Dark Days - or a new beginning?

It has finally happened. A decade or more of poor management, short-sightedness and greed have caught up with my beloved Pompey and we are now in administration and surely doomed to relegation. Plenty has been said about the personalities involved in the surely temporary downfall of this great club and those involved will be cursed by Pompey fans for at least the rest of their days.

Now that administration has finally happened I feel bitterness - at the string of petty crooks who have played with club as if it were a bauble or a trophy girlfriend, and anger - at the officials of the Premier League, who have apparently been drugged by the wealth and glamour of modern football to the extent that any ex-con could pass the 'Fit and Proper Persons' test, let alone an Arab swindler or a Russian arms dealer. I also feel a sense of relief - an enormous weight has been lifted from the fans, the only innocent party in this whole sordid mess and the only ones who will be punished by the points deduction (a senseless punishment, in my view).

It is all rather sad, grubby and pathetic. And there are serious concerns about many other clubs, amongst them Premier League clubs, whose owners have lead them down a similar path to that which has seen Pompey stray dangerously close to the cliff edge. They must get a grip now while they still can. My first game was against Rotherham in August 1981. It was a rich mixture of mud, sweat and the odd flash of talent and I was hooked from the first minute of that 3-1 victory. David Gregory was an instant hero. Watching from the the well-behaved Family Enclosure in the South Stand, I immediatey wanted to be part of the noise and passion of the Fratton End, even today considered Britain's best group of fans, and some decades later it was a huge thrill to take delivery of my first Fratton End season ticket - ear-splittingly close to John Westwood and his famous bell. And my wild ride as a Pompey fan began.

It is easy to become addicted to success; Pompey fans loved every minute of our brief period inthe limelight. We spent decades in the lower reaches of the league - more than a decade in second tier alone - and suddenly found ourselves getting promoted to the Premier League, going to Wembley 3 times in as many months, winning the FA Cup, winning games in the UEFA Cup and establishing ourselves as a footballing force to be reckoned with. It was fun. And there may be some more fun to be had during the rest of this season. We still have the excellent Avram Grant, who seems to have fallen in love with the club, and it looks as if we will keep at least a few decent players. We may even get to face Harry Redknapp's Tottenham (Pompey in disguise?) in the FA Cup semi final at Wembley in what would surely be the most ironic game ever held at Wembley.

The future is out there. We should, at least, now survive as a club. We thought we had seen the last of grounds like Selhurst Park but we will be back at the top level one day.

Play Up Pompey!

New Proudfoot Showreel

At long last, our new showreel is ready to view. This is just a taster - a full reel of our very best work is available by contacting simon@proudfoot.tv

Enjoy.

A Late Valentine To All Our Friends & Clients

Essential Elements

This week saw the launch of The Rolex Learning Centre in Lausanne. Our film was part of the presentations made to architectural press from around the world. It's a very simple film and consists of five essential elements. The first of these essential elements is some extraordinary camerawork by Chris Morphet, who approached the task of filming in the snow against a grey background in freezing temperatures with his usual aplomb. We decided to go for abstract shots that somehow followed the idea that SANAA, the architects, had created a kind of land locked spaceship, well that's how I saw it anyway. The snow became a dimension that we could use to create depth and mystery, maybe even romance. The second essential element is what you might call literary content, in this case some interviews with the architects, Kazuyo Sejima & Ryue Nishizawa shot in Tokyo on a flying visit and Mr Patrick Aebischer, chief Academic at EPFL (Ecole Polytechnique Federale De Lausanne). Mr Aebischer tells us why? and SANAA tell us how?. Element number three was a bit of a wild card, music by pedal steel guitar legend BJ Cole, a track called "Indian Willow Suite" which matched the fluid lines of the building perfectly while also giving off a mysterious, spacey feel. Fourth element: sensitive and beautifully timed editing by The Scandiman himself, Andreas Torner - who prefers to be briefed with the essential elements in front of him and then left to get on with it, I willingly obliged. One further element: the client, who were able to look, listen and see the the film for what it was and know that it is as close as it could be to fulfilling what they wanted.

See the film on youtube here

Baby making music

Yesterday saw two babies being born that made two proudfooters proud uncles. Not content with this happy coincidence, Channel 4 decided to screen "One Born Every Minute" last night. Shot with discreet cameras in a Southampton labour ward, it was a great example of real people providing compelling stories. There was the odd cynical edit here and there (one in particular seemed to poke fun at a father-to-be as he told us his unimpressive GCSE results), but we got to see how people acted when confronted by what Anthropologists often call the 'boundaries' of humanity. Mothers hugged son-in-laws ("she's never hugged me like that unless she's pissed") and expectant mothers shouted "I hate you" at anyone who cared to listen. I watched with a lump in my throat as a mother (heavily drugged at this point), midwives and a 'rabbit caught in headlights' father stood quietly listening to the wavering rhythms of the child's heartbeat echoing around the small room, hoping it would pick up the pace. I was unaware of this aspect of sound design in hospitals where the whole room is filled with the amplified heartbeat of an unborn child, but there was an eery similarity to the final scene of Das Boot. Thanks to the experience and decisiveness of the NHS staff, this time there was a happier ending.

