Shooting lasted for longer than I could actually handle. What with my chronic tendency of overthinking, and this totalitarian perfectionist of a director insisting on taking even more takes, captured in even more pretentious ways… let's just say that over time Chester really wasn't feeling his Best-er.
All in all, by the time we could call it a wrap, the evening was already starting to leak through the wintry void in the skies. Though we were assured over and over again that today had been the most productive day on set ever, that claim was a little hard to believe when the hours spent mostly consisted of us doing fifty different variations of the same two damn scenes.
If that was how a productive day looks like, then I'd really hate to see just what the hell considers unproductive.