thomas redwood

2

“In reference to Angelopolous’ staging techniques, [David] Bordwell suggests that by framing characters’ backs and shoulders Angelopolous “marks out human presence but also coaxes our eye to the surroundings”. Denying the spectator access to the character’s face (which Bordwell fairly claims to be “the most informative part of the body”) such staging strategies “oblige [the spectator] to study the body’s relation to the larger field in which it is inserted”… The “doubling” of characters in Mirror and the “decentring” of dialogue in Stalker are two strategies that de-prioritise human characters’ significance within the overall mise-en-scene.”

- Thomas Redwood, Andrei Tarkovsky’s Poetic Cinema, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010

Hot for the Teacher ll

Imagine you’re Abel’s teacher (age 5) and SAMCRO attends to the school annual bake off. 

Originally posted by indie-cinema

Originally posted by tiffanydearr


You didn’t called. You didn’t asked the kid about his father and certainly you were nowhere the TM in hopes to find Jackson Teller. You knew better than that. Of course, he was a handsome bad biker and yeah, your panties were ruined by the end of the day when you met him but it was non ethical to flirt with one of your students dad. 

Single dad. You sighed as you got up and started to write on the board the promotional for this Friday’s annual school bake off. 

“Now, every single one of you would bring your favorite dessert. Mine are chocolate chip cookies.” You put out as an example, even though it was true. Almost all the kids cheered, making you grin. “Either mommy or daddy have to come with you to sell the dessert. You’ll  have plany of fun, guys, it will be like a carnival. Remember the kid that sells the most will have an special gift at the end of the day.” The bell ringed making everyone stand up and leave quickly, Abel running out, you holding back, trying not to follow him. You were kind of nervous, about seeing Jax again, but you tried to shrug it off. He probably wouldnt showed up to a silly bake off. 

You stepped out of the shower on Friday, applying your make up on the table in front of your bed; The white pin up style dress with a red rose pattern laying on the bed along with simple red sneakers; After finishing your mascara you saw it on the top right corner of the mirror, next to a picture of you with your childhood dog and the grocerie list; Jax’s number. You sighed and shook your head, avoiding the feeling. You wouldn’t give in, you would be professional and you would sell the pumpkin pie you bought this morning at Walt Mart. 

You stepped into the school playground, pumpkin pie in hand, purse on your arm, papers on the other one. You waved at your coworkers, as you walked past them, setting your dessert on the table, next to the class moms and even some dads. Your class was small, maybe 15 kids, so you knew pretty much everyone. Kids were running around, tables on the place filled with perfect and delicious looking pies and desserts and also balloons, music, people dancing and places where the kids could draw and paint. You smiled, finishing decorating the table and clapped your hands together. Everyone was there, but a little blonde kid was missing.

“Katie…” you asked the teacher with the table next to your class. “Have you seen Abel Teller?” She looked like she was thinking and then shook her head. 

“Isn’t that him?” a usual band of Harley’s parked outside the school playground and Abel hoped off, helmet still in his head running over to you. You smiled looking at his tiny legs mess up the grass. You looked up, leather following him. Chibs running to catch him and lift him up the air, that’s when you noticed the kid had a cookie, half of it, at least on his hand. 

“What did i told ya, little lass?” The Scotsman said. “No running with food in ya’ mouth.” He nodded, offering Chibs the rest of his cookie as an apology, which Chibs took, stuffing his mouth with it. He placed Abel down and walked over to you. “Mrs. (Y/N), always a pleasure.” 

“Fillip” You greeted, crunching down to reach Abel’s height, being meted by a big beautiful and very Teller-like smile. “Hey Abel.”

“Hi Mrs. (Y/N).” He greeted blushing a little. You messed up his hair.

“Why don’t you go play with Angela and Charlie, huh? They’re over the, by the swings, next to Mrs. La-brad. Have some fun.” Abel nodded and walked over to his friends, catching up on the playing schedule. “He was supposed to bring a dessert.” 

“And he does.” A grey hair, big man said, wearing an Elvis costume along with a pink apron and holding a tray, filled half with big and amazing looking cookies and half with spongy chocolate cupcakes said, flashing a smile at you. “Bobby Elvis; Abel’s uncle” 

“Really?” Chibs nodded taking off his gloves and placing himself behind the table, smirking at the young mothers. 

