Part comedy, part horror, the film is a simple story about female empowerment in the workplace, concerning an overworked employee being denied a lavatory break in a gaslit, hostile work environment.
But on a deeper level, serves as a stark parody of consumer culture with products like “Hole_Aid” and “Permanent bread” speaking to a world out of balance.
Everything about the film’s production was unique; shot over 11 days in the height of lockdown, with a profit share system that meant everyone – from runners to the director – were being paid exactly the same day rate and shared in the profits of the film.
We spoke to Alastair about why he made the film and how he wants to spark change within the film industry.
Why don’t you enjoy making films?
It’s very rare you’re allowed to make a piece of art. And by that I mean where you get control. Even the top film makers have very little control over what their output is and who they cast and how they shape a film. This project was to make something that we could have control over but we could fail. We’re allowed to take risks and we didn’t need to meet any type of criteria. The whole concept was for it to be enjoyable to make. I’ve really enjoyed making it, writing it, editing it, trying to get it out there.
What’s the elevator pitch for Up the Catalogue
An TV shopping channel called 4Q, and an idea where we could write something that was a comment on consumerism and the world that we live in, with products that speak to a world out of balance. From Permanent bread to Hole_Aid.
How did the profit share work?
Up the Catalogue was made on a shoestring budget, where everyone agreed to be paid the same day rate (whether it be runner, cinematographer, sound mixer or director) and participated in the profit share of the project, including all revenues to do with the film and, unusually, on all merchandise.
My primary intention was to prove the CAMA (Collection Account Manager Agreement which includes some 58 people and runs to 37 pages) works, wherein royalties can be paid to many people, including some very established filmmakers, who would never otherwise be included in a profit share model.
How did the film call out the film industry?
It’s called 4Q for a reason, not just for the whole industry, but elements of the film industry where it’s so driven by the money or market. I’ve worked on films where you’re not allowed to cast or edit in the best way you think. It was a f*ck you to lots of things.
I wrote the film for the mother of my children, Lyndsey Marshall. It was an exploration of a relationship that’s breaking apart. One of the biggest themes is control and control in characters, relationships, on set, within the industry. A lot of anger there, I spent 10 years making my first film and it was awful I cried every day on set. I’ve had friends who have had breakdowns and been to hell and back and that seems to be the norm rather than the exception. The driving most important thing from day one was that everyone will enjoyed making this film.
What was the clever marketing strategy around the film?
Film launches are increasingly difficult for independent filmmakers and it is almost impossible to cut through, so we wanted to do something really different that was in keeping with the theme of Up the Catalogue.
To release the film a fake shopping channel called 4QTV was launched on TikTok to play into, and create outrage, over themes such as control, toxic work environments and consumerism that play out in Up the Catalogue.
It worked, and the channel racked up over a million views over our two month campaign garnering thousands of comments on TikTok for championing the use of an AI host replacing humans, whilst plugging pointless and throwaway products. Before the AI host was “fired” and it was revealed it was all for a higher purpose - to highlight the planet’s existential issue with over-consumerism and toxic work environments in the launch of Up the Catalogue - which further spotlights these issues.
Up the Catalogue is streaming now on upthecatalogue.com
