An exhibition of male idiocy that touches on parasocial boundaries and entitlement, Tummy Monster is a visceral and stomach-churning feature that first premiered at last year’s Glasgow Film Festival. With only three characters on display, this piece by Ciaran Lyons stretches the limits of one location. It maximises the feeling of desolate suffocation and desperation.
Tummy Monster follows Tales, a down-on-his-luck tattoo artist who stumbles upon the opportunity of a lifetime when a mega-famous musician calls into his shop in the middle of the night. Tales sees this as a chance to make a name for himself to his estranged ex and six-year-old daughter. He asks the star for a selfie which prompts a firm “No” from Tummy, the musician. In major disbelief at the rejection, Tales locks himself and Tummy within the confines of his shop. Thus begins a silly game that abruptly turns dark and desperate as the night transpires and the next day breaks. With both characters having responsibilities outside the contained space of the tattoo parlour, Tummy Monster sees a battle of psychological wit and ridicule. It highlights the extremes people will go to in search of validation.
What at first seems like a nondescript event manages to mix in thrill and horror aspects through sound and visuals. Lyons, with his experience directing music videos, applies striking imagery to this feature. He drenches it in high contrast, using lighting and shadows to his benefit as well as vibrant neon colours. The score and soundtrack are ever-present and steer the film towards a more supernatural tone. Tummy Monster is an interesting piece because of its unique premise. It sold out at its GFF premiere and was the only film from last year’s selection to book a third screening. Shot over five days, the script is actor-led. Lyons worked alongside stars Lorn Macdonald and Orlando Norman to develop the characters of Tales and Tummy. It’s full of twists and turns and dabbles in body horror.
The Indiependent caught up with director Ciaran Lyons ahead of the film’s official release to talk about the improvisation elements of the script, the importance of the visuals and the soundtrack, and the balancing act between suffocation and urgency within the one-location setting. Lyons and Macdonald will also tour all across May around UK cinemas to screen the film. Some of the stops include Glasgow, Edinburgh, Stirling, Sheffield, Manchester and Birmingham. A full list of the venues and dates is available alongside ticket information here.
What were the inspirations for the initial writing of the film? Where did you get the plot line from, and what catalysed the collaboration between you, Lorn Macdonald and Orlando Norman?
I suppose the inspiration for it is that I was very determined to make a feature film. I wanted a concept that felt original and that we could do with the very limited resources that we had. It’s a very small independent film.
A story was told to me—and I don’t know if it’s true or not—about a friend of theirs who was a tattoo artist who got a phone call in the middle of the night by an actually very famous pop star wanting a tattoo right there and then while they were on tour. This person—the tattoo artist—tried to get a selfie with them and the pop star said “No.” The guy who was telling me the story—the whole point of it was that they thought the pop star was an arsehole for acting in that way.
That’s me thinking about our expectation of being given that thing which we think is so trivial and easy for them to do. But there’s obviously another side to the story. Like, why has that person ended up coming to a place where they weren’t able to do that anymore? That was the basis of the story: to put someone with no empathy for that kind of stance through a journey so that by the end of it, they understand where that came from.
Based on a previous interview, I know that you wanted this film to be actor-led and improv-based. You wanted the actors to build upon their characters. How did you work with the leads to achieve that?
I know sometimes people have this idea of improv being people just making stuff up on the fly and in the moment. The way we were working was more about a rehearsal process, or approach acting [in a way] where you are preparing, you are having these discussions, you are trying to go deep and understand who these characters are, and create material beyond what is on that written script. You’re exploring and playing with that during rehearsals. Some of the ideas you come up with are coming from the actors—coming from them being in the moment, performing certain scenes, and allowing them to go off-script. Then you work together to bring some of that stuff into what you’re doing on the shoot. The three lead actors are all contributing in that way, and that’s a form of writing. But it’s writing with your performance.
As far as the aesthetics of the film are concerned, it has this very MTV-era of music videos vibe to it with the lighting and the neon colours. What inspirations did you have for these stylistic choices? Did your background in directing music videos help in any way with the cinematography and the visuals of the film?
I had worked with the cinematographer David Liddell on a couple of music videos before. Something you do take from music videos is that you are trying to create striking imagery and you’re working fast. There’s a certain ethos to that and there’s a certain working process that we maybe took from [to apply] into the visual language of the film. It’s funny because I really enjoy making music videos. But I know that they’re sometimes looked down upon by the filmmaking community. I totally understand because a lot of the time, they are quite shallow. I suppose, maybe for the superficial aspect of the film, there are some lessons brought from the music video world into that, which I’m not ashamed of.
Another important factor of the film is the soundtrack which was, in itself, very much a character. Tell us about incorporating sound and score into Tummy Monster. Did you intend for it to be such a prominent feature of the film?