“SAMCRO is here to help Abel win the prize.” Bobby said. “And i offered Mrs. Munion an special Elvis number. Kids love the King.” You nodded. Charming kids seemed to love Elvis Presley. Right after Bobby and Chibs, a tattoo scalped dorky looking man, older than you for about 3 years walked in, another tray in his hands.  You crossed your arms in front of your chest; You couldn’t believe it. 

“Hey.” Juice greeted. “These are the last ones” 

“I made 4 trays.” The man nodded, then pointed at the other 5, or 6 man chilling next to their Harleys, lifting several cupcakes and cookies, making Bobby shake his head. “Big bad biker love dessert.” Juice snorted and nodded, aiming to grab a cookie.

“A dollar!” Abel said running towards Juice and jumping into Chibs arms. “That’s a dollar, Juicy” Juan Carlos scoffed and nodded, handing the little boy a dollar, enjoying his not so free cookie. You laughed at the cute scene, but you could tell your suspicions were right. Jax was not coming. 

Or that’s what you thought, when you saw him pull over and hop off his bike, taking off his helmet and fixing his pants. Abel was playing with you with a red shinning ball when he saw his daddy.

“Daddy!” He screamed running to meet him, making you smile as you got up and quickly followed, fixing your dress; suddenly, and as twisted as it sounded, you wished you had wore something more flattering. Jax picked his son up and kissed his forehead, making Abel laugh and squirm in his arms. 

“You finally arrived.” You said caressing Abel’s hair and smiling at Jax.

“Wouldn’t miss it. With all the TM and MC business, Bobby doesn’t bake as much as he did.” He smiled at you, giving you a warm smile and walking closer, kissing your cheek. “How’s it going, Miss?” You blushed bright red and smiled. 

“It’s going.” 

Abel was playing with his father’s kutte. “And his Elvis is even rarer.” He continued as he looked down at Abel and kissed his forehead again. “What are you doing son?”

You bit your lip; How could he be a mix of everything? How could he be a father and the president of an outlaw club? How could he hold his 5 year old with hands that killed and tortured? 

How could you be so afraid of him and still feel so attracted? 

“Hey son-” He said, placing Abel down, while still looking at you. “Remember what we talked at home?” His soon put on a lost face then nodded, smiling and even blushing a little. Abel was adorable. “Go on, then.” He gave him 5 dollars and Abel ran away, screaming and laughing as Chibs tried to chase him. 

“Seems like your baked goods are doing fine.” You said fixing your hair and looking at Juice and Elvis selling out Abel’s dessert, while flirting with the young mothers. “It’s the Reaper charm.” You laughed along with Jax, until an old lady, probably a grandma looked at the bikers like they had the plague and three heads. Jax went fully silent and shook his head, sitting down in a chair near.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, walking closer to him. Jax lighted up a cigarette without a drop of shame and shook his head.

“Did you saw that?” You turned around, hands on your hips, knowing he meant the rude old ladies. “That’s the look that Abel’s gonna get just because i’m his old man. He’s not gonna be Abel. He’s going to be Jackson Teller’s son all his life, who knows…” he said looking down and blowing the smoke off; For a minute you thought he was talking to himself, forgetting about you. “Maybe he’s going to pay for my sins.”

“Well-” you began looking at your neatly painted red nails. “I think this town needs to start looking behind the kutte. You’re all man, most of you are fathers.” Jax nodded. 

“You see behind the kutte?”

“I try”

He snorted and smiled. “What do you see?”

“I see loving father, a troubled young men. A widower, an outlaw with  a firm sense of what’s right.” This made Jax look up at you. “Someone’s who’s fighting to make the right thing. And who knows…” making sure no one was looking you took a drag of the cigarette blowing the smoke out. “Maybe Abel’s not gonna pay for anything.”  

Jax looked at you as a blind man would see his mothers face for the first time. You blushed and looked down, afraid that you were being too personal. 

“You know…”

Jax was interrupted when Juice come on to both of you, jogging slightly. 

