Very much love...

Today - October 14th - I deactivated my X/Twitter account for Voyageuse. It's exactly 11 years ago on this day I decided to make the film, after receiving a cursory two-line rejection email from Creative Scotland - a long and sorry story - I was and am ineligible for Screen Scotland funding - apparently I don't meet their criteria. It was the first and only time I submitted an application. When I asked for feedback as to why my project was rejected, their response: "we have other, higher priority projects" was a perfect summation of what I already knew.

That I made the film with zero funding remains an achievement. By summoning my inner Imp - I was an Imp in the Brownies long ago - I spent three years writing, designing, shooting, editing, grading and creating a sound design by applying what Robert Bresson described as "he who can work with the minimum can work with the most." It's a mantra I live by. My next three planned projects - God willing - will adopt the same model, if more nuanced and refined - using CGI, live action and life's little accidents, the serendipitous events that occur in real life that can change the course of a story, of a life.

Since June-July I've had the privilege of watching films and voting as a member of the British Independent Film Awards (BIFA) sub-group for the Raindance Maverick category, formally the Discovery Award which against all expectations Voyageuse won in 2018. This year our category included 54 films, the highest number ever, a mix of public and broadcast funded films, those privately financed on crazy-high sums and at the bottom of the heap, the plucky low-no budget films, generally made on low five figures.

BIFA's criteria for the Maverick Award require works of originality that take risks and are made on budgets of less than £1 million, hardly a Maverick sum from my standpoint but still super cheap. One of my fellow voters has made a hobby out of calculating the average budget for these films and arrived at a figure £300K or so - each. I marvelled at this, since so many of these films are documentaries - a naturally low-budget format. I marvel too that these films, many editorially flawed, aesthetically televisual rather than cinematic or in myriad ways larping as Maverick films to hedge their bets against other, more appropriate categories.

Another notable trend this year is the locked room drama where a group of people, or a lone person find themselves confined in an enclosed space where they have to enact an implausible plot. These are mostly effortful affairs but are ultimately dull. My heart goes out to the casts of these films, desperate to buoy up the maker's intentions.

BIFA's confidentiality rules prevent me from disclosing the Maverick longlist which will be announced in early November, but it's an interesting group of films. I disagreed with roughly a third of it, but I'm very pleased at most of the sub-group's decisions. I'm aware too, with 54 films to discuss over 3 meetings, not enough time was given to them so I'll be asking BIFA to change the rules to exclude those films that hedge, that dump their films in the Maverick category as a 'just in case we don't make it' into the other categories. It only seems fair.

There's something about deactivating a X/Twitter account that feels like a loss. It's a first for me - a little like a death in the family but not THAT serious. Still, after 11 years, the making, the attempts - so often futile - to get it screened, just living with the film, I need to let go, not least for practical reasons - I don't really do social media and Elemental can't justify using different domains for each project, so now Owen is folding them into the one place and managing them from that place. Seems sensible. Besides, I need to move on.

So today I hope my message on X/Twitter reaches my followers. I appreciate every comment left by anyone who watched the film - it really means the world to me. I downloaded my archive from X/Twitter so at least I've got that to look back on when I need cheering up.

The above image is of Erica's handwriting - a rare thing to see these days. When was the last time any of us wrote something by hand? When I was nine, I found a book in my local library about graphology and was instantly hooked - over the decades I became an expert in handwriting analysis and to this day I'm able to tell a person's character, psychological strengths and weaknesses, their state of health from their handwriting, Our handwritten script is as unique as our fingerprints. When was the last time any of us wrote more than a greetings card?

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First, last, nothing....

This is my first post in months. Since then I've had an emergency re-admission to hospital so I guess it's fair to say I've had better years. My only film-related work so far is an overdue return to writing the final draft script for the Tilo project and my voting duties for the British Independent Film Awards (BIFA) in the Raindance Maverick category - this year there are 57 entries.

Those following this blog might know my story but sometimes I wonder myself how much of it is true. An online search for "May Miles Thomas" or "Elemental Films" lists articles about me/my work but virtually none tells the whole story, lost among trivial errors; misspelt names, incorrect dates and misquotes. Does it matter?

Well, yes and no. From an ego perspective, I don't care because having to watch 57 films has a humbling effect and besides, it's always about the work, not me. However, what does matter is when false information about my work, if consigned to posterity, is unearthed decades later by some academic or researcher and presented as fact or worse, excluded on a false premise. When omissions and partial truths are reincarnated as fact what are we expected to believe?

~ continue...

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Eleven...

I’m writing this in early May 2025, several weeks after surgery, my fourth operation in six years. I also moved house a week before being admitted to the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital. There’s only so much stress a mind and body can take, I reasoned, thinking it was better to struggle through two life-changing events in quick succession rather than stretch them into a distant and uncertain future.

It’s months since I last posted, so long that I had to remind myself what the point of it is. Indeed, at the end of last year, having sold our home and upended our lives, I wondered whether I should continue working at all because while I live to make films, there's something preventing me from doing the thing I long to do. What's going on? A psychic block? Opioid addiction and its attendant brain fog? Or could it be a lack of confidence in both myself and the project?

~ continue...

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A Vocation...

At the age of 3 or 4, I wrote my first poem, Leaf. It was about a leaf on its way to the ground. For my tender years it was fairly advanced since I didn't come into contact with an actual tree until I was at least 5. In fact, I had no idea that leaves grew on trees or even what a tree was. Nor did I have any sense of the changing seasons, raised in a place where nature was limited to flies, rats, worms and weeds. Maybe I saw the tree on TV or in a picture book.

Where does this impulse to create come from? As children, do we all start from the same place only to have the urge knocked out of us? Growing up, it never occurred to me to become an artist, writer or poet. As a working-class child I had no role models or parents with ambitions, either for themselves or for their offspring. Not once did I visit a (free) art gallery or museum. The notion that art could be a job was ludicrous, yet it was my destiny.

~ continue...

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