I've just realised that I haven't written anything about the story of
Pernickety or the reasons behind it... so here's a few details:
Tag Line: ‘A comedy drama about love and conflict set in an extraordinary B & B’
Log Line: Perfectionism knows no boundaries.
Synopsis: Gordon Pernick is a lonely B & B owner with a passion for perfectionism to the point of scaring away most of his customs. When a female customer asks to stay another week, it looks like love is in the air. But as Penelope challenges his steadfast ways in her own quest for perfection, their differences in taste bring them into a sexually-charged stand off.
The truth behind
Pernickety:
B & B’s are strange places. Their owners strive to make their homes our homes, but they never feel even the slightest bit homely. Last year I attended a screenwriters festival in Cheltenham, where I had the (mis?)fortune of staying in a B & B. This B & B’s owner is the inspiration for Gordon Pernick, and I remember jotting an idea for this film on the second day of my visit – he was that kind of man. I only stayed there for two nights, but I was sure someone had come into my room and rearranged things, changed the bed etc, all of which felt a bit like an invasion of my privacy, considering my short stay. So I thought it would be interesting to write a story about a man obsessed with perfectionism… to the point at which he looses the potential love of his life because he can’t control his pernicketiness…
And some back story (which I think might work well as a book one day...):
Gordon Pernick was brought up in an unhappy household. He was brought up in an extremely messy household. Messy people are thought not to have much self-respect, otherwise they would be tidy people – but Gordon didn’t know any better and what you don’t know can’t kill you. Gordon didn’t care about his dirty house or his dirty hair until his parents’ bickering got worse and he had to hide in his room to escape their shouting.
So, Gordon started moving things around his bedroom. He rearranged the room every day; never happy with the look he had created. Gordon secretly spent his pocket money on cleaning products and even borrowed the neighbour’s hoover to transform his room, all the while his parents rows got worst, but Gordon was becoming immune to their noise. He was momentarily exacerbated by the cleanliness of his room, but it depressed him to think about how dirty the rest of the house remained.
When the room was completely spotless, Gordon couldn’t keep still – he had to keep moving things, turning his model figures 2° angles at a time, then back again if it didn’t feel right. It was all about feeling, judgement and the correct angle. Gordon was somewhat of a mathematician, the only school subject he excelled at. So it made sense to keep things in line using formulas and simple equations. Gordon began to feel anxious about the state of the rest of the house. He knew that, although his parents were too busy with their bickering to notice his personal efforts, they would probably not approve of it.
So, just imagine how surprised and happy Gordon was when his father moved out. His mother stayed in her room, did not move, not even to wash. Gordon did everything for her, tried to keep her in her room so he could spend all his time tidying the big, old house that was full of junk with nearly a century’s worth of dirt, hair, grime, mouse poo and the rest of it. Half repelled, half elated, Gordon relished his new project with feverish aplomb. He rescued a cornucopia of figurines, antiques, and papers, even jewellery. These bits he polished, buffed, tweaked and tussled until they were ready to be replaced in their new formation on spotless surfaces, and in display cabernets.
Gordon wanted to encourage his mother to come out of her room to view the new world beyond her door, but it wasn’t quite ready…there was something not quite right about something… but that’s just it, it would never be quite right for Gordon. Gordon was so caught up in his obsessive cleanliness that he didn’t notice his mother’s disintegrating health. She was fat, depressed and reclusive. Gordon did everything for her, acted as her slave, growing ever more resentful for her sloth-like existence. He was nearly an adult when she finally died of heart failure. She had grown so big that even if Gordon had wanted to show her his almighty transformation of the house, she wouldn’t have seen it over the rolls on rolls of her neck that prevented her from seeing anything but the ceiling.
