Fire breaks out at a
famous London hotel. A bathrobed hero emerges from the flames carrying the
woman who loves him. They kiss and find themselves on the world’s front pages;
their moment of passion and courage inspires a new perfume. Then our hero goes
back to his wife…
If
that sounds like a pitch for a romantic comedy, you’ve guessed right. I’m the
writer, and I can’t resist pitching. You never know when a hedge fund manager
might be reading…
Seriously,
every film story needs a crucible in which characters are trapped until they
work through their demons or face ruin. I always knew mine would be the world
of perfume, but for several drafts I didn’t know why.
I
thought it was about glamour, fantasy and a serenely calm and fragrant public
world at odds with the story’s private arena of anger, old grievances,
betrayal, insecurity and…yes, it is still a romantic comedy.
Then
I realised perfume had to be at the heart of the story because it is about the memories
that surround one moment captured in a picture. Memories that differ for each
character.
Linda
— the leading lady who is rescued from the hotel fire and then dumped by her
married lover — can’t remember the moment for what it was: an honest and true
moment when two people forgot their emotional ties. All she sees is a man she
loved who was about to dump her. She only remembers the moment’s future.
Harry
— the fire hero — sees the moment and remembers how his courage collapsed into
cowardice because he wasn’t sure he could be that man for the rest of his life.
Steve
— the man who replaced Harry in Linda’s heart — sees Harry’s and Linda’s big
moment and fears he’s not made of that kind of heroic stuff.
Ralph
— the photographer who made Harry and Linda famous — remembers snapping two
people who had cheated death, who had looked the devil in the eye and said:
‘Not today. We’re in love, and you can’t touch us.’
Pierre
— the perfumer so inspired by the moment that he turns it into a fragrance — deludes
himself that the moment can return exactly as it once was, if only he can
reunite the couple who were his muse.
These
are a few of the people I spend my life with. Writers need to find themselves
in each of their characters and Pierre hits a major nerve with me. He’s
ridiculous in many ways, too precious to operate in the real world. He channels
perfume from a universe not known to mere mortals, coming to life only when
talking about fragrance and protected from reality by his adoring wife
Christine.
Well,
I regularly become pompous and authorial about writing generally and film stories
in particular. Then I can’t be bothered about the nitty-gritty of real life. Pierre
cries when his creation is dragged through the dirt by the very people who
inspired him, and cries again when he feels his world is ending. Again, er…me. And,
like me, Pierre often wears sunglasses indoors — sometimes to hide the tear
tracts on his face. How can you not love him?
He
deserves a reward for being put through hell. He deserves more than a fictional
perfume. He deserves a real one. So we’re going to make life imitate art. Why
shoot a film with a mocked-up perfume that’s probably tea in a bottle when you
can have a real fragrance, inspired by the same moment in the story?
But
I’m a writer, not a perfumer. So I’ve found our real-life equivalent of Pierre
— John Stephen, of The Cotswold Perfumery — who is creating a character I can
write, but can’t cast. John can bring this character off the page and into real
life. In time, we hope that you can not only see the film, but also buy the
perfume. If there are any hedge fund managers reading, that was another pitch
for funding…
We
want romance, courage, fire, honesty and forgiveness, all in the one bottle. So
no pressure, John. Before he bolts for the exit, I should stress that no
real-life perfumers will be harmed in the making of this film…
You
can find us on Facebook at thekissmovie, on the web at thekissmovie.uk.com and
fundraising on indiegogo (at http://bit.ly/12Ztina until 5 August) with
perfume perks as our thanks for support.
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