I gently knocked on the door and went in.
‘Come in! Sit down!’ smiled the actress. I guessed this was our Meetup organiser, Vicki. I was at the MET Film School, situated in the grounds of Ealing Film Studios. Minutes earlier, I had managed to talk my way through security even though I wasn’t technically registered.
I find a seat towards the back of the room and grabbed a booklet from an adjacent chair. It contained excerpts from screenplays; the Meetup was all about getting your screenplay read by professional actors.
I listened to the screenplay that was being read out and tried to follow it in the booklet but became immediately lost; there didn’t seem to be any connection between the words that were being said and the text on the page. After the scene had finished, there was a discussion between Vicki, the actors, and a young chap called Aiden, who seemed to be representing the director’s perspective. Suddenly, I understood: every scene was subjected to two readings. The first reading was the submitted script, in its entirety, and the second reading was all about suggested changes and cuts.
‘Actors work with whatever there is on the page, and what they really love is bringing themselves to the page. Do you know what I mean? It’s… Less is more. It’s a chance to bring our soul into it’ explained Vicki, after discussing one particular cut.
‘Do think about making a short. If you want to get into film, a short is a really great way to see your words come alive.’
‘A short is a stepping stone, it’s your ultimate business card. You could make a short with the amount of money that you’ve got in your wallet. Crowdfunding. You can think about Crowdfunding a short too; there’s different ways, but it doesn’t have to cost’ added Aiden.
‘It’s the best way to learn too’ added Seb, a smart bespectacled actor who had slicked back hair.
It was time to move onto the next scene. It was a scene in a hospital. A teenager had developed the supernatural power of telekinesis (or, the ability to move stuff around with the power of thought), but there was a negative side effect: it was difficult to control. The precocious teen had landed in hospital with two broken limbs and a fractured skull whilst trying to fly a table that she was sitting on. Things were not looking good for our teenager: the doctors were worried.
The edits were all about cutting clichés: ‘always assume that the audience are a lot more intelligent than you are’ suggested Vicki. ‘Sometimes you don’t even have to write; all you have to do is to leave sufficient space so the actors can do their job. When the lines stop, we don’t stop feeling it…’
The next scene was from a short; a family psychodrama where a cousin was inadvertently implicated in a brutal crime. The actors gave it their all. There was drama, heightened emotion and expressions of frustration. The focus of the edits centred upon trying to speed up the pace of the drama; an essential ingredient for a short.
Vicki started to talk about characters: ‘you want to sleep with them, run away from them, run away with them, have a drink with them – you should have an immediate response to a character’ enthused Vicki. ‘When we take on a role, we feel what they’re feeling. If we don’t do that, then it’s just acting’.
Vicki invited Aiden and the actors to share their opinions. I felt for the screenwriters. It was great that they had the opportunity to see their work performed and be offered some really useful pointers about how to tighten their writing, but some of the criticisms were presented as damning opinions.
Photographs were taken, and we were encouraged to give a round of applause for the actors, writers and audience. It had been thought provoking and fun.
After the event, I milled about for a bit, and eventually got to chat with Vicki. Vicki was a full time professional actor (‘as much as one can be’, she added). Her event was connected to the London Screenwriters’ festival, which had its roots in Manchester. As a part of the festival, she used Meetup to advertise a combination of social and educational events (of which this was the first ‘education’ one). The festival seemed to be a conference where budding script writers could attend workshops and talks, network with people who are already working in the industry, and learn how to pitch. In some respects, I had stumbled into an event that was, in effect, great marketing.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon in a nearby pub. I was surprised to hear that a few people had travelled some considerable distance to come along to the event; from Cambridgeshire and from East Anglia. Everyone described themselves as writers, except for the writer of the telekinesis script, who was called Ben, who worked in IT.
‘Let’s do some pointless networking!’ suggested Paula, writer of the psychodrama. After a number of business cards had been exchanged, Paula, Ben and four others decided it was time to go home.
The remaining two were Kate, the writer of the first script which I didn’t really understand, and Simon, who was an actor, director and illustrator. They were both in deep conversation. Sensing that Kate was very obviously smitten with Simon, I decided that it was time for me to go.
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