3 things that make us sad and a little bit angry

1. Videographer. This is not a word. It is certainly not a term we would use to describe anyone we have ever employed. Please don't ask us for a videographer. What you need is either a cameraman or, possibly, a photographer. And not a DOP, either.
2. B-Roll. We know what you mean but, seriously, everything that we shoot is A-Roll. Let's think of another word for the package of material that you are intending to supply to the media.
3. Cookies. They are biscuits, even if they are chewy and loaded with chocolate chips.








Thanks for listening.

Festival Brazil Film

Calm down everyone. Here it is.

Triumph and Disaster

Rudyard Kipling means a lot to millions around the world. He has certainly helped us to treat those two imposters, triumph and disaster, just the same. We recently had cause to test our even-handedness; a couple of weeks ago we celebrated Golden Wednesday, the proudest day in the short history of the Proudfoot Company. On Golden Wednesday, 20th January, we were the busiest we have ever been with 4 shoots on the same day in London, New York and Brazil. Just a few days later the company was visited by disaster. On Friday 29th January, a day henceforth and for ever more known as Fridge Friday, the company fridge was destroyed because of foolishness and lack of patience. Remember friends - when defrosting a fridge, put down that knife!

Festival Brazil

This morning saw the press launch of Festival Brazil.

Proudfoot's film was shown and seemed to go down

well. After looking at the list of events and people

involved it really looks like it will be a great time to

visit the South Bank.

Travel and Subsistence

There is an illusion amongst some people that this business of ours involves jolly trips to the world’s most glamorous places, staying in top hotels and eating and drinking like Lords. Mostly our “travel and subsistence” is just that, travel and subsistence. Last week Chris Morphet and I alighted in the small Swiss town of St Suplice which nestles on the shores of Lake Geneva near Lausanne (forgive the tour brochure language). In the preceding days to our departure there had been talk about our choice of hotel and whether or not it was a suitable hostelry for a top executive of The Proudfoot Company and his trusty camera wielding aid, Morphet. In the end, budgetary intervention from the production department meant that we stuck with our original booking at the modestly appointed Hotel Pre Fleuri.

Certainly on our arrival in the gloom of a Swiss winter’s afternoon the Pre Fleuri did not look promising – the small, gothic looking hotel’s main building was tightly shuttered, only blue neon signs hinting at the possible luxury within, “Bates Motel” came to mind. At the reception we were greeted by a young man in a matelot sweater and horn-rimmed glasses, he looked a bit like Michael Caine in “Alfie”. After he had briefed us on how to gain re-entry to the hotel after the nine thirty pm curfew we explored our rooms. It was immediately apparent we were two of perhaps three guests at the Pre Fleuri that night. This may sound a little grim but actually the Pre Fleuri was both warm and comfortable. The hotel has many of the film crew’s minimum requirements: clean (cotton) sheets, a bathroom (with hot water) and a decent telly with BBC World. There is no bar at the Pre Fleuri (probably a crucial film crew minimum requirement but we’ll let that go) and only a modestly stocked mini bar, outside I noticed petrol station sign which meant I might be able to buy milk and make English Breakfast tea with my ever present travel kettle. I ventured out into the cold only to discover that at six thirty the petrol station was closed. Undaunted I strode in the direction of the village hoping to find an open grocery store, after ten minutes I reached Centreville only to find that it too was closed. Back at the hotel I cracked a bottle of Heineken and watched an item on BBC World previewing Tony Blair’s upcoming appearance at The Chilcott enquiry. Musing to myself that someone should question the ex PM on New Labour’s lack of performance on the promised “Education, Education, Education” manifesto pledge I set off to meet Morphet in reception. As usual Chris looked like a man who had just finished a combined session of Pilates and US Army Marine Callisthenics, in short, fit as a butcher’s dog, even after a day’s camera toting.

Having enquired of Michael Caine at reception, we headed off through the now stygian gloom to the local Auberge where we had an excellent and inexpensive dinner. I had Perch from the “Lac” with chips after a wonderful small pot of mushroom risotto – Chris had Dover Sole (a Morphet staple).

Breakfast was simple but serviceable and the Pre Fleuri turned out to be only a four minute drive to our location (proximity to the place of filming being another basic film crew requirement).

So, for any crews headed towards St Suplice, The Hotel Pre Fleuri and the local Auberge get a Proudfoot Company four star rating.

Proudfoot meets Ernesto Neto

Proudfoot's shoot in Brazil had many highlights, but my encounter with Ernesto Neto, the extraordinary sculptor, is destined to become a lifelong memory. My brief was to talk to Ernesto about his upcoming exhibition at the Hayward Gallery and his involvement in a project called 'The New Decor', both of which will be included in The South Bank Centre's 'Festival Brazil' this summer. 30 seconds after my first question, I realised I would be getting much more than I ever expected. Ernesto is an artist that likes to make his art and to talk about his art. There are definite, concrete ideas behind what are often described as abstract or surreal sculptures and installations. Looking at his luscious, sensual works of art it was surprising to hear about Ernesto's obsession with physicists such as Einstein, Plank, Newton and Faraday. I've always believed that the greatest scientists, working at the fuzzy boundaries of their fields, are really artists. It's interesting to see that the opposite is true too.