There’s almost no distinction between her and her character in their attitude, humor, and style - exuding all the cool, stoner apathy and equanimity one would characterize a typical New York skater with. It’s as if you’re interviewing an actor in character. It’s moments like this that make the experience of interviewing real people who play versions of themselves a little bizarre.
“What am I going to do if they write something bad about me? Am I really gonna have someone email them to change it? Are they gonna look at that email? I have my own platforms where I can express myself and if they want to know more about me they can find it on source.” The source is, of course, Instagram, something the four of them swipe through vicariously through throughout, arms outstretched every so often to show one another the skate clips they’ve just seen, just like in the film. I'm like if it's bad it'll be bad and if it's good someone will tell me it's good,” Ajani says. The film’s director Crystal Moselle, sat on a chair to their right, offers an occasional “Girls!” to draw back their attention, but interviews, it seems, aren’t of much interest. Staring at their phones, laid back on sofas, there’s an idle, insouciance about them that’s as present IRL as it is on screen. It wouldn’t take long to deduce that the four of them present - Dede, Kabrina, Nina, and Ajani - aren’t media-trained actors. Today they’re sat in a back room of a cinema in central London.
0 kommentar(er)
