Scriptwriter
Born:
23.11.1984, Athens, Greece
Education:
Digital Filmmaking Diploma (SAE Athens)
BA in Economics, Aristotle University of Thessaloniki
Place of Residence:
Athens (Greece)
Biography
Panos Katsimperis was born in 1984 in Athens, Greece. He studied Economics and later Digital Filmmaking and has since been occupied in film and TV business. As of 2018, he has written and directed three short fiction films and worked on various productions as a director, assistant director, camera operator, production manager and editor.
Sample of previous work
Projects in development
REGAN
short fiction
developed script
Following and unwanted pregnancy, a young girl gives birth to a seriously deformed baby. She decides to live with it in her apartment, eventually coming face to face with her inner fears, manias and anti-social characteristics.
Attached to the project: director
Looking for: producer
Keywords: woman, child, birth, deformity, fear, abandonment, surreal, nightmare, mind, mother
IRYNA
short fiction
synopsis
A young immigrant girl uses her imagination to find her lost parents in Athens, Greece, following her favourite comic book gimmicks.
Attached to the project: director
Looking for: producer
Keywords: child, girl, immigration, city, comics, marvel, gauntlet, parents, orphan, imagination, innocence
Filmography and Awards
2018 WISKI, short/experimental, writer/director
2016 SKIN, short film, writer/director – HIMP Film Festival: Best Foreign Short, Best Director Short; Los Angeles Film Awards: Best Sci-Fi Short; LAIFF: Jury Mention Award
My five favourite films
- The Godfather: Part II (1974)
by Francis Ford Coppola - 2001: Space Odyssey (1968)
by Stanley Kubrick - The Phantom of Liberty (1974)
by Luis Bunuel - Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
by Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones - Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
by Roman Polanski
Favourite scene I wrote
INT. A SMALL ROOM INSIDE A FEDERAL PRISON – NIGHT
We see the MAN smoking the cigarette. He is about 55-60 years old. Tall, silver-haired, gentleman-ish. He sits comfortably on an armchair, with his legs crossed. He starts speaking, notably to another fellow opposite him.
MAN
Once upon a time, a small village was found
in the need of a bridge, connecting two opposite
sides. Legend has it, the need came from enemies
of the state, wanting to walk through their
place, getting on the other side, possibly
merchant passage of the time. More than a
thousand builders, sixty or so apprentice and
around fourty five engineers were called in. They
worked on that bridge from dusk till dawn. But
every single night, the whole site was torn down
and every single morning the builders found
nothing but ruins. The people were devastated.
They just couldn’t find a reasonable solution.
Everything they tried – and they tried a lot,
trust me – went downhill, totally unsuccessful.
Just then, one morning, a big bird speaking in a
human voice showed up at the site. It approached
the chief engineer and told him that the only way
they could build that bridge once and for all,
was to build-in the chief’s wife. In order for
the bridge to stay intact and strong and last a
very, very long time, the chief engineer’s woman
should be buried alive, covered all in mud and
water and concrete. Right there, below the
foundations of their enemies’ vital passage. The
bird flew away and the men kept looking at each
other in grief. See? Grief. Not in question. They
just knew it. They knew they were gonna do this.
The only one in thoughts was, of course, the
husband. The chief. But even that didn’t last
that long. A couple of days later, that poor
woman was almost brutally dragged to her own
muddy grave. The bridge was built within a matter
of a few months. It never torn down again in the
mornings. It was stable, and strong – stronger
than any great expectations. When the work was
done, every single one of the thousand builders,
the sixty apprentice and forty five engineers,
along with their chief, stood up in front of
their creation and put a curse on it. Cursed it
to bring death, misery and blackness to anyone
who crosses it for an unholy reason. This was
their way to give their enemies something back.
The OTHER MAN, sitting opposite, reverts with a smirk.
OTHER MAN
You know, this is actually a somewhat true story.
A Greek story.
MAN
I guess. But as a legend gives much more insight.
OTHER MAN
Well, not all parts are legend. Some may be true.
MAN
So, what’s in it for you? What’s the catch? Facts or legend?
OTHER MAN
I’m only interested in what really happened.
MAN
Everyone is. But if this true story wasn’t that
legendary you wouldn’t get into that trouble,
coming all the way down here for a simple
expedition of straight facts?
The OTHER MAN smiles in a kind manner.
OTHER MAN
Perhaps you’re right. I just don’t see the
connection.
MAN
You will, lad. Eventually all birds start
talking. They provide such a delightful array of
facts.
OTHER MAN
So, where does this talking start?
MAN
Not here, not in the dreadfully peaceful place.
It definitely goes way back, were no real fear of
prosecution could hold one back. Not a prick like
me that is.
The OTHER MAN laughs quietly.
MAN
Tell me, you stiff hypocritical bastard of an
interviewer… Do you like music?
CUT TO: 20 YEARS AGO – A JAZZ CLUB IN PRE-WAR NEW YORK
My favourite film quote
“I’m French. We respect the artists in my country.”
–
Inglorious Bastards (2009)
