Cannes begins in only 2 days, so as promised, I have fast-forwarded my blog to a more appropriate point in time, some three weeks later.  At this point in my journey, P_ and I had hastily completed the first jointly written draft and submitted it to the peak Australian film funding body.

Now that we had finished the script and handed it in just before the deadline, we had more time.  P_ and I had decided to approach recognized Australian producers to help us find funding for our film.

Already we had attempted a few meetings and phone calls.  No-one appeared interested in our idea.

Nevertheless, we pushed on.  P_ needed to assemble his showreel, and I had to assemble my own.  My allies were back at my alma mater, the Australian Film Television and Radio School (www.aftrs.edu.au)

I called in for a few favours from around the traps, and soon enough, I had 50 DVD’s on track to be picked up in a couple of days.

For his showreel P_ had turned to his friend Sh__, an unusual looking individual who chose to dress in completely in black.  Jeans, jacket, shirt and hat, were all worn regardless of the season.  Perhaps it was to cover his bald patch at the back of his thinning red hair, I wondered.  His plaited ponytail and inch long finger nails made him even more distinctive in appearance – almost repulsive.  “Goth” was the stereotype I thought of straight away.  I assumed he would be into horror films.

Although he fulfilled that stereotype, having made a feature-length low-budget horror film, his corridor was crammed with an amazing video archive.  In contrast to the grimy surrounds, Sh__’s library was neat and ordered with a pedant’s attention to detail, and a true conneiseur’s breadth and depth of selection.

That night we were camped in Sh__’s lounge room telling him of our situation as he dutifully cut P_’s reel.

I’d only met Sh__ once before, and P_ had shown him some of the work I had done at the AFTRS.  That time, Sh__ had scoffed at it, saying it was very “student”.

The very same work Sh__ scoffed at would later wow an executive from the distributor of ‘The Passions of the Christ.’

That day was still nearly a week away though.  Tonight, Sh__ was in his usual form.

“If you guys had any idea, you guys would be at Cannes right now where G_ is.  G_ has the right idea.  He knows more than you guys do! Fancy that!”, Sh__ sneered.

G_ was a mutual friend of P_ and Sh__’s.  I had only heard of G_ second-hand.  Suffice to say, his reputation preceded him.

He was Ed Wood and Rupert Kathner all rolled into one.  At the time of this discussion G_ had shot sixteen films, and only completed one.  Sh__ had been the editor of this final film, and it was this film that G_ had taken with him to “sell in Cannes.”

Even the shorts I’d seen from P_’s showreel had been appalling.  Fat Pizza looked like the Shawshank Redemption compared to this schlock.

I had seen G_’s work and had met many people who had worked on his shoots.  It was like a rite of passage for amateur Australian filmmakers to have been ripped off by G_ for one of his schlock films.  With titles that would have made Monty Python proud, G_’s talent for outlandish titles and pulling together people had somehow skipped his filmmaking abilities.

And yet despite my considerable exposure to amateur filmmaking over the previous 5 years, I had been fortunate enough never to have had the dubious honour of meeting G_.

Now, Sh__ rocked back in his desk chair facing us, his back towards his bank of computers behind him, occupying one corner of the room.  A smug smile revealed a set of teeth that would have an orthodontist rubbing his hands in glee.

At first I considered the comparison to Australia’s most notorious amateur filmmaker just another self-serving insult.  I had heard from P_ just before my first meeting with Sh__ that Sh__ had wanted to direct the film on the subject matter P_ and I had embarked upon.  In fact, it was Sh__ that had put P_ first onto the Pick-Up Artist stuff.  Of course – it had to be a nerd that would discover this type of thing.  Sh__ was a Goth-nerd.  Or Nerd-Goth if you will.

I attributed the rise of the Pick-Up Artist to the advent of the Internet. Now, socially awkward men could collaborate on cracking the enigma that was ‘Woman’, pooling together what used to be secret silos of information. 

But even despite Sh__’s obvious prejudice, I could see the sense of what he was saying.

Cannes was the second biggest film market in the World after the American Film Market.  Every year, anyone who was someone in the film business would pay pilgrimage to this palm-lined strip of the Riviera.

Stunning both Sh__ and P_, their mouths agape, I remember hearing myself say:

“You’re right Sh__.  I think we should be at Cannes too.”

The only problem was, Cannes opening night was tonight, and I was on the other side of the World.

To be continued…