The Man Whose Mind Exploded

He used to cycle around Kemp Town with his undercarriage on display and a cape flying around behind his back.

He’s covered in tattoos and once stood naked on a plinth for an entire night as a piece of performance art at what used to be The Gloucester nightclub in Gloucester Place.

Legend has it he knew The Rolling Stones and Derek Jarman. He was also roped into artistic endeavours with Salvador Dali.

“No story about Drako is ever entirely reliable,” explains filmmaker Toby Amies, who has known the enigma for years – first to make a video for the band Oddfellow’s Casino which led to a BBC Radio 4 documentary about Drako, and finally a film, The Man Whose Mind Exploded.

Amies outlines his understanding of the events which led to Drako meeting Dali: Drako was at a swimming pool in Paris when two girls, instructed by Dali to “bring him an angel”, picked him out.

“After that, Dali painted Drako, using him in a rather ugly picture. Then he used to hang out at Dali’s place in Spain, appearing in a very odd and not terribly enjoyable film.”

Amies is talking of Soft Self-Portrait Of Salvador Dali, a documentary about the surrealist artist narrated by Orson Welles.

The tagline for The Man Whose Mind Exploded, beneath a shot of Drako steaming towards the camera, is, “Two nervous breakdowns, two attempted suicides and two comas. I’m in my seventh life now and I love it all”.

Drako now suffers from anterograde amnesia, which means he can’t create new memories. A tattoo on his hand, “trust absolute unconditional”, is his reminder.

Amies says, “It’s his way of dealing with a universe he was increasingly disconnected from due to his brain damage. If I could not remember what I was doing five minutes ago, I would be terrified. Drako chooses to believe in a benevolent universe and deity. He has ‘total faith in The Almighty’, without doubt or reservation, that all will be well.”

After five years making the film, Amies admits the pair’s relationship became far more than film-maker and subject. He ended up spending more time worrying for Drako’s wellbeing than about what the next shot might be.

“The two things became synonymous. I was told once that the first rule of documentary filmmaking was not to fall in love with your subject. But that got broken fairly early on.

“It’s a film about my relationship with Drako and a lot of that relationship is a struggle, as I care for Drako while he’s not really caring for himself.”

Amies wanted to delve deeper into Drako’s life after making the Radio 4 documentary because listeners became curious about the inside of his house after hearing it discussed on the airwaves.

He describes Drako’s living room thus: “Imagine your memory as a series of notes to yourself inside your head, both written and pictorial, all of it, even the embarrassing and explicit bits. And then ‘explode’ that into your living room. A 3D autobiographical collage? The work of an outsider interior designer.”

Amies explains that along with the film editor, Brightonian Jim Scott, he took great care to avoid objectifying Drako.

“What I love about Drako most is that, while he’s undoubtedly odd, he’s unapologetic and he forces you to accept a broader idea of what it is to be human. He was part of, and at the centre of, lots of stories. The process of making a film like this is very reductive and we chose to tell the story of my relationship with him.

“He is a funny motherf*****, so the jokes come easy but they’re not at his expense.”

When Amies asks Drako in the trailer, “Do you think it’s fair for me to be making a film about you when I know you’ve got brain damage?” we know its important.

He says the question is essential to understanding the film.

“I worked closely with Drako’s family to ensure there was consent but I also felt it was important to involve the audience and give them an opportunity to decide whether they were watching and, by implication, participating in something that was exploitative rather than explorative.

“I find a lot of contemporary television very prurient and exploitative and wanted to make something that was inquisitive without being unfair on or to its subject.”

• Showing at Duke Of York’s Picturehouse, Preston Circus, Brighton, 9pm, November 27, and at Duke's@Komedia, Gardner Street, Brighton, 9.15pm, November 28. 
• Call 0871 902 5728 for tickets.