“Jax, we need to go. Alvarez called.” Jax looked at Juice and nodded, stomping on his cigarette as the tattooed man walked away. He called for Abel, who showed him a thumbs up,  but the little boy was already being handled by Chibs who was putting a helmet on him.

“Duty calls.” He said smiling at you, a bit cheeky. You nodded. 

“I understand.”

“You think you do.” The president looked back, all his brothers already on their bikes. “Listen…” his blue eyes piercing into yours. “Come over at TM tomorrow. Saturdays always call for parties there. Inside of you, you were screaming like a 15 year old, but you had to remain profesional. 

“Oh, Jax, i don’t think it would be a good idea.” You said, when every nerve on your body wanted to scream yes. 

“Abel’s leaving to a farm with my ex wife for the weekend. She’s taking him and Thomas, that way we won’t give the poor kid any ideas.” 

You shifted, akwardly on your place but nodded. 

“9 PM. Maybe i can show you something more than a loving father.” He winked, kissing your hand like a gentleman and leaving you standing there. 

When you came back to your table, you found a big box of your favorite chocolate cookies, the one’s that Lana’s mom made, a note attached to it. 

“We heard you like chocolate chip cookies. Treat yourself. 

xoxo, Abel and Jax Teller.” 

Cheeky girls.

Imagine you work as a make up artist  in Cara Cara, and when SAMCRO pays a visit, your best friend Lyla asks you to join her in a scene. 

Originally posted by imagine-samcro

“You’re getting it in my eye!” Lyla, your best friend laughed as you finished doing her makeup. She pushed you away giggling as you cleaned your hands on the little makeup apron you wore to work. The blonde actress got up, looking at herself in the mirror, wearing nothing but a black lace g-string and a cropped tight white wife beater. Lyla was your best friend since you could remember, that’s why she took you into her house and offered you a job as soon as you graduated from Beauty School, after talking to Luann, of course. You lived together and worked together, you also took care of Piper together; The three of you were a small yet happy family. She was your best friend in the whole wide world.

“How do i look?” She asked you fixing her long eyelashes. 

“Like a porn start.” You joked getting your things in all the right boxers at backstage. She stuck her tongue out at you and laned over, giving you a friendly hug. 

“Okay, let’s go.” She said as you two walked out to the set, watching the crew set everything in order. The set Lyla was going to work today was as simple as you could get it. A big broad bed with white sheets, dim light and a female coworker this time. You sat down, emergency bag on your lap and enjoyed your work, that until a loud series of cheers called your attention, smiling seconds after.

SAMCRO was on the set, as they owned practically the half of it. Your favorite boys in town. Chibs was hugging Luann, as well as Jax, probably sealing some kind of deal; Boss was shaking her head and smiling, kissing everyone’s cheek. You got up and walked over to them, waving at everyone.

“There she is!” Chibs called, embracing you in a father-like hug. “Hi, (Y/N)”

“Hey, Chibbie.” You said and smiled at all of them. “What’s going on?”

“Luann sealed the best deal of her life, “ Jax said. “and we want to stay around a bit, check on the business.”

“Check on the pussy.” Tig stepped in, making everyone laugh. 

“CUT!” Someone yelled, making all the heads turn. Lyla was walking over at you, an awkward expression on her face. You started to shake your head, for you knew that face was trouble. 

“(Y/N)…” she trailed off. You fixed your glasses and bit your lip, willing to listen to her then refusing anyway. “Ima called in sick and you’re only one available…” You eyes started to panic. You? in a lesbian porn scene? with your best friend?

“Lyla…I’m no actress.” You said, looking at the SAMCRO members, all expecting and already giggling. “I’m a makeup artists, and you’re my best friend.” You groaned, frustrated. 

“Look, it wont be for free. They’re gonna pay you, it can be unaccredited.” She grabbed your hand and bit her lip, jumping up and down. “Please, (Y/N), i need the money…” 

You took a deep breath, ready to say that you were going to lend her some but then you heard Juice scoff behind both of you, making you turn around.

“Lyla, i can lend you money, because (Y/N) won’t do it.” You blinked and stared at him.

“Explain yourself, Ortiz.” 

“C’mon…” he said, teasing you by pinching your sides. “You’re a nice girl, really beautiful but…i don’t you have the guts.” This made Tig and Bobby laugh, but what really got you was Jax nodding. 

