Size Matters Not: The Extraordinary Life and Career of Warwick Davis (5 page)

BOOK: Size Matters Not: The Extraordinary Life and Career of Warwick Davis

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Nan had been listening to the radio when a call went out for little people to appear in the new
Star Wars
film. She was unsure about telling Mum and Dad as I was still only eleven and she was worried it might be exploitative.

She thought it over for a couple of days before she eventually decided to call Mum, who was mopping the kitchen floor at the time. As soon as Mum heard the words “Star Wars” she immediately knew I’d want to do it. She knew I enjoyed acting as she’d recently started sending me to drama classes in an attempt to channel my extrovert energy.

Mum dropped her mop and called the studio straight away. “I’m sorry,” the production assistant said, “but we’ve been overwhelmed with calls, we’ve got all we need.”

Mum hung up. A few minutes later the phone rang again. It was the production assistant.

“How tall is your son?”

“Two feet eleven inches.”

“Could you bring him in?”

It was a wise move to have kept this secret from me until the last moment. My overexcitement at the prospect of being in a
Star Wars
movie would have been catastrophic for the Davis household. I nearly exploded with excitement as we drove there and talked incessantly the whole way.

Suddenly I was at Elstree Studios, auditioning for
Revenge of the Jedi
, as it was called then. Production assistant Patricia Carr was impressed by my lack of height; even for a little person I was short at two-foot-eleven.

“Well, George said we needed some little, little people to play Ewok children,” Patricia said, “and I think you’ll do just fine.”

My face lit up to sunbeam proportions.

“Right, then, you’d better head down to the wardrobe department and they’ll take your measurements for your costume.”

I led the way at a steady sprint, determined to reach wardrobe before anyone changed their mind. My face was a picture of wonder. Elstree was like Hogwarts, a huge, ever-changing, mysterious new world full of unexpected wonders. I hurried along the long white labyrinthine corridors desperate to see what lay in wait around the next corner. Everywhere people rushed about the building. I hoped to catch a glimpse of a Stormtrooper or Chewbacca strolling past, but was disappointed to encounter just one rather average-looking humanoid after another.

Wardrobe, as it turned out, was a misleading term for what most people my height would more accurately describe as a torture factory. My costume “fitting” actually involved the making of a full-sized body and head cast, which would be used as a mannequin by the costume makers. This is not an experience for the fainthearted, especially when it comes to taking a mold of the head.

Mum left me to it and went off to get a cup of tea. When she returned I heard a muffled scream, followed by “What have you done to my son?!”

I was stretched out, bound from head to foot in a bright white, full-body plaster cast. I’d been wrapped in plastic and covered in Vaseline before the plaster cast had been slapped on. Unlike my fellow little actors, I’d actually been enjoying the experience, although the challenge of staying still while everything set was extremely trying.

Every now and again, Mum would shout, “Are you okay in there, Warwick?” but because of the alginate (a milkshake-like substance more commonly used by dentists to make casts for dentures) over my ears I could barely hear or move my mouth and would reply with “Hummpff?”

One person was specifically employed to keep my nostrils – the only part of my head that was uncovered – clear from the runny gloop (sneezes or allergies can be lethal). Some people find the whole process unbearable; it’s not something for claustrophobes or asthmatics.

But while the older, more experienced creature actors shuddered at the thought of being turned into a human Twix, for me this was the most exciting moment of my life to date. Once the mixture had been molded on, it was reinforced with plaster bandages. When these were all dry, they were pulled off and I looked, fascinated, into an inverse copy of myself.

“Cool!”

“That’s the first time anyone’s actually enjoyed the experience,” said makeup artist Nick Dudman.

Before we started filming we were invited to go see
The Empire Strikes Back
(the second film in the trilogy) at a special screening at Elstree Studios. I hadn’t yet seen it and was surprised and fascinated by how dark it was; I was dismayed to see that it ended on such a grim note.

Good job I’d be on hand to sort it all out for the grand finale.

My first day’s filming was amazing. Up to that point I’d never met another little person in my entire life. When you’re young and as short as I am, you tend to feel as if you’re the only little person in the world. It was therefore a real magical moment for me when I walked into a studio to find forty people of similar proportions staring back at me. There was one other eleven-year-old, Nicky Read, who was just a couple of months older, and we became friends straight away. In fact, we all pretty much got on from the first moment, young and old, male and female. We all bonded over being short. Peter Burroughs, one of the older men there, would eventually become my father-in-law, poor fellow.

We were there to work with the choreographer on our fitness and “Ewok movement.” We had to learn to behave like primitive but feisty and furry forest dwellers. Soon all forty of us, dressed in tracksuits, were running around the studio growling at each other and anyone unlucky enough to stick their head around the door to see what was going on.

On the day I was due to pick up my costume and try it on for the first time, I could hardly contain myself. Most older actors looked at their Ewok costumes with utter dread. They saw the thick layer of foam, the full-body fur suit, and shuddered, knowing that a long, hot, sweaty, and difficult few weeks lay ahead of them. All I could think about was that I was going to be fighting Stormtroopers all day long.

“Bring it on!”

It was beautifully made and only took five minutes to put on. I was one of the lucky ones because my costume actually fit really well and was among the most convincing. Some of the older, less fortunate Ewok actors looked like teddy bears. Teddy bears who had been run through cement mixers before being pounded repeatedly with cricket bats.

The heat in the costumes was truly extraordinary; Kenny Baker, who also played R2-D2, described wearing an Ewok suit as “like being poached.” Fortunately, you, dear reader, can only imagine quite how interesting the aroma in the Ewok dressing room was after six weeks of filming and no washing. I, however, still have those pungent memories.

Filming began in January 1982, one of the coldest English winters on record. Heavy snow had fallen several times throughout December and January. Temperatures dropped to a record-breaking minus-13 degrees Fahrenheit. We filmed on a set inside Elstree but our dressing rooms were trailers parked outside. Once the cry of “Heads off!” had been given and it was time for a break, forty Ewoks and one seven-foot Wookiee emerged from the building without their heads and walked toward the trailers. It was so hot inside the suits that little clouds of steam followed us as we walked. It was very refreshing for about thirty seconds before the cold really started to bite.

Nearly all the Ewok village scenes were shot at Elstree and there were some significant Ewok-related problems during quite a few of them. For example: