Switzerland here I come

Like Santa, I’m making a list and checking it twice ahead of travelling to Zurich where I’ve to film a short documentary piece for a client. Having completed that I’ll be heading to Bern where I’m shooting a greenscreen commercial piece in a tv studio. One of the great worries with this sort of work is the fear of forgetting something essential. For those with an interest in the technology side of filming those details are at the end of this blog.

In other news my book, Pins and Needles, is nearing completion. I was experiencing an annoying problem. Each time I went for a few days without writing more on the project I would lose track of where my characters were and, so, would have to re-read chapters to get myself back up to speed. Inevitably, by the time I’d finished that, I had run out of time to write anything new. I’ve now come up with an answer. Attached you’ll see a bit of the chart I’ve created. It shows the characters as coloured squares and I’ve dropped them in, with a short note on what’s happening to them, on a visual timeline. Now, with a glance, I can bring myself back up to speed. As soon as I’m finished writing this blog I’m going to plough on. My aim is to have the book finished by Christmas and ready to go in the new year. The aim is to publish it for my Dad’s birthday in March but there’s many hurdle to overcome before then so we’ll see..

Shooting technology on the Swiss project:

I’ll be using the Panasonic AF101 with a variety of micro 4/3 lenses and, here’s the beautiful bit – a second camera unit in the form of the Blackmagic Pocket Cinema, link provided below. https://www.blackmagicdesign.com/products/blackmagicpocketcinemacamera

This little gem is about the size of a disposable camera but has cinematic quality and, conveniently, takes the exact same lenses as my Panasonic. I’m looking forward to letting you guys know how it goes. If it performs as it’s advertised to then this Panasonic/Blackmagic combination will be the backbone of any films I’m shooting myself over the coming year.

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The death of my hero – Jim Cassidy

