We want movies to lie to us. They're a form of escapism from our woebegone existence; a metaphorical platform nine and three-quarters. We want them to pluck us off the surface of planet Earth and show us things that dreams are made of. They say curiosity killed the cat. But humans are stubborn learners. Though we know that fire will burn us, we'll still want to finger it to find the same out for ourselves. Similarly, peeling the veil off movies might not be the smartest of ideas. You don't want to know what really happens behind the curtains. You don't want to see that Gandalf, after all, is just a mere mortal like you. What's happening on screen is just a days' worth of work for him. After everything is said and done, he will drive back home, have a hot shower, perhaps pour himself a cup of steaming hot coffee and stumble into his comfortable bed. Just like you. Just like me. Yet, we will want to see behind the facade. Though we know it already, we still want to see that Superman cannot really fly. We want to see that Jurassic Park was only all about chunks of metal plated together in the shape of dinosaurs. So here's a list that attempts to quench some of this obstinate thirst to see what really goes on behind the scenes.
It was 1927. Mickey Mouse was yet to appear. The Golden Gate Bridge hadn't started construction. The world still hadn't eaten its first chocolate chip cookie. And unknowingly, these guys were in the business of creating one of the first great movie the world had ever witnessed. By painting little cars.
I'm Saahil from India and no, I don't own an elephant.
I write. I think P. G. Wodehouse might just be the greatest author of all times. Manhattan was definitely Woody Allen's masterpiece (yes, over Annie Hall). The Shawshank Redemption is overrated. I love debating. I've always dreamed of shooting zombies with a sawed-off during an apocalypse. I own a dog. The Sixth Sense was a fluke. Sheldon Cooper is probably the worst TV character right now. I play table tennis. I am socially awkward. I don't know how to end this. My editor's probably going to cream me for this. But, whatever.