I was looking over the list of blog topics in a file I keep on my desktop, a cornucopia of crap I can waffle about whenever I feel obliged to blog but haven’t got anything specific or timely to say.
In essence it’s just a list of titles – things I might like to blog about at some point. Some of the titles have been there so long I can no longer remember what they mean:
‘Water in the waffles!’
For example. Exclamation mark included. Or:
‘Hove into view’
Which feels like it might need an exclamation mark. Or my personal favourite:
‘Abrasive arsehole – tougher TP’
I’m assuming TP means Toilet Paper in that title, but who fucking knows why or what I was thinking at the time? Guess it’s just lost in the mists of posterior-ity.*
Normally I just pick a title and keep typing until I get bored. Then I stop; but today …
Today, I just can’t think of anything else to talk about. The only thing on my mind is Just for the Record – both the premiere tomorrow and the theatrical release on Friday.
Okay, so I’ve known about both for a while and apart from getting a little closer, why am I suddenly so excited? Why, now, are my balls beginning to tingle?
Oh, I know I may have said I was excited before, but that was mostly a lie. This blog (believe it or not) is the public face of Phill Barron and doesn’t necessarily reflect my true opinions.
Except when it does.
So what’s changed? Why the nervous anticipation?
Because now I’ve actually seen the film. I hadn’t before, and promoting something I haven’t seen worries me. What if it’s shit? Do I bother mentioning it on a daily basis or do I let it slide and hope nobody notices?
You see, the problem is, people I work with read this blog so if I fail to mention something they can get a bit upset. Obviously I never tell people the film or whatever they’ve made from my script is a pile of shit because … well, it’s just not polite, is it?
Also, they might point out they just filmed what I wrote and any resulting shitness was inherent and entirely my fault.
More importantly, they might want to pay me for something else one day. Please?
Having once been caught up in publicly and enthusiastically promoting something I privately thought was fucking awful, I get a bit worried in the lead up to something being finished – just in case it is still steaming when it hits the ground and splashes on your shoes.
But now, now I’ve finally seen the film. I’ve seen Just for the Record and …
Well, it’s not for me to say whether it’s good or not – you have to make up your own mind (when you buy the DVD from all good stockists!†); but it made me laugh whilst sitting alone in my room so …
That’s got to be a start, right?
The nervous part of the anticipation comes from wondering if anyone else will find it funny. So far, everyone who’s seen it says they like it; but then they would, wouldn’t they? Because so far, everyone who’s seen it worked on the production or might end up working with me again some day. No one’s going to give you an honest critique under those circumstances.
On top of that, everyone who’s seen it works in the industry. Is it funny to anyone with little to no interest in the mechanics of film making?
I don’t know.
At the premiere tomorrow, I might find out.
Or maybe not. Again, most of the people there will have worked on or be sleeping with someone who worked on the production. Plus, most of the people there will either work in the industry or be bored shitless listening to the people they sleep with who work in the industry. They might not find it funny, but they should get it.
And they’re a friendly crowd. They have to mingle afterwards with people who have invested time and energy in the film. It’ll be a vague test of how funny it is since people tend not to fake laughter for the whole hour and a half, but they will laugh at things they’d probably just smile at in private.
No, the real litmus test comes on Friday when it opens before a (hopefully) paying audience (of hopefully more than one or two people).
Will they like it? Will they find it funny? Will they cyber-track me down afterwards to proffer death threats?
All these questions and more are making me frothy with excitement … and all I can do is wait.
But in the meantime, here are Rik Mayall’s thoughts on the production:
*Oh dear, a pun. Sorry. People say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but they’re just fucking pricks. Puns, that’s the lowest form of wit. Or at best, the least funny.