A film I made

Enclosed: a link to watch it (if you would like) and some writing about what it was like to make it.

Hi all,

The end of the year is for getting stuff out of the way that you’ve been putting off, so you don’t have to deal with it in the new year. I’m writing to you today in order to do just that.

Four years ago I came up with the idea for a short film. Two years ago I shot it. A year and a half ago I finished it. Today I’m setting its Vimeo link from private to public:

 Papercut is a sort-of hybrid nonfiction (or ‘creative nonfiction’) short that explores the idea of friendship breakups through the lens of one particular past friendship of my own. 

I made it because I wanted to make a film, and this was a topic that compelled me. But I was also curious if the process of shooting the film would help me come to terms with the end of a relationship that I wasn’t quite over. It didn’t really. But strangely (or perhaps not so strangely), it was the process of editing the film and showing cuts to other people that catalysed a change in me. I had created a film that explained how I felt, and in conversation with others — who were opinionated about the narrative I had told and how I’d told it — I was able to see my own situation through fresh eyes. It wasn’t making the film, but having the film to communicate through, that gave me closure.

What was nice about making a film about something bad that happened to me, is it means that what happened can no longer be wholly bad. I made something out of it that I think is good, and that good thing wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for the bad thing. I don’t think it’s true that ‘everything happens for a reason’, but it’s certainly possible, in some cases, to spend three years painstakingly creating a reason in order to close some sort of emotional loop.

I’ve screened Papercut for a crowd three times. I foolishly submitted to a shit ton of film festivals, and waited for a year to see all those submissions play out… and of course, I was only accepted by one. It’s probably a combination of things: it’s a little bit uncategorisable in terms of form, it’s almost 20 minutes long, and maybe they also just didn’t like it. The first time I screened the film was a friends and family screening that I set up with my producing partner Kimia Ipakchi (shoutout Kimia). It was difficult to watch it on a big screen surrounded by people, especially as I’m in the film, but ultimately it was a wonderful experience and people said lovely things. The second time was at the one film festival that wanted me: the Drunken Film Festival in Bradford (also shoutout!). I travelled up to Bradford by coach to see my film screened for an intimate audience in a pub basement; it was a unique experience that I treasure, although I found it almost impossible to sit through the film. It was suggested to me later that maybe, in the 9 months between finishing the film and watching it in Bradford, I had grown so far away from the version of myself on screen that I felt embarrassed watching her. I think that’s it — I’m just a different person now, and one who thinks a lot less about the friendship that catalysed the film. By the third screening, at Birkbeck University’s Arts Week (I study a part-time degree there), I had made peace with the fact that I no longer want to watch this film with other people again, not out of fear, but because I’ve moved on, thanks to having made it. I stepped outside and stepped back in when it was over.

That was about 9 months ago now, and I’ve put off putting the film online. The selfish reason is there’s one particular person who I don’t want to see it. If she does, so be it, but I’m probably not going to shout about this one from the rooftops on social media so as to minimise that chance. For that reason, if you do watch Papercut and like it, I’d appreciate if you passed it on to anyone who you think might like the film. It’s probably not going to spread far and wide, but I’d be pleased just to hear that anyone watched it. Still, even if nobody does, I got all I needed out of making it.

Best,

Orla