Friday 28 January 2011

Going Live!


GANDHI
Ah come on! Have a bit of respect
for those that are living with zombism.

 MAC
Living with zombism? You’ve had a
charmed apocalypse, mate.

And so, despite the best efforts of Companies House and WordPress IT support, today Jake and I are mighty relieved to unveil our production company Charmed Apocalypse Pictures Ltd.


Go have a nosey about. Sign up to our Tweets. Pass the link about. Salivate over the concept art. And fill up the Comments box below with where it looks shit.

Personally, I’m looking forward to a weekend not sat in front of the computer, but don’t think that this lets you off the hook. Bleary.

Wednesday 26 January 2011

Too macho

So – how cool does the banner look, eh?

It comes courtesy of our man the GhoulFool (not his real name, thankfully – think more Snake Plissken without the ASBO). Props as ever, sir.

Anyway, in other news, a big fat package arrived today from Companies House. Cue much jumping about and a general outpouring of excitement. We looked inside it was the government sending our forms back with a list of all the places we had filled them in wrong. Cue an extraordinarily rapid deflation of enthusiasm.

Our IN01 was an unwitting victim of testosterone last week. It seems that we would have benefited from that accountant after all.

In the unlikely event that any future reader has adopted this blog as a loose blueprint for getting their film made, watch out for the bizarre non-printing barcodes in the D4 section and make sure you fill in the F4 bit.

For everyone else, it’s probably best not to let Jake or I help fix your boiler, no matter how convincing we sound. Chastised.

Tuesday 25 January 2011

Redundancy

Did everyone recognise George Clooney’s redundancy mantra in my first blog posting? 'Anybody that ever built an empire or changed the world sat where you are today.'

If not, shame on you. It’s from the very awesome Up in the Air. Go rent it now.

In it, Clooney works for a company that is brought in to lay people off, and the film follows his struggle against a dehumanising management drive to roll out a cheaper technique for firing people over a webcam link. Funny, poignant and utterly absurd.

Well, it turns out that this is a shining model of exemplary HR practice compared to how I got fed my chips.

I found out that I was leaving my job at a Finnish telecoms megalith when my employers emailed the whole company with a bunch of spreadsheets containing the structure of the new organisation. What the new teams are, who’s managing them, and who’s nominated to fill each position. I dutifully opened each in turn, searched for 'phelps', and on finding no matches I accurately concluded that my services were no longer required.

All those coming to the summer party, step forward now. Where do you think you’re going, Phelps?

I'm only whining about this now because I had to go back to the office today to chat over my see-ya numbers, and so no zombie work gone done. But reassuringly it transpired that I was just about the only relaxed person in the building. All my old colleagues were mired in a mixture of survivors’ guilt, nervousness at another impending management re-shafting, and the nagging doubt that they may have just missed an opportunity to go and do something much more entertaining instead.

I passed around the URL for this blog. Hi guys.

Now, I’ve thought about this quite a lot, and I’m pretty certain that I should be feeling at least a little bit of resentment, or even just dented pride. I mean, I’ve just been dumped by my company after 12 years together. Badly. But I genuinely don’t.

I think it's because today reminded me of a fantasy relationship break-up, where you imagine what it'd be like to bump into your old girlfriend while you're out with someone that's way too attractive to normally go out with you.

True, this new girlfriend is also a total bitch. She’s going to clean out my bank account, spoil me for other women and more than likely leave me with a neurosis.

But what can I do? I love her. Fuzzy.

Monday 24 January 2011

Gatekeepers

Does anybody ever get any love from their regional film agency?

In theory, your local regional film agency is the hub of all things movie-related in the environs. It’s the way the UK Film Council (God rest its soul) interacts with root-and-branch film-makers throughout the country. It’s how Lottery cash gets distributed to small productions. It's how government convinces itself that it’s stimulating our dying film industry.

First up – the legal disclaimer. I should preface this, well, rant with the proviso that I don’t know nearly enough about everything that our local regional film agency is involved in. I am sure that they enable and facilitate many worthwhile local activities, and provide invaluable funding for grass-roots film-making.

I’m just saying that the bit we had to deal with left us thoroughly under-whelmed.

Imagine, if you will, that two first-timers are keen to make a zombie movie, and they want to know what to do next. Not unreasonable to think that it might prove useful to get some advice from the people in the know at their regional film agency. For example, it could be helpful to pick the brains of a local film producer – maybe someone that has worked within the genre – and maybe the regional agency might be able to help with this?

I could go on mentioning our 'regional film agency', but you all know we’re based in Hampshire. So can I just go ahead and say Screen South?

Anyway, here’s how it works.

First, a prospective film-maker needs to attend an Information Day. A register is taken. A number of people come and talk regional film. And then you can have a 1-1 meeting with a Screen South executive. So far, so good.