There’s a book about to be published with a chapter entitled “James Cassidy” – Artist, Visionary and Gentleman. – a chapter, incidentally that we were blessed enough to be able to read to him in that final time in hospital. Those words describe Dad beautifully – though there are many equally evocative words that could be added. Whatever hat Dad might have been wearing when you met him it was probably the last, in it’s true form – Gentle Man – that stuck with you. That’s not to say he couldn’ t be fierce, as Dublin City Council found out to their peril when he fought and won the battle to close the toxic dump in Finglas. But Dad had a way of touching everybody he met with his beautiful, gentle warmth and sincerity.
It was 1973, March 24th and everybody was in the kitchen celebrating Dad’s birthday. At five and a half years old – and the half was important in those days – I was devastated that I hadn’t anything to give him. I “slipped away”, as Dad would say, and rummaged around upstairs until I found a black faux leather belt. I wrapped it in a sheet of newspaper, brought it down and, with great ceremony, presented it to him. As soon as he unwrapped it I realised, with absolute horror, that it was way too small to go around his waist. Dad didn’t miss a beat. He fastened it around his forehead and started whooping around the kitchen like a red Indian. The rest of the family joined in – yes, as a direct result of Dad we are that eccentric – and it ended with Dad convincing me that it was the best present he’d ever got. That was Dad’s way – he genuinely cared so he could connect with anybody and put them at ease – the homeless guys drinking from cans in Finglas village, the Presidents of Ireland that he met due to the endless community work he did or, in those last days, the nurses who tended him – all of whom he knew by name despite the fight he was waging to stay with us as long as he could. Kipling could have been describing Dad when he said: “To talk with crowds and keep your virtue. To walk with kings – nor lose the common touch.”
There will be other times to talk of the visionary artist that he was – forever painting on often unorthodox objects like bread trays or, in one case, the ballcock from a broken toilet. His murals still decorate walls of his beloved Dublin City – Dad was the original Banksy. Dad used to create what he called decoraltic designs from plaster, paint and whatever else came to hand – in one case the broken glass of the local bus shelter. And when not painting or sculpting he’d write reams of poetry or belt out tunes on his whistle or mouth organ. He’ll be looking forward to some of that later on, no doubt.
There were three things that really drove my Dad, though. A love of Gods creation – when the realities of bringing up a family brought an end to the carefree days of hiking with the gang he led – The Pennine Rangers – over the mountains, he would find the time to immerse himself in nature by getting up at 5am and, as he put it, slipping away to the mountains before work.
The second thing that defined Dad was his unwavering faith that brought him and Mam safely through all the ups and downs that life held for them. He always made it clear that it was of the utmost important to him that we children embraced our spirituality – we said the rosary every night as Dad’s mantra was that the family who prayed together stayed together. As always in these things, Dad was right – as demonstrated by the solid rock of love that surrounded him and mam through these last years when his soul began to grow too powerful for a failing body. But Dad never forced religion onto us. Like Jesus, he led by example and, as always, gently had his way in the end.
The most important thing to him, however – as it embodied his faith – was his absolute love and devotion to my Mum, Jo. When he first laid eyes on her, he told a friend: That’s the girl I’m going to marry and, some years later, he did. That deep undying love was extended to each of their children as they arrived and on to the next generations. Dad knew – really knew – every one of their grandchildren and great grandchildren. That love that he offered and so inspired ensured that he was always surrounded by loved ones who wanted to spend time with him and Mam.
Like the Paschal candle at Easter Dad was like a flame that, as the prayer says, dispelled darkness and like that candle, so many flames were lit from coming into contact with him. At his funeral last Saturday there were just some of the people who through knowing dad were infected with that light that flowed from him – whether it was simply that he left them smiling or whether – like his family and so many other people we know of – he profoundly shaped their lives for the better. He was passionate about the idea that this country could look back into its history to a time when it was ‘The Land of Saints and Scholars” and he wrote to everyone – from politicians to the Pope – about what he called Athbeochan – the new Golden Age. What he didn’t realise is that he himself was the seed of that new Golden Age and that when his candle – having burned brightly to the last ‘modicum’, as he would say, of wick – fluttered out, the flame he has lit is spreading and is unstoppable. Your Golden Age is coming, Dad.
Nowadays the buzzwords are ‘living in the now’ and ‘mindfulness’. Dad was way ahead of the pack there. With his absolute trust in God he dealt with what was around him without dwelling on the past nor worrying about the future. So it was only in the last days when it became clear to him that his body was going to leave that huge spirit of his trapped in a bed that he planned his last big adventure.
When I was about 10 I found myself with my brother Chris on the wrong side of a river that had risen to flood levels while we had been climbing one of the Wicklow Mountains with Dad and a couple of others. Everyone managed to scramble across bar Dad, one other guy and ourselves. Dad crossed next to ensure that he felt we could make it safely. He decided it was too risky. The guy he’d left us with was somebody he felt he could trust to get us down river safely to where we could cross. It must have been heart wrenching for him to leave us on the other side of that river bank, unable to follow but he knew it had to be that way. He shouted across that we’d be alright and we separated into the darkness and fog that was all around us at that point. It was a scary descent along the river bank but Dad had left us in good safe hands. The absolute joy and relief when he popped out smiling from the mist was immense. He led us safely across the river to where, in a local cottage, he had a feast of hot tea and homemade jam and bread waiting and it was a magical reunion that I’ll never forget.
So, in the early minutes of November 10, after having had mass, communion, prayers and time with the whole family gathered round him, Dad waited until Mam had settled peacefully in the room with him and the clock had moved past midnight onto the birthday of his own mum and then, as was his style, he slipped quietly, peacefully away leaving us in safe hands and with the knowledge that he’ll come out of the fog with that gorgeous smile to show us the way when it’s our turn to cross that river.
Dad was fiercely proud of his Irishness so, to use the words that he said to each of us at night when we kissed each other and said we loved each other – oiche mhait agus codladh sámh, slan agus beannacht.

Good intentions – again!

