The explosion of internet based, video streaming sites since 2005 has allowed the creation and distribution of non-professional content by individuals who would have little chance to get their work seen otherwise. The mass audio-visual media, who still rely too heavily on saturated delivery methods, prefer to see online content as tie-in media for their more traditionally orientated material. But in reaction to the growing tide of self-distributed productions, commentators and practitioners have attempted to either siphon some of the kudos given to these non-profit, agenda-free creators – through inane courses that promote ‘home made media’ or ‘multi-platform delivery’, and absurd television programmes like Rude Tube (2008-Present) – or to label YouTube, Vimeo, MySpace and others as amateurish, pointless or even, in the most extreme cases of hypocrisy, socially dangerous. This knee-jerk reaction is in part to the now widespread access filmmakers, comedians, academics and hobbyists have to a potentially global audience, previously reserved for megabucks film distributors alone and beyond access to many media professionals, but also to the outright experimental and alternative nature of some of the content. There can be no creative compromise when you are your own commissioning editor, and no recourse to accepted technique when your only training is in your chosen subject matter, and not in media production. As Orson Welles once famously stated, “The best qualification for film-making is no qualification at all”.

Regardless of any irony in this statement, many now find themselves creating popular online content out of the their own interests – ranging from make-up to conspiracy theories, computer games to the English language – by utilising home grown techniques and consumer equipment. Internet surfers the world over enjoy and promote content made by people like them, subscribing to their creator’s uploads with the same relish and anticipation that has them tuning into TV shows week after week. A handful – primarily those in North America and Western Europe – take this analogy too far, and attempt to ape mainstream commercial cinema and television, to largely indifferent success, whilst others, especially the focus of his article, use modern media sensibilities as a jumping point for explorations into the construction of narrative form, and as opportunities for mutual input from those outside of its primary creative team. The consistently interesting Damon Dark series has grown from less than humble beginnings, once marginalised by the mainstream media, to become a thought-provoking addition to the mounting army of web-serials, one that not only challenges our concept of what constitutes a ‘story’ but also with collaborators across the globe.

Originated by jobbing actor and lifelong sci-fi fan Adrian Sherlock, the project initially demands comparison with The X-Files (1993-2002) but, on closer inspection, has more in common thematically with UFO (1970-71), Sapphire and Steel (1979-82) and, perhaps less surprisingly, the modern retread of Doctor Who (2005-Present). The storylines borrow from the groundbreaking sci-fi tropes developed by writer P. J. Hammond and director/producer Shaun O’Riordan on their now fondly missed Sapphire and Steel serials: unseen assailants, elliptical narratives, cryptic explanations, and Sherlock uses mobile phone conversations in the way that show used telepathy. There could be the accusation that some of this is by necessity rather than choice, as crude attempts to camouflage low-budgets and technical inexperience, but examination of the earlier Damon Dark entries, which had greater resources and some modest budgeting, reveals that this is design all the way: the episode Maddox features (perhaps?) an underwater UFO and an alien-inspired villain in a manner that recalls the abstruse plotting of many of Hammond’s adventures. Sherlock has since elaborated this approach, refining and abstracting it so that his episodes imitate nightmares without reason or outcome, combining with low-grade technology’s ever-present punk aesthetic to create something that modern media professionals would baulk at – a world in which sound is as important as visuals, characters can be seen to think for themselves, and lights are as tangible as punches. But, not considering Sherlock’s unique approach to exposition and development, it’s the evolution of the series that constitutes it’s most interesting aspect.

The title character started as an investigator for the secret service, looking into cases of alien possession, mysterious death and temporal dislocation, but this didn’t prove fruitful for Sherlock and his then production team – who, by all accounts, seem more like the standard media ‘players’ than those he collaborates with today – despite a run on Australian community television and the filming of a professional pilot for Australian broadcasters. It’s this pilot which exposes the essence of Sherlock’s ongoing creation: forced to employ another actor in the role of his very personal lead, the pilot’s lack of success may be put down to its anonymous interpretation of what is essentially one man’s central being transposed into a fictional (and therefore symbolic) character. With its ubiquitous interior monologues, probing close-ups and backyard locations, the inescapable truth is that Sherlock is Damon Dark, just as much as Dark is Adrian Sherlock – removing him from the equation belittles the project. (Tellingly, Sherlock hasn’t upload this pilot to YouTube or made it available to view as part of his official canon).

When consumer-based technologies became cheaper and easier to use, Sherlock obviously jumped at the opportunity to resurrect his character in a series of increasingly bewildering cases, ultimately jettisoning any pretence at realism and recasting him as a “an alien-hunter who comes from our world but has learnt the secrets of the universe and can travel in space and time” – a format which has allowed Sherlock not only to employ dramatic license across the board, thereby negating that exasperating and senseless debate over plausibility in cinema, but also to expand his meagre production values into a worldwide group effort. Make no mistake, this is one man’s intensely personal vision of science-fiction escapism, sometimes gritty, almost unwatchable in its honesty – there’s a remarkable sequence where Dark, wrongly imprisoned in an asylum, seems to give voice to all of Sherlock’s frustrated impotence – at other times hilarious and joyous, but Sherlock isn’t precious or defensive about his opus, and has a number of ever-increasing collaborators across the globe, each of whom bring something unique to his mythos: some supply sub-Hollywood CGI elements or basic narrative twists, whilst others add new characters to his small-scale epic, showcasing modern communication technologies by engaging in shot-reverse-shot conversations between Dark and his many recurring enemies/friends.

Many mainstream media producers have attempted to integrate online video platforms into their elitist hierarchies through ultimately vacuous competitions, aimed at the same home-based content producers who use Youtube et al to their advantaged, but these only widen the gap between them (the professional, and therefore accepted, producers) and us (the non-professionals and ‘amateurs’) rather than addressing the issues consumer-based programme creation raises within the industry’s rigid structures. With Damon Dark, Sherlock tries to close that gap, attempting a scenario that would be impossible within the corridors of the BBC or Channel 4 – both of whom offer online participation to their audiences here in the UK, but simultaneously refuse them standard distribution and creative access to commercial programming – by channelling the creative forces of those sitting on the other end of the computer screen. Recently (as we write) he has returned to the more simplistic set-up of his earlier creation, but, in an industry where doors remain firmly closed to independent filmmakers, screenwriters and actors, the spirit of cooperation exhibited by Sherlock should be seen as an example of what modern communication technologies can offer the mass audio-visual media – it has undoubtedly spawned and inspired a large number of other projects and filmmakers who likewise rejoice in the open attitudes it supports. And, as Damon Dark enjoys a showcase again on Australian community television, we can only hope that the message reaches a wider audience than mainstream media professionals are willing to give to a self-ruling, free voice.

Visit Adrian Sherlock’s website

Watch Damon Dark on YouTube

UPDATE: Following this article, correspondence with Sherlock has resulted in to our scripting an original Damon Dark episode which he has filmed – and you can watch here.