Just met the great Lizzy “No, I’m not on any social media whatsoever” Caplan!
Scenes from Last Night’s Amazing Pulp Fiction Live-Reading at LACMA!
Read more here!Photos: Slash Film
"It really could have gone in a number of terrible directions, but we became very close, very quickly. He was intimidating at first, but now there’s lots of picking on one another, and we hold each other up. The schedule is brutal, so you spend a lot of time together. I like hanging out with Michael." - Lizzy Caplan
"It could go either way — this kind of work could push you apart — but actually it has very much drawn us together. We are very supportive and open with each other. At the same time, there are aspects we don’t talk about because it needs to be uncharted territory [for the characters], in a way. Some things need to be mysterious and unknowable, even about what’s going on between us." - Michael Sheen
*some of my friends know this idea, but I rewrote the story completely last year and its new shape seems so much better and makes more sense to me.
A team of licenced bounty hunters working for the so-called “Agency” get into a car accident so bad their employing company has to use an underdeveloped medical recovery system, which uses a construct to keep the patients’ brain active while they remain on life support.
Either out of laziness or love of art, developers of the system based most landscapes on paintings, so the unlucky three find themselves wandering around Van Gogh’s ochre fields and Hopper’s insomniac interiors. Either of said laziness or lack of skill, the system begins to slowly shut down, cutting off location after location and turning the sky dark.
In the soft quiet paint-stroked end of the world our heroes remember their Agency days, and the elusive days before that, when they didn’t have all those scars on their skin and all that blood on their hands.
With the lack of light other senses grow more alert, the scent of apples drifting in from the darkening garden, tobacco spilling over it every time Lewis as much as nods. He’s been chain smoking ever since the sea disappeared. He was especially angry about the sea, never cared for the fields, the faraway poplars and neat rows of olive trees. Theo borrowed a cigarette from him when the fields went, but that was pretty much it.
But the sea, the sea was mourned.