Let’s face it – I’m terrible at keeping a blog. I think I’ve got to simply accept that this is not likely to be a regular online publication but something I dip into from time to time. If I can’t be bothered to write it then I don’t expect too many people will be bothered to read it. Yet here I go again, giving it another bash.
Artistically there are three main projects on my mind at the moment. “Pins and Needles” started off as a film script but I couldn’t stop my characters from thinking and the problem with thinking in a film script is that it involves flashbacks or the disembodied voice of a narrator telling you what the actor is thinking. After coming to an impasse I had all but given up when Ita Kennedy – a friend based in Cali – happened to be in town. I told her my difficulty over coffee and she hit upon the solution. Write the book. That worked. I’m 75 pages into the novel and my characters can think to their hearts contents. The idea is that the book will be published and then the film script will come from an adaptation. Clever, huh?
The second project was (and I say ‘was’) the feature version of my most successful short “Whatever Turns You On”. The film was to start with the short and then follow the story of homeless guy as he found his way back from the societal margins. I submitted an outline to the Film Board for script development funding and it was shot down over, I must say, some quite legitimate issues. The beauty of this is that the readers notes give some great pointers for fixing the problems so that’s a piece of work to take on. However, I’m more keenly focussed on another feature idea. “Powder” is a road trip movie from Cluj Napoca in Transylvania to the UK. It brings together a few ideas I’ve had quite neatly and would give me the chance to work with my good friends at the Comedy Cluj Festival which, if you haven’t been, you should check out. It’s my favourite fest worldwide in an amazing city.
In other news, I’m still hopeful of getting a short “Sotto Voce” made though commercial work here in Ireland and in Switzerland is leaving me with time only for the book at the moment.
On a personal level I’m getting lots of inspiration on the water. Living now in Malahide I sail on an almost daily basis. The phone off and at harmony with the wind and waves is as close to meditation as one can get without chanting, as far as I’m concerned 🙂

The other side of the news

In the last two weeks circumstances have dictated that I’ve been in nine countries. As one can appreciate, it’s been rather a whirlwind of activity with general impressions and disjointed memories but one clear conviction has risen from all of this travel. That is the goodness of people in each country I’ve visited. As a former journalist I’m keenly aware that it’s bad news or shocking news that sells newspapers or keeps an audience hooked to a news report but the result is often a feeling that we’re living in a cruel and twisted society. These couple of weeks have reminded me that the terrible stories the media feeds us on a daily basis are the exceptions. In fact, that’s what makes them ‘news’. In my experience there is a general sense that we are all fellow travelers on this journey and most people are willing to lend a hand where it’s needed. Three incidents in these past weeks come to mind. Firstly, the remarkable time I had in Cluj Napoca as a judge in the Comedy Cluj Film Festival. The welcome and generosity of the hosts and organisers stretched way beyond the call of duty that one might expect in such as situation and went so far as one of the volunteers dropping her grandmother’s home-cooked traditional food to my hotel when I’d expressed an interest in trying Romanian cuisine.

In Greece, where many people are struggling to survive financially and are taking to the streets to voice their anger, the sense of kindness was truly remarkable. I’d flown into Thessaloniki where I was to take a 2.5 hour bus trip to a meeting in Volos. With a strike leaving no taxis at the airport I had been fortunate to have a fellow passenger – a local police officer – give me a lift to the bus station. There I discovered that I’d left my wallet – with all my money and bank cards – on the Ryanair flight which had left without the wallet having been handed in. Theo, the police officer, not only paid for my bus ticket but, when I returned several days later to repay him the money, refused to accept a penny back and, what’s more, showered me with gifts, introduced me to his girlfriend and friends,took a day to show me the sights, me up in the best hotel in town at his own expense and then dropped me to the airport for my flight.

This incredible generosity followed an amazing stay in Volos. On arrival, on a borrowed bus ticket with just short of €4 in my pocket, two Greeks from the project I was attending – Ioannis and Stergios – met me from the bus. Explaining my lost wallet I said: “I have neither money nor credit cards,” to which they replied. “Welcome to Greece. We’re all in the same boat.”

