Time to Get Out

50 days. That’s a long time. Shortly after I first got into town, I saw posters all over the place saying “Do you belong in this neighbourhood? Get Out.” They stuck in my imagination as I had just arrived and I had to be careful not to take it personally. At the bottom it said “Playing in theatres” and a date. I initially thought “How can they play it in multiple theatres at once?” and then I remembered that it’s another translation error. A movie theatre. A cinema. It’s a film, not a play. Called “Get Out.”. It’s a brilliant poster, especially in this political climate. A visitor from the UK clocked it and was initially shocked. You could believe that some validated bunch of xenophobic dorks had clubbed together to put it up.
I went to see it today. It’s described as a comedy horror film, and I suppose it is. It’s very funny at times. But the humour is edgier than Tucker and Dale vs Evil. It’s a compelling  watch. I went in knowing nothing about it but the poster, and came out happy. Every performance was superbly well turned. Rather than spoil it I’ll just say I loved it and leave you to catch it if you want to. I suppose it’s a comedy race horror. It’s got plenty of good shocks, and some truly joyful performances and it’s really dark. It’s a very American film, but it carries.


Fifty days have flown by. I am feeling ready to get back to the familiar. I want to make the most of my last two weeks, but the weather is still a total let down. It was grey and drizzly again today. If it’s going to be like this then all the other things that scream “home” should be in place. I want to say “Hello” to a stranger and be treated like I’m an axe wielding maniac. Here they say “Hello” back and then start a conversation. I want to walk across the road and have the traffic speed up : “it’s my right of way and I’ll hit you if I can.” Here they slow down and let me cross. I want a waiter to behave as if he actively hates me and wishes I was dead, but here they smile like lying bridegrooms. Also I want to eat chocolate, not this sugary crap. How can standards have dropped so low? It’s the profit motive all over again. Look what happened to Creme Eggs when they were bought by Kraft Foods. They were great and now they’re made out of goat shit.


After the movie I went home. Self imposed early night tonight so I can get up and be my own office for the coming week. I ended up in deep conversation with my flatmate Mark. I can’t overlook how lucky I am to have landed here. My room is beautiful, and Mark and Laural are great fun and kindred spirits. It seems all the people I hang out with in this town used to be on one soap or another. Mark was on Home and Away, Lyndon on Emmerdale. Both for years. Both are now out here fielding movies, and the thing that binds them together is an easy going nature and a generosity of spirit, coupled with a drive to create. I suppose that’s important when the schedule is so packed. For the first time in my life I see how my energy and approach, coupled with my spongebrain, would fit that sort of dynamic. I’ve never thought to target TV before but if those two are anything to go by it’s a lovely fellowship. At base I do this work because I love it. And this has been a long time for me without doing the work that makes me who I am. Maybe it will prove to have been an investment down the line. Certainly it has been a personal investment, in the sense that I’ve had time to get to know myself. But thank God I’ve had these words every day as a vent for the creative impulse. I’m sure I’ll find a use for the next few weeks. There’s a few things I’m writing that I want to finish, and a company me and a friend are very seriously meaning to start rolling with immediately on my return (more on that anon.) But not being able to work is beginning to take its toll. I need to do some acting, pronto.


London, I am ready for your face.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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