For anyone vaguely
interested, The Perfect 20 was to signify a definitive
end, not only to the series but other things as well. It would mark the
end of our involvement with DV Mission, (the instigator of the series) and
farewell to our beloved White Elephant where Thundermaus was
made.
White Elephant was an air
pocket of creativity in a town stifled by rigid law and order. So much so that
anyone who attempted to set up an art shop (such as myself) was considered an
idiot for even contemplating such an absurd and moneyless notion.
Never the less, I took it
upon myself to do just that. It wasn't easy and sometimes it was terrifying but
it lasted five years and no, I didn't make a single penny from White
Elephant, but I made a lot artists very happy and (among other things) I got a few Thundermaus
films made out of it. But above all, White Elephant provided me
with a workshop to build all the sets and props I would need to make better
Thundermaus episodes, culminating in The Perfect 20.
Each year we entered the 48hr
film festival, we tried to up the production values of Thundermaus. For
example, in year one, it was painfully obvious that the Thundermaus ship had to
be redesigned and built from something sturdier than a paper lantern. By the
second episode (The Pepperdine Method) many elements had now been established:
the ship was now a fibreglass prop with electronics for lighting etc, the
basic bridge set had been rebuilt from more robust materials and most
importantly, Brian the Robot made his debut.
However production was a
nightmare. The main problem being a workshop to make the series in.
Getting Brian built took some doing, mostly cobbled together in a friends
garage, who's jealous wife ordered me out of. So there I am with Brian the
robot in pieces on a workbench. I have to make sure I pick up every single
piece under the duress of being evicted. Divorce soon followed.
Then another friend ordered
me out of his house when I stank it out with resin whilst fibre glassing the
actual Thundermaus space ship in his spare bedroom. I then had to put the ship
in a bin bag and cycle it back to my mothers and hang it in her garden shed to
cure overnight.
I then get a workspace
at Shaketrick (soon to be White Elephant) but the
model enthusiast I am sharing the workspace with suddenly goes Awol.
To top it all, the original
film crew (that had helped to make the first episode a success) didn't want to do
it anymore ! Perhaps they felt I was smothering the production with all my new sets and
props and radio controlled gear. At the same time I was a little exasperated by
their attitude, since I had put all the work in. It took a lot of convincing
before they finally agreed.
Typically, as
with most sequels, coming up with a idea thats as good or better than the
original is very difficult, particularly when everyone has their own take on
which direction to go. Despite I had spent a year between DV Missions doing
nothing but building sets and props, the film crew wanted very little to do
with them, stating that script was everything and sets were incidental. Which
is true but if the production values suck then why bother? So we spent all
weekend making the sequel and arguing. They didn't really want to do it anyway. It was
painfully obvious.
As a result, year
two's entry into the 48hr film festival seemed a little messy. The Pepperdine Method was trying to be like Avatar meets Dr
Doolittle but it failed miserably. Thus the sequel fell flat on its
ass. It got no recognition from DV Mission at all. It seemed to be the bi-polar
opposite of the original. It was time to let go and move on but by now I had
already invested a whole year of my life doing Thundermaus: writing story
treatments, building film sets and props and setting up webpages and social
media outlets. All for nothing.
But I'm stubborn.
I'm like the Black Knight in Monty Pythons Holy Grail: I
refuse to give in, even when all my arms and legs have been chopped off. I
decided to end my partnership with my former film crew. I felt it was becoming
too toxic and counter productive. It was great while it lasted but they weren't
serious about film making. To them it was just a hobby thing.
On the plus side,
I had taken over the lease of Shaketrick and renamed it WhiteElephant. A year in and my little Art Emporium was making waves
among the art circles in Portsmouth as thee place to be. Suddenly
we had every wannabe entrepreneur in town, picking my brains on how to imitate
our success. The likes of My Dog Sighs exhibited art work
there and we got into the papers.
Meanwhile I'm
making Thundermaus props out the back, in a dank leaky workshop under a flat
roof garden full of holes. I find the entire experience frustrating, since
several props get water damaged. Plus theres a problem with mice. Its also
impossible to keep the draft out. But its enough to get the props built and
ready for the next Thundermaus episode.
By year three,
our next submission into DV Mission is back on track. With my original film
crew now gone, I pretty much make the next one by myself, with the occasional
ad hock involvement from stall holders at the shop. As with tradition, another
character is introduced into the fold: that of Margery the
ships bungling lampshade computer. The production values are much improved and
cinematically the film looks great. But without Heidi doing the voice of
Deloris, its just not the same. Paula Ann Savage stands in but she's no
Deloris. Never the less, The Red Curve gets the Spirit of DV Mission award.
Ironically, two of my former film crew are on the panel of judges.
By year four, I
have a new production crew and it looks like Thundermaus is finally going
places. Our next DV Mission entry is Exit 13 and moods on set
are very positive. Meg Day fills in as Deloris and I do all the other voices. The
end result attains us more awards and things are looking up. We even get a spot
on terrestrial Tv on the free view channel. Hollywood here come.
In the meantime,
I'm getting sets built for a stand alone Thundermaus episode. It will be our
most ambitious yet. The Last of The Mechanauts tells the story
of the Goodship Thundermaus discovering a space graveyard of wrecked space
ships. Among which, floats an unusual looking object that the crew believe is a
space heater. This is rather handy, since the thermostat in Professor Pepperdine's freezing
quarters is broken. Thus they bring the space heater aboard and re-activate it. Little do they know that this is actually a Mechanaut: an evil machine, driven
by coal, that fancies the ships Hamster as a viable fuel alternative.
