better understanding of himself and of the world with the aim to cure and guide others on the path of personal development.

The initiation:

In the heat of a December afternoon, in the heart of the Equatorial Forest, Adjatay’s village resounds with the call of drums. A towering figure covered with raffia palm leaves and topped with a finely carved wooden head is moving through the village. It is an embodied spirit. The rhythmic drums perpetually beat, and the flutes sing and the spectators hold their breath. The embodied spirit is surrounded by young men dressed in short loincloths, their bodies whitened with chalk. These men wield long switches witch keep the gathering crowed at a distance. The spirit sways with the music, and the men sing as they dash to and fro. After a while the spirit troupe disappears into the men’s meeting house. Once in the house, the novices ingest the Iboga plant which gives the young men visions and hallucinations allowing them to travel to the ancestors’ land. It is a rebirth initiation. Symbolically the young boys are killed and made born again. All through the day, performances such as these will continue: masquerades, singing, dancing, and every sort of festivity. It is a rite of passage celebrating the fact that a particular age set has officially gained recognition in the community as full adults.

 

Silent Love

Silent Love

Quietly

You were there

Watching me attentively

You are an answered prayer

I can only wonder

The depth of your thoughts

Lightning flash without thunder

You are a silent juggernaut

Still waters run deep

Faithful and righteous soul

Love is never lost, but words are cheap

As we saunter, holding hands on a peaceful stroll

A life of silent love

For you were the one, who cared

Cuddling in the summer alcove

For you were the one for who I was unprepared

Strong and True

I will age

And so will you

I am no sage

And this is my view

We are all we got

Me and my crew

We could be chilling on a yacht

But the plans fell through

It is the life we choose

Where friends become foes

It is a life of ego, drugs and booze

That brings fake snakes and dishonest hoes

When the chips are down

I realize I am all alone

Because nobody is around

I cry tears that are bitter and warm

The world moves fast

An old friend came back and stopped

He pulled me out at last

Because he realized I was knocked

Let us not talk of money

Let us forget the world

Let us focus on our comradery

Forget the yacht

Let us sail unfurled

I will age

And so will you

I hope our friendship stays

Strong and True