His father was so guilty for what had happened, that he gave Gordon complete control of the house and handed the deeds straight over after seeing the monster at the morgue that used to be his wife. Although his father was not completely to blame for this hopeless situation, Gordon had grown so used to living alone that he decided to severe all contact with his father. This left Gordon with approximately no family and no friends. Was he happy? He felt a little lonely to begin with, but that soon past when Gordon realised that he could now start rearranging his mother’s room.
Gordon was finally free. Free to clean, or free to stop cleaning. Free to start a life on his own. But Gordon didn’t know what freedom was, so he didn’t feel like he needed to change anything. At least for the time being anyway.
This now empty room was undoubtedly the best room in the house, and Gordon decided to make it his master bedroom. This took time, about a year to perfect. Nothing new could be afforded, but the shine on the windowsills and a little shampoo in the carpet soon made things sparkle in their own shabbily dignified way. At this point in time, Gordon was twenty-five years old, and he was quickly running out of money. He had to get a job, but what? Cleaning was all he knew, so cleaning he did. He had a series of five offices to clean starting at 6.00am. Cleaning at 6.00am was not a problem, but finishing all five rooms in three hours – that was impossible for Gordon. All the new objects required too much attention for three hours. The complaints started, “We appreciate your attention to detail, but really, just skim over the dirt, as long as the floors are hovered, that’s all that really matters…”
He tried. He sincerely tried, but he just couldn’t do it in three hours. He was sacked once, twice, three times – all with good enough references to allow him to try once more. When one boss suggested ‘counselling’ Gordon freaked out and decided to stop trying. He’d make it on his own terms. He decided to divide the house into three flats and open a B&B, that way he could clean, arrange and make enough money to live on. He makes a sign and arranges some advertising in the local papers.
When the first guests arrive, a young couple having a cheap, dirty weekend together, Gordon is shocked and intrigued by their noises and their out-going behaviour. He can’t sleep that first night on account of the noises, so he sneaks out to get a better idea of what they’re up to. They’re having sex of course, and this is a completely alien concept to Gordon, so even though he’s in his early thirties now, he’s shocked and wants to escape. And what does he do to escape or feel safe? He cleans. It’s god only knows what time in the morning, and he’s fanatically beavering away at the pristine white bath in the bathroom.
The next day, when the couple are out, he uses his extra set of keys to go into their room and he sits on the bed, he stoops down to smell the sheets briefly, he touches the creases in the sheets. He is still for a few moments. Then he snaps out of it and removes all the sheets, and then puts clean ones on. He sit on the bed again, looks around at their stuff. He can’t help but rearrange the girl’s cosmetics and the boy’s collection of socks. He spends most of the day in their room, and then has to make a quick exit when they return abruptly. He hastily takes a hair scrunchy the girl has left on the side, and then he scuttles back to his own room and waits patiently to see if they notice anything.
Another day passes and Gordon gets away without the couple noticing his little breach of privacy – but that’s the only time he does get away with it. Gordon carries on pushing the boundaries of privacy with each and every guest; sometimes he gets a ticking off, other times the guests just leave without paying. Gordon is losing money, but he just can’t stop his compulsion. It is at this fragile moment in his life that a lady by the name of Penelope Boxall comes along, looking for a place of sanctuary.
Penelope grew up in an immaculate household, run by a hedonistic mother masking her failing marriage by keeping an utterly ship-shape home. This mask of deception wears off on her daughter, so that they both act as if they’re striving for glossy interior magazine fodder, when really they’re aching inside. When Penelope is old enough to realise that her life has been sheltered and that her mother is straining under the pressure of deception, she decides to rebel.
She stops doing menial jobs to pass the time to fill the empty space where her father should have been. She tries to help her mother do the same, but to no avail. Penelope fits a lock on her door so her mum can’t get in to clean it. She enjoys the liberty of being able to relax in her own space. The dust and grime begins to gather, she enjoys touching it for the first time, feeling the settle and calmness of something for once. When Penelope turned sixteen she wanted to go away camping with a small group of friends. She locks up her room, says goodbye to her mother for a few days. Whilst Penelope is away, her mother calls in a professional team of cleaners to help her get Penelope’s room back to its former glory. They find a collection of dead spiders in a jar and crumbs everywhere. Mum has a complete fit and completely redecorates the room, puts new carpets in and chucks everything she thinks is rubbish in the bin.