It was a great
story but somehow it never got much past the pre-production stage. Mainly
because of trying to keep White Elephant as a business
afloat. It would soon become a double edged sword. The more time I spent on
Thundermaus, the less business the shop made. The only bits that were shot were
the space graveyard scenes and a few test shots of the Mechanaut. The only
saving grace perhaps is that the story was completed more or less as a audio
format, with the potential as a radio show. So it may still see the light of
day as as an episode in the future. To give it gravitas, I somehow managed to
get Heidi Wilding to come back and do the voice of Deloris and Professor
Pepperdine.
Alas the episode
was never completed as originally hoped. I decide that the next best thing to
do is bring Thundermaus to the masses and build a full size Brian and
Mechananaut for comic cons.
I spend a month
building them and hire a van to exhibit them at the Dockyards where a Comic Con
is being held that weekend. I also set up a Tv screen and run Thundermaus
episodes on it. I get a lot of interest from the general public but the event
is poorly advertised and not exactly on a par with more professional Comic Cons
I had been to in London. The entire exercise proves quite stressful. Mainly
trying to get a van sorted out and getting the props to the venue. To take the
idea to bigger venues in London would prove too costly. I consider bringing
them to the next DV Mission to help plug our series but get very little
response from organisers.
By year five a
lot of things are changing. DV Mission coordinator Jinxe
Prowse steps down from the pivotal role to concentrate on his Music
Fusion business. It would be his last year as the festivals organiser.
In tribute, he announces that the entry films would run by the title of 'The
Perfect 20' signifying the amount of film crews that entered that
year.
We scurry away
and make our Thundermaus episode. Since Heidi has now moved all the way up to
Scotland, she does her voice over work via a mobile phone. We then return 48hrs
later with our finished Thundermaus interpretation but it seems DV Mission has
grown weary of seeing teddy bears in space. We get no awards and no
nominations. But we give Jinxe a standing ovation for giving us the
opportunity. The Perfect 20 would be the last of the DV
Mission entries, mainly because the new organiser wants to charge £30 for
entering. Which isn't really worth it, considering how stressful it is to do a
film in 48hrs.
The next project
on the agenda to help promote the series, was a potential music video, called
'Deloris'.
I gather
volunteers and we spend a day or so shooting a miniature stage and rock
festival with the Thundermaus characters all glammed up as Rock Stars. However
my film crew are less than encouraging, talking on mobile phones and not really
paying attention. We get the shots in the can but the general apathy of my film
crew puts me off pursuing the project into completion. History is starting to
repeat itself again.
A year later in
Southampton, I attend the Best of DV Mission and I'm quite
shocked to see not even one episode of Thundermaus would be shown. I am quite
upset by this, considering the first film was nominated for eleven plastic
oscars. Eleven! I feel a little cheated but I have to remind myself that there
are dozens of other film crews who all deserve credit. But how many of them
have gone to the excesses of hiring a shop and building film sets and props?
I try to let it
not get to me but its impossible to ignore the dwindling air pocket that
sustains my film making endeavours. White Elephant is becoming a money pit. I
can no longer afford to sustain it. Five years on and pretty much every other
business has suddenly sprung up around town and hijacked our customers and
stall holders. Soon I am running weekly markets to help pay the rent but its not
enough. The end is drawing near.
The final
Thundermaus project shot at White Elephant was a
promotional video to raise money for the series using crowd funding. I decide
to go all out on the project and make the production values the best of the
series. Unrestrained now by the 48hr format, I spent several months making new
sets and props for the Thundermaus grande finale. In particular, I build a
space Octopus, using cheerios for the suckers on its tentacles. It proves to be
a frustrating measure as it takes ages to glue these cheerios on, only to come
in the next day and find the mice have eaten them all. I resort to locking the
octopus in the office, where I'm pretty sure the mice cant get at it. Work resumes. Even Heidi
comes down from Scotland to do the voice over work for Deloris.
Within days of
getting the shots in the can, the entire shop sinks into the mire and is closed
forever. I spend three months, dismantling the shop fixtures and chucking junk
out, while holding free-cycle days just to clear five years worth of stuff.
Whats left is mostly Thundermaus props. It is probably a good opportunity to
get rid of them with the rest of the junk but that stubborn streak just wont
let things go. I hire a trailer and put the entire contents of Thundermaus on
the back, to take to a storage depot.
Of course, a lot
of it is cardboard and fragile. As if God is toying with me, a quick gust of wind sends the roof of the
Thundermaus bridge blowing down the street! An articulated lorry almost crushes
it under its immense wheels but the driver is considerate enough to slam on the
breaks. He then gets out and puts it on the side of the road, while I'm running
down the street to rescue it. It seems my entire life is blowing away in the
wind.
With the shop
closed and everything in storage, I had no option but to abandon Thundermaus.
Altho I had finished editing the crowd funding film, I was by this point pretty
much sick of doing Thundermaus. I had reached burn out. I decided to put it to
the back of my mind but I can only do that for so long, as I cant store the props indefinitely. Sooner or later they will have to be binned. Its just a question of wether they have any intrinsic value beyond my perception. A fan base is required.
In 2019, I
decided to re-cut the the crowd funding film with a view to getting
professional interest, be it the BBC or some other party. It seems there is no
other option but to approach the big league and see what happens. It may well
simply be ignored or embraced. I cant help feeling it might be the latter
considering how Southpark got its big break based on a absolutely terrible
piece of animation. All I can do is try...
