Mike Quille interviews Carl Joyce, maker of the award-winning short film The School on Seaside Lane. Below is the trailer...

What inspired you to create 'The School on Seaside Lane?' Was there a personal connection to Easington Colliery or the school's history that motivated you?

The initial idea came to me during the first Covid 19 lockdown, I read a local news article about Durham County Council buying the school back from the private development company that owned it for £50k and their plans were to demolish the building.

I’m originally from Horden Colliery, the village next to Easington, and I went to Easington Comprehensive School in the 90’s, so I was familiar with the school and its importance to the area. Whenever we’d pass the school on the bus I always remember the playground looked so full of life, the children always looked so happy there. I always wondered why they had a separate entrances for boys and girls.

I remember the school closing around 1997 and standing empty. Over the years it became vandalized and eventually it got boarded up, the playground became overgrown and the pigeons moved in. There was always a rumour that the school was about to be renovated but it never happened. People in Easington Colliery became sick of it, it was a black cloud  preventing people moving on from the past.

When I read about the plans for the school to be demolished I felt sad that people were celebrating the end of the school. This was a school that had been through wars, it had educated most of the miners in Easington along with their children & grandchildren. This is what motivated me to make a film about it, it seemed vital to document positive  memoriesof the school before it was too late.

Can you talk about the artistic choices you made in the film, such as the use of slow-motion sequences and poetry narration? How do these elements help convey the film's message?

I wanted to use slower sequences to give the audience time to absorb the messages and reflect on their own past experiences. I don’t think you necessarily have to have gone to that school to be able to relate to the stories and unpick the messages from the interviews. Another reason was to juxtapose the harshness of the demolition against the softness of the poem and archive footage, to heighten the audience’s emotions.

The poem was a happy accident. I went to interview Chris Robinson (the woman who describes the village as fractured like a crack in a coal seam) and she told me she’d written a poem about the school after she heard the school was going to be demolished. I asked if I could use the poem in the film and she agreed, so we set up a makeshift audio booth and I recorded her reading the poem there and then.

The film shows multiple shots of estate deprivation and buildings left to rot. What was the impact you wanted these visuals to have on the audience?

My initial idea was simply to make a record of the school for posterity, but it quickly became more than that. I was aware of the issues Easington had, just like Horden had/has when I lived there, but being on the streets and talking to people gave me a stark reminder of the massive impact that the closure of the pits and the loss of jobs and general deindustrialization has had on the area.

So my plan for the film quickly shifted, after the first couple of days filming. The school became a metaphor for the village –  a once grand building left to rot and ruin, just like the village itself.

At the same time I wanted to be respectful to the people who lived there. I knew how important it was to get the balance right, to document the hardship and suffering but to do it in a dignified way – the people who live there are proud. There were many interviews where people said quite harsh and derogatory things about the village which I didn’t include in the final edit. After showing the completed filmto people in Easington, I’ve not had any negative feedback, so I feel like I got it right.

You interviewed several local residents who described the community as fractured and the area as an eyesore. How did you approach gaining their trust and encouraging them to share their stories?

I think being from the area helped to break down some of the initial barriers. People are wary of outsiders in places like Easington, so when they hear you’re from the local area and hear you speak with the same accent, people tend to open up more. When I was on the street filming the more spontaneous interviews, it was also quite easy to find people to chat to me on camera. People had a lot to say about the school and they had strong feelings about it, so once you asked them their thoughts on the school they opened up.

I found the interviewing the easiest part, everyone I spoke to had an emotional pull towards the school, people either went there themselves or had a family member who were pupils.

The demolition of the school and the closing of the pit are central themes in the film. How important do you think it is to document and preserve the history of working-class communities like Easington?

