Debra Beattie came onboard my little rowboat straight away. Being very courageous she volunteered to be the producer.
Aside from Debra, my crew were all volunteers from the final year of the diploma course. One of these optimists, a fellow named Mark Atkin, joined me in the coffee room for a break. Talking about film titles, he commented that the title was the last thing anyone noticed.
I answered, “But it’s the first thing they see.” How wrong I was.
Like all scripts, it didn't have a title to begin with. By the fifth draft it was called "Elsewhere", and by the seventh draft it was "Meanwhile Elsewhere", as evidenced by the examples shown here.
THE SYNOPSIS FOR THE FIFTH DRAFT
Paul told me the script could be seen as a little pretentious. I knew who Buñuel and Dalí were. I said, “Fine. Let’s be pretentious, so long as it’s not boring.”
I was totally dismissive of what I expected others to do for me, "It's only a film..." I said.
It was all going to be so simple. My “screenwriting process” had produced several scenes and four characters that needed casting.
As far as I was concerned, my film required nothing more than a few friends working on a couple of night shoots and having a picnic at the beach.
A FOUR PAGE ROUGH TREATMENT OF THE SEVENTH DRAFT
It was going to be a bloody waltz in the park.
I can reconstruct the narrative into a 3-act synopsis:
“Living in accord with nature, two lovers are separated by an envious mage of the city, Janus. The disconnected lovers, Dumaine and Corrine, must return a collection of keys that Janus has lost – the keys unlock doors to other dimensions. In the process of returning the lost keys, the lovers are working separately but strangely together, to entrap Franklin.
The Lovers are secretly aided in their task by Janus, a woman who throws typewritten notes out of her window. Franklin receives these notes out of thin air, giving him directions to follow Dumaine to the seaside. Here they meet Corrine, the Elsewitch, who flies them to the city for their meeting with Janus.
Janus gives Franklin the final key before realizing he is not Dumaine. In the ensuing struggle Dumaine shoots Janus and escapes with Franklin, who gives him the final key. Dumaine uses it to open a final door, sending Franklin back to Corrine. He is their sacrificial lamb – in a magical cataclysm, the keys return to the chair, the chair returns to the sea, and the Lovers return to each other.”
In the original script Janus was a single character, but due to scheduling problems and an actor leaving, I had to recast that character. It may have made the story unclear but that was never really my concern.
Decades later, I'm still hooked because it’s all about love and loss.
DRAWINGS OF CHARACTERS AND PROPS - PENCIL & INK PEN
My approach to developing the film was based on a motto I’d read in National Lampoon, “Noogs Is Noogs” and the Zen idea that “Mind Over, Nothing Matters” which I read in an Uncanny X-Men comic.
All very intellectual and high brow. It was recently pointed out to me that my love of 1970's "Hammer Horror" movies was a big influence on Meanwhile Elsewhere, and I'm pleased now to recognize the fact.
If it's pulp, I eat it up. The bloodier the better.
I had to find people who could kind of act, but who (more importantly) would work for nothing. My girlfriend Vanessa accepted the role as the heroine and then promptly dumped me without explanation, which was very professional of her.
With my hands bruised and bandaged, I was now baffled and needlessly heartbroken. I put it down to the fact that she adored the pop star Adam Ant, and to this day I look like a big chubby queer when I wear blue eye shadow.
I expressed my sorrow and confusion in detailed storyboards.
The water damage you see above was probably caused by tears.
One evening a few of us, including Paul and John and another guy Brett Houghton, got into John Haddock’s film store and stole about a dozen cans of unexposed film. We got it back to my place, split it up and then chickened out and took it all back. Nobody was the wiser, including the culprits.
One of the major requirements of my script was to find some way for a human figure to fall out of the sky.
I asked my dad Mick to help, and he built a human armature out of plywood, with pine limbs and bolted hinge parts. Wrapping it in newspaper I built a dummy that would look like Frank, so we could toss him off a building while riding on a chair.
Brett's friend Garry Greenaway was training in surgical prosthetics. Using high-tech dental casting compounds based on a cutting-edge seaweed alginate, Garry cast Frank’s face for a life mask.
Frank came out of the mould-making process with crumbling pink goop stuck up his nose and looking a bit like he'd been trapped in a sensory deprivation tank, but it was all worthwhile. The result speaks for itself - well, almost.
POLAROID 24 - FRANK'S PROSTHETIC HEAD
Garry worked very hard over the next few weeks, painting the silicone copy of Frank's face. He got the skin pigmentation and lips and eyebrows all looking great, but the proverbial jewels in the crown were the beautiful hand-made glass eyes which outshone the clarity of Frank's own soulful peepers.
Within a month we had access to a total head prosthetic which, along with a pair of complete hands that he cast from his own, were used in Garry's final assessment - even though it's a rare occasion in a medical university to make a whole head.
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