Bait

The picture-postcard idyll of the Cornwall fishing village is misleading. While fishing used to be a way of supporting oneself, wealthy London tourists have now descended and are displacing the locals, whose livelihood is thus threatened. The relationship between brothers Steven and Martin is also strained. Martin is a fisherman without a boat, since Steven started using it for far more lucrative tours for all the day-trippers. They’ve sold the family cottage and now it seems that the final battle to be fought is that with the new owners over the parking space next to the sea. Yet the situation soon gets out of hand, and not just because of the wheel clamp. Bait is a black-and-white film shot on hand-processed 16mm. Numerous close-ups of fish, nets, lobsters, wellington boots, knots and catch baskets bring to mind the theory of a montage of attractions. The depiction of the different social strata – one could speak of class relations – is also reminiscent of the tradition of social realism in British cinema. Above all, however, a whole lot of current political relevance is waiting to be discovered beneath the different layers of film historical references contained in the images. (Anna Hoffmann) TOURISM AND A CHANGING FISHING COMMUNITY - DIRECTOR'S STATEMENT I have always wanted to make a film about the fishing industry. 16mm, black-and-white, dirty, full of grain, faces, working hands, the rough edges, warts and all, wild, tangible, real. In this part of the world the fishing goes hand in hand with the tourist trade. They have co-existed for generations, as unlikely bedfellows, co-dependents. But in a contemporary context of austerity and uncertainty the story has quickly become one of haves and have nots. Not a black and white story, but one pulsing away within the grey areas. Just below the surface of the sleepy Atlantic curling to sleep in the ‘quaint’ harbour. Beware: a dangerously high tide will often follow extreme low water. This is a place where tourism is seen as positive and second-home ownership as problematic, but the two are never lumped together, never considered part of the same thing. A place where the fishermen have no voice while the incomers shout to be noticed in their new community, where the old ways and the new ways collide. But where everybody is ultimately being manipulated, everyone is being sold a lie, where most people’s intentions are good but everyone is convinced that they need a bit of what someone else has, whether it be money, respect, control, a sense of belonging, peace, a future. Even in an ancient Cornish coastal village time must move on. Traditional approaches are being replaced with modern expectations. Change is inevitable, unstoppable, even welcome. But as the promise of a new bright future is being ushered in, who is thinking about what is being lost, forgotten, and will ultimately be yearned for? This is where my form and content meet. (Mark Jenkin)