I recall first seeing NZ Equity President Jennifer Ward-Lealand in a Renee play–“Pass it on” many years ago, plot concerned the 1951 waterfront lockout and Jennifer may have absorbed some of the values therein.
Forgive me if I've misread that as coming across as a touch patronising, but I'd have thought that Ward-Lealand's 'values' would be informed by a professional's understanding of the realities of the industry whose members she represents, rather than any message she may have absorbed from a production that she had an active part as an artist in interpreting.
Yes, but they might value it nonetheless.
When the giggling and farting of the rats in the ceiling starts to get on your nerves you can always bring up your entry in the IMDb.
Actors, writers - creative workers - have always been seen as easy targets - and have always been fed scary stories about what will happen if they don't accept slave wages. I remember clearly being offered wonderful opportunities to work for a pittance because of all the well-paid work I would be sure to pick up afterwards.
The last Australian show that I worked on was the pilot episodes for Mr. Bean: The Animated Series back in 2002. Only when everyone had knocked themselves out establishing the production method of the show was it revealed that the intention all along had been to eventually produce in Hungary. While direction was done from London it was very hands-on, with Rowan Atkinson taking a very detailed interest in how his character was realised. Most scenes were painstakingly re-animated until the desired look and feel was achieved.*
Once the tooling-up phase was done, mostly at a fixed contractual fee, the pilot episodes were used as a model for the non-English speaking team who produced the bulk of the series. Most of those involved were industry veterans, and ruefully admitted that it wasn't the first time they'd been in that kind of situation. The same studio had produced the initial clip for Gorillaz a while earlier, only to see the subsequent spots go to a European studio that profited from their painstaking development work.
*Craftspeople can be real suckers for that kind of thing. Even if they're not paid for reshoots, they still fancy that their efforts are somehow being appreciated.
With the right chemical mixture
All things are possible
Oops, no, I've looked properly out your comment and this isn't the religious organisation you're talking about.
Nice of you to bother, considering my rather over-flippant tone there, but the best way I've found to deal with such folks is not to take them overly seriously. They're just a certain stripe of US-centric fundies who cater to / prey upon the damaged lives end of the market, and possibly do a passing amount of genuine good, though not necessarily by design.
Unlike some of the dodgier operators they don't seem to actively encourage dumping one's psychiatric medication and throwing oneself upon the mercy of the lord for a cure. I know of someone who allows herself to be talked into this occasionally, you know it's happened when one of her letters denouncing the evils of freemasonry turns up in the local rag. Not too funny for her immediate family though.
Many of us express essentially magical beliefs for one reason or another, and often as a means to an end.
I do enjoy the poetry of religion.
Amen (sorry hardline atheists) to that. Venturing beyond the immediately rational, and being able to find one's way back whenever one chooses, is what makes so much of life worth living.
Sorry Sofie, I think I started the pig-dissing. Point taken.
That said, I DON'T eat pigs. Or cows. Or any mammals.
Occasionally I'll have a whitebait fritter though. One bite, so many lives.
one heavily tattooed chap denounced the Catholic church, and then went on to inveigh against evolution and the laughable idea that we had descended from the trees, or from anything in fact... he said i would be beseeching God on my deathbed - cheery fella, charitably I'd say he used to be messed up on drugs and now he's messed up on religion...
Sounds like he's a member of that special church, for special people, the name of which I've never bothered to establish. Even the clergy are special - proudly iggerant hillbilly crackers sent out to spread the word, a basic tenet of which seems to be that Americans are somewhere between angels and regular humans. For some reason this seems to go over really well with certain NZers. If he called you brother at any point, and had a rather disconcerting way of stretching the vowel whenever he mentioned the laaaaaaaaawd, he's gotta be one of them.
A few years back they were preaching that Dubya was ordained by God. I know this because my neighbour sneakily put a leaflet to that effect in my letterbox, which breached our policy of tolerance. After I did my balls he rather sheepishly admitted that the idea was a bit silly, but if he didn't go along with the church's teachings he'd be back on the piss in no time.
Much to do with muskets . . .
Ewart O'Donnell, in Roderick Allan McDonald's Te Hekenga, 1920:
Incidentally it was always said by the Maoris who fought on the British side against Te Rangihaeata in the Hutt campaign, that they had invariably abstracted the bullets from their cartridges, when firing against the Ngati-Toa, using powder only, and that they merely joined the British in order to get muskets. Whether this was true, or merely a policy statement circulated after the King movement had healed the breaches between the tribes, it is difficult to say.
Ignorant fucks, regardless of class, have always tended to extrapolate from within their own little pockets of pig-ignorance.
I won't turn my fire on Labour . . .
Assuming it's them then they may, given time, end up doing it for you. Of the two biggest beneficiaries of Labour Party branch stacking back in the day, one went on to lead the ACT Party, while the other supposedly had a major hand in producing Brash's Orewa speech.