CLOSE TO HOME
Filmmaker Jason Bradbury, 32, takes a trip down memory lane as he tells Attitude about reconnecting with and re- evaluating his past
Alot of my work seems to focus on the concept of “home.” We, as LGBTQ people, are often in a hurry or forced to leave behind our physical family homes in search of acceptance elsewhere.
It is no secret that the community suffers disproportionately from things such as mental- health problems and addiction, and I wonder if in the act of escape, we forget to develop acceptance within ourselves.
I grew up on the Isle of Wight and I know that my strug gle for self- acceptance made me shut out the people who loved me most, especially when I, eagerly, moved away, at the age of 19.
I’ve always been an outsider. My first feelings for another boy were at primary school and it was terrifying. The feeling felt so natural but even at that young age, I had a voice in the back of my head telling me to keep it to myself.
From that point on I took refuge in the fringes and became obsessed with the art of story- telling. I would force my little brother to dress up and act in two- person plays, but eventually found that I was happiest with a camcorder in my hand.
That’s where my love of film came from: the need to escape.
I recall my teen years on the island as oppressive and pretty bleak. Although it’s only separated from mainland England by a narrow stretch of water, psychologically you might as well be on the other side of the planet. It’s a physical and emotional barrier to freedom that’s ever present.
However, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s society as a whole that’s more the problem. I spent my entire education in the shadow of Section 28, which wasn’t repealed until 2003 when I was leaving high school.
There was no acknowledgement of anything LGBTQ, or much in the way of representation in TV and film.
I lived most of my school life in fear of being bullied. If I was with my friends, I was safe but the moment I was alone there would be this overwhelming sense of dread.
There was one particular group of boys who had it in for me, and they once attacked me in broad daylight on the high street.
There was some liberation in
being part of the “alternative” music scene – a uniform of band t- shirts, crazy hair and nail varnish – and strong, unapologetic role models such as Placebo’s Brian Molko making it possible to discuss things such as sexuality with your friends.
But there was always something that stopped me from fully revealing myself. Maybe it was because my friends were exploring these feelings, whereas I knew who I really was. The internet truly changed everything for me. Suddenly there were these niche worlds — other gay teen Placebo fans — accessible within the strike of a few keys and click of a button. These online friendships allowed me to let down the barriers I had built in the real world, providing a safe space to be myself.
There was an innocence in the early days of the internet, before everything was being tracked or commercialised, and the connections made felt more genuine. You’d be chatting for months before you exchanged photographs.
Forums, MSN Messenger and MySpace made it possible for me to imagine a future with the boys I was chatting to, something my friends must have felt when they looked into the eyes of their boyfriend or girlfriend.
One boy was from Vienna. I’d count down the hours until we could hang out on MSN. I was in awe that he lived in an actual city and it compounded the feeling I had to escape.
There’s that word again.
I’m now based in London and earlier this year released a short film, with the BBC and BFI, called My Sweet Prince. It focuses on Tommy, a gay kid drifting apart from his friends and family, who ultimately turns to the internet to look for a connection. Sound familiar? Alongside the fictional story, I used my own video diaries, shot between 2001 and 2003 on MiniDV camcorder, to illustrate his inner emotions.
It’s a deeply personal project but I hope the film inspires those watching to think of the events and people in their lives who have shaped them into who they are.
One of my biggest passions as a filmmaker is helping to encourage these conversations.
My next short, Isaac & The Ram, builds on these themes. It’s about two characters, who couldn’t be more different, confronting their past and learning to be vulnerable.
Through making My Sweet Prince,
I’ve realised that the actions of an ignorant society, or insecure bullies, shouldn’t define my youth. There was a lot of love and acceptance for me from those closest to me, and while I realise that’s not the case for everyone, I think so often we let the negative shroud our perception of the past.
I’ve since reconnected with old friends, some of whom I hadn’t spoken to in 15 years, and while I wouldn’t say the Isle of Wight necessarily feels like home when I return, there is a certain sense of calm there.
I’m more confident in who I am now, which has helped me to focus on the positive things that I did experience there. Oh, and if you were wondering what my favourite Placebo song is… it’s Teenage Angst, of course!
My Sweet Prince is available now on BFI Player @ jbradburyfilm
“There was this sense of dread whenever I was alone”