A ripple

Night of a thousand stars
Well, one. But it was a fabulous night anyway. TCM Classic Shorts, now in its seventh year at the Times BFI London Film Festival, is a short film award that dishes out kudos, prize money and valuable exposure to makers of films that are not long. This is my second year hosting the bash from the stage of NFT1 at the National Film Theatre, and once again, it was a blast. I was actually worryingly calm before taking the stage at 6.30, having been incredibly nervous last year as it was my first time, and I was taking over the gig from Richard Jobson, who’d done a sterling and sincere job the year before and I couldn’t hope to match his gravitas or his form (him being a proper filmmaker and all), so I tried a “lighthearted approach”. I like the responsibility of hosting to a full auditorium of sympathetic people who are prepared to give my jokes the benefit of the doubt and, at one point in my five-minute introductory speech, a ripple of applause. I live for that ripple. It’s quite flattering having a big slide of your name behind you too. But tonight wasn’t about me, it was about the makers of the five shortlisted films, which can be seen over the weekend on TCM (check listings for details). I presented second and third prizes, but Imelda Stauton was secured to come up and present the big one, which was terrific. Last year, they got Helen Mirren, who I was able to socialise with in the green room beforehand and become her best mate. Unfortunately Imelda snuck in mid-ceremony so I only got to meet her onstage and briefly afterwards. She seemed very nice, and was, aptly, short. (Look at me turning into a luvvy.)

I liked the winning film, Silence Is Golden, written and directed by Chris Shepherd, whom I coincidentally met once at a wedding, although the most striking of all the five shortlisted films had to be Cubs, a poignant and grisly story about urban fox-hunting. Assuming, as it says, no foxes were harmed in the making of this film, I liked its message. If a single fox was even prodded or perturbed, I withdraw my patronage.

TCM are nice people to do business with and the event was once again a well-oiled machine. They throw a decent party too, at the Cafe Royal this year, although I was too sober to really throw myself into it, and because of where I was standing, in a doorway, the waiters with the nibbles kept sweeping past with the platters held high above their heads, so I couldn’t reach them. There was a man in the toilets giving out hand towels and expecting a tip. I hate this. I gave him a pound, as I reasoned that any man willing to stand in the gents all night, Cafe Royal or not, deserves some money.

There was some nail polish in the goody bag which stank.

I don’t have any photographs from last night yet, so here are some from last year, which I’ve only just seen myself:

Me, onstage.

Me, looking admiringly at Gurinder Chadha, director of Bend It Like Beckham.

Helen Mirren, onstage. She heckled me during my speech, so I told her to shut up, which was exciting.

Me, sharing a joke afterwards with Michael Caton-Jones, director of Shooting Dogs and Basic Instinct 2.

Perhaps I’ll get my hands on the photos from last night in a year’s time. For more details of the weekend and the winners, visit TCM.

STOP PRESS!
Here they are.

Me, beforehand, sitting between TCM boss Alan Musa and LFF Artistic Director Sandra Hebron

Me, onstage (note: exciting new transparent lecturn)

Me, laughing hard at something said by John Hayes, director of third prize winner Venom, even though he said that some ants were harmed in the making of his film

Me and Imelda Staunton (I hope that vein on my head is alright)

Me, Imelda and winners Chris Shepherd, producer Maria Manton and the boy who was in their film Silence Is Golden