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Zack Snyder sat in the back of a cramped, beat-up van, drenched in sweat. Perspiration waterfalled down his face. His back was soaked. He was on the verge of passing out.
It could have been the triple-digit jungle heat. He was in the southern reaches of Colombia after all. It could have been from the triple-digit degree fever that he didn’t know he had. (He would later find out he contracted COVID.) But he had a camera on his shoulder and what he did know was that he could not afford to stop shooting the scenes he needed to get that day. He was in the middle of finally making his passion project, The Last Photograph, and he was both director and cameraman. The movie was figuratively and literally on his shoulders.
When he returned to Leticia, Colombia’s southernmost city that sits on the Amazon River, a woman offered a trembling Snyder cough drops. “Halls is the answer?!” he thought to himself. “OK, fine. Fuck it.”
When I ask him if he tried wearing a mask, Snyder scoffs, “There are no masks in the Amazon. They don’t… there’s no masks. That’s hilarious.”
