The Story So Far
In October 2022 I turned up outside a Tesco at 6am, surreptitiously vaping as I waited to be let in for my first shift at this shop since I was a spotty faced (and significantly slimmer) teenager.
It was a bit of a rude awakening for me, having quit the company twice before, with professional ventures collapsing in hilarious fashion I was back where I was as a student, pre covid, with hopes and dreams which now seemed to be fruitless attempts of narcissism. I was now in the same shop I worked as a nineteen year old in 2018. Half a decade older, with three film degrees, still with the same career prospects.
So I was in quite the dour mood when I found myself in front of this door. From inside a balding, slightly overweight man shuffled towards the door to let me in. “Oh, not you again” he said as he opened the door. A real tone of annoyance as he said it.
Oh shit, I remember this bloke, or to be honest, the minute I’d quit this shop to move to film school in Manchester he’d entirely left my memory. I couldn’t remember his name but I knew he was a real asshole, rude, demeaning and a genuine displeasure to be around. It took me a few days to keep his name in my head but yes, this was Jerry.
He remembered me “as a useless, lazy skiver who wasn’t any good at the job”. He was disappointed to see me.
We made trivial small talk at first, interspersed with the occasional insult in my direction. He only really took any interest when he found out I’d been to film school and fancied myself a film director. Then it was all talk.
He told this story to his friend, Electric Russel. They’re such close friends they’re essentially married.
Before I knew it, via Russel, Jerry had pitched me an idea. He knew a bunch of zombies in Bristol, from the infamous Zombie Walk (A bunch of people wander round Bristol as zombies, terrifying and giving joy to people depending on their persuasion), he said we could make a zombie film.
I laughed it off. Then I got thinking… I was a bit of a stoner at the time, after every horrible day I could go somewhere nice and isolated, light a little joint and all my worries would fade away. I’d get funny comments for my spliffs, I found it weird. I was reminded of when I went back to Manchester to see some old friends, we were singing tunes around a guitar for a good portion of the evening until the ket man turned up and everyone started talking slowly and the room got quiet. I’d had a dabble, hadn’t liked it, thought it was strange. The phrase Ket Zombies had been batting around in my head for a while.
Well, if Jerry knew zombies, I knew how to make films… Something could happen here. So I pitched it to him, he liked it, so I started writing. I then pitched it to my best mate Joe, he’d been working in film and TV for a while. Together, we hatched together a plan.
Obviously we needed money, so I changed my lifestyle, spending as little as possible. By the time we ended up shooting the first day (the biggest day) I’d saved enough to fund a big shoot for about six grand. This was the 21st October 2024. Two years later.
In those two years I had many interesting characters pitch me ideas on how to shoot the film. There were several failed ventures, weird tangents and ridiculous farces but alas, there’s no need to focus on that now.
What is important is we got together a crew, proper professionals, we got together a scintillating cast, after forty or so versions we had a funny and engrossing script, we had a top location in The Attic Bar (having previously looked at a sex club and a forest in Wales).
We shot the most ambitious part of the film first, the crammed writhing dance floor with about a hundred extras over the course of the day. The thinking was shoot the hardest bit first, if it turns out terrible, why bother with the rest. That shoot, 21st October 2024 was the greatest day of my life.
The people of Bristol came together and got involved, friends, strangers, students, all the people you could imagine came and supported us on film or behind the camera. After a successful shoot we danced through Stokes Croft, threw scripts onto the Turbo Island fire and a crackhead threatened to break my jaw.
The next day I woke up, paid my invoices and became very sad as I’d run out of money and still had two thirds of the shoot left to do. What the hell kind of a gargantuan task had I undertaken here? I’m a moron, I’m a moron, sure it looks great, we’re onto a winner, but what the hell am I doing?! I’ve thought that a lot since then.
The truth is, even if it is a mad undertaking, I have a hunger and desire to create films you don’t find often. I’m not saying I’m gifted, special or whatever, I’m a decent writer, I’m good at getting performances out of actors, I’m pretty poor technically, but I have a fierce desire to be successful that fuels me. All I’ve ever wanted to do was make films and make a living out of it. I’ll do anything to do it.
So six months later I’d accrued… Less money. Just enough for us to on a micro budget shoot the rest of the film. Planning was a nightmare, the whole thing was chaos, terrifying and with, for the most part, a new crew.
We owe everything to a film school in Bristol called Screenology. Their students (who are top professionals in the making) worked valiantly under our director of photography, Oliver Mitchell. I call him Mitch. No one else does. He doesn’t seem to mind.
With a professional camera dept, basic sound and a wonderful lighting department we got the whole thing looking professional on a budget. We got an amazing deal on camera equipment, we hustled like crazy. We didn’t get permits, just started shooting and hoped for the best. I am happy to apologize to The National Trust for that final day.
It was mental, what we did, it shouldn’t have worked, yet it did. It’s amazing to be here now writing about it.
You go to film school, you learn the trade, then you don’t properly learn until you’re putting your money where your mouth is. I’m three times the filmmaker I was before this. I find myself in a situation where I’m sitting on a fun, purely independent film with so much gratitude to the hordes of people who have helped me.
I was asked the other day “Don’t you ever think about giving up?” I’ll be honest, it’s never crossed my mind. I was born to do this, at whatever scale or level I end up at, this is what I’m meant to be doing, I feel it in my soul. I’m not even sure I believe in having a soul. Doesn’t matter, doing this, chasing this path, it is meant for me.
Now I’ve moved out of my parents house (not my choice, they left Bristol and I can’t) and I’ve no money. It’s taken me ages to scrape the thousand pounds it costs to make the trailer to get to this position. That’s why we need help now.
I’ve scraped, scarpered and pulled together something I’m really proud of, but the project won’t be finished without outside help.
I need help to get this out there. Anything helps. If you’ve got this far then either you’re interested in helping or have a morbid curiosity in watching me pour my soul out. Both are fine.
If enough people can chuck us a few quid then you’d be helping a determined lunatic make his dreams come true and validating the time of the people who contributed so much. I wish I could validate it myself but I just don’t have the money. It is an expensive business.
So we’re here, scarred, battered and bruised, asking for help to getting this out. I’m not claiming greatness, I am not Shakespeare, this will not be like Parasite, it will not win gratuitous awards and launch me to stardom. It is just a fun story, made with passion, heart and love. It deserves to see the light of day.
And through all this, Jerry has become one of my best mates. He still complains every week it’s taking too long, prods and takes the piss out of me, but I think, deep down, he’s thankful.