Director's Weekly Post Production Blog WEEK 67 Saturday February 14th...

I am now in a car with Jonnie travelling up to Blackpool. We have to go there to research a new film we are collaborating on. The event we are attending only happens once a year and if we missed it this year we would have to wait a whole 12 months to attend. Of course my mind is on other things…

This week I have been calling the hospital first thing in the morning, then working for a few hours before going to see my father in the afternoon and evening.

Last Sunday I found my father still sedated as they pumped him full of drugs, his arm swollen and bloated because of it. I learnt from the doctor that they suspected pneumonia as the cause of the respiratory difficulties and a heart attack the reason for his collapse.

Monday, his vital signs stabilised, they took him off the drugs and the morphine but kept him on the ventilator. I sat and waited for him to come round but he didn’t. The doctor confirmed through tests that he’d indeed had a massive heart attack but thought that he would revive in the next day or so as the morphine wore off. I then visited his flat to check that all was OK. It looked as if he’d left in a hurry so I tidied up a bit and threw out the rubbish. By his bedside I found the gloves I had bought him in Bolivia and posted to him a couple of weeks ago. It didn’t look like he’d worn them yet.

Tuesday I learnt that my sister’s court hearing will be next Friday. I am still unsure with what she will be charged exactly. She is still in prison. On the way to my father a creditor called me. I told her in no uncertain terms not to bother me! In fact that release of anger may even be the highlight of my week! I can barely wait for the next one to ring! I sat by his bed again and he still didn’t revive.

On Wednesday morning I called the hospital expecting him to be awake, some 48 hours after the end of the sedation. They told me he still hadn’t come round and that they had decided to do a CT scan of his brain. After dropping in a signed contract to Richard Fish, having had to cancel the meeting we were scheduled to have the day before I headed to Stevenage.

On the train up I got to the part in Elia Kazan’s autobiography where his father died of pneumonia. I closed the book immediately, an immediate involuntary action. Of course this is what has been at the back of my mind since Saturday morning. He might not survive. I might not ever speak to him again.

As fate would have it, he had called me last week and asked when I would come and see him next. He must have been having breathing difficulties then but he didn’t tell me. I told him that I was busy and that I didn’t know. I’d call him after I got back from Blackpool.

He was still unconscious.

Thursday I had so much to do I couldn’t see my father. Instead I called the hospital every couple of hours to see if there was any news. There was not. His situation was the same. Critical but stable. The CT scan, though, had revealed no problems which was good. One of my biggest fears, as the next of kin, is if he was brain dead and they asked me the question of what I’d like to do. What a terrible decision that is.

In the evening I was booked to check the de-spotting of two new reels. Andrew Dearnley called an hour before to cancel as there was a software problem meaning that the cleaned frames couldn’t be exported. It was re-booked for next week. If those two reels are good that just leaves one more and we are 85% of the way there now. I hope that at the end of next week we will be just 4 weeks away from completion.

This morning I saw my father. Finally he regained consciousness, thank God.

It’s been a dark week.

Even though my father regained consciousness last Friday they soon had to sedate him. He was in too much pain and discomfort. It was hard watching him writhing about, still hooked up to every machine under the sun, his arms and legs flapping uncontrollably, gurgling up phlegm, his face turning purple, his eyes, barely able to focus and rolling in their tear filled sockets.

That image haunted me for the whole weekend away. Maybe the worst thing was that I saw in his face something that no son wants to see in his fathers face - fear.

The weekend, though, was successful. Jonnie and I did what we needed to do. It was also an opportunity to see two old friends - Chris Webb (my old 1st AD from commercials) and John Bentham (the Distributor of The Frontline) who I haven’t seen since he had a stroke. Although still partially paralysed on the left side his speech is much improved.
The night we went out, Chris and I drank far too much. For me it was probably dulling the pain as much as celebrating with long lost friends.

Monday I was back by my father’s bed. He was partially sedated and could finally focus his eyes on me. He still couldn’t talk. The ventilator was still breathing for him.

The next day I had to give permission for a tracheotomy. In the night, while asleep, he pulled it out and was back on the ventilator by the next morning. The nurse said “This looks like it will be slow work”. I’m used to that.

The next day I discovered while attending a de-spotting session that a dear man, Hercules Bellville had died of cancer. Herc was such a wonderful person, a voice of sincerity in an industry full of falsehood. Since seeing Boston Kickout in 1997, he had always been supportive of my work. The last time I saw him was on St. Annes court in early December. He said “I’m looking forward to seeing Elephants.”
“So am I” I replied.

On Thursday I got an e-mail from Creditor X complaining about me calling him belligerent. I replied but maybe I shouldn’t have. Today I found out he had replied again. I deleted the e-mail without reading it. I don’t need things like that in my life right now. I’d rather communicate with the Prince of Darkness than him. I’ve offered to sign a personal guarantee, which he’s ignored. What more can I do? I’m trying my best to finish the film. I’ve been on it 22 months now. It’s thanks to Deluxe Digital that we are 6 months behind schedule. Not me. I hope Jonnie deals with this now as Creditor X will be paid out of the DCMS money, which HE is dealing with, not I.

This week in Molinare someone asked “Why is the director checking this not someone else?”
I replied “There’s no-one else”
“How about the DI supervisor?”
“That’s me.”
“The Post Production Supervisor?
“Me”
“The Producer?”
“Me again”

Midday today is my sister’s court hearing in Canterbury and from that I will go straight to another de-spotting session. At the end of today I hope to be 85% of the way through the de-spotting, where we would have been at the end of last week if it wasn’t for a glitch. I’ll be glad it’s almost over. De-spotting is a Clockwork Orange style torture, having to watch your own film frame by frame when you’ve been watching it already for well over a year.