DOWNHILL RACER

Sadly there were no riots at the opening night of the Edinburgh International Film Fest but then, nobody does apathy like the Scots. The Flying Scotsman came and went, greeted with tepid applause and whose six reels are now destined to become an expensive doorstop.

The argument for not staging a picket for unpaid crew and extras seemed pretty lame. I’m hardly an expert in film finance but even I know that a UK film without a distributor stands a snowball’s chance in hell of making money. Even with a distributor a UK film won’t make money, especially for those cheated out of their wages. What do these dumb commentators think is going to happen? That an outfit like Verve or Soda Pictures is going to have a fit of altruism and a whip-round for a bunch of Scottish extras? Or for the film’s uncredited producer, Peter Broughan?

Turns out that Mr Broughan was a no-show at the premiere. Who can blame the guy? After almost a decade of putting the Flying Scotsman together, taking a punt on a TV director and committing the cardinal sin of every Scottish film producer by putting his house up to make it, he must be feeling as deflated as a flat tyre. For all I know the poor guy couldn’t afford the train fare to Edinburgh.

Yet again Scottish film falls on its arse. Eclipsed by financial ruin and bad juju in the media, The Flying Scotsman may not be this year’s must-see movie, but when the backbiting of its making becomes a better story than its plot, aspiring filmmakers could do no worse than hop on their bike to London and get a job in TV, knowing that up here the hills are too steep and the wind will always be against you.