They say you never really know someone until you live with them, which perhaps explains why moving in with a significant other can make or break a relationship. Chris Parton’s contained comedy short SVEN completely nails the unsure dance of the early transitional period of cohabitation, where formally unrevealed habits and preferences suddenly become intensely irritating, while perfectly curated personal collections of music, films and literature are infiltrated by undesirable interlopers. Packed with universally relatable laugh out loud nuggets, SVEN also manages to pull off the impressive trojan horse trick of hitting you with a tender and elegant emotional punch between the laughs. Actors Charlie Clive and Jack Barry are blissfully cringeworthy in all the right ways, and the stylistic choice to keep the lighting low and close in the proverbial walls drags us right into the heart of their mounting disharmony. As SVEN hits the pages of DN today, Parton discusses the power of using comedy to talk about the big issues, the film’s composed and static shots designed to heighten the tension between the couple and pragmatically letting go of precious scripted scenes whilst staying true to the heart of the story.
So, this feels like a “this happened to a friend of a friend” type of story, how did the project come into being?
Years ago I overheard a conversation between two friends, one was worried about her boyfriend moving in with her and she exclaimed, “His Sven-Göran Eriksson autobiography is going to be next to my Wuthering Heights on the shelf”. I wrote this down in my notes where it sat amongst tens of other short film ideas for a long time. I knew I wanted to make something simple that dealt with a subject that most people can relate to and so keeping it contained with one location and two actors meant after a fair few rewrites and the help of Tom Precey at Teepee Films, we finally got the chance to make SVEN. We shot it over two days in a friend’s flat with a great crew, it was ambitious to fit everything in so there was a lot of compromise throughout the shoot.
I interviewed my friends who were in long-term, cohabitational relationships to find out about their grievances through living together and it was crazy how many similarities there were.
I had some real laugh out loud moments watching this; when he asks for fried eggs and listing his absurd but tragically relatable sequence of bad luck. How did writing the script evolve from that initial scrawled note?
By the time I came to write the script I’d been thinking about the idea for a long time, so the first draft hit the page really easily. I would step away from it when life got busy but I’d always jot things down that came to my mind that I thought were funny, some real life, some not. I interviewed my friends who were in long-term, cohabitational relationships to find out about their grievances through living together and it was crazy how many similarities there were. I worked some of my favourites into the script (beard trimmings topped the ick list). The rewrites could have gone on and on as different influences and life events filtered into the writing, so it was great to finally lock in a shoot date. I wrote in the part about the leaking tap a few days before shooting and that first ‘drip’ is one of my favourite moments in the film.
I know a situation like this can be so suffocating and I think viewing it through the lens of comedy means you have more space to digest and interpret it in your own way, without things becoming too heavy.
How do you as the writer and protector of your script face letting go of key moments yet remain faithful to the story, ensuring the whole wouldn’t suffer?
I knew it was an ambitious script to shoot in two days – even with a great crew, so I was aware there were compromises to be made on the day. I had to let go of moments that I was attached to as a writer in order to follow my instincts as a director, cutting scenes without losing a sense of the story. It was a strange internal clash, but at least on the day you can bounce things off the team and outsource the internal battle. I enjoy the challenge of making those tweaks and adapting the script on the spot and what I learned on the day has been carried over into the way I approach other scripts.
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You are broaching mental health and other big issues under the guise of comedy, how do decide how far to push the boundaries?
I think that comedy should push the boundaries, especially in situations that feel so universal. I know a situation like this can be so suffocating and I think viewing it through the lens of comedy means you have more space to digest and interpret it in your own way, without things becoming too heavy. I see comedy as a powerful tool in that respect, it can help us open up to conversations that would otherwise feel too difficult to discuss.
While very funny SVEN also has a dark, cloistered and claustrophobic atmosphere, how did you and DOP Adric Watson establish that cinematic language which keeps us trapped in this fraying relationship?
Adric and I wanted this to feel cinematic and to avoid it reading like a comedy to the audience. We wanted to feel tied to the flat with the walls closing in, so we went for composed and static shots that aimed to build tension working within the space we had. We blocked the scenes out on a recce beforehand and Adric shaped the light to be dark enough to feel uneasy. We could have shot more coverage going handheld but I didn’t want anything to feel fluid or free.
We went for composed and static shots that aimed to build tension working within the space we had.
That scene with the terrifying proliferation of Sven-Göran Eriksson’s autobiography is sharp, succinct and hits the beat perfectly, to what degree was that brought together in the edit?
I knew the rhythm I wanted to hit with this scene on the day so all the action was motivated by this urgency. I knew my good friend and editor, Owen O’Sullivan at Tenthree would bring this together in the edit. He cut the film in a day or two, helping to add comedy along the way by lingering on shots a moment too long or throwing in an abrupt cut. We watch a lot of the same things and have a love for dry, dark comedy. Holding on a face for a few beats too long or cutting out of a conversation always makes us laugh. This similar sense of humour meant the edit was really easy – if it made us both laugh then it made the cut.
Has anyone reacted bizarrely to the film or have there been any particular festival reactions which stick in your mind?
I’ve had some really wonderful and varied feedback, it’s been interesting to see what people connected with, or didn’t. People shared similar stories of ex-housemates or partners and their relief to be out of that situation now. I’m glad it connected with people on that level. Early in the festival run, someone watched it and their response was not to get my hopes up as “comedy is subjective”… Too right it is! That’s what makes it so enjoyable.
So, what can we expect to see from you next?
I’m continuing on with the comedy road for now. I’m in the edit for a very short film with a great team that I’m excited to share soon. I’m also writing a comedy series with Jack Barry who plays Andrew in SVEN.
