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Having worked at the BBC and produced the Elijah Wood football hooligan vehicle Green Street, Peterhead born Jon S. Baird has found his calling as a director. Cass, the true story of notorious West Ham casual Cass Pennant, marks him out as a filmmaker to watch.

What sparked your interest in filmmaking?

I think it was theatre first. I come from a strange background. My dad was a builder and my mum was a nurse, and I had an uncle who lived in the south of England, so we used to take holidays down there. When we were there we always used to go the theatre, to see musicals, so from the age of five or six I was really into performance. As I got older - old enough to fully appreciate it - I gravitated towards cinema. I grew up in Peterhead, just outside Aberdeen, the kind of place where you don’t tell anyone you want to be a filmmaker, for fear of what they might do to you! I graduated from Aberdeen Uni, and kept my ambitions to myself, until I moved to London and a job at the BBC. I worked my way up to researcher in the comedy department. They wanted to showcase new talent, so I was able to make a short film, It’s A Casual Life, about a world I was familiar with - football casuals in Aberdeen – with Dougie Brimson, and that’s how I was introduced to the American company behind Green Street. I learned a lot from that experience - of how to do things, and how not to do things – and it was on that film that I met Cass Pennant.

Were you already familiar with his story?

The only thing I knew about Cass was that he was a hooligan; he had this Keyser Söze -like reputation in that world, which was quite intimidating. Anyway, he gave me his autobiography, which I expected to be really one dimensional like most of these books. The first thing I thought was “This’ll be going in the bin”. But the first few chapters just grabbed me. He talks about how he was shot, how he developed post-traumatic stress. I knew there was a story there, one that could be better than those other films about characters like this. There was real scope for social commentary, and I always saw it as social realism. I knew it could be so much more than just a “lad” film.

How did you go about raising the money?

We knew it would be low budget, but the budget always was as it is. We had a problem in that our major financier pulled out just before shooting started. We couldn’t shoot on 35mm, so we were left with the choice of 16mm or HD, but we felt that period films don’t work in HD. Shooting on film also meant we could change the film stock as the story progresses – it gradually begins to look better as time goes by.

You assembled quite a cast. There are many established faces, but Nonso Anozie, who plays Cass, is relatively unknown outside theatre. Had you seen him on stage, or did he go through an audition process?

It was tricky. Cass is a heavily built, six foot six black man, so you’re limited in Britain for choice. There aren’t many actors fitting that description, that physicality. Fortunately, we saw Nonso on stage, and we knew he’d been working in films, the likes of Atonement, Happy-Go-Lucky and RocknRolla. We liked him, and when we approached him, he immediately got the story. He’d read the book and knew what elements were important. As for the rest of the cast, we mainly offered actors we’d seen elsewhere, there wasn’t much auditioning: Nathalie Press we’d seen in My Summer of Love, Linda Bassett from East Is East, who I thought would be ideal for Cass’ mum, and Leo Gregory I’d worked with on Green Street.

If you’re making a hooligan film, there is always the risk of glamorising that world. Was this a concern?

I never saw it as a hooligan film. It’s a biopic that happens to be set in that world. If we wanted to glamorise hooliganism, we’d have had more blood and guts, more fight scenes, and cut them to a thumping soundtrack. Our schedule placed more emphasis on the dramatic scenes, so we could spend more time on the emotions. As I said, it’s social realism. The violence was something we only wanted to give an impression of. A little bit is all the audience needs. This a true story, it’s what Cass went through, so there’s no way of avoiding it.

There have been many British films about this way of life, most recently of course Green Street and The Football Factory, while we can go back to the likes of ID and The Firm. Why do filmmakers, and audiences, keep returning to this subject matter?

It depends on how you look at it. Many men – and women - love football. If you’re interested in football, you’ll support a team and align yourself with a certain tribe, so these stories are easy for people to relate to, you don’t need to be a hooligan to feel that. Most people who watch football aren’t, but they can understand that mentality. Also, it’s very British, very specific to the culture. These films tend to do well in the UK but they don’t always travel so well, at least not to America.

