It was a Savage meeting when I first came across Jon’s Tent. Susan Williamson from Temple Works, brought a folder with her to show and tell to the rest of the group. The folder contained disturbing photographs, taken by Jon Eland, of a pile of disfigured toys in gloomy lighting. They looked like a group of drug addled and dissolute failed actors from Toy Story, who had the idea of making a low budget horror film of their own that might look like Marilyn Manson had directed it. Apparently, Phil Kirby saw the images, liked them and decided to scribble some verses to accompany the photographs.
That was about a year ago.
Then a few weeks ago, I noticed some Tweets in my Twitter stream that mentioned the project again. Phil Kirby had gone all, Cecil B DeMille and wanted to put the project into some kind of production – he wasn’t sure which medium, but he definitely wanted voice.
“I can do voice,” I thought but before I could contact Phil, he sent me a DM which said, “You can do voice, would you like to get involved in Jon’s Tent?”
Being a media whore, I volunteered. I was just fantasising about my rider and how I might demand only blue roses in my dressing room when I thought to ask which studio it was being recorded in. Phil’s reply alerted me to the quality of the financial backers – “Can’t you record it yerself?” – no such backers existed.
Undaunted, I opened my laptop, got into character and began to interpret the poem in dulcet tones. I sent the file off to Phil and waited. Another look at my Twitter stream alerted me to the fact that I was merely being auditioned for the part. That bitch goddess of fame was two-timing me! I remembered the plot from Rosemary’s Baby… but then remembered, it was, ‘just a film.’
As it happened, my voice over acting must have been mightily impressive (or no-one else could be bothered recording it themselves) because Phil said he was going to use it somewhere. I waited for the finished product (whatever it was) to be completed before I included it on my CV.
But this is Leeds, a happening city and projects don’t just languish in the, ‘nice, but could have been so much better’ archive, especially when Phil has had a drink or five. Another Tweet later and Phil is inviting me to be a movie star – no sexual favours required. I love that show business bitch goddess!
Such was the scale of the production this time that Twitter had to be abandoned as a communication tool and email employed in its stead. This proved tricky as everyone involved had to remember that emails have to be answered.
Jon had the idea of an incredible film set with lavish costumes along the lines of a Tim Burton production. My costume was based on a red fox. I sent Jon my measurements so I could be fitted up but Jon’s reply alerted me to the quality of the financial backers involved – “Can’t you make it yerself?”…
By this time, Albert Ross of Yorkshire Telly fame, had been tempted into the project. He had a track record of making films and some serious recording equipment to his name. The problem was, he was about to embark on a mammoth tour as keyboard player with the Pigeon Detectives who were supporting James and he was supposed to be getting married as well (Albert, not James), so he had a window of ten minutes on Tuesday in this insane schedule. Fortunately, everyone else involved in the project, was able to get a joiner to make his or her window fit his.
Albert had estimated one hour for the entire shoot. Having been to film school myself, I figured this was either wildly optimistic or technology had moved on so far that it only required the makers to type in the working title of the movie and it did everything else.
On the day of the shoot, I met the leading lady, Lucy Meredith, a professional actor and theatre impresario. She was the owl character also narrating the piece. The electricity between us was, well, the electro-magnetism kind that is naturally generated by all living creatures… as they say in Hollywood.
An unadulterated Temple Works was our film set and after a quick tour of the premises, Albert had the vision of the movie in his head. He clearly likes to make things up as he goes along. Now we only needed to get it out of his head and into the camera and we’d be home and dry. Lucy actually managed to construct a costume that made her look like the owl character she was supposed to play. The dyed skin of a dead sheep was the best I could come up with for the fox costume but it proved useful in the very short term in warding off the stupefying cold that took up residence in TW that day.
I won’t spoil the dramatic climax to the piece but suffice to say it was a damn site warmer inside the refrigerator than outside of it.
Two hours later we had the shoot in the can but I suspect Albert had missed his wedding or some big gig as a result of the overtime.
And so the promotional media circus starts here.
