Shooting 007: And Other Celluloid Adventures (29 page)

Flashback: The importance of being Ernest, or Ernie Day. Ernie was at his peak as first-choice camera operator to both David Lean and Ken Annakin. However, Ernie was also popular with actresses as he quietly charmed them with his pleasing personality when in need of their cooperation – a technique I would note and gladly follow.

I wondered if this first-choice label could be the reason why Ernie held back from becoming a cinematographer for so long. Sadly I would never learn the answer to that question but in 1971 the time finally arrived for Ernie to move up with a call from the actor David Hemmings, who was to write and direct his first film with Ernie as his chosen cinematographer. It was a shrewd choice by David, knowing that Ernie’s calm composure and diplomatic skills with actors would steer him through the frightening pressures to which a new director would be exposed.

With
Running
Scared
keeping Ernie busy with the lighting he would need a camera operator ‘who he could work with’ – Ernie’s words! Although there were many established camera operators available at the time, for reasons known only to him he chose to offer the position to this relatively new camera operator still struggling for recognition. Of course I had worked with Ernie before on
Swiss Family Robinson
and other films where we had shared a good working relationship in Harry Waxman’s team, but I had no idea or reason to believe that I would be Ernie’s choice as camera operator. The offer was of course eagerly accepted before he had time to change his mind.

It was some weeks later at a more appropriate time that I asked Ernie about his thoughts on this matter, reminding him that I was still fairly new to camera operating while there were many more experienced operators available at the time. Ernie carefully – deliberately – measured his reply, hoping not to offend.

‘I need a camera operator who would be a help to me rather than someone with a strong personality!’

At the time I thought this an interesting reply if not quite the compliment for which I was looking, leaving me to draw on my own conclusions … then deciding that it would not be to my advantage to pursue the matter further. In effect, Ernie was indicating that he wanted a camera operator he could oversee on the film; he would get the set-ups the way he wanted them, believing that this would have caused offence to a more experienced camera operator. I fitted the bill nicely; Ernie knew that there was little chance of a personality clash with Alec Mills, though on the other hand being intimidated by Ernie Day was no bad thing as I would learn from the master and would gladly follow his technique throughout my operating career.

As an aside, camera operators in the UK are usually involved in lining up the sequence with the directors when getting the set-up. I did this, and I make no apology for that, but this usually works with the cinematographer’s support, his nod of approval confirming that I had not overstepped the mark by making it impossible for him to position his lights or creating unnecessary time constraints. I sometimes wonder if this is why American cinematographers get the set-ups with the director, leaving the camera operator just to operate the camera.

Understandably, David cast actors whom he had been comfortable with in the past: Maxine Audley, Georgia Brown, Gayle Hunnicutt, Edward Underdown and Robert Powell, all happily contributing to David’s debut as director, who in turn shared his opportunity with Ernie Day. Both director and cinematographer were confident in their new roles with David’s wise choice and Ernie’s technical expertise paying dividends with the photography.

Running Scared
was an attention-grabbing subject filmed in the Midlands, which I struggle to recall accurately to this day. I vaguely remember that it was the story of a student who commits suicide while his friend (played by Robert Powell) looks on, having promised not to interfere, before later falling in love with his dead friend’s sister – a strange theme that enjoyed a noticeable Michelangelo Antonioni influence hovering in the background under David’s direction, a devoted admirer of the Italian director. Even so I would hesitate to claim that the film did well at the box office.

Possibly more important, even if I did not know it at the time, was the additional bonus of working with the producer Stanley O’Toole, who in the future would play an important role in the development of my own career both as a cinematographer and director, which is how it works when contacts become friends.

The day my schooling came to an end was the start of my real education, when I started to learn about people and their strange customs. My tutor was the cinema which would inevitably become my addiction, while not forgetting the role of television documentaries. My filming education came from a mixture of both; I would learn to respect my colleagues who work in documentary films where danger often dwells – a word I choose carefully when recalling filming on
Visit
to a
Chief’s
Son.

Visit
was my third film with Ernie, having also worked together on
Made
for director John Mackenzie, with Carol White and the folk rock singer Roy Harper. This time we would be on location in Africa, filming a simple story of a white boy’s friendship with the son of a Masai chief – hardly exciting material for a film, you would think, and you would be right, but at least this experience would leave me with a few interesting tales to tell on a cold winter’s night back home.