They insisted on buying me dinner and drinks that evening, although I’d rejoined Irish colleagues who made sure I had money. Over the coming days we were looked after incredibly well by our Greek hosts and, when the project meetings were done, Stergios and Ioannis drove me on a tour of nearby Mt Pillion which included a visit to the family of Ioannis. His mother fed me the most stunning home-cooked food and we got merry on the home-made wine and tsipouro. It all ended with a big sing song and a meandering trip back to the hotel, stopping many times along the way to taste local delights and see spectacular views.

While the goodness of Horatiu and Sorin Dan in Cluj, Theo in Thessaloniki and Ioannis, Stergios, Maria and Nikos in Volos are highlights, in between I met an incredibly number of people who helped or advised along the way. Perhaps the current crisis is bringing us Europeans back to sense of camaraderie the importance of looking out for one and other. I don’t know what lies ahead with the banks and the politicians but as 2012 draws to a close I have a sense of quiet confidence that we’re going to be ok.

To judge and be judged…

I just got word that my short “The Bouquet” is to have its US premiere at the Short Short Story festival in Rhode Island. The organisers have asked for a 30-60 second intro. I fly to Transylvania this weekend to sit on the features judging panel so I pretty much have tomorrow to nail this piece to camera. Considering that the entire film – including titles – is just three minutes long I have to go for the 30 second option. This is the length of a tv commercial so what can I say about The Bouquet? That the film was a last minute script I came up with as an audition for the actress Nadine Rahimtoola? That might lower the value of the film so probably not. That the lead actor was actually a family member, Simon Murphy, who normally does sound but got roped in that day? Again, probably not. Maybe I should talk about how the sound was recorded separately (because we were shooting with a DSLR and our sound guy was busy acting) and subsequently had the sound recorder stolen along with all the sound so the entire film is ADR’d? No – maybe they haven’t noticed so least said soonest mended. What about revealing that the desaturated colour which renders the film almost black and white was not an artistic nod to the feel of French cinema but the result of me being too lazy to grade the film. The truth is that “The Bouquet” is the most accidental film I’ve ever made yet it premiered in the Jameson Dublin International Film Festival and was picked out of all my films as his favourite by the actor Bernard Cribbins. I guess films are a bit like children. Despite all the screw ups that parents make, some just turn out right…

The importance of dignity

Being the month of August I should not, perhaps, have been surprised to find myself in august company on the judging panel of the Charlie Chaplin Comedy Film Festival. Joining me in the deliberations for Best Irish Comedy Short, Best International Comedy Short and Best Social Commentary Short were Jason O’Mahoney of Kerry Film Festival fame, Raelene Casey of Cork Film Festival and the Irish Film Institute and genuine Hollywood royalty in the person of Jack Garfein. Jack has rubbed shoulders with so many legends of the film industry that I’m surprised his jacket isn’t hanging in the Newbridge Silver Hollywood Memorabilia collection. When I found myself in the Fossets Circus Big Top for the Gala Award Ceremony with my three fellow judges and a glamorous gathering of Waterville, Kerry’s ‘who’s who’, I was keen to maintain a dignified aspect. I was to announce the winner of the Social Commentary award and was determined to do so without recourse to notes. I had drafted and rehearsed a little speech until I was pretty sure I could deliver it with the right balance of confidence and gravity, tinged with a smidgeon of humour. I had selected a semi formal jacket of a sombre grey with a grey shirt over a decent pair of jeans in order to give the impression, to paraphrase Kipling, that I cared – but not too much. I had been summoned a half hour before I thought I would be so I’d only managed to iron the front of my shirt and, in doing so, I’d noticed a 10cm gap where the seam had come unstitched at the side. However, being far from warm in West Kerry, I had no intention of taking my jacket off so the hole and the wrinkled shirt-back and sleeves were not an issue.

