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by guy pearson
So, you’ve just wrapped a feature film that took 33 days to shoot over several years, all on a budget of precisely zero pounds and with a crew of one—I was trying to practically be a one-person film crew. After a thorough self-critique that felt more intense than trying to find a parking space in town, I realised I wasn’t quite ready to unleash my cinematic masterpiece on the world. So, what’s next?
Well, one day, you might spontaneously decide to spend a few hours with a mate making a short film. And wouldn’t you know it? That little side project could end up being the most successful piece of media you’ve created so far. Typical.
Enter “Extension”, a film that was born from a chat with a friend about a 1970s TV documentary featuring Fred Dibnah, the infamous steeplejack from Bolton. If you’re not acquainted with him, do yourself a favour and Google him, he’s incredibly entertaining. This bloke makes climbing a chimney look like a walk in the park, possibly with a cup of tea. The initial idea was to merge the documentary style of the Fred Dibnah doc with what some would call a twist, plus I wanted to showcase some of my talents to those who might not know any better, and if I was lucky, perhaps even impress myself. I had a rough outline, aiming for that natural feel, like we were peering into someone’s life on any given day.
I knew my mate Andy could pull off this concept without breaking a sweat. He’s an improvisation wizard, capable of spinning pure gold out of thin air. We set up the scene and jumped right in, rolling with whatever came to mind. What you see in the film are all just one take each. We shot everything in about 45 minutes and in order, and just two hours later, I had a complete 12-minute edit ready for our viewing pleasure. It felt like discovering the cinematic equivalent of a Pot Noodle —quick, satisfying, and probably not award-winning. But just when I thought I had everything sorted, the universe had a different plan. A couple of months later, disaster struck: a power surge fried my computer and several hard drives. While my computer survived to tell the tale, the hard drives didn’t make it, leaving “Extension” in a state of existential limbo.
Fortunately, I had shared clips of the film via private YouTube links, allowing me to play detective and salvage some low-res footage by downloading it from my own account. However, many of these clips had temporary colour grades and effects that couldn’t be removed. Plus, I lost 5 to 6 minutes of finished work, including the ending— brilliant. So, “Extension” joined the illustrious pile of projects I thought would forever remain unseen,
gathering digital dust alongside my collection of unfulfilled dreams and takeaway boxes. Years later, I decided to dig up the footage because technology had finally caught up with my imagination My mission? Restore and upscale the images while trying to keep my sanity intact—no easy feat.
The first major change was bidding farewell to the original colour and cinematography. Instead, I opted for grainy black and white for an older found footage feel. Plus, it’s an excellent way to distract from any visual mishaps—“Ah, yes, it’s supposed to look like crap”
Then came the real challenge: changing the ending. This was no small feat either, as it affected every shot in the film. It took time—lots of it—but hey, if I could resurrect this project from the ashes, I could surely whip up a new ending. After much trial and error, I managed to stitch together a conclusion that, while not the original, felt satisfying enough to keep the audience guessing—hopefully in a good way.
Finally, after weeks of tinkering and some serious late-night, coffee-fuelled visual effects sessions, I emerged victorious, kind of. “Extension” found its way back into the spotlight, proving that sometimes life’s biggest disasters can lead to unexpected triumphs. It’s a testament to resilience, creativity, and the idea that if you throw enough shit at the wall, something might just stick. Extension was now my ultimate sticky shit.
Eventually, I ended up with a 6-minute film reconstructed from YouTube clips, where I had turned every single shot into a visual effects piece (although, hopefully no-one can tell). I uploaded it to YouTube and got about two viewers, then just left it there, thinking it was a fine place for it to quietly gather virtual dust.
Fast forward several more years, and I’m chatting with a friend about the film and what were my original my grand visions for it in it’s first form, which had now resulted in something resembling a bad home video that I wasn’t particularly proud of. They asked to see it, and when I showed it to them, the reaction wasn’t what I expected. I realised that just because it wasn’t my cup of tea anymore didn’t mean others wouldn’t enjoy it. So that’s nice. I then noticed on Twitter that Kinofilm was calling for submissions to showcase films at the Mini Cini in Manchester. Since I had pretty much written the film off at this point, I thought I’d see if they might appreciate anything in it. To my surprise, they did! I attended the event and met some lovely fellow filmmakers, and I was quite taken aback by the fact that people didn’t hate it—in fact, they even laughed at some parts, which felt validating.
A month or so later, Bolton Film Festival opened for submissions, and literally as a joke, I submitted the film. I thought, if there was anywhere this film belonged, it would be there, given its nature and the fact that it’s about as Northern and Bolton as you can get. I genuinely didn’t expect anything from that, as the Bolton Film Festival is actually a pretty big deal. But to my absolute astonishment, it was accepted, and I got to see my film, which cost less than a tenner, screened on one of the biggest cinema screens I’ve seen at a BAFTA- qualifying film festival—twice, no less.
This was quite the eye-opener. Since then, it’s been to multiple film festivals and even picked up a few awards here and there. At the time of writing this, it’s on a little four-day tour with the Film Hub North’s Northern Exposure, proving that even the unlikeliest projects can find their moment in the spotlight.
So here’s to taking risks as a film maker, embracing the unexpected, and maybe, just maybe, creating something worth sharing—even if it took a detour through the land of lost hard drives and power surges. In the end, it’s not just about the destination; it’s about the journey along the way. “If you’re going to dream, dream big.”
