Notes from
the alley

We finished. Every scene, every set‑up, every drop of blood — shot. Cast wrapped, crew wrapped, house handed back in roughly the condition we found it.

Everybody went home and it went very quiet…

If you have ever made a film you will know: the shoot is the fun bit. The shoot is people, tea, laughing despite being shattered, someone in a Victorian dress sweating through a heatwave and still nailing a take. Post‑production is the hard part — one editor, one screen, and several hundred hours of decisions nobody will ever notice unless you get them wrong. Jason and Eileen have their work cut out for them with this one!

That’s where we are now. And that’s why we’re asking one more time.

We hit the target. Almost twice over.

You did that. We asked for a number, you doubled it and kept going, and every penny of it ended up on screen — better props, better wardrobe, better sets, proper food for people who gave us twelve‑hour days.

The campaign has closed, but late pledges are open, and this is the part that actually finishes the film.

What late pledges are paying for

No mystery, no vague “post‑production costs”. Here’s the actual list.

Three drives. SSD and HDD prices have gone through the roof this year — not slightly, massively (thanks to corporate greed and AI data centres). We need three: one for Eileen, one for Jason and most importantly one back‑up, just in case one fails. We have been saying hard drives are expensive since day one.

Our actors. Travel, food, expenses. People drove across the country to be in this. Some of them slept in strange houses next to a wall of books nobody should read after dark. Reimbursing them properly is not optional and it is not a stretch goal — it’s the bare minimum for a set we’d want to work on ourselves.

The finish. Grade, sound, score, titles, the effects work that turns a good day’s shooting into something that holds up on a big screen. This is the invisible spend. You only see it when it hasn’t been done.

And the one we really want: a physical release. Both cuts. Discs you can hold, art you can put on a shelf, a film that exists as an object and not just a file that vanishes when a streaming platform reshuffles its library. That is the goal. That’s what this final push is for.

Four weeks

That’s the window. Four weeks of late pledges, all available rewards will be shipped out right after that, and then we wait for the final cut of the films, ready for a festival run.

Over 40 perks, starting at £1.

• Every single pledge gets a Special Thanks in the credits of both films. Every one, from a quid up.
• £10 and over — Jason’s cut, digital, the moment it’s finished.
• £25 and over — both cuts. Eileen’s chaos horror comedy and Jason’s darker, colder one. Same footage, two entirely different animals, both yours.

Above that there’s signed artwork, signed scripts, DVDs, perfume, screen‑worn costume and a handful of one‑of‑one props that genuinely will not exist again once they’re gone.

Late pledge here — or see the full list of rewards.

And if you can’t

Same as it’s always been, and we mean it every time. Not everyone has spare money, and a horror film is nobody’s priority over a food shop. If you can’t pledge, help us by sharing our posts and links, liking and commenting on socials and following along for the ride!

Share it. Post the poster, tag the one person you know with interesting taste in films, leave a comment. That is not a consolation prize — sharing is the thing that doubled our target in the first place. We have no marketing budget and no distributor. We have you, and so far that’s been enough.

The set, before we forget it

We’re going to be tucked away editing for a while, so before that — a few things worth keeping.

Robbie’s work. Prosthetic wounds laid out on a chopping board next to the brushes and somebody’s glasses, because that’s what indie horror actually looks like at half seven in the morning. And Heather, who spent a considerable part of her day opened up from throat to hip and remained cheerful about it.

Pauline Peart, who can do more with one look than most scripts manage in a page. Eileen and Pauline mid‑scene. Keith, Pauline and Nathan, which is the closest this production ever got to a formal portrait. Kurt under the hat, red‑eyed, being unsettling at the exact moment he’s asked to and never a second before.

Rachel on the boom, Jason behind the camera and Jason in a mirror, which is either an artistic choice or the only clean shot available. Both are true.

Thank you. Properly.

To everyone who backed, shared, commented, turned up, lent us a house, drove three hours, wore Victorian outfits in August or held a boom above their head until their arms gave out — thank you. We had a genuinely brilliant time making this, which is not a thing you can say about every film, and we know it.

We’re not going quiet. Posts and updates keep coming while we cut.

Four weeks. Let’s finish it properly.

See you in the fog,
The Echoes of Crimson Team

Day four today, and we are getting ready to go again.

Days one, two and three have been genuinely brilliant. Brilliant in the way where you look at the monitor and realise the thing in your head is now a thing on a screen, and it's better than you thought.

