This is my first film as a writer and director. It's really a love-song to my grandparents: the central event of this story happened to my grandfather, Hubert Bridgland, who lost his legs not once, but twice. During the First World War battle of Passcandaele his legs were blown off when an enemy shell found the foxhole where he was hiding in no-man’s land. He was seventeen years old. Some time later, after recovering and being fitted with prosthetic legs, he crashed his motorcycle by the beach. He flew over the sea wall, and landed on the beach, unhurt, but again without his legs.
The film was made to coincide with the centenary of the outbreak of the Great War, and I wanted to capture the spirit of a man overcoming his personal tragedy, and his need to regain the liberty of which robbed him.