RTE’s Eileen Dunne filled the role of host and, between pauses for music and various Charlie Chaplin impersonators, the serious business of announcing the award recipients got underway. I was secretly pleased to see my fellow award announcers resorting to notes. I was going over my carefully rehearsed lines.

It came my turn to announce the Social Commentary Award recipient and, on Eileen Dunne’s introduction I stepped up and walked across the Big Top Circus ring to the podium. Under the glare of dozens of spotlights, I delivered my speech with pace and decorum. To the applause the followed I stepped back across the ring and rejoined the other judges, smiling in return to the nods of approval from all and sundry.

Some short time later, another break for entertainment came in the form of another Charlie Chaplin impersonator. He approached the crowd and a tension descended on the front rows. He was looking for a volunteer. He singled out a young man near the front who protested vigorously and, I thought, unsportingly.

“It’s only a bit of craic,” I whispered to one of my fellow judges, secure in the knowledge that we judges were immune to being singled out for ridicule. Unfortunately, someone had, apparently, forgotten to tell Charlie Chaplin that. Giving up on the protesting young man he moved in our direction. My first thought was to avoid eye contact but, believing myself untouchable, I scorned at such a sign of weakness. Seconds later I was being dragged out into the ring, aware of the hypocrisy a refusal would signify. As the initial shock wore off I assumed a purposeful stride – like one of those heroic rebel leaders walking to their doom and casting aside the blindfold. I was still desperately trying to cling on to my carefully established dignity. The very first command from Chaplin put paid to that notion. He took off his jacket and signalled that I should do the same. I protested feebly but quickly realised that a refusal would make me look like an even bigger fool so, moments later, 1000 highly amused people were taking in the sight of my wrinkled and torn shirt. That was nothing compared with what was to come.

Over the next ten minutes the Chaplin lookalike had me performing tumbles, hand stands and assuming awkward positions while he and a young woman plucked from the audience to share my shame like Simon of Cyrene helping Jesus to shoulder the cross, sat on me, stood on me and generally used me like a hobby-horse. By the time he released me from my misery and I was able to rejoin the judges I had been the highlight of the show. Not, however, in the sense of the master chef but in the sense of the roast, stuffed pork he has served up for the amusement of all. The words that my mother had drummed into my siblings and I were recalled to mind: “Pride comes before a fall”.

New YouTube channel for my short films

There is a great sense of release when you press that ‘upload’ button and watch your short film soar up to cyberspace to be viewed by anyone who cares to. When your film is new, an upload to the web can spell the end of your chances of a showing at most of the major festivals and it’s kissing goodbye to any hopes you might have been nursing for an Oscar. It is, however, frustrating to have only the work that nobody cares about representing you online. At the social events that film makers attend the standard question is “where can I see your work?”. For the first time I’ll be able to direct people to four of my shorts. My most successful effort “Whatever Turns You On” remains embroiled in rights issues for now but soon that, too, will be set free for the world to see. My latest short – Wedding Planners – premiered recently at the Underground Festival and has been shortlisted for Aesthetica. It makes up one of the four films on the new channel. You can see it right here:

Wedding Planners

The channel itself is:

http://www.youtube.com/user/shortsireland

There you’ll also find:

The Bouquet

Veronique

and

I hate that, smile

On Monday I’ll be making my way to the Charlie Chaplin Film Festival in a remote corner of Kerry where I’m on the panel of judges. It’s shaping up to be a great festival. I’m looking forward to it…

Letting go – online

With a distributor selling my short films around the world I’ve not been able to put them online. The net result of this, unfortunately, is that only the efforts that are too abysmal to sell end up on the web. Not, I think you’ll agree, the best impression for a film maker to give. It also means that the only people seeing my films are those who attend the festivals they’re showing at or those who have caught them on Channel 4 or RTE.

Now, however, with a collection of my shorts on Etihad Airways inflight service I’ve decided to screen those shorts one at a time on my website (http://www.declancassidy.com) under a tab labelled “watch”. I’m starting with “The Bouquet”, a three minute romantic comedy staring Simon Murphy and Nadine Rahimtoola, shot one Sunday afternoon in Trim, County Meath.