The cast

The actors have been extraordinary. Long days, hot weather, Victorian layers, and not one complaint.

Kurt uses his talents to create an unsettling characterisation in the Ripper. There's a stillness to it that we didn’t write and wouldn’t have thought to ask for. Eileen is doing two jobs at once, in costume, behind the camera, and directing everyone on set. Nathan looks dapper at the Priest and always gives 100%. And Keith — the main man keeping our history on track — gives an incredible performance as the haunted Dr. Martin.

The two of them

Eileen and Jason have not stopped. Blocking, lighting, resetting, arguing pleasantly about a shot and then getting a better one out of it than either had on their own. This is the bit people don’t see — the film gets made in the fifteen minutes between takes, not during them.

The house scenes have gone somewhere we didn’t expect. Reds and greens, hard shadows, a grandfather clock doing more acting than it was hired for. Jason’s cut is going to be a very different animal to Eileen’s, and you can already see the seams where the two films will split.

And the rest of it

Between the murders there has been a great deal of tea, a lot of standing around in the sun in black wool, and at least one person pulling a face at a camera when they thought nobody was looking (Nathan!). We have photographic evidence.

The campaign

The Kickstarter is into its final days. Everything raised from here goes straight into the parts of this you’ll actually see — the effects, the finish and most importantly the physical release of both cuts.

And the same as always: if you can’t pledge, share it. That’s not a consolation prize, it’s the thing that got us to double our goal in the first place.

More photos going up on Instagram and Facebook as we shoot.

Right. Back to it.

See you in the fog,
The Echoes of Crimson Team

It’s really happening.

We are on set today. Cameras are up, it’s time to start rolling. We are finally on set today, planning the shots, planning the scenes, making this happen!

Keith, and a book full of ghosts

Before anything else, this. Keith brought his copy of The Jack the Ripper A‑Z to set — the one he co‑authored — and opened it for us.

Twenty‑six years later the same man is standing in our set, making sure we get 1888 right. That’s not a coincidence we planned. It’s just what happens when you ask the right person to keep you honest.

The day itself

Set dressing, wardrobe, props, and a great deal of standing about deciding where a chair goes. This is the part nobody puts in the trailer.

Lovett House. Ravens, tarot, and a wall of books nobody should read after dark. Nathan moving furniture that will end up in shot for four seconds. Eileen and Jason mid‑plan. And the skull sharing a table with a Mademoiselle disc — one of those is a prop and one is going out to a backer.

Your support and pledges have been wonderful. We thank each and every one of you for sharing, posting, liking and contributing.

What’s happening now

There are seven days left on the Kickstarter. One week. Then it’s closed. Now is the time if you want to be part of our epic journey — share, pledge, support.

So, while we’re covered in fake blood, three small favours:

• Share the campaign with someone who has questionable taste in films
• Follow our new Facebook page — set photos are landing there as we shoot
• Pledge or pledge up while there’s still time

Everything extra goes straight onto the screen. Hard drives remain outrageously expensive, and the cast’s taste in catering has not improved.

Thank you for getting us here. Back to work — there’s a murder to film!

See you in the fog,
The Echoes of Crimson Team

We said if we scraped the target we’d be happy. We’re at 185% and we’ve had to sit down about it more than once.

So here’s what that actually buys, because it isn’t a number on a page. Every penny of it goes into the film. All of it. This is the difference between indie fun and certifiable chaos.

More blood. More props. Better wardrobe. Better sets. Better food on set — and we’re only half joking about that one, because fed actors are happy actors and happy actors do the work that ends up on screen. Anyone who’s spent a cold twelve hours on a no‑budget shoot knows exactly how much a proper hot meal is worth, and it isn’t a perk.

Then there’s the part nobody puts on a poster: the edit, and somewhere safe to keep the footage while two people take it apart in two different directions. Unglamorous, expensive, and the difference between a film that gets finished properly and one that just gets finished.

Everything gets better the further this goes. That’s not a sales line, it’s arithmetic.

Two new rewards

The first one has a story attached, so bear with us.

Mademoiselle is Tony Richardson’s 1966 film, written by Jean Genet, with Jeanne Moreau doing something genuinely unsettling in the lead. The BFI put it out as a dual format edition. It’s a proper piece of British film history and it has nothing to do with Whitechapel.

Except that it does. Turn the case over.

That’s our Keith. He was in it, sixty years ago. He’s the one now keeping us honest on the 1888 material — the same Keith Skinner who consulted on From Hell and Ripper Street, and who has spent a good part of his life making sure the Whitechapel murders are treated as something that happened to five real women rather than a plot device.

