Shooting 007: And Other Celluloid Adventures (28 page)

Having read Cubby’s interesting autobiography
When the Snow Melts,
it would seem to me that the producer appeared to be quite cynical about all of his secret agents in one way or another. After the parting of the ways with Sean Connery, George Lazenby proved to be an unworthy 007 while even Roger Moore received the tiniest little dig from this great producer, although in Roger’s case you would need a magnifying glass to spot it; they really were great pals. Timothy Dalton’s two Bond films were not enough to pass judgement with the Broccoli pen, but from all I have witnessed in my twenty years of service with three secret agents, I would suggest that Cubby’s relationship with Roger was closer than with any of his other 007 agents. A part of Roger surely died when hearing of Cubby’s sad passing.

The only downside of living in Paris was the expense, as I had rented a small apartment in the 16th Arrondissement. To compensate for this, a generous
per diem
occasionally allowed me to hop on a plane back to England for the weekend, following Lewis’s example. Most weekends we shared a car to Charles de Gaulle airport, where on one occasion we arrived late and found ourselves at the back of a very long queue.

‘Alec, stay close to me!’ Lewis whispered in my ear.

Bewildered, I looked on as Lewis, the master of deception, slowly inched his way past the other passengers in the queue, occasionally striking up a conversation with some to cover up his outrageous behaviour, which he did with surprising ease, at the same time towing along his embarrassed camera operator until we soon found ourselves nearing the front of the queue. It would seem this was a pastime which Lewis particularly enjoyed – never once was he challenged by others in the queue. As for me, it was the first and last time I would go through this embarrassing ruse, preferring to stay at the back and watch Lewis weave his way through the crowd.

Although
Moonraker
was filmed outside the UK, the usual Ministry officials were still around, if just a little longer in the tooth. Bernard Lee once again played M; Desmond Llewelyn reprised his role as Q, with the delightful Lois Maxwell continuing as the ever-reliable Miss Moneypenny. Michael Lonsdale would be cast in the obligatory role of the Bond villain, while Bond girl Lois Chiles was Dr Holly Goodhead, joining 007 on his mission into space, where I floated around, trying to keep hold of my handheld camera!

It was time to move up the ladder and start thinking in terms of lighting, which of course is easier said than done unless a friendly producer or director is prepared to give you that big break. Of course it might never happen, but either way it would be a difficult decision to make, leaving behind the glamorous world of James Bond, trying instead to find employment on even the smallest of B movies as a cinematographer. Should the dice fall the wrong way it would be easy to fall into the trap of giving up, becoming yet another cynical failure in the history books.

Perhaps an agent would help with the transition, but with few realistic lighting credits to your name his job would be made much more difficult. Perhaps a necessary sacrifice would need to be made on my eventual journey into the unknown; should I decide to go ahead with this self-promotion, considering my limited lighting experience from the odd crumb put my way, I should at least present myself to my preferred gaffer as someone full of confidence, hoping to disguise any potential weaknesses that I might have had.

The gaffer, of course, is the chief electrician, who in all probability would understand my passion to start lighting while at the same time he would be aware of my lack of experience on such matters, which could be a problem for him with his cynical team of sparks if I failed to impress. Of course he would be helpful with suggestions – perhaps too helpful – which could cause offence if not followed, or could even divert me from my own thoughts or ideas. I’m weak … obviously I was not ready to move up yet!

Watching different cinematographers go about lighting over the years and their techniques, their preferred gaffers usually got to know enough about their boss’s preferences even to pre-light a set, making his life less arduous under the perennial issues of an over-ambitious call sheet. Jack Cardiff’s gaffer would not find his task easy as they prepared for the cinematographer’s arrival on the set; only then would Jack start his private ‘painting’, possibly making the pre-light null and void. Jack Cardiff was very much a spur-of-the-moment cinematographer, his approach to lighting a personal expression likened to an artist mixing colours in his painting, inspired by his extraordinary imagination. A little poetic, you think? Well, perhaps, but in Jack Cardiff’s case I believe this to be true. One could argue that this is the same of all cinematographers but again I would disagree: the phrase ‘That’ll do’ would never spring to mind for Jack Cardiff.

In the many discussions we shared together, the artist/cinematographer spoke of his early days visiting art galleries, studying the painters’ style, light source, contrast, even the use of backlighting. In his retirement Jack also took to painting, so perhaps one day a ‘Cardiff’ will be as famous as the artists he so admired. It was on Jack’s advice that I visited the Rembrandt Museum in Amsterdam.

‘Alec, stand back and look carefully at the paintings and take time with what you see.’

Needless to say, I did, although to be honest I gained little from the experience as my taste lay more with the art of Turner and Constable.

