Or "how to pretend to communicate telepathically"

In the telenovela The Passions of Utopia the characters communicate telepathically. Since we were deep into researching quantum mechanics at the time it didn't seem like a too far-out idea. So, we went with it, thinking it would also open up new possibilities in both acting and editing. During a residency in Óbidos, Portugal, we got our first chance to try out some basic telepathic acting and eventually made a teaser trailer out of it. What follows are videos, photography, and text documenting this process.

Two grown-ups sitting on a bench in Portugal’s tourist town Óbidos pretending to be communicating with each other through telepathy

It took a few tries to get it right

"Okay, I put my hair like I used to have it in high school, with a fringe going diagonally across my forehead. Then I look younger"

We grow older as we speak. So, after the camera lands in the plants we have changed costumes and hair and I feel a growing sense of confidence

To communicate telepathically we need to rehearse the rhythm of the script first. So, the after-sync will time with the scene

We imagine it being like echoing steel voices swaying between frequencies and finally tuning in to the right receiver


Tap tap on the forehead

"Please...we dreamt of going to acting school since we were kids. We finally made it. School starts next week and we can finally leave this town. Can you just let it go?"

Just let it go

All the strange gazes we got from American and French tourists passing us by while our faces gesticulated wildly trying to match what we were saying to each other in our heads

Let go and be free

 

No one cares about my stupid hair even though it reminds me of high school and triggers an extra layer of anxiety

We made it up to the castle walls where we pretended my mother had an accident

Did she fall and disappeared among the bushes below?

Or did it happen when she was working at the insect farm?

Anyway, mother is gone now and we have to take care of ourselves

On our way back, we passed some young kids smoking a joint on the garden swing bench

They looked at us and laughed


I pretended I didn't see them

I pretended I was no longer an adult with any obligations or purpose

But a non-telepathic voice in my head insisted otherwise, trying to expel me from the garden forever

 

It said play was no longer the way

 

I didn't think of it there and then

But afterwards I realized that the garden of play was not anything you could force yourself into

 

You still have to walk the maze and be laughed at by tourists while the neurotic tension is pulling your hair

 

You still have to pretend really really bad

 

And then it happens, not by anything you did

Outside your control

 

The garden appears

 

And you are allowed to come play again