Filming in Kenya meant living under canvas – safari time – where a hippopotamus suddenly burst to the surface with the sole intention of annihilating my focus puller Doug Milsome and me when we dared to get too close while filming her new offspring, which our tracker conveniently forgot to mention as we silently paddled down an unnamed river. Suddenly it was time to abandon ship and run like hell, dragging the camera equipment with us into a thicket, not sure what awaited us there! This would be a normal daily routine with our filming, never knowing where the next hazard would come from. Sitting around the campfire at night we would then relive our daily exploits, with the odd exaggeration of the close calls we had shared, which you could be sure would quickly be added to the growing list of narrow escapes. I don’t ever recall sleeping in a tent as a boy scout. In Kenya a camp bearer outside would make sure that any unwelcome nocturnal visitors did not enter our tents while we were asleep.

Nor was the realism only behind the camera. One scene in the script called for the young Masai boy, played by Jesse Kinaru, to be circumcised in a tribal custom proclaiming that the boy had now become a man – a warrior! It happened that our Masai boy was due for this procedure, which by tradition takes place at the first light of dawn. In his wisdom our kindly director Lamont Johnson suggested we should film the moment at the boy’s real ceremony rather than as a staged scene. However, to do this we would need permission from the witchdoctor who would be performing this delicate operation. It seemed that the old man was happy with this; his only proviso was that the ceremony should not be disturbed by our filming. With the deal done and palms crossed one felt as if the old man had worked with film people before.

We arrived at the location in the early hours and well before the first signs of light had appeared on the horizon; it was a cold, early morning with a tranquil atmosphere as the Masai community slept peacefully in their huts. In preparation for the delicate operation the young boy had been put into a cold running stream for an hour or so to freeze his genitalia, and it was in this quiet, serene setting that Lamont whispered his instructions to me: ‘Alec, get as close as you can with the camera without disturbing the old man or the proceedings … be careful not to upset him!’

With the ritual only minutes away, Doug and I crawled slowly to our approved position, staying low, hoping not to be too obvious or disturbing. Without the luxury of lights or fast stock Ernie could only hope that we had enough exposure to record the ceremony on film. At this point an eerie silence took over the proceedings, a cold, gentle breeze passed by without a murmur from anyone as we waited on dawn. Still no one spoke as the ageing witchdoctor worked himself up into a state of excitement, and yet another chill passed as we waited on Ernie’s borderline exposure before we got the thumbs-up, which finally came, with the director signalling the good news to me. Show time!

Testicles frozen, the boy came out of the water on cue, accompanied by the grinding noise of my handheld Arri IIC camera, which from a distance was not too disruptive for the old man. We had to get this right – there was no question of a take two with this scene. Checking back with the director to see if we had enough footage to establish the master scene as planned, it seemed that he was happy. However, Ernie gave the famous ‘get closer’ signal, which was not in the draft that the director had given me. Doug and I crawled closer, knowing that the nearer we moved to the operation the more likely the noise of the camera would be heard, but again this appeared to be no problem for the witchdoctor. With our confidence growing, we felt we could do almost anything.

‘Get closer …’

More waving instructions came from my hero, who was now way back in the distant background. However, this time our intrusion came at the time when the witchdoctor was just sharpening his knife for the big cut, which was too much for the old man to accept. He turned towards me, looking directly into the camera – which of course no actor would do – his painted face no longer hiding his frustration. This time I had gone too far! Waving his knife in my direction, he made it clear that he was not pleased with this close intrusion. Doug and I froze and remained still as another cold breeze passed, though more than likely this was our nerves rattling. One thing was certain: I would not look back for any more instructions from our spineless colleagues in the distance.

I am pleased to tell that Doug and I survived the ordeal without any spells being cast on our bodily parts, with everything remaining intact. However, it was at this point when I decided that I would not make a good documentary cameraman.

Visit to a Chief’s Son
starred Richard Mulligan as a scientist studying the ways of the Masai people, while his son (John Philip Hogdon) becomes friendly with a young Masai boy (Jesse Kinaru). Johnny Sekka played an educated Masai who had a problem with Mulligan’s attitude towards the tribe but sadly this mixture of feature-documentary entertainment was in the end a disappointing letdown. It was an interesting experience, if dangerous at times, but offered little for an audience to appreciate the ways of the Masai people, either film or documentary-wise. But at least Ernie enjoyed good reviews for his fine work.

As part of the filming we were presented with an opportunity to film a total eclipse of the sun on 30 June 1973, with a gathering of scientists and photographers from around the world joining us for the occasion. Sadly our efforts were not used in the finished film.

My next film with Ernie would find me back in Budapest, operating the camera for the Oscar-winning director Franklin J. Schaffner, who won the award for
Patton
, the story of the legendary American general of the Second World War. It happened that Ernie had worked with the director before as his camera operator on
Nicholas and Alexandra
and he was in a position to caution me as to what might happen with our honoured leader, suggesting I might experience the same problem he had had with him.