Every December the same thing happens.
It gets cold, London pretends it’s the article, the nation collectively prepares for the holidays, and someone at Raindance (usually me) decides:
“Now is the time to discount festival passes.”
And without fail, someone writes to me:
“WTF, Elliot? It’s DECEMBER. I’m broke. I’m buying gifts. I’m funding the Tesco holiday booze mountain. Why are you doing this to me?”
Here’s the secret:
I’m not doing it to you.
I’m doing it for you.
Because every June, without exception, a wave of filmmakers floods my inbox with a spectacular chorus of regret:
“I wish I’d bought my pass when it was cheaper.”
“I didn’t realise I’d be THIS excited to go.”
“I could’ve saved half a month’s rent.”
“Do you still have the discount code…? Please?”
So this year, I’m saving you from Future You.
I’m giving you the one chance to buy a Raindance Pass at a price that would make an accountant hyperventilate.
And if that means sacrificing one bottle of Tesco holiday rum… well, that’s between you and your coping mechanisms.
Here are the seven reasons why this ridiculous December sale might just be the smartest thing you do all year.
7 Reasons You Should Ignore Tesco’s Holiday Booze Aisle and Buy a Raindance Pass in December**
Look, I get it.
It’s December.
Your wallet is recovering from twelve months of bills, birthdays, broken boilers, and the annual “Why is Christmas so expensive?” panic.
And now — smack in the middle of your summer budgeting spreadsheet — Raindance appears, waving a 37% OFF FESTIVAL PASSES sign like some deranged indie-cinema Santa Claus.
You think:
“Why the hell are festival passes on sale NOW? I need to buy gifts. I need to buy food. I need to survive.”
But here’s the truth no one wants to admit:
Future You will hate Present You if you don’t grab this now.
Because the only thing worse than being broke in December…
…is being broke and pass-less in June when Raindance rolls around.
So here it is — the Raindance Seven explaining exactly why you should absolutely reduce the Tesco holiday booze bill, skip one overpriced Pret sandwich, and gift yourself (or Aunt Emma, Patron Saint of Indie Film) a Raindance Pass today.
1. Because the Price Will Never Be This Low Again (Ever.)
This is not marketing hyperbole.
This is the only time all year Raindance does a truly savage discount.
If Raindance were a studio film, this would be the scene where the accountant has a panic attack.
Future You, in June, will be whispering:
“WHY didn’t I buy in December when it was 37% off??”
Save yourself that humiliation.
2. Because You Deserve a Gift That Doesn’t Come in a Plastic Bag
Let’s be honest.
Most December purchases are boring: deodorant, salad bags, emergency batteries, and that bottle of Tesco own-brand wine you pretend is “actually pretty good.”
A Raindance Pass isn’t a consumable.
It’s a flex.
It’s a promise you make to yourself:
“I will feed my creativity, not just the cat.”
Gift yourself the thing that actually makes your year better.
3. Because Indie Filmmaking Is Cheaper Than Therapy (But Only Slightly)
A Raindance Pass gives you:
-
Films you absolutely won’t find on Netflix.
-
Q&As with people who’ve actually survived making movies.
-
Parties full of filmmakers who understand why you’re mentally unwell.
You’ll leave the festival emotionally repaired enough to survive Christmas dinner with your extended family.
That alone is worth the price.
4. Because You’ll Never Again Say “Next Year I’ll Go”
Every filmmaker says this.
Every filmmaker regrets this.
Raindance is one of the very few festivals where you don’t need an agent, a publicist, a film degree, or a trust fund to belong.
If you show up, you’re in.
Buy the pass now and eliminate the annual self-loathing that arrives when you see your friends posting their Raindance photos without you.
5. Because Networking Should Not Feel Like Dental Surgery
Here’s the thing about Raindance people:
They’re weird.
Beautifully weird.
Exactly the kind of weird you need in your life.
You’ll meet collaborators, actors, DPs, writers, editors, angry auteurs, people with scripts scribbled on napkins, people who’ve mortgaged their flat for a short film, and people who will become your tribe.
Networking at Raindance feels more like joining a cult — but a friendly one where people argue about lenses.
6. Because You Can Absolutely Gift Aunt Emma the Thing She Actually Wants
You said she’s an indie film freak.
This solves your Christmas present, her birthday present, and probably your karmic debt.
Imagine her face:
“You got me a Raindance Pass??”
You’ve just become the favourite relative.
Move over cousins.
7. Because Raindance Doesn’t Teach Filmmaking — We Make Filmmakers
This is the big one.
A Raindance Pass is not access to screenings.
It’s access to a culture, to a movement, to Britain’s largest independent filmmaking community.
You’re not just sitting in cinemas.
You’re joining the ecosystem that created careers, discovered voices, launched the British Independent Film Awards, and stubbornly refused to die even when the industry said indie film was finished.
Buying your pass early says one thing:
“I’m serious about being part of this world.”
And that changes everything.
Final Thought:
Self-Gifting Is Not a Crime — It’s Survival**
Your Tesco booze bill will not change your life.
A Raindance Pass might.
June will come faster than you think.
And when the lights go down in Screen 3 and the first frame rolls, you’ll thank yourself for being the smart, slightly reckless, gloriously indie human who bought early.
If you don’t buy it for your career…
If you don’t buy it for your creativity…
Buy it so you never again mumble:
“Yeah… I meant to go this year…”
Look — life is expensive.
Filmmaking is expensive.
Tesco’s “Christmas” booze offers are suspiciously expensive.
But investing in your creative life?
That’s priceless.
A Raindance Pass isn’t a ticket.
It’s a signal.
A declaration.
A quiet agreement you make with yourself:
“I’m going to be part of this world — not watching from the sidelines.”
When June arrives, and Leicester Square fills with filmmakers, dreamers, rebels, misfits, and NonDë maniacs from around the world, you’ll walk into the festival knowing one crucial thing:
You didn’t hesitate.
You didn’t wait.
You backed yourself.
And trust me — in this industry, that single act of self-belief pays you back a hundred different ways.
So buy the pass.
Gift the pass.
Self-gift the pass (highly recommended).
Give Aunt Emma the best Christmas of her life.
And come join us for the next chapter of Raindance — where we don’t just teach filmmaking.
We make filmmakers.
Photo Credit: Bertie Watson
I founded Raindance Film Festival in 1993 because the British film industry was closed, polite, and congratulating itself while shutting new filmmakers out.
I co-founded the British Independent Film Awards in 1998 because British indie film deserved more than a shrug, a pat on the head, and a Tuesday night screening.
Raindance didn’t start as a brand. It started as a rebellion: film training without gatekeepers, a festival without permission, and a community built by filmmakers who weren’t waiting to be invited in.
Later, we took it global: Toronto, Vancouver, New York, LA, Berlin, and Brussels, because independent film doesn’t belong to one city, one class, or one accent.
I’ve produced 700+ short films and seven features, including Deadly Virtues (2014) and ALICE, which won the SXSW Grand Jury Prize (2019) not because someone “discovered” us, but because the work earned its place.
I’ve written three books used by filmmakers worldwide because too many courses taught compliance instead of survival.
In 2009, I was awarded a PhD for services to film education, ironic, given that most of my career has been about tearing down the rules that education insisted you follow.
I don’t believe in waiting for permission.I believe in making work, building systems, and forcing the industry to catch up.
Specialties: Independent Film (the real kind) · Producing · Writing · Film Education · Festivals · Breaking Broken Systems
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