Here we’re told that the database of local feature producers is not something that just anyone can come and look at. I mean, every Tom, Jake and Andy has a good idea for a screenplay, and these are busy people. No, the way it works is for this kind of conversation to be conducted with a Screen South panel as part of a RIFE funding interview.

I had to look it up. Regional Investment Fund for England, apparently. It funds production, development & training, exhibition, education and community.

Now if you’re thinking that this all seems strangely circuitous, in that we need to apply for funding that we don’t really need right now just for the sake of having an interview, then rest assured that this is how it seemed to us too. But, we don’t make the rules, and if that’s what’s got to happen so be it.

Ah. Actually, sorry, no. It’s not quite that simple.

No, in order to be eligible to apply for RIFE funding, we first need to have our screenplay assessed. So instead we need to apply for a bursary to employ a script reader to send us some coverage and provide feedback to Screen South.

Enough already. Just show me the form, and please can we get on with this?

So, we applied for the Script Assessment Bursary, and Screen South sent our screenplay off to a reader.

And here is where the process hits the weakest link.

I should make it clear up-front that we were very grateful for the feedback that we received. Some of it was very insightful, and it has proved helpful in subsequent re-writes. But, it is safe to say that the reader wasn’t a fan of the genre. I mean, really not a fan.

So, the message that gets sent back to Screen South is 'no thanks'. And so we’re not eligible to apply for funding that we don’t really want, and so don’t get to attend a funding interview, and so don’t get to talk about what to do next.

And so we’re doing it on our own.

'Supporting film and media in the south east'. Miffed.

Sunday 23 January 2011

Sunday Bloody Sunday

And as threatened, a sneak-peak at some of the concept art from the GhoulFool (not his real name, thankfully – think more Tony Hart with a hangover). I feel a change of desktop wallpaper coming on. Techy.



Friday 21 January 2011

Buttocks of the living dead

Forgive me – it has been two days since my last confession. I do have a good excuse. I was 'networking with key creatives'.

And if you think this was just the line that I used so that my girlfriend would let me head down the pub with Jake and the GhoulFool (not his real name, thankfully – think more a cuddly version of Lawrence Llewelyn Bowen), you wouldn’t be a million miles away. But you didn’t hear that from me, right?

Predictably the GhoulFool failed to disappoint. The sweet fellow.

I am surely doing General Patton a disservice in paraphrasing him without even bothering to check my accuracy on Google, but he had an adage that went along the lines of 'don't tell people what to do, tell them what you want and let them surprise you with the results'. Yesterday we were treated to early sketches, featuring full-on designs for the undead, an array of possible logos for the production company, and (deliciously) a rendering of one of our characters before and after having her face ripped off.

Consider me surprised. And utterly delighted.

In fact, such was the strength of feeling that Jake and I felt moved to make a pact. And you can’t ever, ever go back on a pub pact.

So, on the day of the film’s premiere, we will be seeking out a reputable tattoo artist for the purchase of two renditions of the company logo.

I only mention this in case Jake feels like he can claim boozer’s remorse on his pledge to commit the GhoulFool’s work to flesh, and I call upon this growing band of witnesses to not let us off the hook. It seems fair – if we get to realise a lifetime’s ambition, that’s got to be worth at least a buttock each. Demand your ink, people.

And so all the background work continues. Today we bought the company URL and started building the website, onto which the logo and all this content will be lovingly placed. We are looking at mid-way through next week to go live, but I may well be compelled into a sneak-posting of some zombie art over the weekend when it gets FTP-ed across.

But otherwise, the weekend finally beckons. Has this week seemed to last as long to everyone else as it has to me? Knackered.

Wednesday 19 January 2011

Phelps Hawkins & Bullshit Chartered Accountancy

The Guerilla Film Maker’s Handbook starts with Ten Commandments, carved into stone. Well, printed onto pictures of stones. And there are 14 of them. But anyway, their gravity is clear. Ignore these at your peril, unenlightened film-beings.

And there it is, on the left tablet. 'Thou shalt make a film through the legal mechanism of a limited company'. So, if you’re producing your own film, that process presumably starts with setting up a private limited company.

I mean, how hard can it be?

Being honest, in our early-morning straw-poll of two, the majority expectation was for 'very'. The boiler breaks, you get someone in to fix it. Someone that knows what they’re doing. Isn’t this the same thing? Taxes, pensions, PAYE, National Insurance... I mean, some people go to university and this is the only thing they get taught. And sure enough, our first frolic through the Companies House website filled me with the same kind of impotent shame that I feel when lifting the bonnet of a car.

Then we hit our first snag. We don’t know any accountants.

I pretty certain that phoning some professional at random from the Yellow Pages, and then hoping that they were enough of a fan of the genre to agree to mates-rates isn’t going to yield positive results. Plan B is to start frequenting the pubs outside big centres of accountancy at 5:30 pm on a Friday, and engaging the most affable-looking suit in conversation.