We’ve got copies, and Keith is signing them. A film he acted in as a young man, signed by the man who now stops us getting the history wrong. There aren’t many and there won’t be more.

The second one is a new perfume made for this film, joining the rest of the range — Mr Crispin, Witches Brew, She’s a Bitch, Hollywood Betrayed, First Bite. Signed by Eileen. We’re not telling you what’s in it yet.

More rewards coming as we go. Some of these are things we’ve wanted to make for years and finally have an excuse to.

Where we are right now

The score. Eileen and Ben are working out what this film sounds like, and they have opinions. Different ones. It’s coming out better for it.

Props, sets, and the shooting plan. We are currently surrounded by things we have bought for this film and cannot explain to anyone who walks in.

End of August. We shoot. That’s when this stops being posters and starts being a film.

After that. Two edits. Eileen’s and Jason’s. Same footage, two entirely different animals.

Thank you, and keep going

To everyone who’s backed us, shared us, or just quietly kept an eye on this — thank you. We are so grateful it’s slightly embarrassing. We don’t have a marketing budget or a distributor or anyone’s permission. We have you, and it turns out that’s been enough.

At this point the share button does more for us than the pledge button. Every person who passes this to someone who likes horror is doing the job of an advertising spend we haven’t got. Keep sharing. It’s working.

The Kickstarter is up. After months of scripts, scouting, and buying fake blood in quantities that raise eyebrows at the till — there’s a page with a button on it and a number that starts at zero.

Let’s be straight about what this is. We’re making this film either way. Our own money is already in it. The Kickstarter doesn’t decide whether Echoes of Crimson exists — it decides how far it travels, how much we can pay the people who turn up, and whether the version you eventually watch looks like what’s in our heads or a compromise we settled for.

On backing it

Tiers start at £5. From £25 you get both cuts — Eileen’s chaos comedy horror and Jason’s darker, colder one, the same footage taken into two rooms and coming out as two different films. Above that there’s signed artwork, DVDs, screen‑worn costume, and a handful of one‑of‑one props that when they’re gone are gone.

If you’re going to back it, back it early. We’re not saying that to rush you. Kickstarter’s algorithm surfaces campaigns that move fast in the first couple of days, and a project that stalls out of the gate rarely recovers no matter how good it is. A fiver on day one genuinely does more work than fifty quid in week three. That’s not sales talk, it’s just how the platform behaves.

And every backer name goes up on the Backer Wall, in the order it arrived. First in, top of the wall, and it stays that way for good.

On not backing it

Here’s the part we mean most. Not everyone has spare money, and we’re not going to pretend otherwise. Times are hard and a horror film is not anybody’s priority over a food shop. If you can’t pledge, that is completely fine, and you are not less welcome here for it.

Sharing is real support. It costs nothing and it works. Independent films don’t find their audience through advertising budgets — they find it because somebody tagged a mate who likes British horror. Post the link. Repost the poster. Tell one person who’d get it. Leave a comment on the campaign, because comments push a project up the page in a way that silence never will.

We have watched films we love disappear because nobody outside the room ever heard about them. If you spread this thing further than it would have gone on its own, you have done something for it. We’ll take that as gladly as a pledge, and we mean that plainly.

Where to start

If you want to know who’s making this before you decide anything — fair enough. The Watch page now has Eileen’s showreel, Jason’s showreel, and trailers for what the pair of us have made before. Thirty years of British horror between us and no interest in slowing down.

Then come back and press the button. Or don’t, and tell somebody instead. Both help.

Nothing's been shot yet. We're writing this from the wrong side of it — scripts locked, locations scouted, fake blood ordered in a quantity that got a look at the till. August is when the cameras roll. This is us telling you before, not after.

The experiment: one shoot, one cast, one set of performances in the fog and cobbles of 1888 Whitechapel. Then the footage goes into two rooms and comes out as two films. Eileen cuts the comedy horror — chaos, teeth, jokes that shouldn't land and do. Jason cuts the dark one — slower, colder, the version that follows you home. Neither is the "real" cut. That's the point.

We're making it either way. Our own money's already down and we're not waiting for anyone's blessing. The Kickstarter decides how far it travels, nothing more. If you're going to back it, back it early — early is the only thing that actually moves the needle.

Prep photos above. The first proper mess arrives when we're on set.

Two posters, one film