A country divided we may be, but the hope that we can unite in the face of financial and economical crisis is still a permeating hope in this optimistic writer’s head. We’ve escaped many a crisis. In 2020, the year this film came out, we weren’t sure there was any chance of normalisation off the back of Covid and Brexit. We’re paying the price now for the questionable decisions of the past, and we can either admit defeat and let ourselves crumble under the weight of this fragility Britain is suffering from, or we can keep pushing against that stubborn blockade that holds us down.
There’s probably many of you whom have no idea of what this film is, nor how everything I’ve said in that first paragraph even relates. The Filmmaker’s House is an anomaly of a film. Marc Isaacs, a documentary film maker who struggled to get his last film off the ground because of a lack of interest from investors, decided that the very idea of trying to make such a film was a good basis for a film plot in of itself. This film is a strange hybrid of fiction and documentary; a movie that posits real-life people into a fictional environment and plays around with expectations. It’s a clash of cultures that speaks to the diversity of our country, but it also feels a tad disingenuous.
This decision to make a film that blends together the two storytelling formats will certainly anger some, annoy others, and can at least be appreciated by a smaller group. Quite frankly, I’m not sure where I fit into. It’s a film that deserves some focus, regardless of the choices made. This is Marc Isaacs’s The Filmmaker’s House.
As I said, the film opts to take a more documentarian approach to a fictional story. Marc Isaacs wants to create a simplistic documentary about people as they are, but the financiers are more interested in something that is shocking and violent at the same time. Marc decides to go ahead with his original plan anyway, filming his day as it goes on, in the hopes that the footage will convince his bosses. What we get is a revolving door of different people that enter Marc’s house on a single day.
Luckily for Marc, the people that surround him provide an excellent display of the multiculturalism that makes up Britain. Initially presenting us with a homeless Slovakian man by the name of Mikel, propped up in a hospital bed, the film flashes back to when Marc is having work done on his garden fence. The lead builder, Keith, is a deeply patriotic person and avid supporter of the Arsenal football team. He doesn’t care much for Marc’s Muslim neighbour Zara, but she soon finds a way to make her own way in to the house, providing a well-cooked meal. We, of course, meet Mikel properly: a homeless man who practically barges his way into the house for the hope of a good sleep and some proper care.
As much as this fly-on-the-wall approach is the most prominent identity of the film, there is a story that unfolds. Marc’s reason for never wanting to make films on terrible life events is due to an uncomfortable past. He opens up about this to his maid, Nery, who has recently lost her mother and is anxious about going to her funeral. This house of unlikely comrades soon evolves into a strange sense of unity, with each character getting a moment to shine.
Isaacs has made no effort to pretend this was anything other than a fictional story. The word documentary being attached will create a certain expectation in the viewer’s head. I was certainly fooled into thinking that the more fictional elements would be only minor. This film may feature very real people, even telling real stories of their troubled pasts, but they are more caricatures of who they really are.
There is quite a varied and bountiful cast of characters. Marc himself is merely the puppet-master in this story, but his ability to gather these different walks of life is still something to be commended. Zara was actually Marc’s neighbour, Nery being both his maid and nanny for his children. Even Mikel is a genuine homeless man. False as much of the extra character deconstruction may be, there’s an authenticity that many conventional films of this ilk could never hope to replicate. Isaacs was sure to have a vague idea of the plot, never telling the actors what he wanted from them as to find beautiful moments of spontaneity and improvisation.
None of the “actors” in the film had any sort of history in front of a camera. They simply had faith in Marc’s abilities. Sometimes the stiffness of the performances can get in the way, often met with jarring cuts that clearly try to hide their little imperfections, but this direction gives it a more organic atmosphere. Isaacs understands that trying to get these non-actors to memorise lines will only cause them to stumble over themselves. Sometimes little comments are fed through the performers’ mouths, like when Keith makes a comment about Marc’s neighbours being Muslims, but it’s mostly filmed in a way that allows these people to react as humanly as possible. Mikel is the most notable example of how naturally one can adjust themselves to a camera.
I’ve mentioned that there are little sub-stories within this film that give these characters some more depth. People will take issue with the fact that these stories are exaggerated or shifted about time-wise. Most notable is Nery’s reluctance to attend her mother’s funeral. In reality, Nery’s mother had passed away years prior. This was simply brought forward as to give her character a certain arc that helps further the point of the film.
That point being made should be as obvious as anything: Britain should not be divided. Brexit showed that our country could be cruel to foreigners, that they weren’t wanted. Even if that’s not necessarily the reason you may have voted for it, it certainly pertains this image of total ignorance. We see the good immigration has done, with Zara being so dedicated to her religion, yet also providing food as a gesture of good will. The fact that the real Zara was so wrought with personal responsibilities-cooking, cleaning, learning, working, etc.-and still wanted to take part in the film speaks volumes to how invaluable someone from another country can be. Nery always comes to mind as well, with her never-ending kindness and her little connection to Marc’s own dilemma of letting go of the past.
But by far the biggest heart that screams out of the screen is Mikel. Isaacs has stated that Mikel was a well-known member of the homeless community, known for his kindness and tendency to help others. While the film does slightly alter this perception by having him turn up uninvited to crash on Marc’s sofa and pushing himself into other people’s business, he remains largely respectful and charming. Mikel says little of his past life, only that he has a mother back home he never sees, worried that she will be disappointed with his life. Seeing him enjoy the lavishness of a bath or enjoying a hot meal becomes so powerful. It leads you to wonder where he, above everyone else, is at this very moment.
Isaacs was very smart in picking the people he wanted to spotlight. I haven’t spoken much of Keith, but his pure-bred Englishness is something that is worth the attention. While being the only person (besides Marc) to not be of a particular foreign ethnicity, his character goes through the most growth. Played up as a typical working-class builder-very true to the real Keith-his uncomfortableness with foreigners is indicative of how our society can be. If this were a documentary this would be far more uncomfortable, but Isaacs manages to make his progression and overall kindness feel more natural. It is, after all, Keith that lifts that fence that separates Marc from Zara: no more a fitting and foreshadowing bit of imagery.
This isn’t an amazing film by any standards. The choice to turn this into something fictional while also keeping up a documentary style will certainly turn a lot of people away. The choices made do cause a sense of annoyance, as if you simply cannot trust anything that is presented. Certain pieces of emotional backstory are altered or happen too quickly to work coherently, even with that reaffirmation that the story is still fictional.
What keeps my mind turning back, however, is how indicative it is of the societal shift. This was made before lockdown, so the idea of all these people meeting in a single house could have baffled some at the time. But it does allow us to reflect on how united we were in this universal pandemic. It was almost as if the universe was punishing us for the abhorrently racist divide in different societies. It’s but a distant memory now, but I am reminded, largely in part to this film, just how much I appreciated the company of others.
Being stuck in another minor isolation after a comical accident, it was a film that circled back to the front of my mind. Suffering with plot issues and ethical dilemmas of using past grief to illustrate the story, the film still manages to tell something we may have seen elsewhere in a unique way. It’s true that the media is too focused on the sadness and grimness of the world, so why not provide a bit of hopeful comfort? Never quite exceeding past the middle of the quality meter, it does work as this little nugget of experimentation.
Written review by Conor Johnson.