Rain falls on the windshield as the bus drives through a mountainous area. Phillip Phillips nods his head as he writes a song, blocking out the thunder while he travels through another town.
In black-and-white, he tunes his guitar on the bus. Outside, the clouds cover the sky in a layered rows. He stares at his hands and then glances out the window. Pen in hand, he writes in his notebook and scratches out lyrics.
Back in color, the bus driver chews his gum while he makes turn. He walks along an alley.
In black-and-white, he and some of his friends talk backstage. He puts his earpiece inside his ear. Back in color, he walks on stage while fans hold up their phones to film him. He plays on stage.
In black-and-white, he meets the eye of an older man waiting at the crosswalk in a small town. Back in color, he sips some coffee at a diner and eats some breakfast. In black-and-white, he shakes hands of some fans behind the barricade and signs some autographs while in color, he shops at guitar shop. He takes a walk by the bus as the driver stops for a break. At a bar, he plays a song for the people.
In black-and-white, he sees two dogs sit on the porch of a business. An American flag hangs on the awning of a business.
He stares out the window as the bus heads down the expressway.
In the Midwest, it was miles and miles of pine trees and clumped patches of grass planted on the concrete. Closer to the south, Phillip Phillips gazed at the mountains outside the window.
On the bus, Phillip Phillips finds way to stay busy. He prefers to leave his guitar alone but his manager advised he has to write music for the next album. From morning until the sunset, he writes. Some are poems are the people he misses. He jots down the loneliness of it, the page providing some comfort.
The breaks don’t ever seem to be long enough. Usually, the tour crew will stop and get some fast food or for an emergency bathroom break. A rainstorm rolling through the region had caused them to get behind. Breaks were limited for fifteen minutes.
On the rare half hour break, he’ll try to walk to the corner, observing the rural towns and eat a meal inside a diner. He’s quiet as he scarfs his eggs and bacon. It’s been a while since had a decent meal. Small talk led to recongnition. For a half hour, he wanted to be anonymous.
Director: Joseph Toman Year: 2012
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