Child’s Play
I subconsciously spent most of my teens in preparation to make Blackwood.

When I sat down with my producer and writer to work out what sort of film we’d like to make as our first feature we kept on coming back to making a supernatural thriller/horror story. When the idea came up it was one of those light bulb moments. It made complete sense to me on so many levels, and I began to realise I’d subconsciously spent most of my teens in preparation to make my first film, Blackwood.

Having grown up in a creaky old farm house in Yorkshire with a Hi8 video camera and far too much time on my hands, most of my weekends were filled with making mini horror movies that generally involved bumping off my long suffering little sister. Young Faye would patiently sit around as my muse whilst I’d work up my latest latex masterpiece on her. Quite often I’d glean ideas from the that month’s copy of Fangoria magazine that we used to buy, under the counter, from a store holder in Barnsley market with a nod and a wink.

In Yorkshire we might not have had palm tree lined boulevards and infinity pools, but we did have moody moorlands and eerie old houses

Back then age inappropriate VHS tapes would frequently get passed around friends as we’d secretly watch gloriously twisted films such as Re-Animator or Peter Jackson’s Brain Dead, inspiring us to pick up the camera again to make our own macabre films the following weekend.

In Yorkshire we might not have had palm tree lined boulevards and infinity pools, but we did have moody moorlands and eerie old houses in abundance so we were never far away from a suitably filmic location, but more often than not our family farm house became our set. Due to the chaos and the danger factor that would ensue during our stunt filled schedule we’d strategically arrange our most ambitious shoots to happen when my parents were out of town. On one occasion I remember concocting a grand finale that involved my best friend, who happened to be playing the villain, driving my dad’s ride on lawn mower through a wall of flames, liberally aided with the help of a can of petrol. Looking back I can’t believe how many times we put ourselves in harms way to get the perfect shot and it makes my cheeks clench just thinking about it, but at that age you tend to think you’re immortal. Needless to say, our childminder for that weekend never came back again.

On Monday mornings we’d proudly traipsed back into school with our latest 15 minute opus in hand. After whipping up some hype in the playground we’d arrange a lunchtime screening in the art room that had a TV set, and crucially, was well out of sight from the teachers. 50p was our entry fee, (back then I was starting to learn the concept of the film ‘business’). I remember the pleasure of sitting at the back of the room and watching my friends reactions as they’d become immersed in our little home made tales. The satisfaction of presenting a film is incredibly addictive and it’s no accident that I went on to pursue a career in TV and Film.

20 years on and having now made my first feature film Blackwood, I look back and feel as though I’ve gone through the same motions again, only this time on a grander scale. Now the posters are starting to appear in the underground and newspapers I’m getting that same excitement/anxiety that I’ve experienced before except this time the audience will hopefully be wider than my old school mates and due to inflation we may be charging more than 50p entry. My tastes have changed, Blackwood is certainly more of a psychological thriller and now I tend to favour what’s implied, over showing things gratuitously, although I did still manage to cover Russell Tovey in a good deal of latex scar tissue, so some things haven’t changed.

And as for for the ride-on-lawn-mower-wall-of-fire finale, sorry to disappoint but it didn’t make this cut. We’ll be saving that puppy for our next film project instead.