This isn’t my usual shtick. No, I’m not referring to any film in particular, but the very place I experienced such a film is also getting its spotlight. More recently, I retraced my steps quite contently with a need for academic improvement. Picking up a course in Freelance Journalism, I felt I could combine that with my undying love of all things cinematic. You see, I live in a maligned town by the name of Luton. This rather large town just north of London has had an endless amount of vitriol thrown at it. But what many often overlook is just how passionate its many creatives are. From the theatre-focused Next Generation Youth Theatre, which gives young people the chance to express themselves on stage, to the Step Forward Luton movement that highlights different events around the town, to the subject of today’s article: Bute Street Film Festival.
This company was founded by a group of young and talented creatives some years back, they have brought to light independent film makers from across the globe. And while we have yet to see their next festival, Bute Street has also provided us with widely inclusive film nights. This was something that I saw as an honour to take part in and, quite honestly, I wouldn’t have been alerted to had I not done my course. This isn’t so much a complete overview as it is just a small slice of what I experienced.
The key founder of this group is a man by the name of Benjamin Cyrus-Clark. Cyrus-Clark isn’t Luton-born, but he clearly has a passion for this town that I’ve sparsely seen in my own kin. We all had this dream of escaping what we are told to believe is a cesspool. But there’s always something that draws us back to it. Benjamin was able to find a small group of creative minds around Luton-some of which I was already familiar with-who all aim to spread the word of this gravely misunderstood town. With a host of film premieres and even a recent BIFA status, Bute Street Film Festival is deserved of its attention. But even with these accomplishments, I couldn’t help but feel that the studio was missing the crowd it so rightly deserved.
Part of my coursework involved finding somebody interesting within my preferred field that I could interview. My mind immediately turned to that of the Luton arts scene. Daily, I pass by Luton’s claim to fame: The Hat Factory. Named after the trade that put the town on the map, our milliner heritage slowly drifted away. What was once a bustling town of hat factories has now turned into something far more nuanced. The Hat Factory is now a space for creatives to meet and produce something they could be truly proud of. I reached out to two of the creative minds behind such scenes, pleasantly interviewing both.
For Benjamin Cyrus-Clark, this opportunity came in the form of a film discussion night; being something that I’d been looking for in the brief time I lived in Leighton Buzzard. As my four years of writing about films have no doubt shown, I love to talk about films. So when I discovered that Bute Street was holding a night talking about how important film is in maintaining our heritage, and the prospect of watching a short film by the name of Reflection, I couldn’t wait to get involved. The interview was only a brief, special consultation for me. But what I got out of that night was an introspective and rather informative view of how the minds of creatives, Benjamin and co-founder Megan Hoang, truly worked and how they viewed the creative world.
Entering the Hat Factory one evening, I was immediately greeted by the calm and inviting demeanour of our impassioned host. Benjamin greeted me with a handshake and proceeded to finish setting up. Not long after, Megan walked in with an enthusiastic wave, not even knowing what I was there for other than simply to watch the short film. What proceeded was a rather insightful look into how history and heritage is often immortalised in film. While I will say that the presentation could’ve used a bit of fine tuning and some extra time, it opened up the perfect discussion. There weren’t many attendees, but just about everyone contributed to the topic. I went in with the silent observer mindset, but I would eventually throw in my own straw hat.
Benjamin also showed us a project he had worked on in Mexico. This visual ad provided an insight into a piece of heritage we Brits may not typically think of. Using examples of films that capture points in time and specific cultures from around the world, we were able to discuss the importance of how film can maintain the heritage we so often forget about or wish that we had preserved. It left me thinking of my own experiences and the pieces of work I completed in my college days more than ten years ago. Reminiscing of the times spent finding my passion for films and the friendships I had. Knowing that the building we once studied in had now been torn down in favour of a more lavish structure left me feeling a little melancholic and nostalgic all the same. Benjamin knew exactly how to invoke these discussions all through the power of film.
After this discussion, we all diverted into a short break, where I was able to speak directly to the man who made these events possible. In this conversation, I was able to truly unravel the passionate creator behind the shining logo of a mysterious figure with the words, ‘Bute Street’ making up the follicle details of his face. Benjamin revealed how he has worked closely on creating adverts for different places and in different countries. We spoke of his feature debut, Brick City, a film he rushed into with an ambition far greater than any form education could teach you. We talked about his joy in being BIFA-rewarded and how he views the current state of cinema. Just like myself, there’s this need for more independent voices to be heard. I even had a chance to reminisce on old college-mates that we both knew through different means. But the most admirable thing I learned was how quick to put down the idea that Luton is a ‘bad town’ he was. One member of the audience was quite sure of his negative outlook on the town, but Benjamin very assertively disagreed.
