If partaking in a threesome, that proved hugely anticlimactic, and meeting one of my idols, who turned out to be a complete knob, has taught me anything, it’s that fantasies and dreams should probably remain as that – deliciously kinky, naively gleeful thoughts strictly confined to one’s own imagination. But what if you could make them a reality that was guaranteed to play out in the exact way you wanted them to? And what if you could enjoy them on-demand and from the comfort of your own home, safeguarded against judgement, shame and disappointment? Directed by Chung Nguyen, Dream World demonstrates how, for the right price and with the help of some pretty open-minded filmmakers, you can do just that.
Dream World offers a scrumptious opportunity to take a sneak peek into the inner workings of people’s most intimate fantasies, but it also zooms in a little bit closer. Cleverly framed around a charismatic, almost annoyingly happily married couple, the 13-minute documentary is hugely entertaining and though the topic alone has undeniable pulling power, the themes it depicts allow plenty of elbow room for thought and reflection too. Whether you’re completely sold on the idea or a little sceptical, like I was, Dream World will likely make you take stock of how much your own secret desires and dreams affect your everyday life and just how significant it could be to release them into the real world.
The documentary follows Rhiannon and Dan Humes – a couple of prolific filmmakers (and cat owners), who earn their living by working with actors, directing and filming fantasy scripts written by their paying customers. As expected, some of these are of a sexual and fetishist nature, but we also discover that the Humes have been asked to make plenty of other types of videos, including recreating people’s childhood memories and even providing an answer to a heartfelt cry for help.
“I wanted to explore how different people experience and find meaning in their lives, especially those who don’t have an obvious way to access it” – director Nguyen shared with S/W. “One of the subjects described the customs video industry as ‘an island of misfit toys’. It collects a variety of personalities that didn’t fit in anywhere else and found each other on the fringes of society. They get to make their own rules and define what is meaningful and beautiful. I really wanted to see the human side of people who are often stigmatized by society and explore what was profound and poetic about their lives”.
I must confess, I wasn’t initially sold on the concept of turning people’s fantasies into custom films, and I did briefly consider that the Humes’ might be at best naive, or at worst complicit in creating something far more sinister than what appeared to be harmless videos. But Nguyen has excelled at pulling out some genuinely compelling moments and in doing so has shifted the focus from the sensationalist nature of this rather unusual family business to the humanity that lies at the heart of it.
The Humes’ obvious passion and love for their work goes a long way in alleviating the doubts too, convincing the sceptics in the audience that this couple really do use their craft to help people. Whether it’s by unburdening them of the weight of shame or suppressed desire, or by rewriting their past and giving it, ahem, a happy ending, the service they provide seems to be motivated by much more than money. The way I see it, this is just another form of therapy, albeit a more risqué one. But maybe the Humes put it best when they said they’re “in the business of making people happy”. How can anyone argue against that?