What’s the difference between television and film?  There’s no easy answer to that question, and its slipperiness is clear when the £30 million invested in screenplays by British television writers in the 1990s that resulted in precisely no films being made is recalled.  Clearly then, there are substantive differences between the two media. 

It’s an issue I’m conscious of because I’m developing two treatments at this point, and will be shortly polishing a third prior to pitching it.  Let’s look at that third one: it’s a drama serial called The Sharp End set in a world that I’ve researched heavily and hasn’t been written about in any depth before.  I’ve scripted a pilot episode, and I believe it’s ideal for fans of edgy post-watershed television.  And it’s not just me who thinks that: one production company have seen the script and are keen to hear more from me, and writer/script developer Philip Palmer of Afan Films has this to say about it: 

I believe this is a very original and fresh arena for a tough, cutting-edge drama series.  And you bring to the project terrific authority and insight, and a bold narrative approach.

This is not cosy drama; it deals with dark themes and characters on the edge.  And I believe that its toughness and truth may help give the project its edge and USP in today’s tough marketplace.

Let’s hope so.  But what is it that makes The Sharp End work for television?  I’ve even had an approach from a producer who wanted to option a big screen version, but I didn’t share his conviction, and I’m glad I stuck to my guns.  The Sharp End is an opportunity to explore a social phenomenon that affects many of us, but which few of us really have an understanding of.  And I know that world well enough to realise that it contains many stories, none of which are cut and dried: the truths of this social issue defy easy categorisation.  That breadth and depth and societal aspect all point to this being a story that will work best on television’s broad canvas, enabling complex stories to unfold at a pace that’s right for them.  Nothing startling in that realisation: it’s the same impulse that led to the creation of The Wire, The Sopranos, Party Animals and Queer As Folk.

All very well, but what about the other projects I’m developing?  Well, one is clearly a feature film in my mind, and attains that status because it concerns one defining incident in the lives of a small group of characters, all of whose lives will be irrevocably changed by what happens.  The stakes couldn’t be higher, and I’m not sure there’ll be anything else to say about those characters once an audience has spent ninety minutes in their company.  Plus, it inhabits a genre that doesn’t have much in the way of televisual precedents: the thriller works best as a self-contained story, jeapordy being difficult to sustain on a weekly basis, despite whatever fans of 24 will tell you.

As for the other story, I knew straight away that it had to be for television.  It concerns a historic episode that I believe to be of real significance to recent British history and that few people are aware of in the mainstream.  And a key anniversary for that event happens in two years time, which if all goes well gives me enough of a lead to get in there now and hopefully find a production company who share my passion for this tale and have the resources and contacts to bring it to screen.  Hey, it might not work – but I’ve already found a potential ally in a production company who specialise in controversial television drama; exactly the kind of partners I’d need for a project like this.

The other key distinction between cinema and television is that cinema is typically committed to visual storytelling, whereas television, nice as it can look, is too often a matter of talking heads against a genre-appropriate backdrop.  And I’m looking forward to flexing my visual storytelling muscles in a big way on the thriller, which I think I’ve got a unique visual thematic and storytelling approach for.  At any rate, it’s nice to think so.