Blurring the Line

There's this short film I made that has been travelling the world.

It lasts for 18 minutes and 20 seconds. Except, occasionally, it lasts for 19 minutes and 3 seconds. Depending on the speed of your projector. Twenty-five frames-per-second as opposed to 24. But please, don't ask. Seriously. The technical side of things isn't really my forte.

For the record, I've never had a Scandinavian girlfriend. That part of my film's narrative is entirely fictional. But much of the rest of the film's storyline is inspired by things that really did happen. I guess "based on a true story" is how the tagline writers of the world might choose to describe it. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. You know the score.

When my "real" girlfriend told me she was leaving me in the winter of 2005, I did what any normal person in my position would've done. I sat down at my lap-top, fished out an old, unproduced screenplay, and began a rewrite. Actually, that's a lie. The rewriting wasn't an instant response. There was a whole lot of numbness to get through first. A whole lot of pain. A whole lot of soul-searching. But when I did finally dry my eyes and sit down at the keyboard, I decided that I owed it to the two of us to try and make a film that would, in some small way, be a celebration of our time together. An epitaph-of-sorts for something wonderful that had been, but which had now gone the way of all flesh. I decided I was going to try rewriting the film whilst knowingly under the influence of an ongoing emotional roller-coaster ride. And I decided that, throughout the whole thing, I was going to wear my bruised heart wholeheartedly upon my sleeve. I agree, on the face of it, it was a terribly un-English course of action to be undertaking.

Of course, these things don't happen overnight. And in the first instance, it took me the best part of eight months to assemble a trusted team of dedicated and creative people who could help turn the idea for the film into a genuine celluloid reality. As a first-time writer/director, I was strongly advised against also acting in the film. I ignored that advice, reassuring myself that, as a first-time writer/director, it actually gave me a great deal of comfort to know that, even if nobody else did, at least my lead actor knew what it was I was after! Plus, it was one less mouth to feed. One less person to worry about getting lost on their way to set.

The shoot went well, and then a lot of time passed - swallowed whole by the gaping void of post-production favours.

When it finally came time to do the closing credits for the film, much water had passed under many bridges. My ex and I hadn't really spoken in almost a year. I seriously considered reneging on a promise I'd made to myself during the rewriting process, to formally dedicate the finished 35mm film to the former girlfriend in question. "Was it actually an appropriate gesture?" I wondered. After all, I didn't want it to be misinterpreted. I didn't want it to come across as weird or freaky or a cry for help from someone who had continued to wallow whilst others had simply gotten on with the simple act of living their lives. Thankfully, as it turns out, I'm glad I decided to stick to my principles and put her name up there on the big screen; because it was worth it to see the look on her face as she sat next to me in the darkened auditorium of London's ICA earlier this year for the screening of English Language (with English Subtitles) at The London Short Film Festival. That was the first time she'd seen the film. And I deliberately hadn't warned her. And yes, I felt her hand tighten in mind at the appropriate moment.

You're right, maybe I need to rewind a little here. But then again, I guess all you really need to know is the fact that this offbeat little romantic comedy of mine somehow came true somewhere along the line. Well, kind of anyway. The girl came back. In the end. Just like in the film (if that's not giving away the ending too much). And for the record, the screening of the film at the ICA that afternoon lasted for 18 minutes and 20 seconds. Not that either one of us were counting

If there's a moral to be found in this tale, you'll forgive me if I leave you guys to figure it out for yourselves. Life imitating art, imitating life, imitating art, et cetera...

Photo courtesy of the filmmaker.

Tim Plester is a London-based writer, actor and filmmaker. His award-winning short film, English Language (with English Subtitles) screens at 2008 Newport Beach Film Festival (click for information on times and tickets). Festival runs April 24-May 1.