There's a Chinese cigarette case, and the rest you can keep

Our Director Writes:

Diary of a Mature Student, End of First Year

Note my ability to go for the obvious Apocalypse Now / The Doors quote. Tempting as it was.

So here's the thing. Have you seen Four Lions yet? No? See if it's showing nearby. Go and see it. Go on, this'll still be here when you get back. Seriously. Go see.

I saw it this afternoon in a packed cinema local cinema with two other people in attendance. Now, in the annals of matinee showings, this is a new point - low or high, your choice - for me. I like empty cinemas on general principle - the only cinema I like when it's full is a local independent one which has been retrofitted for comfort and style - but three people? Surely it costs more to employ the projectionist for two hours than they took for the ticket prices?

Anyway.

There aren't many things that British films can do that can't be done better by other, more powerful, more monied filmmakers. One of the things they can do, to butcher-quote Paul Cornell, is to create a 'unique mix of tragedy up against comedy which other cultures don't quite get.' Let's talk subject matter; Four Lions is about a small cell of English would-be jihadi terrorists, which means the film will go down with a mainstream American audience - the holy grail of film production, apparently - like a fart in a crowded lift.

Which is a shame. To get all political'n'shit for a moment, treating terrorism as an untouchable subject legitimises its' impact, which is, one might think, the desired effect. Turning terrorism into farce? Showing the comedy in bomb-making, training camps and martyrdom? This should hopefully remove some of the seriousness behind the concept.

Of course, given that the film will get a limited release and be watched only by cult filmgoers and Chris Morris fans, its' impart may be somewhat limited, which is, again, a shame.

But go and see it. I won't beg - not because I'm too proud, but because begging via a blog is like firing an AK47 at a B-52, pointless for one in a billion chances - but yes, go, go see, go see soon. The tragedy is comic and the comedy is tragic, a point curiously lost on my two fellow theatregoers who laughed at everything, which is always an interesting sign.

So anyway. It's done. the first year, the trial, the occasional tribulations. It feels like it was only a moment that you had to step by and let it pass, but hey, I've got something like sixteen quicktime videos to prove I've been doing something with my time other than reading, writing strange little essays and spending time hunched in front of the editing suite, My Brand New Deity.

I have to come out and say something; even having been a crap student my first time around, I don't understand the crap students of the modern generation. In my year, there are seventy students on my course. On average, that means there are five insanely committed, monomaniacal filmmakers, five to ten theorists and five to ten looking for industry work. Out of the remaining 40-45, there are varying degrees of commitment in 50-75%, and the bottom 25% simply don't care.

This isn't meant in an apathetic sense. One student, who myself and a colleague track out of interest, turned up for six of forty-six lectures last semester. I'm sure the rest of their time was spent living life to the full, taking coke, getting laid and drunkenly watching the sunrise, but to pay the current tuition fees - and as ruinous as they are, they're probably going to get worse to do something you could do just by moving to the town anyway seems bizarre. Even at my lowest depths, I still cared about passing my courses and getting my degree. This is because, however, I'm basically very stubborn.

Another thing; pass a single filmmakers skillset class and you have access, availability pending, to all the equipment the department has and is willing to let you. (It turns out these criteria are a movable feast, because if they don't want to give you something, either you can't have it or it's not available, dependent. But still.) So this semester, there are four course units. That's eight hours a week. There are three exercises, four essays, and three exams at the end of it all. So once you've done your eight hours a week plus another, what, sixteen of work and revision for good measure, do you think "I could be making a film, I'll head down to the lab" at this point?

Apparently not.

My colleague and I are two of the monomaniacal, obsessed filmmakers. We're also the only two who make any extra effort in filmmaking.

Don't get me wrong, this is The Mature Student Effect; not living on campus, I only have to socialise when I'm there, and don't have to worry about drinking, living it up, being young etc. This is why I do so much extra work; it's because I've done the boozing, sexing, living lifestyle of the young student. It was kind of fun, and kind of not, all rolled up into one. So now I'm a dedicated student simply because my support network means I can't not be.

It would be nice, however, if there were one, or two, extra students in my year who had, at their age, the kind of passion that means you go out and record more film just because you can, not because you have to.

There is a time for complaining, however, and a time to put these childish things away, because next year starts in...

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Five Months?

Dammit.