Was that one of the barriers you faced in trying to raise the money, that there may not be anything for the American market?

I think so, but there were all kinds of barriers: the fact that we had a black lead, he wasn’t played by an established actor, or that I wasn’t an established director. I learned a lot about the business, the kinds of chances people are willing to take. We’ve been very lucky though. Pre-orders for the DVD have been fantastic, I think we’re number four on the HMV charts. Only the blockbusters like Tropic Thunder are ahead of us. It’s great, and it shows that if you tell interesting stories, you’ll find an audience. It’s not all about making a load of money on the first weekend.

We’ve mentioned the tradition of films Cass belongs to, and you’ve talked about social realism. Who were your major influences?

When I started the project, I saw it as somewhere between Mike Leigh and Stanley Kubrick. I know that may sound like a strange pairing, but I’ve always had a fascination with Kubrick’s photography, his use of symmetry. If you look at the funeral scene, or the scene we call the Gauntlet of Hate (where Cass is confronted by racist thugs), we were always trying to shoot with wide-angle lenses, in symmetrical frames. The Mike Leigh influence can be seen in things like the bathroom scene. We were never consciously trying to replicate any filmmaker’s style or scenes from other movies, of course. The story should always dictate the style, but you’re obviously influenced by your favourite directors. Hopefully it’s all completely original!

The film deals with issues of prejudice and identity politics. What relevance do these have to you?

Well I grew up in Peterhead, and I always felt like an outsider, so that was the first thing that attracted me to the film. I think we’ve all felt that way at some point, that we’re different from everyone else and not welcome. Also, my grandmother was prominent in Barnardo’s, so much of my youth was spent collecting money for them in the local supermarket. I though it was interesting that this hard man had been adopted through Barnardo’s by a woman not unlike my grandmother. And I think people are always searching for an identity, this will always be the case. It was interesting to spend a year with Cass and learn about who he was and how he defined himself. The thing that always got to him most was that he had a girl’s name in a patriarchal society (his real name is Carol). He is still embarrassed by that, yet he can take any racial slur. They have never bothered him as much as his real name.

What did he make of the film?

Nobody is happier with the film than Cass. The first time we showed it to him, he told me “you really nailed my life. Thanks for that”. I’m chuffed with the response we’ve had from everyone, really. Hooligans won’t like it because it’s not hard enough for them. It’s a film about real people, and real people have been saying good things.

What advice would you give to aspiring filmmakers?

Making a film is a difficult journey; it can take up years of your life. I know it’s a cliché, but you just can’t take no for an answer. Alexander Mackendrick’s book On Film-making should be required reading for every young filmmaker. It talks about scripts, how they are not just written but re-written and re-written. You’ve got to be self-critical; you’ve got to show your script to everyone, and not just friends and family. You need objectivity. Show your script to people in the industry; make friends with people in production and distribution. You need to be a real pain in the arse about it. Do a short film that’s commercial and controversial. When I made It’s A Casual Life, I sent it out to sports editors at newspapers, and this was during the run up to what was set to be a pretty hairy match between England and Turkey. You can’t be shy: get your name out there and be the most tenacious person you can be. Scottish people are particularly good at this!

What future projects do you have lined up?

I’m in the early stages of another true story, covering a major political event in the 80s. I can’t say what, but it’s along the lines of Paul Greengrass and what he did with Bloody Sunday.

Would you like to make a feature film in Scotland?

Absolutely. I’m working on an Irvine Welsh adaptation, though I can’t say what that is, and I’ve co-written a film called Discovering Carlos, a dark comedy set in Aberdeen. I love Scottish comedy, things like Chewin’ the Fat and Still Game. We can get away with so much more. There’s something about the Scottish sense of humour that’s darker than anywhere else. I don’t know why!