Everyone around here knows Claude Lelouch for Rendezvous, everyone else knows him for his non car-related endevours. But is that fair? Cars play a role in his films, as he explained to The New York Times: The car is a very important element in my life, because in fact it is my office. It's where I do my writing. I wrote ‘Roman de Gare' on a round trip between Paris and Rome. I take my little tape recorder, and I leave behind my house, my family, my friends - because I have to be alone to write. And I let the car drive itself, without knowing where I'm going. In order to write I need to disconnect from everyday worries and everyday life, but in my car I'm constantly able to observe people, to stop at a bistro or enjoy the scenery."As you can see in the clip from above, which is from A Man And A Woman, it's quite true. If you were a director, wouldn't you? Just like if you were Lewis Hamilton you'd do epic burnouts constantly.
STOP APOLOGIZING FOR DOING WHAT EVERY MAN ON THIS EARTH WOULD DO IF HE WERE YOU. (This could also be directed at a certain golf star, but golf is lame so I don't pay attention to that).
If I were a world champion F1 driver my day would consist of:
Waking next to several nude models. No need to hit the gym; they'll get me exercised good.
On to breakfast, served by my own chef/fitness coordinator/personal trainer, etc.
After breakfast, back to kick out those models. You've got to get them moving, or they'll stay all day, leeching sunlight from the 'verse next to the pool. Yeah...
Oh, what, there's a race this weekend? Dammit, that means I've got to head to the track to get accosted by rich, annoying fans who have more items with my name on them than I do. Hop in the shuttle down to the pits. Take the long way to the track, Jeebs, I've got some new models I'd like to...er...interview.
Spend a couple hours at the track. *yawn Set fast laps in my ridiculously expensive racecar made from evaporated baby tears and unicorn sperm. Make it look easy.
By this time it's mid-afternoon. Time for a cat nap in my own private suite on a Mclaren bus. Chew out personal assistant for sending too chubby a model. It's a small suite, after all.
Head back to the hotel after the last interviews for the day. Have car brought around front, and new models delivered to the lobby. Proceed to destroy new set of tires on car. Police escort would ensure no traffic violations.
Party all night. Models anyone?
I may have missed some important bits in there somewhere, but its my fantasy :P
For the record, the sound above the clip is from the SoCal lo-fi one-girl-group Best Coast. Oddly fitting.