Shooting 007: And Other Celluloid Adventures (43 page)

Who am I to write of directors who are good or bad or of relationships with unpredictable actors?

From clapper boy to camera assistant, camera operator to cinematographer, over the years I enjoyed working with directors whom I respected and believed worthy of that title, directors from whom I could learn while others I considered better skilled at managing schedules rather than actors. Now I can admit to being very much in the second division, but at the same time I am grateful for the experience with all of the nonsense I served up, and grateful for the knowledge which came from actors’ concerns with how a scene should be played. When both parties held to opposing opinions, I would turn to the teachings of José Quintero – a director whom I admired and who would never consider such a script.

I also appreciated Stanley’s gamble. He was a man who trusted me over the years and with whom I enjoyed a close and successful relationship, even when playing silly mind games in our salary negotiations, so it not only came as a surprise but also a disappointment to learn that he had decided to retire from the industry. Nor was I helped by the more disturbing thought that I too was knocking on a bit. Stanley had been a good friend and supporter over the years and would be sadly missed.

It was finally time for me to consider what was happening in those fast-changing times where the number of valued friends and colleagues was fast declining, lesser in number as age gave way to youth and the new generation waiting in the wings. The ‘safe’ industry of the older generation was no more but while some of my colleagues spoke in terms of retirement I still believed that I had more to offer.

Even so Margaret Thatcher’s annihilation of the unions’ closed shop policy had allowed the floodgates to open, with film schools and colleges now offering media courses. With the unions’ powers now fast in decline, working hours slowly increased – ten- or twelve-hour days – and production companies knew full well that most would go along with their unreasonable demands. My refusal to operate the camera as well as light would also reduce the number of films offered to me in the future.

The technical winds of change were also starting to blow through the camera department as the age of high definition and digital cameras challenged my cosy world of film as the new technology made life difficult if not impossible for many elders of the camera department to come to terms with. It seemed like a foreign language to me but I could have few complaints after working for so long in my film world, both black and white and colour, where one appreciated the value of different film emulsions. The joys of filming were fast fading; I remembered the distant past and the glorious memories of my interview at Carlton Hill Studios. That now produced an attack of conscience or perhaps even guilt as I had not appreciated Lil’s endeavours on my behalf; trips down memory lane would not help to right any perceived wrongs.

While I was in this down-in-the-dumps state Suzy noticed that many of my past adventures were missing from the script, somehow lost in the fog of my appalling memory – a family legacy not helping body and mind to stay fully engaged with this late challenge. I decided to salvage a few fading memories both good and bad, and now hand them over to the dreaded computer before this author completely faded to black …

With Suzy’s encouragement, I considered a possible working title: ‘A Life in Films’ … ‘Thanks for the Memories’ … ‘Trips Down Memory Lane’ … ‘That Reminds Me’ … ‘I Am What I Am’ … ‘Fate and Me’ … and others, but with fading reminiscences my story could only end as a series of flashbacks. Unfortunately a fellow pensioner, one Lewis Gilbert, had recently published his autobiography as
All My
Flashbacks
, so I decided to hold off from picking a title until my story was finished and more carefully thought out, finally settling with ‘I Am What I Am’, which seemed appropriate – until I was told by my publisher that the title had already been used by the actor John Barrowman for his autobiography!

In this wonderful film world where we live and breathe we all have interesting tales to tell, not only for the reader but also the family who knew so little of my past adventures. You would imagine that this mental exercise would be easy, with so much material, but the first day ended in disappointment, with time wasted staring at a blank computer screen while other thoughts kept interfering, sidetracking any memories that suddenly came to mind. It would have been easier to switch off the computer and stumble into a depression, but when I was in a more positive frame of mind I would quickly rush to my notepad if a flashback suddenly came out of the blue, scribbling it down before that too disappeared. Progress would be painfully slow as I tried to recall old stories worth telling …

The background to all this gobbledygook was that another year had passed since a film had come my way; the technical evolution of the industry was slowly taking its toll on my generation. I knew that I should be taking this computer thing more seriously, but then again, perhaps that damn phone would ring one more time.

It did!

My prayers would be answered with a call from John Glen, taking away the pain of doubt eating away inside. He asked me to join him along with Christopher Columbus and his followers in their quest to find the new world, travelling to far away places including Spain and the US Virgin Islands before our journey’s end on Malta.

Heading this memorable cast was the French actor Georges Corraface as Columbus with Catherine Zeta-Jones keeping the female interest alive. Tom Selleck and Rachel Ward as the Spanish king and queen would help to draw in the public, but none of these names would come bigger than Marlon Brando as Tomás de Torquemada, the Grand Inquisitor of the Spanish Church.
Christopher Columbus
was more than just a list of well-known names or faces; the film offered a catalogue of stories for those like me who share an interest in the politics of filmmaking. From day one a cocktail of hate simmered beneath the surface; there’s no biz like show biz!

It would seem that Marlon Brando had a total dislike of the Salkind family, the producers of the film. We assumed that the feeling was mutual as the producers did not appear to like Brando either, resulting in a sense of loathing which quietly lingered on the set. This intense dislike of each other came from a previous encounter back in 1977 on
Superman
, when Brando reportedly sued the Salkinds for $50 million, but with Ridley Scott’s rival film
1492: Conquest of Paradise
in production at the same time, the Salkinds needed a big name that would help to sell their version of the story to Warner Bros. Marlon Brando was certainly a big name and according to the press was paid $5 million for his part in the film. Sadly this undercurrent would persist throughout our filming where Brando’s antagonistic relationship with the producers remained unwavering, which in turn reflected in the atmosphere on the set, playing out to its inevitable conclusion of making relationships difficult to build on. It was necessary to tread carefully – very carefully.

