And So It Begins . . . .

And so it begins. And with it dawns the horrific realisation of the task ahead. No amount of whisky and cigarettes can hide the terrible truth of what must come. At this 3am, I have nowhere, to run. I must face it, I have signed up to this and that is that, but why? Where did this begin?

So, this being the first, some background information may be useful to plot the course ahead. My name is Alistair, and to this point I have been a simple stupid writer, content with my little room and its windows, but now this brave new world draws in on me. I run a-minus productions along with my good friend Richard Bolton, who, although I met in a youth drama group, I have spent most of my time indulging alongside with any drink or drug we can reach. Now those days are over, if they weren’t already, long ago. About a year ago, after a few short and altogether failed attempts at film making, we shot our first feature film, called 2/1[two], a Dogme films shot in a single take, for one hour, with no script. After the god awful process of editing it and setting up some trailers etc, we began to look for a venue. As a gift we found TAO, or The Art Organisation in Nottingham. In exchange for a few days volunteering work, clearing out a hotel of needles, soiled benches and the like, (a detail which I might add, I ended up doing alone, the sucker) we were allowed to show the film. It went down altogether well, and is in fact up for its second showing as this is written down.

While at the organisation, we befriended possibly the most over dressed volunteer I have ever seen, one Daniel Hallam. For a man who spent most of his time in the activities of painting, pouring drinks and manual labour, he still persisted in the cravat with polished shoes and matching jacket. A strange man, I thought. I was not wrong. Over the course of the next few months our work together increased, and after I drank all his vodka, I had an obligation to repay the debt. Over drinks, he discussed his theatre group, Halden Theatre and his desire to get back into work. We then collaborated on a new script and set some work in motion.

Now on this god given morning, I have to come to the understanding in my booze burnt mind that I have signed up to co-run a production of Huis Clos, by Sartre. The fear is coming on strong, and it will not leave me to sleep this off. We have no money really to speak off. We have no audition space, no rehearsal room in mind, and no venue. Yet madness will drive us on, relentlessly forward, always!

I lean forward and tell him, the world is ruled by those brave enough to run towards the traffic, and I think we can do that. However, after deciding against this moment of method, we agree to just persist with the production plan. With this drink and last drop of fuel, gods speed and all those bad omens, let’s go onward! More soon…