The final print runs through the labs. The sound is polished and married up with the picture. The picture is perfected. Suddenly it's all over. We've finished our debut feature Paradise Grove.
After all the people who've worked on the movie from the first days suddenly we're down to three - myself, my producer David Castro, and my wife to give us a kick up the backside if we start slacking. Because the job that follows is going to be as tough as the job of making it.
A feature film is not just for Christmas. It lives with you for the rest of your life. You'd think it was difficult enough directing the thing. Explaining, cajoling, bullying your vision onto the screen. And then it's all over - not.
When you don't have the power of Miramax behind you, I'm about to discover, a writer-director's job is as much about selling the film as making it.
Paradise Grove is a coming-of-age story, an unsentimental mix of comedy and drama about a mixed-race teenager in a Jewish old age home. It isn't a gangster movie. I mention this because when we started, gangster movies is all that any distributor wanted. You could have sold the phone book if you said it had gangsters in it. (I suspect some producers did). But somehow we've managed to make a film without gangsters and it's time to go back to the distributors to show them what we've got.
Now, like all good comedies, Paradise Grove works best with an audience. The first time I see the film with 300 people even I am surprised. Lines I'd forgotten were funny are gaining laughs. Moments of humour and tenderness suddenly burst into life when an audience is watching.
However, sales agents and distributors prefer to watch films in their office on tape. Alone. We decide to attack this by putting the film into film festivals and dragging the agents out of their offices to watch the film for themselves - sitting next to real people.
The summer is spent applying to festivals across the globe and making a trailer. As the director, I decide I'm too close to the movie to be able to give precise ideas and so I restrict myself to exhorting Oliver Pollack - the trailor editor - to take risks and go with his gut feelings.
He comes back with an impressive three and a half minutes of video.
October, we score our first success right on our home turf. Raindance Film Festival asks to hold the film's World Festival Premiere here in London. The same day we hear from Raindance, our keenest distributor phones to tell me he's dropping out. The reason? He's decided that Jewish people don't go to see Jewish films.
Somewhat surprised, I ask him to elaborate. It seems when Fiddler on the Roof was re-released last year after multiple appearances on stage, screen, TV and video nobody went to see it.... I decide to refrain from further comment.
Bad news is quickly followed by good news - we've been accepted by Palm Springs Festival of Festivals. This will be our North American Premiere.
And bad news - if I want to go I'm going to have to pay for my own flight.
And good news - we've been accepted by Birmingham International Film Festival, a prestigious UK festival that only takes films on recommendation.
And bad news - we're rejected by a major international sales agent.
The roller coaster continues.
We're now deeply immersed in the confusion that is the film industry. The Major Agent's Head of Acquisitions tells me how much she loved the movie, but can't take it because it's a "tweener".
Pardon me?
"Tweener", it seems, means between arthouse and multiplex.
Weeks later another agent tells me why My Big Fat Greek Wedding was such a hit. You see MBFGW - which also originally lost its distributor - is an "on the bridge" movie.
"On the bridge", it seems, means between arthouse and multiplex... Confused yet?
But there's no time to ponder, the World Premiere is racing up, and we need press-kits, postcards, CDs of stills and music, and most of all a poster.
For over three years, we've been trying to come up with a decent poster idea without success. Now we have to create one in two weeks. Designer Matt Harlock comes up with a concept that is stunningly simple and appropriate - but having the idea is one thing, making it work is another, and we slave many long hours over his computer.
Tickets go on sale for the World Premiere at Raindance - and sell out completely within days.
This is better than we had dared hope. People are even being turned away on the day. The audience is tremendous but I don't dare sit with them. What I dread is that people will try to lie and say something polite. But eyes don't lie.
So when they come out I don't listen to what they say, I watch their eyes and I have to say they look genuinely moved. What more can a director want?
I suppose financial clout would be nice - we don't even have the funds to make more than one print and it's a rush to get our single print from London to Palm Springs, where they show it three times. I'm flattered - but we still can't get those damned distributors to drive out of LA to see the film.
The audiences however are just as positive as in London. I have to fly back before the final weekend showings to get home in time for Birmingham.
Monday morning, I am greeted by an email from California. We've won Best New Director and Best Jewish Film, and are in the top five audience favourites. Celebrations, then back to work.
It's frustrating. I want more time to develop new movies, but like a parent I can't ignore my baby when it needs me. I've two new scripts in development and have been put up to direct two other movies.
Meanwhile the festival applications are going out again. Like I said, a movie isn't just for Christmas. And just now, my baby needs me....
© Charles Harris
This article was first published in Direct the magazine of the Directors Guild of Great Britain
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