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We Are Making A Film About Mark Fisher

We Are Making a Film About Mark Fisher is not a documentary. Less biography than collective memory-work, the project inhabits the gaps and glitches in cultural time where Fisher’s voice still resonates.

Developed openly on Instagram (@markfisherfilm), the film is stitched together with no budget, no studio backing, no institutional permissions – just the circuitry of solidarity, shared labour, and digital proximity. In this, the film enacts what Fisher insisted was still possible: decapitalised cultural production, collective agency in the ruins of neoliberal atomisation. A reminder that DIY doesn’t mean private – it means mutual.

Nine disjointed chapters drift across hauntological terrain: from Felixstowe’s windblown beaches to the CCRU’s delirial hyperstition lab; from K-punk’s midnight blog posts to the echoing chambers of The Vampire Castle; from viral slogans (it’s easier to imagine the end of the world) to streets filled with protest and grief. These aren’t scenes in a life — they’re pulses in a system that won’t let go.

The film gathers not just what Fisher said, but what he summoned. Brexit. Thatcher’s death. The Dump Trump rally. Starmer’s ‘Island of Strangers’ – the phrase itself sounding like something K-punk might have decoded into its spectral components.

But this is not nostalgia. Fisher warned against that. It is an evocation of failed promised futures. The film holds space for it. And in doing so, it becomes a kind of working group for collective dreaming – a counter to the doom scroll machine of capitalist realism. All about the people who connected in some way.

The CCRU was a virus. Fisher caught it, carried it forward – but unlike Nick Land, he chose care over cruelty, collectivity over collapse. Where others accelerated towards Mars (Musk et al), Fisher re-routed the signal through public pedagogy and pop music, transforming chaos into clarity. His genius was in making complexity speak in plain language, not in simplifying it, but in dignifying the reader: you can understand this. You’re not alone. The NME.

Capitalist Realism now reads as a user’s manual for the political psychosis of post-Brexit Britain: precarity normalised, education hollowed, a tech elite mimicking myth. And yet in 2025, something stirs. There is talk again of solidarity. Of reconnection. People are, quietly, logging off. Refusing the misery feed. Turning toward each other, asking new (old) questions.

This film doesn’t seek to explain Fisher. It lets him haunt the now.