We're on a road trip. In my book; the 'ultimate road trip'. We're travelling Route 66 - also known as the 'Main Street of America' and the 'Mother Road'. We're very excited. The famous US Route 66 came into force in 1926 - just in time to help the fleeing citizens of Oklahoma and the Eastern states during Dust-Bowl.
It's not often that one finds themselves completely at home in a strange place, yet the streets and silhouettes of the city of West Hollywood (or WeHo as it's affectionately referred to by Angelenos) feel intoxicatingly familiar and simultaneously seductive. My short stay is retreating hastily; as my plans over-flow in my mind.
I'm not advocating taking a torch to your local bank branch in California, but if you're going to face thirteen years for drawing with chalk, objectively, it makes more since to make sure the building is empty of people and just burn the bank down. That, more than anything, should show the absurdity of the charges these activists are facing and the creeping authoritarianism of the state.
This is the story of three film-makers who go out in search of the Bigfoot due to a recent alleged sighting. This is meant to take place in Siskiyou County, California. These three young individuals are similar to those characters in the Blair Witch Project (BWP) in that they are of low intelligence and act irrationally - perhaps I think this because I'm British.
Given we are in an age where traditional media, entertainment and communications are all being bulldozed by a digital, non-location specific cloud approach, standing there with arms crossed refusing to let this international celebration of film spread its glory globally, looking much like an incorrigibly stubborn little Oscars statue, is surely quite backwards.