There was a further surprise in store: the first drink (non-alcoholic, of course, since I was on my scooter) was free! ‘It’s a party!’ explained the barman, when my astonishment became evident.
I soon got chatting to the organiser. Mal was co-founder of a short-film distribution system called Fliqio that was, essentially, a tech start up providing mobile video on demand. The twist was that it aimed to curate high quality short films. Think YouTube for film aficionados with a subscription model. A selling point was that a significant percentage of the subscription goes to the film makers, so they can make more films. A smaller part of the business was to run exclusive screening events.
The screening I had turned up to was tied to another group called Film Jam, an invitation only group for film makers. I felt I had stumbled into quite a niche event, surrounded by creative media types. I had gone from feeling, ‘I don’t really want to go out; I’m tired, I just want a night in watching the telly, I’ve done all these stupid events and I still have absolutely no idea what on earth I want to do in my life’, to another view which was along the lines of, ‘actually, this might be reasonably interesting’. I soon discovered that Mal’s group was only a couple of months old and had attracted around three hundred people, which was pretty good going.
After about ten minutes of chatter, Mal had to open the night with a brief introduction, before eventually handing the mic over to a speaker who was armed with a PowerPoint presentation.
Our speaker described himself as a film maker who specialised in making short films. He told us how we could monetise our films, through competitions and film festivals, through video on demand platforms, and through advertising. He shared anecdotes about YouTube superstars who had bought houses in their twenties by making video blogs about their lives. He told us that we lived in interesting times because the barriers to making films had fallen, heralding the era of the ‘micro-feature’; full length movies that were made for next to nothing: the biggest expense being the time and the money of the actors and the staff. The challenge is, of course, how to get people to work for hardly any money. His answer was simple: be passionate, and tell everyone what you’re doing. Other tips were: don’t make sci-fi or fantasy films on a micro-budget, since you’re not going to be able to do it very well. Instead, think of documentary or drama.
After the opening speech, it was time to see the six ‘hand-selected’ films. I’m no critic, but I would say that two were good, one was okay, and the rest were terrible. One of the good films was a powerful advert for an environmental charity. The other good film showed banter between a group of lads in South East London. The banter was funny, outrageous and crude; it was beautifully written and well-acted. The ‘okay’ one was, simply, about a man who went to get his hair done.
One of the other films was a ‘proof of concept’ trailer which contained depictions of tube trains, gun violence and people screaming. I hated it, but I didn’t hate it as much as the two minute film that showed ‘eating and drinking’ from the inside of someone’s mouth. As a piece of art, in a gallery, it worked, but as a film, it was nonsense; I wanted to see characters and a plot.
When the films had finished there was a live interview with a film producer who made the ‘guns and people screaming’ trailer. She talked about the trials and tribulations of trying to take something from the script to the screen. It was interesting stuff; her talk suggested a whole other world, a huge sub-culture and industry that I know nothing about. As a teen, I was quite interested in film, but it was a phase that quickly passed; there are only so many obsessions that I can practically have in life, I found film was a subject that was difficult to pin down: every aspect of humanity can be depicted using an infinity of potentially imperfect, yet beautifully acceptable ways.
During the breaks, I chatted to Stu, Brett and Steve. Brett and Steve were film makers, and Brett had recently won a competition and was currently working on a script for a feature. I didn’t catch what Stu did, but he seemed to be ‘in the know’ about what was going on.
When the interview with the feature producer came to an end, everyone was given thanks: the film makers, the organisers, the owners of the venue, the barman, and the audience for making for such a good night. It had been a good night. It had been fun, but I had felt uncomfortable. I didn’t know whether it was that I didn’t know anything about film, whether it was because I had to get up early for work the next morning, or whether it was because I was a bit tired of randomness. I wasn’t sure. Either way, it was late. I needed to get home.
No comments:
Post a Comment