Page 78 of One Night With You

‘Okay, gang,’ Janet says, sticking her head out of the door of the screening room. ‘Do you all want to come through? Let’s get started.’

We shuffle through to the tiny cinema-like room and I tug on Harry’s sleeve to steer him towards two seats second row from the front, at the edge.

‘I don’t want to be able to see everyone’s reactions,’ I explain.

He rolls his eyes at me. His skin really is way thicker than mine.

Janet welcomes everyone and gives us instructions for the forms in front of us. She reminds us all that we’re on the same side, and even though it probably feels like it, we’re not actually in competition with one another. The point of the early screenings, she says, is to give constructive feedback to each piece, wherever it is at in this moment in time, but we also have to remember that the act ofgivingfeedback will make us think more critically about our own projects too.

‘Don’t skimp out on helping your colleagues and cohort,’ Janet warns, ‘because then you’re only skimping out on helping yourself. Being as detailed as possible with your notes for everyone is actually a deeply selfish act, because it willforce you to understand your own projects from the audience’s point of view too.’

It’s a fair point, and as we watch various cuts and edits from everyone, it quickly reveals itself as being absolutely true, because I know what I am critiquing in others’ work is exactly what I am worried about in my own.

I’m not sure the stakes seem high enough – I want to care, but I am struggling to.

Where is the heart? The warmth? Life is hard enough, I’d like to feel a bit more comfort, I think.

It feels to me like you’re dancing around the point you want to make. Is there a central question you’re avoiding? I only say that because we’ve had the same discussions around ours.

It’s no surprise, then, when we get our anonymous forms back and the truth is there in black biro and white. Harry is calmer about it than I am.

‘Feedback isn’t personal,’ he reminds me. ‘We are not our art. The art is the art. If they think we can make it better, we probably can. That’s a compliment, really – isn’t it?’

‘How have you found a compliment indo better?’ I marvel. I’m upset that we let everyone see a rough cut with so many holes in it, mostly because I knew those holes were there and couldn’t find the solution myself.

‘They think we can do better is the point,’ he says. ‘There’s some really workable solutions here.’

Basically the theme of our notes is that we need to heighten the stakes to really make viewers care about JP’s journey, because if we do that people will understand how it reflects their own. There’s a few suggestions about getting some more background on Amelie, interviewing JP’s wider family, or maybe asking other interviewees about their love lives, and I can see the point, but none of those feel like the answer.Almost Doesn’t Count.Hmmmm. I ask myself what else there is to say about that, feeling a slump in my heart at getting my almost with Nic. I sigh. Making a film about love isn’t exactly having to do twelve-hour shifts down the mines, but it’s still hard, and confronting, and takes a lot from me. It’s been a nice way to distract myself this week, after Nic, but it forces me to do some emotional excavation as well, and that’s a lot, especially on the back of having my heart crumpled.

‘Let’s take a walk,’ Harry suggests, noticing my mood. ‘Get some fresh air. I’ve got an idea.’

I follow him.

We pace through the concrete blocks of the university, picking up a couple of hot chocolates at Mick’s coffee cart and heading out to the canal because, Harry insists, there is no problem that cannot be solved by looking at a body of water.

‘World hunger,’ I offer. ‘The issue of how to force billionaires to solve the climate emergency instead of exploring space. Mosquitos,’ I say. ‘“There’s no problem that cannot be solved by looking at a body of water” might sound poetic, but it doesn’t stand up under even the most basic interrogation.’

Harry remains sanguine. ‘Just bloody enjoy it,’ he says, refusing to lower himself to my cynicism. ‘Your problem is that you’re so clever and articulate you can talk your way into contempt like it’s a badge of honour. You use your powers for evil instead of good. Just walk, and breathe, and marvel, please.’

‘Yes, Mr Buddha.’ I sigh, but I give him the tiniest hint of a smile. He’s a good partner in all this.

When Harry thinks I’ve calmed down and can actuallyhear his words instead of spin them into something I can make fun of, he finally says: ‘Can we stand here? And as my behind-the-scenes footage, can I put my iPhone here and capture this?’

We’re by a big stone wall and the day is moody and it’s quiet, where we are. Atmospheric.

‘I don’t get it.’ I wave. ‘But if you must.’

‘I must.’

I stand, getting chilly, as Harry gets his phone and decides on an angle, checks the sound is okay and then hits record, standing off camera himself.

‘I’m going to ask you some questions, and I need you to be honest, okay? Not funny, not self-effacing, not silly – just honest.’

I pull a face at the camera to get it out of my system, and Harry patiently waits for my features to become neutral again and for us to continue. I register the arrangement of his own into ‘I’m Being Deliberately Kind and Tolerant’, as if I am a four-year-old who won’t brush their teeth for the mere fact that they just don’t like being told to brush their teeth. I’m fighting back against him because I know he’s about to be right; even though I don’t know what he’s going to say, I just know he’s been building up to this for ages. Clearly, my way isn’t working and so, in the true rules of partnership, whatever he suggests now I am going to have to at least try, so we can say we have.

‘I promise to take this seriously, and answer your questions accordingly,’ I say, after a few deep breaths. My palms are sticky with nerves. Why do I feel light-headed and faint? It’s just Harry. It’s just a movie. It’s just a project that could possibly decide the rest of my entire career.

He looks at me.

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