At the same time that Penelope is away, her father also decides to split with his wife, and moves in with his mistress. Penelope’s mother has a breakdown; the house is empty when she returns after camping. She sees her room, and bursts out crying. Penelope feels violated and although she knows she must support her mum through her breakdown, she can’t help but harbour some resentment, but it stays buried. She moves out after her mum has recovered and tries to find somewhere with lots of character. For a while she’s happy and builds a career as a secretary. She tries to go back to being messy again, but her profession prevents her from it. She must have the utmost respect for her appearance and surroundings. So she goes to the other extreme, taking on the mantra that a perfect mental attitude must complement a perfect lifestyle.
She turns into her mother without realising. Turns into a cleaning freak that can’t relax: if she’s not working, she’s tidying. A colleague tells her to take a break, and after a hell of a lot of persuasion, she caves in. An inconspicuous holiday at an inconspicuous, non-assuming B&B - nothing fancy, somewhere she can blend into the background and deal with her inner demons.
One old frame found after scavenging in the attic: right size, right decoration...
Frame washed, brushed and painted...
The molding painted white lacked depth, so Dad gave me a golden crayon that I rubbed over the pattern, which adds a whole new dimension to the frame.
Once I'd taken the sign outside, the glare from the glass disappeared... which I was glad about because it would loose depth if I took the glass out all together. I couldn't find a "G" that was the same size as the rest of the letters, and I think a lower case "g" looks a bit wrong, so I may replace it with a capital one that is smaller...
Here's the reception desk with undercoat, bought some 'bitter chocolate' paint to coat it with next to make it look as naturally wooden as possible. Dad's adding a panel on the front and flaps that he's going to hinge to the sides.
Below is headless Ermintrude, a lot of comedy comes to the fore when Gordon looks for the head which has rolled under the bed, but he has to abandon his mission when he realises the young couple are on their way back up to the room...
So there is just the fine bit of juggling to do with arranging a shooting schedule, booking in extra crew and making sure we have access to all the kit we need. I'm off to another car boot sale tomorrow to get the last of the props, and then into Taunton during the week for last of costumes and a few more props. Deb, co-producer is off at the moment to deal with a family crisis, so it's me and Alex on the production front, with a lot of help from Lilli on the wardrobe side. Nick and Kellie are raring to go, and I think my friend and comedy writer, Lesley Evans is going to stand in as half of the 'young couple', and her comedy writing partner may be playing her other half...
To my amazement and delight, Nicholas Boulton, (star of recent historical drama, Attila the Hun) loved the script and agreed to take part for free. He's also been in Shakespeare in Love, Topsy Turvy, tons of theatre and he's a regular voice on Radio 4. I know him because he's the son of my parents' neighbours... and after interviewing him at Christmas, I decided that he'd be perfect for the part! And there's no harm in asking...
Nick was exactly how I saw Gordon, and when he swept his hair over in a side parting - we all knew he was going to be the perfect perfectionist. Nick was completely at ease with the crew, he's such a down-to-earth actor, sweet, kind and ever so excitable.
Moments like this make me realise that someone must like what I'm doing, maybe the shoe box was a gesture of goodwill - keep going, you're doing well!
A bus?!!! Yes, a bus. We don't agree with flying, and buses are cheap! I will not pretend that it's the ideal way to travel, but it can be fun and you see so much more, feel closer to the land you're travelling over. You certainly meet some characters as well, including a tour guide who is definitely going to be the inspiration for my next short film script, and a crazy French man who wanted us to go with him to Alaska and frequently swapped from English to French during sentences just to confuse us! He also wanted my email address, but got the message when I told him I'd conveniently lost my pen...
