I’ve been working on this film for far too long now. I’m not sure if it’ll ever be finished. I don’t know where the director is today, I’m not sure anybody does. It won’t make all that much difference if he does turn up, the state he’s likely to be in. It’s the booze you see. And that’s probably the least of it. Some people have a cup of tea and an egg on toast for breakfast. Not him. Not that I’ve ever seen. Breakfasts for him are a bit more likely to be purely liquid in form, and poured from a bottle that’s lucky if it’s survived from the day before.
I’m not all that high-up in the hierarchy of filmmaking, I never really have been and I’m not sure if I want to be. Yeh, I know, the higher up you go the more kudos you get, the more money. Also, though, the more politics and nonsense you have to deal with. The more likely it is that your ego will climb higher with you.
No, I’m not that important but without me, or all the unsung folk like me, your hour and a half or so of escape in the dream palace would be a blurry mess and the sound all over the place. And not in an arthouse manner. No, just a mess.
Which brings me back to this film. I’m not sure quite what it is that we’re making. Some days I think it’s more an intellectual arthouse piece, others it seems more like yet another of those films that are full of shock and horror, aimed directly at the shelves of the video rental shops that have sprung up across the land.
Those places are like stepping into an untamed frontier of culture. One that’s busy not even testing boundaries but just doesn’t even know that they exist. Nothing’s legally certified and I don’t know about you but at one of my local ones you’re as likely to be given a bootleg copy when you rent a film as the official cassette.