The short film we watched was named Reflection, which tells the tale of a man who visits the diner of a single mum struggling with her rather troubled son. This man seems to know quite a bit about these troubles, but his relationship to these two is better left unexplained. It’s a great short that manages to make us think about how much we often fixate on our past mistakes. Everyone has made some bad choices in their lives, but we can’t do much else but learn from them. In a way, those mistakes are very important in shaping the better person we become. It resonated with a past version of myself. As the film is titled, it really makes you reflect.
This night proved to be an enlightening experience. Speaking briefly again with both Benjamin and Megan, you could really see the excitement in both of them. Yet, there was also a longing for these nights to be more occupied. I can’t pretend that I wasn’t a little miffed to see a lack of attendees. It could be down to a number of things, whether it be a lack of interest for independent cinema from the general public, Luton’s reputation, or even the struggle to get people off their sofas and make their way to something far more interactive. Whatever the case, my own experience was bountiful. Though this was spurred on by a regimented course, I knew I wanted to come back, if only to keep supporting this medium I adore so much.
Our River…Our Sky
The following week, I decided to take part in one of the occasional film nights that flutter between the weeks. The film pictured and titled above, Our River…Our Sky was an Arabic film released in 2021 and directed by Maysoon Pachachi. Having very little experience with South Asian cinema myself, and with the lack of independent representation in major chains like Cineworld, I was quite excited to see this award-winning film. Completely foreign to me (in more ways than one), there was certainly a draw to it.
Centred on a close-knit community in Baghdad during the 2006 war, we get a glimpse of life amidst the turmoil. Darina Al Joundi plays the doting mother who tries to support her family, but the increasing dangers of the destruction around her leave her in a desperate plea to escape. We see glimpses of others’ lives. A couple who is expecting a baby, a paraplegic looking for romance online, and a boy being manipulated into taking part in these atrocities. Being more of a lens into the life of the innocents caught up in the conflict, the story is very loosely tied together.
That final point is worth highlighting. While the film can be very emotionally gripping, it’s difficult to get past the severe lack of narrative. The film is almost like a series of vignettes, but not told in any sort of collection of short stories format. Had the film perhaps cut the stories into fifteen to twenty minute sections each, I think it would’ve been a lot easier to follow what was going on. The film meanders around far too much that it lead me to forget which characters were which and what relationship they shared with the central character.
Seperate from the narrative is the strong characterisation of specific players. Each character is defined by rather recognisable and organic caricatures of South Asian culture. Many fellow Lutoners will recognise the personalities portrayed through our increased exposure to these communities that make up the bustling and multicultural town. I was especially drawn to husband of the pregnant woman, who panics over the prospects of being a father, even though he already has a child. There’s a great scene where a rebellious young woman proudly walks about the street without a hijab to rebel against the older man who is too set in his own ways. This a humorous spark that electrifies its way through the mist; but that doesn’t go unchecked either.
When the film wants to hit you with that emotional baton, it can really sting. There’s a horrifying reality that washes over the film through the streets of the city. Explosions go off unexpectedly with little reaction. We see a moment where two teens come across a dead body and try to ignore it. There’s this moment where someone is almost recruited to join a cause, but he sways him off because of how scared he feels. To us, it sinks our stomach into a cold abyss. But to those who have lived through this country during this period of time, it’s a reality they were forced to accept. When the film wants you to feel that emotion, it does so in such a churningly sickening way, but with the safety of a ’12A’ rating.
I’m very conflicted with this film. It does a lot in the way of seeping the most damning emotions out of us, but its narrative is distractingly weak. I’m somebody who appreciates a strong, tightly-wound narrative that isn’t afraid to diverge when need be. It’s hard to fully appreciate these characters outside of their little quirks, and while there’s plenty to like about the visual presentation, it ends up feeling like a messy bag of tricks. Not exactly rife with subtlety, it does manage to salvage itself with its important message. Our rivers all run separately, but our sky is very much the same.
With my slightly mixed review of the film shown, you may wonder why I bothered to include it in an article where I want to speak so highly of Bute Street. It’s quite simple: their out there to give people an experience that many would hardly think to have. My aim with my own reviews has always been to get people to look at films through the eye of somebody who treats this medium with the respect it deserves. In both Benjamin and Megan, I can see that same passion. They take it one step further by promoting those very films.
Our social film landscape is falling to the wayside in favour of big budget extravaganzas that have hardly any depth. People might complain that there aren’t any original ideas anymore, but I argue that they’re very much still here, and right on your doorstep as well. While I may not have completely enjoyed the film, just getting the chance to watch something I never would’ve thought of is such a great experience. We need to open ourselves up taking risks once again. The people at the Bute Street Film Festival are trying to do just that.
Take some time to really search for these things. Speak to the people that know more and can give you advice on where to follow them. I know I’ll continue to visit these nights for as long as they continue, and you should certainly do the same. Independent cinema is out there, and Bute Street’s got you covered.
Special thanks to Benjamin and Megan for taking the time to help me in my studies.
Written by Conor Johnson.
Conor's Corner of Criticism 