I think it’s vital, I don’t think there’s enough done to preserve the rich history we have in the North East. For example, there was a recent study done by the Creative Industries Policy and Evidence Centre which revealed that in the film and TV industry there is only 8%of workers from working-class backgrounds, compared to 60% from middle and upper-class backgrounds. So when there’s a local history story that should be preserved (like the school) who is going to cover it? Anyone that’sMost people from the 60% are unlikely to have an emotional pull towards an area like Easington, and so the story would be untold, and the history and memories would be forgotten.

It’s a similar story with funding. There’s a much smaller amount given to artists in working-class areas than the more affluent areas of the country, making it very hard to fund projects like this. It might be worth adding that I have not received any funding to make this film, it’s been financed completely with income from paid jobs.

"Billy Elliot" was filmed in Easington and brought some attention to the area. How do you think the film affected the local community, and how do they feel about it now?

People in Easington are still very proud of Billy Elliot, they still talk about him a lot. It’s not  only the fact that Easington was chosen as a film location for production, but it’s more about the story of Billy Elliot and how he fought hardship, his father's disapproval and the societal expectations placed upon him, so he could follow his dreams and become a ballet dancer. Billy Elliot is a story of grit and determination which people in areas like Easington pride themselves on.

The school on Seaside Lane is a powerful symbol in your documentary. What do you believe it represents for the former students and residents of Easington Colliery?

I think it represents pride in their past. I’ve tried to show what a bold and important part of Easington’s history the school was, and I think people feel that when watch the film. Most of the people who’ve watched it and who went to the school become emotional after seeing it, they often share positive stories with me from their time going to the school. You can see there’s a sense of pride that they went there, thatthey’re a part of the school’s history.

The film touches on the economic decline following the pit closures and the lack of regeneration. In your opinion, what are the biggest obstacles preventing the area's recovery?

When the pits closed the start of the problems was that initial lack of investment, there was nothing to replace the pits and there never has been, 40 years on. The area needs significant investment, it needs jobs. When I left school in 2001, I searched the area for a job for at least 6 months and I ended up working in a call centre in a nearby town on minimum wage for 4 years before I packed up and went abroad for work.

Since then there’s nothing been developed in the area to give people any other options, you still have to travel to a larger city like Sunderland or Newcastle to have a more varied choice of work. So  people end up moving there, and the community looses another resident.

The area needs a reason for people to stay there, there’s so much available land in places like Horden where the pit used to be. Apart from the odd small industrial unit it beggars belief that there’s still nothing been built on there to give people jobs, 40 years on from the pit closure

Also there are areas in the village, where Billy Elliot was filmed, with very poor housing conditions. Out of town landlords  buy up cheap houses and rent them out - but they don’t maintain them, leaving people living in poor conditions which has a knock-on effect with people’s physical and mental health .

Do you have any future projects in mind that continue to explore themes of community, history, and working-class life? If so, could you share some details about what you're planning next?

I‘ve started filming a new documentary about the old Durham City ice rink, which was home to the infamous (amongst ice hockey fans) Durham Wasps. The Wasps were the biggest ice hockey team in the country at one point, winning everything there is to win and selling out the ice rink weekly. The end for the Wasps was abrupt and heartbreaking for fans – Sir John Hall, who owned Newcastle United FC at the time, bought the Wasps and tried to take them over to Newcastle. However, it didn’t work out and the team quickly disbanded, leaving the fans with no team to support.

A friend of mine, Lewis Hobson, who is a mural artist in the North East recently put together an exhibition displaying Wasps memorabilia. He even unearthed and displayed their old winners’ trophies that had sat in a garage for nearly 20 years. On the back of this I’ve secured funding to make a documentary about the Durham ice rink. It will be similar to the film about the school, about the lack of community space in the area than the loss of the hockey team. The filming will start in September and the film will be launched in the Spring of 2025.

Jack Clarke reviews the short film The School on Seaside Lane, directed by Carl Joyce 

‘Our only hope for history is for the memories to last.’

This sentiment lies at the heart of The School on Seaside Lane, a short documentary that plunges us into the depths of Easington Colliery, a village shackled by its industrial past and fractured present.

