It didn’t take long to realise that I was in a safe pair of hands when watching Otto Preminger’s Anatomy Of A Murder.  The 1959 film stars James Stewart, and introduces him brilliantly.  We’re shown a man returning by car from a day of fishing, and then learn that the same man has an extensive library of similarly-bound hardbacks: the notion that he’s maybe a lawyer feels right.

Stewart comes in to find a note on a board.  This clever contrivance does two things: confirms that he’s not living totally on his own, and introduces a story element that kickstarts what follows, when he takes the note and phones the number that’s written on it.  Add a moody and punchy Duke Ellington score over a terrific Saul Bass title sequence, and you’ve got a cracking opening.

All of which causes me to reflect on the importance of the opening minutes of a script.  A journalist friend who also writes fiction for children, and is herself a mother, commented of the pilot script of an animated series I’m developing that having the opening in a classroom might be a turn-off for kids.  Hmm.

I can see what she means, but feel differently about it: the setting is in the future for one thing, and  I’m pretty confident that kids bored with the reality of their own schooling may nonetheless be fascinated by the details of a science fiction classroom.  Besides, Preminger had more than 150 minutes to get things right: we have just 22.  And, again, there are the other factors: Andy Tudor’s concept art is a delight, and by the time there’s music and a title sequence as part of the experience I’m hoping that it will be like catnip for 8-12 year olds.

Also, there are a few establishing details that need to be made clear early on for the audience to be at home with the show, and the best way I could think of laying those out was in the context of a school lesson, which also establishes some fun characterisation in the process.  We shall see.  And pretty soon at that: the show gets pitched in just over a week: mood boards and script tweaks are being done right now.

After that?  It’s possible that if we develop a relationship with a production partner that they will suggest changes.  Or that a broadcaster does.  All of which I’m open to: this is going to be a new and interesting experience for Andy and myself, and though we’re both confident we’ve come up with something uniquely engaging, who knows what kind of demographic research etc will be necessary before the concept becomes a show that sees the light of day?

It’s been a delight working together with Andy.  We’ve done it plenty of times on commercial jobs such as brochures and websites, and this is the first fruit of our partnership on a project intended for television.  It’s been a breeze: some people who saw us at work in a cafe commented that we were like two kids playing, and that’s about the size of it.  And we’ve already got another project lined up, which could work as an illustrated book for children and an animated feature: I can see us playing in this fashion for some time, especially if we start to attract backers to turn our fantasies into yer actual entertainment.

One step at a time though, progress is only ever achieved by increments, and all that.  Thinking ahead to the animation pitch, I now can’t help thinking what if the show had a Saul Bass-inflected title sequence…and Duke Ellington may be dead, but there are big band jazzers like Cinematic Orchestra and Django Bates it’d be a delight to work with…