From ‘A’s to Z

The climb out of finance-mediated location limbo started today.

Don’t fret – we didn’t film any footage. You’re spared another aural carpet-bombing from the Lost Jonny back-catalogue. Today we went to look around a local 6^th form college full of kids, making grown men walking around with a video camera seem oddly inappropriate. We were given the guided tour by Rich, the head of the Media department, and he seemed genuinely enthused by the project and keen that we come and film at his establishment over the summer.

So, let’s dispense with the good news first. The college would work out as an absolute treat for shooting Resurrection. it has architectural character in spades borne out of functional necessity and numerous eccentric extensions. It’s got a great library, a sweet kitchen area, and enough vending machines to adequately signal the end of polite society. And flushing toilets, sweet flushing toilets. The site is in a residential area, far enough away from any noisy night-time traffic, and in the summer holidays it apparently turns into a ghost town. 

So far, so very splendid.

And on to the bad news… the schedule. We will need to start principal photography on the last day of July to get out before the end of the summer holidays. That ain’t a whole load of time to get all our production ducks in line. And it ain’t a whole lot of darkness each night to film through.

And it’s certainly not a lot of time to find our first couple of investors, upon whom it still all depends. Our fingers remain tentatively poised over the 'go' button waiting for them to step forward.

But hey, enough with the moaning. All in all it’s been a very good day. In one fell swoop we’ve managed to knock around £50k off the budget, and potentially inherit an army of Digital Media students as runners. Sure, the film won’t have that conceit of a psychiatric hospital full of sectioned patients that all believe that they’re the son of God, only to find out that one of them has been telling the truth all along. But I have a sneaking suspicion that it’ll only be me that misses it. 

And if that’s the largest disappointment I have to get over between now and the end of the summer, it’ll be the most charmed of apocalypses all round. Braced.