Easington Colliery’s story is a grim reflection of Britain's industrial decline. Once an animated mining community in County Durham, it thrived on the hard labour of its miners, whose lives were deeply intertwined with the pit that lay at the village’s core. The coal mine wasn’t just a workplace; it was the lifeblood of the community, a source of pride and identity. This all came to a halt on 7 May 1993, when the pit was demolished.

This event displaced thousands of workers, shattering the community's spirit and leaving an indelible mark on its collective psyche. The aftermath was a slow, agonising descent into decay, a cruel reminder of promises broken and futures abandoned. The town’s lifeblood was drained, leaving behind a ghostly shell of what once was – a stark testament to the harsh realities of industrial decline and the relentless march of economic ‘progress.’

Carl Joyce’s film opens with sweeping drone shots of a landscape littered with decay, rundown buildings standing as stark monuments to a bygone era. These visuals immediately conjured memories of my own childhood in Salford, on the Kersal Estate, where the shadows of closed factories and abandoned estates loomed large over our daily lives. The raw, unfiltered essence of a community left to rot is captured with mesmerising precision. The now-demolished school on Seaside Lane stands as a poignant relic of better times, its walls whispering tales of a once-thriving community.

Through interviews with the locals, Carl Joyce paints a vivid picture of a place where hope has been systematically stripped away. One interviewee described the area as an ‘eyesore and a disgrace,’ a sentiment that resonated deeply with me as I thought of the neglected corners of my own hometown. These are places where poverty, disillusionment, and a sense of abandonment hang heavy in the air, much like the suffocating fog that used to roll in from the factories in Salford.

The film doesn’t just document physical decay; it delves into the emotional and social toll of such neglect. One poignant sequence overlays poetic narration with haunting images of the school's derelict interiors. The poetry speaks of the eradication of working-class history, a theme handled with both grace and gravity. The camera lingers on broken windows and crumbling walls, capturing the silent screams of a forgotten generation.

‘Hollywood thought Easington was good enough, but nobody else did, I suppose,’ says an interviewee, referring to Billy Elliot (2000) which used the village as a location. This quote struck a chord, the glamour of Hollywood cannot mask the enduring pain of a community’s collapse. The juxtaposition of Easington's momentary spotlight with its prolonged suffering is a powerful commentary on the superficiality of such attention.

The film captures this duality, showcasing the resilience and enduring spirit of working-class communities, but it also reveals a harsh truth: Easington isn't rebuilding; it’s stuck in yesterday. A vivid picture is painted of a village caught in a time warp, where the past looms large and the future seems perpetually out of reach. The characters reflect this stagnation, speaking of lost opportunities, forgotten promises, and a sense of abandonment that has calcified over the years.

This isn’t just a story of local decline; it’s a powerful political statement about systemic neglect and the betrayal of the working class. The dismantling of industrial Britain, driven by political agendas and economic shifts which left places like Easington to fend for themselves. The pit closures, meant to pave the way for a new economic dawn, instead plunged these communities into darkness. Promised regeneration and investment never materialised, leaving behind a landscape of decay and disillusionment.

The School on Seaside Lane challenges us to confront these uncomfortable truths. It demands that we acknowledge the enduring impact of industrial decline and the necessity for genuine, sustained efforts to revitalise these forgotten communities. This film is not just a reflection on the past; it’s a call to action for a more equitable and compassionate future. In a world where the voices of the working class are often drowned out by the din of political rhetoric and economic jargon, The School on Seaside Lane stands as a stark reminder of the harsh realities faced by communities that have been left behind. It raises questions about the enduring impact of these stories and whether simply bearing witness to their struggles is enough.

Behind every boarded-up window and crumbling wall lies a history worth remembering, yet the film leaves us pondering: is it merely a testament to a past that cannot be revived, or can it spark a meaningful change for the future?