Adding to this delicate situation, it would seem that our star also had a problem with memory retention, for which I have much sympathy these days. However, in Brando’s case it was to be a dilemma for an actor of such standing. To help him overcome this problem a tiny unseen hearing aid was discreetly concealed in his ear while in another room close to the set his personal assistant would support the actor by reading out his lines at the appropriate time. Brando would then deliver them on camera, the arrangement working well. Problem solved!

Even so this uncomfortable atmosphere remained on the set as Brando eyeballed everyone around him, the stare in his piercing eyes making sure that neither Alexander nor Ilya Salkind were on set while he was performing. To be fair to the producers they tried to stay clear of the actor, hoping not to upset him any more than was necessary.

As for myself I survived with Mr Brando, who politely listened to any concerns I had with my lighting of him; after all it was in his interest to help me make him look good. I realised, of course, that I could be sacked if he thought differently, but apparently my attempt to obtain Brando’s cooperation worked well, and produced the occasional smile in my direction, suggesting he liked me. For my part I found the actor to be professional and very cooperative; even so, I thought it best not to get too close.

With the Brando magnetism working on camera one felt a certain respect from those in close attendance. He certainly had my admiration with all of the successful films in which he had starred, but I also had high regard for John Glen’s handling of this extraordinary situation, which was sensitive and understanding – extremely professional. With my usual practice of watching all of this nonsense going on behind the scenes, I could not help but notice the other actors’ facial expressions, their bewilderment at it all. I could only imagine how they felt with all this attention focused on Marlon Brando, but life goes on …

We humbler members of the crew had problems of our own, when we learned while filming in the Virgin Islands that our salaries had not been paid for the past six weeks! The problem was that we were soon flying to Malta to complete the final scenes in the large studio tank at the Mediterranean Film Studios, at which point the inevitable unit meeting was called to sort out this worrying situation. The initial reaction had been to stop filming until all the back pay had been settled, but after a lengthy discussion it was agreed to give the company time to sort out the problem, with the proviso that from then on our salaries would be paid one week in advance. At a unit meeting I pleaded with Hugh Whittaker, the Panavision representative from London, who it would appear was having similar problems, not to remove the film gates from the Panaflexes, which would have rendered the cameras useless.

The producers’ promise to fly the money to Malta ensured that we kept filming, although two rolls of exposed film still disappeared mysteriously one night from the camera room; we suspected that the ‘thief’ was the owner of the hotel who had apparently got wind of the situation and had decided to keep the rushes as security of payment – obviously he had worked with film people before.

The situation was finally resolved when a chartered aircraft arrived with two attractive ladies carrying suitcases full of US dollars, resulting in a long queue outside the accountant’s office in the hotel as everyone collected their honest reward; I was near the head of the queue, closely followed by Catherine Zeta-Jones. To complete the story, the two missing rolls of film turned up – obviously the hotel got their money too!

What started as an unpleasant situation would end as an amusing incident, where in all innocence I would be the victim of our assistant director Brian Cook and his wicked sense of humour, with me making a complete fool of myself. With our pockets full of dollars now came the inevitable problem of security, with everyone sensibly putting their sudden wealth into their hotel safety deposit boxes. With filming soon to end I happened to be talking with Brian in the hotel lobby about the past financial crisis. As we chatted, Brian’s attention was drawn towards the hotel’s security room, studying two suspicious-looking characters in their dark suits and trademark glasses.

‘It’s the Mafia,’ my well-informed friend confirmed.

Being the honest fool that I am, I believed Brian’s theory – why wouldn’t I, with rumours already going around that the local Mob were aware of the cash being held at the hotel? In hindsight the rumour had probably been started by Brian. Remembering my earlier experience while working in Italy on
The Roman Spring of Mrs Stone
, and having no intention of allowing the Maltese Mafia to get their hands on my hard-earned cash, I decided to withdraw my cash from the hotel safe. I had led a sheltered life before meeting Brian. Hurrying to my room, I wrapped the dollars into small packs cut from plastic bags courtesy of the hotel and secured them around my waist, with a smaller amount tucked into my socks for added precaution. Confident that all was now well, for the last two days of filming I went to work dressed this way, totally convinced of Brian’s sincerity, and told no one of the measures that I had taken to foil the Mafioso, or why I was walking with a strange gait with the occasional sound of rustling plastic coming from my torso. Of course there was no Mafia, but at least I could share this moment of insanity with friends later, as I do here in these flashbacks.

‘CUT!’

As a footnote, none of the Columbus epics produced with such high hopes to coincide with the five-hundredth anniversary of the discovery of America would prove to be a box office hit. The distributors had seemingly misjudged the public’s interest in the anniversary, but while our film won the all-important race to be released first, both
Christopher Columbus: The Discovery
and Ridley Scott’s
1492: Conquest of Paradise
failed to recoup anything like their reported $45 million budgets. On the other hand,
Carry on Columbus
, with its minuscule budget and filmed in only five weeks at Frensham Ponds and Pinewood Studios, would in all probability break even.