Undisputedly, there is nothing more beautiful in this world than a man voice singing soprano. Which is why I’ve been directing music videos for castratos ever since the unhealthy marriage of film and music. Obviously, the proper place for a castrato is in a choir, but occasionally the rare and fragile albino castrato is born unto the world, and you must seize your chance to make money off of him.
I’m sure you are wondering how I managed to usher this dissertation-worthy video into existence. Well, let me walk you through the process. First of all, I hired a crack team of former thieves to fulfill my elaborate plan to infiltrate the dungeons of the Vienna Boys Choir and steal away Vitas, their prized albino. Yes, it is just as you imagine it– crawling through sewers, voice modification devices and custom contact lenses for foiling security systems, a few tactical explosions and some good old fashioned hacking with an axe. (You cannot tell it from the video, but he actually is missing a hand as a direct result of my overzealous axework– a small price to pay for freedom from his cruel Viennese Choirmaster.) But this was just the beginning. Then I had to teach the boy to walk. Castratos are kept in much the same way as veal calves, except they are sedated after each choir practice in order to keep them from damaging their vocal chords, as they seem predisposed to screaming when you lock them up for the day. Just one of the instincts of their species, I presume.
Vitas was so happy to have been rescued that he wrote the song featured in my video on the day after my brilliantly successful heist. They tell me that he’s saying something like, “I asked myself so many times, ‘For what was I born, have I lived, and grown?… In this world I’m not waiting for anything… If only I could fly away to the clouds where there are no screams…” and so on and so on. As he rocked in the corner of my ocean liner, softly singing to himself, I walked over and told him, “Boy! I think we’ve got a hit!” And then I gave him a shot of Demerol, worked a Klonopil into his gullet. The poor thing had a case of the nerves like I haven’t seen since the time gave Winston Churchill a Jolt Cola.
Within three weeks, production was underway. I composed the accompaniment, rented a crane, had snow blown in from Canada and Patagonia, and even dyed the albino’s hair with my assistant’s own two hands. As you can see, the walking lessons did not go well. Still, it adds a certain charm and I managed to work his fall in so that you almost can’t tell that it was an accident. In fact, I had a lot of covering to do with this particular shoot. It may appear to you, the viewer, that Vitas merely tumbled to the edge of the bridge, when in fact the silly billy fell right off the thing. And we’d only gotten those few shots of him walking. Well, okay. Maybe my crane bumped him a little bit, but I had no idea that his center of gravity was so off. I was just trying to give him a sort of heavy machinery high five. Ever since this video, I make sure that the castratos are given at least two months of walking practice. But it all worked out in the end, because as luck would have it, I was able to hire a Muppeteer on short notice, fly her in, and she managed to work the poor kid’s face for the close up shots. I spent the next six days slaving away in the editing room getting very little rest and only three meals a day.
That’s the magic of the movies!