When you first book your ticket to the London Screenwriters’ Festival, you won’t know in how many different ways the three days spent there will affect you.
Take me for example: I’d flown in from Rome a few days before festival week in order to get the absolute most out of my time at LSF. I was so excited, finally in London again, at an event that concentrated on bringing people together, nurturing talent and giving everyone a much-needed motivational nudge in the form of a kick up the arse.
I met our charismatic leader, Chris Jones, the man himself on Networking Tuesday. I was impressed. He spoke with such openness, such passion, seducing the room almost immediately. I remember thinking that I hadn’t witnessed such electrifying, unwavering enthusiasm since university. He gave us every ounce of his energy and we loved him for it.
Chris: “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
Audience: “EVERYTHING!!”
Chris: “WHAT’S GOING TO STAND IN YOUR WAY??”
Audience: “NOTHING!!”
I’m paraphrasing of course. But essentially, this is the message that was transmitted to us, most of all during the opening and the closing of the festival, accompanied by the dramatic tunes of “Bumblebee” from the Transformers soundtrack and “Time” from Inception.
Which brings me to the aftermath. On the Monday night after LSF, I was supposed to travel to Reading, the location where I’d be shooting a short film early the next day. I wrote the script and would go on to direct it.
I had just arrived in Greenwich, at the flat where I would be staying until my departure, when the cinematographer (who was bringing all camera, sound and lighting equipment) sends me a jumpy message. Sophia, the camera isn’t turning on. He calls me, high panic in his voice, the camera isn’t turning on, the camera isn’t turning on.
What the fuck. Why have you only checked the camera NOW? We’re shooting tomorrow! My reaction. He tells me how he hasn’t been with the equipment for over a week and that he can’t get a hold of his associate. I react surprisingly calmly. Keep trying the camera and call everyone you know who has a camera and ask if we can borrow it. We’re happy to pay them. I jump on a train, the line goes dead.
I arrive at Waterloo station, realising that there were massive delays on the trains heading in the Reading direction. Bugger (really a blessing in disguise). I start calling up and texting everyone I know, a few new LSF friends too. I ask the rest of the crew to do the same. Have you got a camera, do you know anyone who does, can we borrow it…
A friend with whom I had happily reconnected at LSF said she had a camera and was happy to bring it to me at Waterloo. HUZZAH. Success! I phone up the cinematographer, dizzy with adrenaline and anticipation. He doesn’t pick up the phone. I call again. He picks up. Me: it’s fine, everything’s fine, I have a camera! Come meet me at the station and we’ll get a train together – I almost bounce off the fucking walls.
Sophia… I’m not coming. His words.
A moment of utter disbelief, icy cold silence. Then – What do you mean, you’re not coming? We have a camera, everything is alright!
“I’m not coming.”
By this point, I had spent about two hours sitting on the floor in a café in Waterloo, desperately charging my phone and switching out my Italian and UK sim cards. I had had enough. He proceeds to tell me how I can shoot anyway, that he’s so glad that I found a camera and that he so, so sorry. Which only leads me to ask why on earth he isn’t coming and reminding him that without him, we have no sound and no lights. He says he simply can’t leave the camera issue unresolved and that the light fuses have fizzled out.
Bottom line, he wasn’t coming. In the midst of him telling me all of his now present problems, I interrupt him. I can’t deal with your problems, after you have only caused me more. So best of luck with everything.
I put down the phone, staring into space, silently willing myself not to have a psychotic breakdown in a café filled with people. The biggest surprise was yet to come: BOOM. I refuse to give up. I call the assistant cinematographer and explain the latest plot development. She pleads with me to not go ahead with the shoot, she tries to talk some sense into me, but I won’t have any of it. I remember Chris’ words. Nothing is impossible. It’s a bullshit limitation we put on ourselves.
The shoot was on, no matter what anyone said. Actors had come from Germany and Italy to be in the short. It was unfeasible to send them an email, apologising and saying that the shoot was cancelled. I had even started writing the email. But then, I said no. NO. Over my dead body. It was, I admit, a mixture of pride and of relentlessness. Perhaps even foolishness.
Long story short, we shot without sound equipment and without lighting set ups. Very dogma. The assistant cinematographer became our cinematographer, and she was bloody amazing. Not only that, she became assistant director, producer, anything that was needed. Without meaning to sound pompous, it really is in times like these that you see what people are truly made of. Not just me and the crew though. When I told the actors, they were hesitant and taken aback at first, and a little outraged at the ex-cinematographer’s attitude. But very quickly, we established rapport and went on to have a wonderful relationship throughout the brief shoot. They all stepped up when they could have said fuck off, I’m not doing this. We had a marvellous time and I got to work with some truly talented and noteworthy people, which I will undoubtedly keep in mind for any further projects, whether they be directed by me or not.
So there you are. The effects of LSF and the momentous moments brought to you by Chris Jones might not be immediate for you, but I defy you to be untouched by them. The next time someone tells you something is impossible, smile and elegantly tell them that it’s fucking not, and that you will prove it to them (alternatively, call me, and I will do my best to handle it, Scandal style).
I think my personal Wonder Woman would be proud of me – Tess Mercer, Lex’s gutsy, powerful and more than worthy successor in Smallville.
Or at least I hope so.
And lastly, here’s to you, Chris…
Thank you.
Sophia Elizabeth Tamaro
Screenwriter
https://twitter.com/SophiaETamaro
https://www.facebook.com/sophia.tamaro
Posted by a member of the London Screenwriters’ Festival team.