Yet among all the compliments, I hold in admiration this cinematographer’s bold approach to lighting. Notwithstanding my limited understanding of the subject at that time, there were times when Jack Cardiff surprised me, when he would occasionally turn to use one of his own mix of filters which he carried with him in a little case, or possibly add the odd filter to a light – similar to an artist mixing paints. From behind the camera I silently questioned the boldness of Jack’s dangerous insight, or his incredible courage where I could only sit and wonder if I was witnessing a disaster in the making. But there was little chance of that happening with Jack Cardiff, who was simply ‘painting’ his canvas on the set, the final result giving much in which to delight.

One story Jack told me was when he was watching the rushes with the director sitting next to him. After a while, the director whispered, ‘Jack, it looks rather dark to me!’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ came the cinematographer’s whispered reply, ‘but, you see, that’s how I see this scene.’

There was no further comment from the director. To be honest, even this nonentity was sometimes surprised by Jack’s boldness, but at least I knew enough not to question it.

The only reason I mention this story is that Jack Cardiff was way ahead of his time when it came to creating more and more beautiful images on our screens. Damn it, I wish I had his courage, his boldness to do the things he saw in his mind’s eye! Even so I believe that my experience of working with the master would help my experimental moments in my own ‘painting’, while always keeping in mind that without the authority of the master’s back-up it could well end up in my being sacked!

As Jack Cardiff’s camera operator I would inevitably postpone any ideas I had of moving up to lighting. My plan now was to observe Jack, a cinematographer who broke the so-called rules of cinematography – at least the rules I had come to know by way of my mentor Harry Waxman. Playing it safe was not in Jack’s vocabulary, whereas Harry would always respect the rules; I was still not sure where I stood with these different opinions. Under Harry’s wing I obeyed the rules but with Jack this could easily have cut short my career.

With this in mind I decided I would learn more from working with Jack on his next film
Avalanche Express
, where I would meet up with Lee Marvin a second time. A quick hug would cement our respect for each other, while at the same time I knew there would be occasions when our leading man might not be in the best state of health. I was wrong in this assumption as Lee appeared to be a totally different person from
Shout at the Devil
.

This should have left our director with few problems to be concerned with, but Mark Robson was himself in very poor health at the time, working from his very cold air-conditioned Winnebago while outside Munich was going through an unrelenting heat wave. With Mark’s confinement it was sometimes necessary for me to visit him in his trailer to check on the director’s requirements from the camera’s point of view, before returning to the stifling heat where my glasses quickly steamed up. Only when everything was ready would the director come out to direct the action, before quickly returning to his chilly mobile home once it was in the can.

Unfortunately it would seem that
Avalanche Express
was plagued with illness as Robert Shaw, our other lead actor, was also unwell during the filming, which only added more problems for our ailing director; even so Mark managed to struggle on through to the end of filming, helped by the love of his kindly wife, who nursed him throughout. It would not be a surprise to learn that both Mark and Robert sadly passed on shortly after filming was completed.

Unfortunately
Avalanche Express
was a disappointing film, coming from a poor script about a Russian general played by Robert Shaw who is defecting to the West with the help of CIA agent Harry Wargrave (Lee Marvin). The supporting actors were Maximilian Schell, Horst Buchholz and Mike Connors, with Linda Evans in the female lead. Although the plot deepens, the film offered little to keep an audience’s interest; the critics would not be fooled, either, voicing their opinions accordingly, but at least this was another opportunity for me to watch the grand master of lighting at work.

By contrast,
The Awakening
would be an interesting horror script based on Egyptian mythology, although no doubt historians would find the story disappointing – more than likely inaccurate or impossible. On the other hand, a simpleton like me would prefer to enjoy the idea of believing that it could all be true – films are meant to entertain, after all. The story was of an archaeologist (Charlton Heston) who goes in search of the tomb of a past evil Egyptian queen, Kara. When he opens the vault the queen’s cursed spirit escapes from the tomb, acquiring residence in the womb of Heston’s pregnant wife, where the dead queen is now free to possess his unborn child.

Once again, the subject would take us to the favoured tourist locations in Egypt, Luxor and the river Nile, ending up in the Valley of the Kings. This was a period when films often used Egyptian mythology as backgrounds to the story, which inevitably meant using the same locations and background – occasionally virtually identical shots. Even so, for all the effort, I was not sure the film really achieved the hopes of the producers or its director Mike Newell, for whom I had much respect.

This would be the last film where I would have the privilege of operating the camera for Jack Cardiff OBE, BSC. Jack will rightly be remembered as one of the great British cinematographers of the age; with his passing I considered myself privileged to have worked with this wonderful, imaginative cinematographer, though the question remains, did I learn anything from the master? In humility I believe that I did, though probably not enough to be more experimental with my own ‘painting’, unlike Jack Cardiff who would never back away from a challenge.