Summer 2012.

It has been a while.

In fact, it's been a year since I last wrote on here. I am now fast approaching my 22nd year on this planet; a terrifying thought, and over the course of this year much has occurred. I have finished my second year at university, soon to begin my third and final year, another horrifying prospect. Many of my friends have finished their courses now and are on the look out for full time jobs. I can honestly confirm the thought of getting a real job and doing something with my life is the last thought on my mind; the mere thought of full employment makes me wretch a little. Speaking of jobs, I now have (a part-time) one! I am currently working at a Bose store, selling fancy speakers and headphones to the people of Meadowhall in Sheffield (Westfield for northerners).  And now that I have a regular income it means that I can afford more than one meal a day and that I can occasionally buy nice things. Like lunches and my new camera. My new camera which will be helping to shoot our final films next year, something I'm very excited for. For anyone interested, here are links to two of the films I made this year - 'Wasted Words' and 'Drop'. Hopefully the ones we make next year will be even better.

This summer I also made it to Spain for Benicassim Festival for good friends and good music. As with all excellent festivals, I spent the majority of my time there inebriated, got a horrible builder's tan and saw some live music for the first time in a while. Highlights included seeing Maccabees for the millionth time, drunken escapades on a wooden bus powered by pissed tourists, dancing to this, getting a henna tattoo and being the sweatiest I've ever been in a dance tent. Literally I was dripping, it was gross. I've also moved from my haggard, mould-infested home on Brocco Bank to a shinier new place a mere ten minute walk away. It's nice to be able to lay in bed and not be able to see my breath. Also, the view's not too bad.

I've spent a lot of this summer listening to new music and watching films so look out for some reviews coming soon. Pictures from the last year to follow, some taken by me, others by friends; click for full size images. Aloha.

I basically am Bear Grylls.

So as you may or may not know, I've been up in Sheffield for the first part of summer. My job hunt has proved to be less fruitful than Chicken Bar and I can't stay inside in my pants 24/7 so some friends and I have started adventuring. With a little help from a certain website, both with my handsome pals and by myself, we've visited various locations all around the city. Here a few pictures I've taken whilst doing so, there are bound to be more in the future. Click on them for a better look.

Choosing To Die.

Forgive the bluntness of the title.


I suppose I have to preface this with another story. I must have been about thirteen the last time I cried from watching something. In the years since then I've watched some of the most emotional films ever made. Schindlers, Pianist, Diving Bell etc etc; but none have had the effect of that first and only film to make me weep. What film was it I hear you eagerly proclaim? 'Deep Impact'. No shame. Not a particularly good film, not a particularly bad one either. The film, from what I remember, is all about a bunch of people basically running away from bloody big meteor. That's the gist of it at least. The one bit I remember, the one bit that sent me, takes place on a beach. The big old meteorite is on it's way to Earth and is on course for crashing in an ocean. Thousands are likely to die, everyone's looting and trying to reach their families and so on and so forth. A father and his daughter, about 50 and 20 respectively, are sat on the beach. They've realised that given their situation, there's no way they can escape the impact. Together they head to the seafront to await their somewhat inevitable fate. In the distance a humongous tidal wave approaches, a result of the meteor reaching it's destination. The daughter takes her dad's hand, looks to him and says something along the lines of "When I was 10 I took thirty dollars from your wallet." He looks to her and replies "Once, when you were a baby, I dropped you on your head". The pair laugh and smile, then look forward as the wave crashes down above them. That was it. I remember leaving the room (I was watching this with my fam; highly embarrassing), and then heading to the bathroom to clean my face up so that I didn't appear to be such a emotional mess. That was the last of it, I haven't cried at a film or programme since then. I'm not saying I've not been affected by anything since then; in fact I'm positive I've seen things that are far superior to 'Deep Impact' and yet none have had the same emotional outcome for me. That is, until the other day. 

Terry Pratchett, renowned author and beard-owner, has Alzheimer's disease. If you're not sure what Alzheimer's is, it's a form of dementia; main symptoms including language breakdown and memory loss. Pratchett has been very open with his condition, working closely with the Alzheimer's Research Trust and documenting his illness with hopes for broadening the public's knowledge on the disease. In 2009 Pratchett spoke in this article about his intentions to commit assisted suicide (though that's not a term he likes). Fast forward to today and Pratchett has worked in conjunction with the BBC to create a documentary about assisted suicide; the decisions that go along with it and the laws & regulations behind it. The resulting piece is some of the best television I've seen in a long, long time. With Pratchett's own thoughts and condition at the heart of the doc, his interaction with those with intention for suicide is poignant and insightful. He talks to a number of different people, with a number of different conditions. Assisted suicide is not legal in the UK but is legal in Switzerland. Dignitas, a Swiss organisation dedicated solely to assisted suicide are at the heart of the film; culminating with  Pratchett travelling to their base with a motor neurone disease sufferer to document his passing.


At first glance it seems that the documentary is bias, promoting assisted suicide as a basic human right. However, as the piece progresses we see the less pleasant side of things - the legal complications, the costs and perhaps most importantly, the effect of one's death on those left behind. The film concludes with death of Peter Smedley, the motor neurone sufferer; with his death filmed as it happens. It's difficult to watch of course, but with the added factor of his wife being sat next to him it's damn near impossible. For essentially the last fifteen minutes of the film I was full on weeping. And you know when you say to someone "oh yeah I cried about it" I mean I cried about it. Like an audible, visual, snivvelling mess for a quarter of an hour, probably more. But don't let me discourage you. It's difficult to recommend the film in that it's not a pleasant watch; you won't have fun whilst watching it. But, having said that, it's a unique and important piece that brings to attention a serious issue that needs to be discussed and addressed. The film, as to be expected, gave way to mixed opinions - an interesting insight to viewers thoughts can be found here.