“You agree?” 

Jax looked at you, sending a smirk in your direction as he lighted a cigarette.

“I think he’s right. You’re absolutely stunning, but, you know, you couldn’t pull it off. You aint about this.”

That was it. You turned around, and walked away, leaving your best friend and SAMCRO standing in the middle of the set.

Half an hour later, you were just finishing your own make up. Bold lips, smokey eyes and fierce eyebrows. You looked down at the outfit under your Cara Cara robe. Black lace boy shorts and a tight, almost transparent black bralet. You sighed and tighten the robe on your body, your bare feet driving you over to where Lyla was sitting, checking her phone with a defeated look. 

You cleared your throat calling her attention. She looked up and then trailed your body, arching an eyebrow. You sighed, rolling your eyes as you let the robe fall, pooling around your ankles. Her look said it all as she stood up, hugging you and jumping around with you in her arms. 

“Thank you so much! Oh my god!” she cheered, letting go off you. “You’re the best, really, I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with.” You said holding up the script on your hand. You already knew the script, since you’ve helped Lyla to rehearse it tons of times. You both walked into set, hand in hand, making the Sons of Anarchy jaws drop. Tig began whistling, Opie and Happy leaning back on their sits smiling at each other. Bobby laughed and Jax stood there, cigarette in his lips. You winked at him and got on the bed, fixing your hair and listening to Luann’s directions. 

“Alright, girls. It’s a short promo. Basically…” She began, as the rest of the crew oiled your skin and got the scenario ready. “You two make out for a few minutes, do it naturally, please, (Y/N) i know it’s your fist time but try not to look constipated.” You laughed at this and got on your knees on top of the bed. “It will be quick. Thank you so much, babe.” She kissed both of you and went back to her director chair, SAMCRO behind her. 

You filmed a sequence of Lyla leading you to the bed, hand in hand, you grabbing her waist and both falling into bed, giggling and rubbing your noses together. You could see from the corner of your eyes how Tig was having the time of his life, while Chibs gulped down some Bourbon. Lyla was on top of you fixing her hair to a side and arching his back, her ass in full display to the camera. You had the work to role both of you, so now you were on top and facing to the camera. 

Doing it, you faced the camera man, as your bralet fell to the bed, making Juice gasp like a teenager. Lyla’s hand covered your breast in perfect sync, her red painted nail fingers pressing, making you moan out and bite your lip. You had only one line on the whole video, and it was your time. 

 “Want to join us? CaraCara Productions. Making your dreams come true.”  The camera focused on Lyla, the petite blonde sticking her tongue out sexily. 

“Even the dirty ones.” Both of you caressed for a few more seconds, standing up, kneeing on the bed, pressing open mouth, hot wet kisses. 

“And…” Luann said, checking the screen making sure it was alright. “Cut!” You covered your breasts and fell back on the bed, laughing your ass off, same as Lyla. Luann smiled and clapped, the MC loosing it behind her.

“Encore!” Juice demanded. “Oh my god, you deserve a fucking Oscar!” Tig was out of words, adjusting himself.

“I met God today, brother.” He confessed to an inusual absent Happy. Lyla pecked your lips lightly, as a thank you.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N), you’re the best friend ever.” You nodded and got up. 

“Let’s go, i have to make you up for the next one.” You said, walking past SAMCRO swinging your hips on purpose. Jax stood on the door, letting Lyla walk by but moving slowly when it was your turn. You looked at him, his beard covered smirk.

“Nice acting.” He said.

“How you like me now, Pres?” You winked and walked away still giggling.  

In “Solaris” certain objects from Kris Kelvin’s home on Earth (a vase, a jug, a plant, a copy of “Don Quixote”) mysteriously reappear in his bedroom onboard the space station, functioning to express a thematic concept derrived from the film’s literary source (Stanislaw Lem’s novel). The repetitions and relocations of interior props in “Solaris” establish paralles and blur the boundaries between Kelvin’s Earth and space life, demonstrating the Solaris Ocean’s objective manifestation of Kelvin’s subjective consciousness.
—  Thomas Redwood; Andrei Tarkovsky’s Poetics of Cinema