But until then, we need to be brave. And I’m surprised and mildly delighted to say that our macho posturing actually seems to have paid off in this instance. Bizarrely, setting up a private limited company doesn’t appear to be that difficult, even though the website behaves like it wants it to be (our first guidance was a daunting 76 page how-to PDF). But the actual IN01 application is as simple a government form as I have ever filled in, and if everything goes to plan we can move on to more pressing creative activities a mere £20 lighter.

That said, I’m still shitting myself.

Is it just me, or does everybody have the same paranoia about making forays into governmental officialdom? Have I just blown 41 years of credit rating by ticking the wrong box? Is someone going to come and throw me out of my flat (our de-facto registered premises) if we forget to stick in a filing? Is there something hidden in the Articles template document that’s going to bite us on the arse in ten years’ time because we quite reasonably got bored and didn’t bother reading it?

But then again, how cool is it being a director of a film production company? I’m so going to get some tee-shirts made. Bouncy.

Tuesday 18 January 2011

Dying to be in a film

So anyway, today we have been offered human remains. As set dressing.

My girlfriend’s recently deceased father is currently being Ded-Exed across from Michigan (well, an urn-full of him anyway). Being in a horror film is, apparently, exactly what he would have wanted.

It seems that the cremation combustion process is pretty good, but not perfect. An urn will rattle when shaken (although what anyone would achieve by shaking one isn’t clear). The conversation on the best way to separate the remaining bone from ash was brief, and I urge people not to accept any of Claire’s dinner-party invitations for a while.

Thinking about it, I’ll probably tell her no thanks. Troubled.

Monday 17 January 2011

Day one

And it begins.

Early, as it turns out – a mixture of raw excitement and indigestion from the celebratory team-curry last night.

And it starts, predictably, with the screenplay. Since our previous draft in early November, we have accumulated a substantial amount of (mostly) gratefully received notes and suggestions. Stuff we need to deal with before we can send the screenplay out to anyone. Housekeeping.

At FrightFest last August, Adam Green ‘fessed up to writing the screenplay for Hatchet II in a week, and then shooting that first draft. We’re working on the different principle that a script can always get better. We only get one block of clay from which to forge a movie.

So, we went through the list and debated each point. Should our 50-year-old male protagonist be swapped to a woman? Should we include more backstory about what's happened over the 15 months since the zombie apocalypse? Should we maybe dial it back a tad on how often one of our characters swears?

One of our activities was a piece of pure screenwriting smoke and mirrors.

A couple of people that read the last draft didn’t pick up on who our protagonist was at the outset, and didn’t find him suitably likeable. Message received.

So we put our faith in formula (sorry – screenwriting 'principles'). A couple of years ago I went to John Truby’s 'Beyond Structure' seminar at Raindance. Truby is the master of screenwriting micro-analysis: lists of the 38 character arcs, 1368 adjectives from which to build a more interesting persona, 6 pages of possible plot twists. And 44 different ways to build audience empathy for a character. So that’s what we did – trawl through the list to find a few additional ticks and inflections to drop in over the course of the first 10 pages, cynically dialling up the love. 

With that slightly unsavoury business behind us, the next step is to organise a read-through with a bunch of actors, and see whether the character voices really work. If something entertaining emerges I may throw up some videos onto the blog for a giggle.

And the other start-up log-jam is finding a friendly accountant, so we can get our production company registered. It’s probably too early to crowd-source the head of dead bread, but any suggestions would be welcome. Pikey.


Friday 14 January 2011

Crossing the first threshold

Everything kicks off on Monday.

Today is Jake’s last day of paid employment. I get a slightly more graceful wind-down from a regular salary as the lengthy letting-Andy-go process shuffles on, but after today that’s it for m’partner. His bank account has gulped its last lung-full, and he has now got to hold his breath. Even for a man with an absence of life-anchors (no mortgage, girlfriend, career, kids, friends, class, sense, etc.), it’s a massive commitment to the undead.

And he moves back in with his parents this weekend.

Damn... I salute you, Mr Hawkins.

So, better finish the back-story while you can, Phelps. List the project assets. Make it clear that we don’t have superstar actors or investors already lined up. Convince you that there is no Deus Ex Machina to mysteriously pull out of the bag later on and hope that nobody notices. In the spirit of full disclosure, this is our lot:

  • The draft screenplay, honed by long summer afternoons in the pub planning character arcs and act turning points (I only knew we were thinking hard enough when I started waking up with a headache).
  • The Guerrilla Film Makers’ Handbook. Of course.
  • A year.
  • A childishly impressive library of zombie movies, both great and small. And as I mentioned in my last posting, some are very, very small.
  • 250 tea bags.
  • Er… and that’s about it, really.

