Getting In… To YouTube

If you’ve been out and about on social media in the last few days, then you’ll probably know this ‘cos I’ve been a bit of a pain-in-the-ass about it on my Twitter and my Facebook. The short film I wrote, ‘Getting In’, has now completed its remarkable run of eleven film festivals and has come to rest and found a home on YouTube.

You can see it by clicking on the link that’s right at the end. If you can't wait that long, you can click on the photo. If you can, click right through to YouTube so you can get the full screen effect.

I’m usually quite coy about the stuff I write. Like with this blog. Come and have a read if you like but there’s no pressure and I won’t think ill of you if you don’t. Mostly, I’m just writing for myself anyway. Keeping a little record, making sure the scribbling muscle remains in trim. But this time is different. This time, I’m actually quite keen that you take the requisite ten minutes and have a look at this little film.

There are several reasons for this. Yes, I wrote it and the story is very close to my heart. That’s a thing in itself, I suppose. But, also, this isn’t just about me. Far from it. My good friend, Richard Keaney, not only directed it but showed the initial faith in it to take it on and push to bring it to fruition. Frank Prendergast, Liam Gaffney, and Brendan O’Flynn, all fine actors, brought their A-game to our little film. They all seemed to find the heart that, love it or loathe it, definitely exists there. Sonya Deegan brought great Production and Cinematography talent to the show. My son Sam who, like me, was at the centre of the story, provided the soundtrack with his own percussive narrative and also in other, much more subtle ways. And, by no means least, the actors in the briefer roles, who brought so much colour and texture to the piece.

I’d like you to see the short film for all these people too. It is a curious social media equation that, the more people see a thing, the more additional people will see it too. It’s a reason why I would like you to watch this film, and click ‘like’ on it, and even perhaps share it and leave a comment on it. Because creativity begets creativity. Somebody might like the work of someone here and approach them with some new work.

So that’s one reason why I’m shameless with this plugging. Go and see it. Go on.

There’s another reason and it’s harder for me to say. Mostly because I’m not a braggart. I’m more a ‘hide my little light under a bushel’ type of a dude. It’s this… (deep breath) … I love it. That’s why I’d like you to see it. Because I love it. The story has a place carved out in my heart and the film catches moments that happened and were real to me. Granted those moments are occasionally heightened and often edited. But that’s the nature of storytelling. Stories have to be shaped and worked and some pieces invariably fall to the workshop floor and are swept away. Matt is not in the film and his contribution to the events depicted therein was earth-shatteringly important. There would have been no story without Matt but he just didn’t fit into the necessary shape of the film. I won’t forget him though. I’ll buy him a burger whenever I can and I’ll shake his hand in eternal gratitude. Cheers Matt.

So here’s the link to the film on YouTube. It’s a very little thing. Little in budget and little in length.

But it’s big in heart.

And that, I believe, is where it counts.

7 comments:

Fran said...

Lovely short film which I enjoyed very much! I've made short documentaries so also appreciate the work that has gone into it and the collaboration.

Ken Armstrong said...

Thanks very much, Fran

Anonymous said...

Ken, really lovely film , definately your work, perfect short film to end a sunny day , well done,
Finn

Anonymous said...

Ken, really lovely film , definately your work, perfect short film to end a sunny day , well done,
Finn

Ken Armstrong said...

Thank you, Finn. x

Jim Murdoch said...

I have a problem with pride. We’re told to take pride in what we do—that’s a good thing—but we’re not to be proud. Mixed messages what? Isn’t it awful that when you’re written something you’re proud of you can’t get to be proud of it without someone thinking you’re just a bit full of yourself? I think my novel The More Things Change is a frickin’ masterpiece. There! I’ve said it. I’ve never said that out loud before, not even to my wife. I wonder if John Lennon called his wife over after he’s finished scribbling ‘Imagine’ down and said, “’Ey love, I think I’ve just written another masterpiece.” To which she’d likely replied, “That’s nice, John, now come and get your beans on toast before they get cold.”

I just watched the film again and I’d be hard pushed to say what you could’ve done differently. Have a look at the lyrics to ‘Imagine’ and really there nothing to write home about. But get Phil Spector to co-produce and that white room and it all comes together. Four minutes and they’re done. I mean, what is a masterpiece anyway? I think it’s a moment—or four minutes or nine minutes and seventeen seconds—when everything comes together and just works. I mean would’ve it been masterpiecier if Colin Farrell had played the dad? Who’s to say?

Ken Armstrong said...

This is a very nice comment, Jim. Thanks very much. By way of meagre encouragement, you are quite brilliant and I am always pleased when I see your work being seen and recognised and when I know you are tipping away at something new.