we are fascinated by talented women who succumb to dark and deranged emotion, create art out of it, and

then die
Peg entwistle

Hollywood. Celebrity. Glamor. Three words. One Image. A woman

Pop culture has been one of the major defining elements of human societies, from a relatively early point of our history. Men and women used to follow fashion trends since the medieval ages; aristocrats, people descending from wealthy families would set standards of how people should look. With the invention of photography, but most importantly, film, aristocrats were replaced by movie stars. Celebrity became the absolute point of reference when it came to what was considered attractive and fashionable by the masses. The hair, the make-up and the fashion, but also more profound things, such as behavior, social norms and interaction, where dictated by the new, manufactured bluebloods; celebrities.

Pop culture, or at least its best parts, are tightly knit with bits of myth; our most favorite famous people have always had ambiguous stories surrounding them, like Americas sweetheart Marilyn Monroe and her six-toed feet, or the space-craft like vessel where supposedly Michael Jackson slept. It is the mystery that creates myth and it is the myth that creates icons. One would argue that the best celebrity stories that transcend through ages, are the ones with a tragic ending; alas, like a good theatre play or a film, the final twist, the aftertaste which marks the story. From the tragic deaths of Marilyn Monroe and Amy Winehouse, to the car crashes of Aaliyah and Princess Dianna, to the brutal murders of John Lennon and Sharon Tate, all these abrupt shortcuts of lives have spanned a legacy, a legacy made of let-down and mystery. What would have happened if these peoples were alive?

Our goal is not to glorify death or present it as something iconic. Instead, our goal is to pay tribute to the deceased artists and put our own two cents in the legacy created by their art and talent

Aftersun

The film opens with a woman coming back to her house, dressed very formally, as if she just got back from an event. She drops her keys, takes off her shoes goes to her bedroom where she drops her coat and phone on the bed. She undressed and gets into comfortable clothes. Next up, we see her in the living room, with her laptop in front of her. The lights are dimmed. She is starring at the screen motionless. Cut into swift edit The of footage quality of of the woman is portraying different roles in different films, shot with vintage hardware. the image polarizing; present is symbolized with clear, crisp image, whilst past is portrayed with grain and dirt. We see the woman again, sitting on the sofa, trying to read a newspaper. A car goes past outside; we see the blinding light behind the window shutters. An almost unnoticeable sound, a mobile phone sound is heard and the woman lifts her head and stares.. She gets up and walks to her bedroom. It looks messy, as if someones slept in her bed. Cut into vintage footage of audiences from the 30s/40s are suddenly scared by an image in the cinema. Her phone is emitting light. She approaches it but then abruptly stops just as shes about to touch it.

We see a quick edit with a really heavy soundtrack, where she reaches out to the device but then stops; close-up to her mouth opening, her hand stopping short to the phone which is not emitting red light and then the image of a mouth with fangs jumping out of darkness. The girl flinches fiercely and trips over, falling at the bedroom floor. She quickly crawls backwards and runs through the door. She ends up in the living room, shutting the door behind her. She walks and then eventually crashes on the sofa, looking exhausted, confused and scared. The television turns on by itself. As the light hits her face, she glares at the screen and goes closer; as she reaches it, we see a close shot of her iris getting smaller as she focuses. The black, lidless eyes of something that isnt human, appear for seconds in darkness. She puts her hands in her mouth to silence a scream of horror, but the sound of the door closing makes her turn around and shrieks. As she flinches, crawling backwards, breathing heavily, a hand comes out of the television and gently touches her shoulder. The woman breaks down in screams, gets up hastily and runs away from the television. She leans against the kitchen counter, weeping, trying to pull herself together. She reaches out to the phone and dials an unknown phone number. She puts the phone against

her ear, trying to call for help. Someone picks up the phone. Hello?! Hello, Claire, are you there? Nothing can be heard from the other side of the line. The woman checks the phone, smacks it with her hand. As she puts it back on her hear, a recording speaker. of her own voice comes through the

I moved to London when I was 18 years old. I had a dream, to be one of the greatest stars, like Aretha and Marilyn. I started singing in the bars around the city, trying to make a name of myself she hears the
recording saying. She starts whispering: -What what, trying to make a sense of it all.

And how do you feel now, after all these years, that people stand right outside your door for hours just for one picture? Its great to be loved by so many people
She slowly leaves the phone, starring at the void, sobbing. She looks around, trying to find something, someone to hold on to. She gets up swiftly and opens the door