Not true. There’s also the GhoulFool. Not his real name, thankfully – think more a civically-responsible Hampshire Banksy. Our artist in residence, with talent oozing through every un-split end of his lavish perm. He’s currently sketching out our characters, visualising story elements, cooking up some poster art. And hopefully something to beautify this ugly-arse blog site. In case you think I have an obligation to blow smoke up his rectum, don’t take my word for it: http://www.ghoulfool.co.uk/.

So, on Monday we get lost in the detail. The planning. The OK-what-the-hell-do-we-do-now. It’ll be messy when you check in next week. Danders will be up. Medically significant levels of caffeine and chillies will be consumed. Reality biting. Grammar will suffer.

You have been warned. Antsy.

Thursday 13 January 2011

Life amongst the undead

Zombies. Everybody loves zombies.

Don't take my word for it – I've got a horse in this race. Go have a look on Wikipedia. In 2010 there were 68 zombie films that got distributed, including the big-budget Crazies and Resident Evil: Afterlife, Sir George’s Survival Of The Dead, and my personal fave of the year The Dead, the only zombie movie that made it onto the main FrightFest screen last year.

It’s not by accident that the subject matter of the first Phelps / Hawkins foray into feature production was chosen because it’s going to be easy to market, and because the genre has an enormous pre-existing fan-base. I like to think of this less as a deliberately cynical ploy, more a sensible foundation to our risk management.

So why do so many people look down on the undead? Even some horror fans, who really should know better. 

I guess the main problem is that most zombie films are awful. Flat, humour-less, theme-less, and populated with bland characters that you don't empathise with enough to care whether they'll keep hold of their brains or not. Maybe this is what makes it so special when the really good ones come along – stand up Dead Set, Pontypool and [·REC]. But most of the time the genre is like a litter tray, a place for unimaginative low-budget film-makers to come and deposit their cinematic stools.

I’m pretty certain that every one of those films must have started out with good intentions, to make the best movie ever and rock the zombie world to its core. Basically, exactly where Jake and I are now.

Ah. OK.

At the risk of extending the faecal metaphors any further, you can’t polish a turd. The screenplay is everything. Garbage in, garbage out.

When you write a genre film it’s often very difficult to innovate, to find a new and meaningful spin on the subject matter. When other people are making 68 similar movies a year that becomes doubly difficult. And this is where we have an edge. We’ve got something new – something that hasn’t been seen before in a zombie movie. Sure, there are all the genre tropes of infection through biting, death by head-shots and a group of people that are far more dangerous to each other than the horde is. But it all comes with a drizzle of special sauce.

15 months after the zombie apocalypse, a group of survivors are forced to take refuge in an abandoned psychiatric hospital, where they encounter a mysterious zombie with the power to bring the undead back to life.

Oh, and for the record, we’ve got both fast and slow zombies. Righteous.

Wednesday 12 January 2011

The call to adventure

Yeah – I know. Anybody that ever built an empire or changed the world sat where I am today. I get it.

So, earlier today I was finally de-shackled from corporate life. After 12 years (and change) designing phones for an un-specified Finnish telecoms megalith, I am now officially supernumerary to their future plans. Thanks for the last decade, and see ya, Andy.

If I had a knack for making mobile phones, or enjoyed it more, or was blessed with no imagination this’d be horrible news. But the truth is I have been jealously coveting one of those escape pods for a while. After 12 years you build up a loyalty bonus, which translates as 'expensive to fire'. The maths works out as roughly 12 months of doing something less boring instead. Austere months, to be fair, but there are enough of them. The mortgage will get paid. I won't run out of food or hot water. And presumably at some point I'll have to deal with the first mobile-phone bill that I have ever seen.

But what does an unemployed 41-year-old usually do?

Well, it turns out that we’re going to bring 86 minutes of low-budget big-screen horror to the discerning masses. And this is where we get to write down how.

This is not a royal 'we'. The next year also belongs to my co-directing, co-writing, co-producing, co-etc. partner – the fresher-faced and reassuringly talented Jake Hawkins. This blog is not going to be a guide on how to make a low-budget horror film, like the Guerrilla Film Maker’s Handbook already is. It might not even be a particularly sensible way to make a movie. It’s simply a place to chart how we are doing it. The steps as we take them, the advice we get given, the choices we make. At the very least it’ll be a place to catalogue our stupid mistakes so that future newbie film-makers don’t have to make them themselves. At the very best it’ll be the same road-map of lunacy, but with an Amazon link at the end where you can go and buy the DVD.

Because in case you’re wondering, at this very moment in time we have less than no idea how to do it. You will need to be gentle with us as we get up to speed. We’re messing up so you don’t have to.

Oh, and did I not mention that it’s a zombie movie?

Welcome to the start of the journey through my mid-life crisis. Daunted.