Yeah, I did intend it to be. The sound design and the score do a lot to move this film into feeling almost like a horror film—or certainly a supernatural film. That, for me, has always been how I imagined it. It’s almost like a modern fairytale; nothing that happens in it—and I’m giving away spoilers here—is supernatural. But it almost feels like it is. People have given me these interpretations of the film about this character being something other than human. There are subconscious suggestions of that coming through the score and the sound design. When we hear those tight pieces of music and some of the horror sound design, our mind makes these associations. The sound designer is a good friend of mine, William Aikman, and the composer was my brother, Chris Lyons.
Also, it’s quite important that it’s an intentional thing that there’s like a lot of male idiocy on the screen. There are two men who are acting very, very stupidly, in a way that is quite particularly male. But there are a lot of female voices in the film who don’t maybe get to have as much influence on how things turn out as they should. If they did, things would probably turn out differently. In the soundtrack, there are a lot of female voices in there which is like this great musician and singer, Kate Young.
You talk about this exhibition of male idiocy, and earlier on as well, this assumption and entitlement that people have. Aside from these themes, what other explorations did you want to broach with Tummy Monster?
One of the themes of the film has to do with the public-facing identity that people have, and how successful you’re able to wear a mask. The musician is very able to successfully wear this mask; the tattoo artist doesn’t understand this concept. The face that he shows the world isn’t necessarily real, and there’s something else behind that mask. The tattoo artist himself has a very particularly crafted persona that he presents to the world in terms of how he dresses, his tattoos, his piercings, his haircut and all that kind of stuff, which is very much associated with his youth. It’s possible that his identity isn’t functioning anymore. Over the course of the film, his identity falls apart.
Throughout the film, there’s this urgency balanced with the slow and methodical game that these two characters are playing. How did you strike that equilibrium of showcasing the continuous thrumming anxiety with the slow pace of the night as it goes on?
I guess there is this game, and as the story develops, the meaning of it changes. As it first starts, it seems quite trivial and silly. Essentially, the same words and the same process take on different meanings as the interactions between these two changes. It gradually becomes more intense and the stakes are getting higher. That’s what the story is all about. It’s about crafting how the same thing under different circumstances can have different meanings.
I want to circle back to when you were talking about the female voices throughout the film. A lot of that you can hear through the phone, outside of the shutter, and basically in the external world away from the small enclosed space between these two characters. Despite Tummy Monster being a contained story, because of all these voices, you get the sense that there’s a world out there with a lot of things going on and that time is passing by. How did you balance that suffocation while also forwarding the plot in your writing of the script?
It’s an important feeling in the film that the world is moving on. There are more important things happening and serious things that should be dealt with while these two men are continuing to do this stupid game. That’s what creates a sense of pressure and the feeling of anxiety in the story and momentum. The viewer doesn’t get that escape; they don’t get to go out and see that actually, the world is continuing on without them and that everything’s okay. You really feel like you need to leave here, you need to stop doing this, and you need to deal with your responsibilities. A big part of it is these outside voices that are putting more and more pressure on Tales to stop doing this and get out. That’s essentially what builds the story towards its climax.
It has been more than a year since its release at the Glasgow Film Festival. Now, you’re about to embark on this tour in cinemas around the UK to release and promote it. What have been some of your favourite reactions from fans or critics that really struck you so far throughout the rollout of Tummy Monster?
I’ve heard a lot of people say that they’ve just never seen anything like it. I take that as a real compliment. Because you do want to try and bring something new into the realm of making films. We really did that with this, so, I’m really proud of that. When people see this, it does polarise opinion. Some people really love it, and some people find it a really difficult watch. But a lot of people do say they’ve never seen anything like it. For a film that’s so small, that’s a great achievement.
This is your feature film debut. Are you working on anything else after the rollout of Tummy Monster that you can tell us about? Any ideas or new projects you’re working on?
I’m working on a few different films. I’ve got one currently in development. I’ve got the first draft written and we’re basically trying to get that into production. It’s called The Floaties and it’s, again, set in Scotland. A dark comedy sci-fi film. There’s another that’s sort of like a companion to Tummy Monster, in a way, called Cabinet. A similar scale—a little bit bigger than Tummy Monster—that could be done in a very independent way. It’s slightly more horror.
Is Cabinet set in the same universe as this and will we see cameos of Tales and Tummy in this new film?
Maybe it’s in the Ciaran Lyons Cinematic Universe. It’s not a direct sequel. But I quite like to believe that whatever story I tell next, Tales continues to exist in that same world.
You have this affinity for the character of Tales. The struggles that he goes through, is that something you personally deal with and or relate to in anyway?
I wouldn’t ever want to say that I’m like that character. A lot of people can probably recognize unflattering aspects of themselves in him. I think a lot of people know somebody like that. More of what it is—with the character of Tummy as well—if you’ve got actors who do such a great job of bringing characters to life, and making them feel real to you, I think that’s where the attachment comes from. It’s a great feeling to feel like they exist almost as archetypes now; they exist as real people for me. As I continue to make work, a great part of the process is you’ve made these real people who you believe in. That’s more of what it is rather than me feeling like I identify with who Tales is. But I know him.
Interview by Mae Trumata