So, if you have three minutes to spare, click into my website, click on the ‘watch’ button, settle back with your popcorn and prepare, hopefully, to have a smile on your face a few minutes later. Do check into my Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/cassidymovies) afterwards and let me know what you thought and, if you liked it, pass the word on 🙂

Screening in the sky and judging in the gaeltacht

Emmet O’Riabhaigh and Diane O’Connor play Tom and Bridie in Wedding Planners

I’m returning to this blog after a long absence. I’ll try to be more consistent in the future…

August arrives tomorrow and that brings a couple of events for my film-making life. Firstly four of my short films will now grace the screens of Etihad Airways inflight service. Etihad have 8.25 million passengers traveling with them each year so I’m hoping at least a few of them will check out the films. The package consists of Whatever Turns You On, The Bouquet, Veronique and Wedding Planners. Wedding Planners just enjoyed a premiere at Dave Byrne’s Underground Cinema. I also learned today that it has been shortlisted for selection at Aesthetica Short Film Festival in the UK so it’ll be interesting to see where that goes.

The end of the month will see me head for a remote spot in Kerry where I’ll be one the judging panel in the Charlie Chaplin Comedy Film Festival. We’re staying in a pre-famine stone cottage village in the gaeltacht area and I’m given to understand that Marilyn Monroe’s drama coach, Jack Garfein is in the cottage next door. I’m anticipating lots of gossip…

Birthday, bicyles, babies and Berlin

It’s my birthday today and I’m celebrating it in Berlin. Today I sat outside a cafe called something with a German name on something-strasse and watched the world go by… slowly. That is not to say that I necessarily was watching slowly. The world, in this case, dictated the pace. At the next table a group of young, well dressed Berliners spoke earnestly in German. I caught the odd ‘ja’ so I gathered it was a positive conversation. A group of youngsters in lederhosen and braces walked past looking anything but selfconscious. I asked the waitress if it was a stag party or, perhaps, a university event.
‘Bavarians,’ she stated, as if that explained everything.

Berlin is an interesting city. I love it here. I can imagine that there are people who don’t but I can’t imagine that anyone could be neutral to it. It’s a city of contradictions where anything goes. On one hand there is a structure and functionality to everything. Trains run on time, people stop and wait for the green man before crossing the road and social etiquette is respected. At the same time it’s the most bombed city in the world with no space sacred from the aerosol cans of the graffiti artists. Some of the graffiti is undeniably art. A lot, however, is merely someone scrawling their name or a message with a paint can in a fashion that even the most supportive couldn’t call art. Just as the city is splashed with colour, so are the citizens. Just as pasta manufactureres will always have a job in Italy, tatoo artists won’t go hungry in Berlin. It reminds me of LA in that respect. Anything goes in Berlin. All the fashions of the world collide on its streets and often on the same person. From pastel pinks to tartan punks Berlin is home to all and Berliners don’t bat an eyelid at the weirdest looks imaginable. That’s quite refreshing, I must say. This non-judgemental attitude seems to boost confidence. Berlin woman will catch your eye and cooly appraise you without looking away. That’s not common anywhere else that I know.

Berlin is very much a people friendly city. It’s cheap to begin with, in rents, food and clothing. Its transport system is fantastic and it works. The climate is kind and the many bicycle paths are well used. It’s the kind of place to bring kids up in and lots of people seem to have had that very thought. I wonder if the bicycles outnumber the babies or vice versa… whichever, there are a lot of both.

In personal news my film ‘Whatever Turns You On’ is playing here in Berlin at the International Short Film Festival. It has also been chosen for the French scholastic programme. Our new short “Veronique”, written by my collleague Bill Tyson and directed by me, has been delivered to the Irish Film Board and Wildwave and premieres at Darklight Film Festival in October. I’m currently ploughing happily through my Ganglands feature script.