3angrymen Director Danny Baldwin talks about his experience of working with Corky Clubman on a film that delves into homelessness and the difficulties of getting off the street.

I met Corky for the first time in 2014 - I'd just moved to London and it was my first night out in the big city. After being turned away from several clubs, probably because I was wearing trainers; maybe because I decided to go big on the pre-drinks; potentially because it was 2am on a Tuesday... It was in my desperate state that I bumped into 'Corky Clubman'. Like all good promoters, he woo'd us, complimented my awful dress sense and made sweet promises: not only would he get us into a club, but he could get us into 'the' club. Long story short, I offered Corky a role in a short film I never ended up making before making my way to the dance floor.

5 years later, I’m no longer a student and I find myself directing a film for Guardian Labs and HSBC, covering the topic of homelessness and the difficulties of getting off the street when you don’t have a bank account. Out of nowhere, Corky’s story arrives at my desk – call it what you like, but if that isn’t a sign to arrange a meeting with him, I don’t know what is. Two weeks on, I’m sitting in a café somewhere in Liverpool Street across the table from Corky Clubman and he’s telling me his entire story from start to finish. It dawned on me then that he was homeless the first time I met him, and I’d had absolutely no idea at the time. Needless to say, I felt a sense of shame (and not just because I never made that short film).

His full story gets unpacked in the film (and you can watch that here), but it’s probably worth giving you some context. Before becoming homeless Corky practiced as a psychotherapist; he had his own practice, several houses and was happily married with children. When his relationship eventually broke down, Corky ended up with absolutely nothing to his name. His background in psychotherapy means he’s brilliant at getting to the psychological root of a question, but it also meant that he was fairly guarded with us and much more comfortable asking questions over answering them. Ultimately, his narrative is his to tell, so I needed him to trust me and I really needed to figure out a way to understand the gravity of being homeless.

Honestly, it’s pretty difficult to understand what being homeless for 5 years means. Yep, it sounds horrible - 5 years is a very long time. But what does the reality of that look like? What does it feel like? There’s actually one day in particular that comes to mind, where we took Corky to a shelter and a fairly filthy bathroom. We asked him to wash his hands and face in the sink, and right before he did, he took a moment to take in the surroundings... “This is exactly it”, he said. I watched quietly as he walked over to the mirror and looked himself in the eyes, a distinct look of shame on his face. Tears filled his eyes and he began to wash his hands. It clicked for me that this was it: this was a part of Corky’s reality for 5 years and I felt ashamed, again.

Moments like those can be a blessing for filmmakers. They’re raw, they’re truthful and they’re beautiful to watch. But being in that moment sat with me pretty differently – being less than a meter away from someone who’s re-living a horrible past feels pretty gut-wrenching. Those moments are incredibly conflicting, but I guess you have to learn to compartmentalise the human you and the filmmaker. From that moment, Corky and I were on the same page about the film we were making, and I truly felt I understood him a bit better. He also trusted me to tell his story.

Corky taught me a lot throughout the filming. The power of human will; to get on with life and continue day after day. But more importantly that every life has value... It’s the lesson he wants to teach his son, but I think there’s a piece of that that all of us can take something from.