I remember the first time I saw my name in the credits of a TV programme - it was for the BBC’s Blood of the Vikings. It felt awesome. A few years later, I was lucky enough to see the words “A film by Alom Shaha” on the big screen at the Ritzy Picturehouse, where my short film Do Make Friends was being screened. That felt awesome too.
This morning, I saw a tweet from @guardianscience about a film which I am incredibly proud to have written, directed and produced:
I was delighted that they were showcasing films which I had originally devised and produced for broadcast on the now defunct channel Teachers’ TV - it’s great that they’re still being seen and that @guardianscience are helping take them to a new audience. However, I was upset to see that the end credits had been removed from the film and expressed my disappointment via a tweet:
I’m pleased to report that @guardianscience saw my tweets and responded quickly and positively:
Now, this may seem petty to some people, after all, nobody watches the end-of-film credits anyway, right? (Well, apart from people staying behind in the hope of a taster of the next instalment of a blockbuster superhero franchise). Anyone who’s ever worked on a TV programme or film will know how important it is that the credits are there, whether or not anyone else watches them - they serve to acknowledge the time, work and effort put into making the film or TV programme, they act as a way of letting others in the industry know who did what jobs on the production and even as proof that someone has done what they claim to have done. In an industry where it’s hard to get work and you are judged primarily on what work you have done, credits matter. Whether there’s a legal obligation or not, it seems only morally right to give credit where credit’s due.