The piece was originally aired on the BBC on the 13th June 2011, but due to the BBC's iplayer having an awful 30 day restriction limit it has since been removed. Luckily, after some excessive Google searching I found a copy of the film, watchable below or click here for the option to watch the film in full screen. Let me know what you think. 

Let's play catch-up.

I've been neglecting you and I've never been more sorry. However, in fairness to me, I have been busier than you could possibly ever imagine. I've got all my deadlines in this week, I've been making films and reading books and going places and doing things and causing trouble and being good. This year is going at an absolutely unprecedented pace and I am so not ready for it to do so. Plans are being made for summer and next year and the lives ahead of us already but for me it feels like Christmas was last week. 

Speaking of Christmas, I got a neat little camera as a gift and I've been taking pictures of some of the stuff I've done and the wonderful things I've seen. I'll post my favourites below as well as some of the new films I've been making. The black white video is called 'Morning' and it's a type of composograph (essentially something intricate being recorded and edited to create a rhythm or beat). Big thanks to Owen Jones for crawling out of bed and using my toothpaste. The second video is a short documentary made with Owen Jones (producer), Jonny Harrold (audio) and Dave Galloway (visuals); I was editor and director. I think it turned out nicely, please, please, please let me know what you think, we're grateful for any feedback. For now I bid you farewell, but I'll back, and sooner than you think. Be good to each other.

P.s Click on any of the pictures below to see them big and shiny. 

It's watch-a-load-of-stuff day!

Every once in a while there comes opportunity for a day of rest. Everything kind of lines up for you - no ties or commitments; just time to yourself. Today was one of those days. The weather was shitty, I had no money so I couldn't go out and I had (and have) an entire backlog of films and t.v shows to watch. What with the BAFTAs just gone and the Academy awards fast approaching, I figured it was time for me to make my way through this year's frontrunners. 


I'm just guna put this out there - I hate Colin Firth. I hate that whole snivelling, bumbling English buffoon facade put across from him and Hugh 'dickface' Grant. 'Bridget Jones' is a horrendous, sexist, degrading piece of matriarchal propaganda (that may or may not be an exaggeration) in which, men are made to look like either bigamists or dopes. I hate Colin Firth. I hope I've put that across adequately. So it was with furrowed brow and nervous constitution that I approached 'The King's Speech'. The film tells the story of George VI, played by Mr Firth, and his struggle with a speech impediment. He teams up with therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey 'holy-fuck-is-that-Captain-Barbosa' Rush), in an attempt to overcome his affliction and find his voice (in more ways than one). You can see why it's been nominated and praised the way it has. It paints 1930's Britain in a beautiful hazy light. The whites and blues of spring in Scotland; the reds and golds of Royal premises, the browns and grays of the middle class. The past never looked so pretty. The cast is stellar, it seemed to be very much a team effort. They all sort of work off each other with Mrs Burton and Peter Pettigrew consistent as always; providing a backdrop for the forerunners of Firth and Rush. It's nice to watch really. I know nice isn't really the most exciting of adjectives for me to have used but I think it fits. It's nice to see George develop, it's nice that there are moments where we laugh with the characters, it's nice there's a start and a middle and an end. It doesn't come across as pretentious or trying too hard or over-the-top. It's simple, charming and well-made. 

'Boy A' came to my attention on release in 2007. The film tells the story of Jack Burridge, a young man newly released from a prison sentence for a murder he committed as a child. It sort of went under the radar, an independent movie that never really got a lot of recognition, in spite of positive reviews. I didn't get the chance to watch it back then so I kinda forgot about it up until recently. Andrew 'soon-to-be-Spiderman' Garfield, was for me, the best of the bunch in Fincher's 'The Social Network'. So after watching his performance in that a couple of weeks ago, I looked up what he'd done before. Sure enough, his handsome mug was the leading role in 'Boy A' so I looked that little fella up and downloaded it. It's pretty dark, I'll put it out there. Our boy Jack seems to have alot of issues. The whole thing's filled with flashbacks of his youth and what occurred in the build-up to the actual incident, as well as his somewhat unpleasant experiences in prison. It all sort of piles up on top of the poor lad, who seems to just want a fresh start. It's difficult to place yourself as an audience member. We never really know whether we should sympathize with him; it's difficult to know what to think when your protagonist is a murderer. But all that sort of works in the film's favour, it's up to you to decide what you think of him, up to you decide what's right or wrong. Empathy seems to be key here; if you put your feet in Jack's shoes, you'll appreciate the film alot more than if you don't. 


I fucking love American television. Sorry England, 'Dr Who' is great, but 'The Sopranos' pisses all over the tardis. After committing a billion plus hours of my life to the likes of 'Six Feet Under' and 'Dexter', next up was always going to be 'The Wire'. The critically acclaimed show follows the Baltimore drug scene, seen through the eyes of both drug dealers, and law enforcement. I've only just watched the first season (of five) but thus far I can honestly say that it is most definitely the dog's bullocks. It's deep, it's clever, it's engaging and perhaps most importantly, it's consistent. Watch it, but be warned; you will lose many, many hours of your life.