unironedman

So. No blog for ages. Then two show up together. Typical. In my defence, I, em… actually, scratch that. I have no defence really. I have been tippin’ away at the film as time allows over the last couple of months, and figured it would be ready when it was ready. As with all projects like this, there comes a time when you’re not really working anymore, you’re just faffing about. Tweaking and twiddling. And there is a temptation to keep poking it with a stick (in some cases, in an attempt to make things come alive when they clearly will not) rather than accepting that this thing is done and needs to be fired out into the world.

Anyway, that’s my roundabout way of saying my third ‘film’ is now available for viewing.

Here is the link.

It would be fun one day to actually make a real film. That is to say, one with real cameras and proper mics, and with someone else behind the camera, largely, and perhaps even have a stab at a storyboard. Which would require a script. What I have done is grab a small action camera, point it at something (often my own bobbing head, and in this latest attempt, my beard seems to feature rather a lot…) and start recording the first thing that comes to mind. It’s the video version of my blog, really 😉

I failed rather gloriously on my first attempt to do this. In August, 2019, I took part in the Connemara 100, and I planned to make a film of the run. The preamble footage was fine, and there was some modest material up to about a third of the way in. But it turned out that trying to run 100 miles AND make a film was a tricky prospect. Pity really, because that particular journey was quite epic for a number of reasons (none of which relate to athletic prowess, I might add) and would have made for interesting viewing.

But it didn’t happen.

It didn’t put me off trying again, so my first ‘success’ was the Right Royal Triathlon, clocking in at 26 minutes. This was followed by A Day on the Way (46 minutes), where once again, I fell foul of the documentary-makers curse; the first rule of Doc Club is that you must keep filming, no matter what. But you only really appreciate this after the event when you start reviewing your footage and realise you haven’t got such-and-such a shot. And there’s no way to go back and get it. It’s gone. That anguish on your face as you slump in the back of a car at midnight as your head spins around and your brother is telling you to get out and get going again or call it quits… yep, that needs to be captured there and then, but the innate decency of family (in that particular situation somewhere out in the wilds of Connemara) precluded them from sticking a camera in my mush. Pity. It would have made for great (if painful) viewing.

The Wicklow Way film clocks in at just over the hour. It is available in HD on YouTube, and I would recommend that you watch it that way. It was fun to make, for the most part, but also the source of tears on several occasions. I have learned a little more about how to do these things, and a little more about myself, too. Mostly, in truth, that we could all benefit from a really good editor in our lives, but of course, that simply doesn’t exist. In our own personal way, we are always trying to curate our lives by putting our best foot forward. In the modern world, where (anti)social media is quite pervasive, we are all a little guilty of presenting our ‘best selves’. A film project is no different. The least you can do, in terms of a documentary, is try and show the process, warts and all.

It is a personal project, obviously, so pictures of the family that appear won’t resonate with anyone other than family. That said, I was at a funeral last month of a good friend’s Dad, and I was struck, as I entered the funeral home and saw the slide show they had running in the main room, how similar many of the photos were to the ones I was including in my film. There is so much more in the world that unites us…

I have tried to thank everyone involved in this latest venture in the credits, and I’m sorry if I have missed out on anyone. But I would like to once again say a huge thanks to Gary O’Daly, because this wouldn’t have happened without him. Or perhaps if I had tried, I would still be out there somewhere, lost on the flanks of Mullacor.

See you out there on the trails sometime.