THE END
It was a Savage meeting when I first came across Jon’s Tent. Susan Williamson from Temple Works, brought a folder with her to show and tell to the rest of the group. The folder contained disturbing photographs, taken by Jon Eland, of a pile of disfigured toys in gloomy lighting. They looked like a group of drug addled and dissolute failed actors from Toy Story, who had the idea of making a low budget horror film of their own that might look like Marilyn Manson had directed it. Apparently, Phil Kirby saw the images, liked them and decided to scribble some verses to accompany the photographs.
That was about a year ago.
Then a few weeks ago, I noticed some Tweets in my Twitter stream that mentioned the project again. Phil Kirby had gone all, Cecil B DeMille and wanted to put the project into some kind of production – he wasn’t sure which medium, but he definitely wanted voice.
“I can do voice,” I thought but before I could contact Phil, he sent me a DM which said, “You can do voice, would you like to get involved in Jon’s Tent?”
Being a media whore, I volunteered. I was just fantasising about my rider and how I might demand only blue roses in my dressing room when I thought to ask which studio it was being recorded in. Phil’s reply alerted me to the quality of the financial backers – “Can’t you record it yerself?” – no such backers existed.
Undaunted, I opened my laptop, got into character and began to interpret the poem in dulcet tones. I sent the file off to Phil and waited. Another look at my Twitter stream alerted me to the fact that I was merely being auditioned for the part. That bitch goddess of fame was two-timing me! I remembered the plot from Rosemary’s Baby… but then remembered, it was, ‘just a film.’
As it happened, my voice over acting must have been mightily impressive (or no-one else could be bothered recording it themselves) because Phil said he was going to use it somewhere. I waited for the finished product (whatever it was) to be completed before I included it on my CV.
But this is Leeds, a happening city and projects don’t just languish in the, ‘nice, but could have been so much better’ archive, especially when Phil has had a drink or five. Another Tweet later and Phil is inviting me to be a movie star – no sexual favours required. I love that show business bitch goddess!
Such was the scale of the production this time that Twitter had to be abandoned as a communication tool and email employed in its stead. This proved tricky as everyone involved had to remember that emails have to be answered.
Jon had the idea of an incredible film set with lavish costumes along the lines of a Tim Burton production. My costume was based on a red fox. I sent Jon my measurements so I could be fitted up but Jon’s reply alerted me to the quality of the financial backers involved – “Can’t you make it yerself?”…
By this time, Albert Ross of Yorkshire Telly fame, had been tempted into the project. He had a track record of making films and some serious recording equipment to his name. The problem was, he was about to embark on a mammoth tour as keyboard player with the Pigeon Detectives who were supporting James and he was supposed to be getting married as well (Albert, not James), so he had a window of ten minutes on Tuesday in this insane schedule. Fortunately, everyone else involved in the project, was able to get a joiner to make his or her window fit his.
Albert had estimated one hour for the entire shoot. Having been to film school myself, I figured this was either wildly optimistic or technology had moved on so far that it only required the makers to type in the working title of the movie and it did everything else.
On the day of the shoot, I met the leading lady, Lucy Meredith, a professional actor and theatre impresario. She was the owl character also narrating the piece. The electricity between us was, well, the electro-magnetism kind that is naturally generated by all living creatures… as they say in Hollywood.
An unadulterated Temple Works was our film set and after a quick tour of the premises, Albert had the vision of the movie in his head. He clearly likes to make things up as he goes along. Now we only needed to get it out of his head and into the camera and we’d be home and dry. Lucy actually managed to construct a costume that made her look like the owl character she was supposed to play. The dyed skin of a dead sheep was the best I could come up with for the fox costume but it proved useful in the very short term in warding off the stupefying cold that took up residence in TW that day.
I won’t spoil the dramatic climax to the piece but suffice to say it was a damn site warmer inside the refrigerator than outside of it.
Two hours later we had the shoot in the can but I suspect Albert had missed his wedding or some big gig as a result of the overtime.
And so the promotional media circus starts here.
THE END
Very fun to make! A great project to be involved in!
Ow ow ow.
Ivor you’re a bad man! Did you not realise I would have had manflu when first reading this? As ever you’ve managed to ‘tickle my fancy’ with your prose – now I just have to wait to see your acting debut, darling.
See you at the premiere?
[ Camp enough? ]
A premiere, Jon? I can just imagine Albert’s response… “Can’t you premiere it yerself?”
Hope you get over the manflu before the holidays.