‘A way in” – that’s the great phrase. The problem never goes away: the film world’s eternal problem is, as ever, trying to achieve diversity while not being run down by the commercial demands of whatever version of film power is in command at any one moment. The world has changed, Netflix and other streaming services are dominant, but in the end things don’t change if “the money” (whoever it is) don’t feel that a project is as fully commercial as it might be.
Commercialism is always the first yardstick, which when it works is fair enough – and so it should be, no one is asking for a soft ride. But sometimes that means a film-maker will be asked to make something they don’t recognise, something which isn’t what was intended and has been misread. Getting a project perceived for what it is is always problematic. Oddly enough, reading has become a problem in the film industry: people just don’t like doing it and it is a bore. But at some point someone will have put their energy behind 90-100 pages of script – at which point, people have opinions and notes. While some professional script people are good at it, especially in TV, in the movies it’s seen as the junior’s way in, and it may be that the junior needs more experience. Then there’s the question of actors and what makes it commercial for the people who are going to give you the money. A tremendous amount of the energy goes into getting the money.
Bending to commercial pressure actually gets worse the smaller the film is, the more modest its budget is. If you are dealing with a massive operation like a studio or a streamer, they have got the resources to back up an idea if they buy it. On the other hand, a script conference with Netflix is extremely weird: you are at a screen with your three or four people, and at the other end in California there is a screen where there are 20-25 people. There is just an enormous number of people involved.
What the film industry desperately needs is a way to break this logjam. Somehow or other young film-makers have got to be able to raise enough money, and have enough independence, to make their first film. The danger is that these first films, which are the lifeblood of the industry, do not get off the ground, because they are too small to make much money for their investors. There are a number of small independent film companies in the UK who have striven over the years to produce these films but recent changes in legislation no longer allow them the opportunity to offer incentives to their financiers. The Gadarene rush of the box office to the point of greatest profit makes it really difficult, and dashes the hopes of progress for lots and lots of people. The result is an alarming decline in low-budget British independent films and the demise of part of our culture.
I was inspired by a film festival in Ferrara, in Italy, where young people were encouraged to bring in their ideas and scripts and films, and the festival tried to provide this “way in”. Having seen this group of young people filled with energy and optimism, without a breath of cynicism, I realised there’s something tangible festivals can do. Despite the fact that the actual making of a film gets easier each year that passes, it’s all too easy to scare people, and we are aiming to do a similar thing at the Kingston international film festival (Kiff) in London for which I am a patron, which is offering awards schemes for young film-makers and mentorship programmes. On top of this, Kiff calls on the industry as well as government to support lower budget independent film-making because they in turn will help provide “a way in”.
Right now might be at one of these points in cinema history: there’s a new rationalisation of the way money is spent, things will renew themselves but it won’t have made it any easier for new film-makers to function. As people get older they are less and less prepared to take risks, and that’s why the clockwork tends to wind down generationally, until old blokes like me start to have too much to say for themselves. Anyone who is any good has a great middle period, then it all turns to shit in your hands in the last couple of movies. It all goes wrong in the end simply because you stop wanting to get up at five o’clock in the morning and you just don’t take the risks.
But to make a great film you have to absolutely be prepared to take a risk. Films don’t always work. They didn’t always work for Billy Wilder, for God’s sake. You need people to back their luck and not turn into bureaucrats or financiers. They have to take a punt – that’s the only way Four Weddings and a Funeral got made.
• Mike Newell is the director of Four Weddings and a Funeral, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and Donnie Brasco. Apply to the Kingston international film festival (Kiff) here
