Nonstarters: turning your dreams into movies

Worst kickstarter video of the week.

Dreams, even when remembered, fizz away like sweets dropped in lemonade when the brain switches on for the day. I think there’s probably a good reason for that.

Israeli entrepreneur Liran Goldberg doesn’t. His kickstarter pitch sought to raise $80,000 for the Sleep Project, a website designed to collect users’ dreams, subject their descriptions to a social vote, and turn the most popular candidates into a TV series.

Goldberg enthused: “How many times have you woken up from a crazy dream and thought Wow! That would make a great movie!!"

Many times, Liran. But then again, I often get that excited about starting a sandwich shop called “Baguette about it!”. It doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.

A person’s dreams are never as interesting to anyone else as they are to the dreamer. That’s why we tell proper stories instead.   

Upon waking, I often grip my wife like the ancient mariner stopping the wedding guest, and insist on relating twenty minutes worth of mental adventure (“you don’t understand, love - I taught a giant crab to dance!”), before realising she is only sweetly feigning interest because I seem so involved in the telling.

I certainly can’t imagine television execs being much more generous. Can you really imagine any channel agreeing to air episodes with synopses like: “I was with you and these other guys, I can’t remember who. We were in this kind of greenhouse place with a pizza buffet, and we were looking for a special rock, but it turned out the rock was actually a bucket of ants. But it was still a rock, if you know what I mean? And then we were sort of in Japan, and David Hasselhoff was trying to get the bucket off me and then I woke up”?

Of course, Goldberg’s project had a voting system to ensure only the most popular dreams would be filmed, but this creates a worse problem.

By voting the most engaging stories to the top, people would be actively selecting against honestly transcribed blurts of brainguff, in favour of stories augmented and edited in order to make the “dreamers” look like really deep and meaningful people.

All in all, the Sleep Project seems like a lot of effort to go to for the sake of a few weak stories.

If only nature had equipped us all with a machine that could not only create our own movies, tailor-made to our particular interests, from nothing, but put us inside them, surrounded by special effects budgets that would bankrupt hollywood ten times over. Oh wait, it did.

“Inside every one of us is a brilliant screenwriter” Photograph: Kickstarter.com

By day, Fred Crawley is editor of Credit Today and Insolvency Today. By night, he reviews graphic novels for the New Statesman.

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Theresa May’s stage-managed election campaign keeps the public at bay

Jeremy Corbyn’s approach may be chaotic, but at least it’s more authentic.

The worst part about running an election campaign for a politician? Having to meet the general public. Those ordinary folk can be a tricky lot, with their lack of regard for being on-message, and their pesky real-life concerns.

But it looks like Theresa May has decided to avoid this inconvenience altogether during this snap general election campaign, as it turns out her visit to Leeds last night was so stage-managed that she barely had to face the public.

Accusations have been whizzing around online that at a campaign event at the Shine building in Leeds, the Prime Minister spoke to a room full of guests invited by the party, rather than local people or people who work in the building’s office space.

The Telegraph’s Chris Hope tweeted a picture of the room in which May was addressing her audience yesterday evening a little before 7pm. He pointed out that, being in Leeds, she was in “Labour territory”:

But a few locals who spied this picture online claimed that the audience did not look like who you’d expect to see congregated at Shine – a grade II-listed Victorian school that has been renovated into a community project housing office space and meeting rooms.

“Ask why she didn’t meet any of the people at the business who work in that beautiful building. Everyone there was an invite-only Tory,” tweeted Rik Kendell, a Leeds-based developer and designer who says he works in the Shine building. “She didn’t arrive until we’d all left for the day. Everyone in the building past 6pm was invite-only . . . They seemed to seek out the most clinical corner for their PR photos. Such a beautiful building to work in.”

Other tweeters also found the snapshot jarring:

Shine’s founders have pointed out that they didn’t host or invite Theresa May – rather the party hired out the space for a private event: “All visitors pay for meeting space in Shine and we do not seek out, bid for, or otherwise host any political parties,” wrote managing director Dawn O'Keefe. The guestlist was not down to Shine, but to the Tory party.

The audience consisted of journalists and around 150 Tory activists, according to the Guardian. This was instead of employees from the 16 offices housed in the building. I have asked the Conservative Party for clarification of who was in the audience and whether it was invite-only and am awaiting its response.

Jeremy Corbyn accused May of “hiding from the public”, and local Labour MP Richard Burgon commented that, “like a medieval monarch, she simply briefly relocated her travelling court of admirers to town and then moved on without so much as a nod to the people she considers to be her lowly subjects”.

But it doesn’t look like the Tories’ painstaking stage-management is a fool-proof plan. Having uniform audiences of the party faithful on the campaign trail seems to be confusing the Prime Minister somewhat. During a visit to a (rather sparsely populated) factory in Clay Cross, Derbyshire, yesterday, she appeared to forget where exactly on the campaign trail she was:

The management of Corbyn’s campaign has also resulted in gaffes – but for opposite reasons. A slightly more chaotic approach has led to him facing the wrong way, with his back to the cameras.

Corbyn’s blunder is born out of his instinct to address the crowd rather than the cameras – May’s problem is the other way round. Both, however, seem far more comfortable talking to the party faithful, even if they are venturing out of safe seat territory.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

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