Shooting 007: And Other Celluloid Adventures (16 page)

‘Alec, meet Michelangelo Antonioni!’

I was announced as if I was about to meet royalty. A face turned to me, and I was introduced to an equally quiet man with even less to say to me; his facial expression gave little away, making it difficult to describe Antonioni – aloof would be my early choice.

‘Hello, Alec, welcome to
Blow-Up.
’

He then turned away and went back to his script. That was it – the sum of my interview with Antonioni! I had been given an opportunity to study this fêted director in close detail, allowed a small peep into the workings of this strange, unusual man.

Back at home I settled down to read the script of
Blow-Up
, a weird and complicated story about photography with pretty young models cavorting around posing for an energetic fashion photographer in the guise of David Hemmings, who captured their skills – or anything which attracted his interest – through his camera lens.

The overlong opening sequence to
Blow-Up
introduces the audience to the strange world of young models living their dreams, pretty to look at and desperate for fame. The story eventually moves on to Antonioni’s deeper understanding of the script, where this unusual director could be described as the ‘thinking’ man. He was a director with an inventive mind who set out to challenge the audience with his extraordinary story, if necessary putting something completely unrelated into the scene just to tease their curiosity – a deliberate distraction, while at the same time allowing his fussy talent slowly to develop the plot. To be honest, I never worked Antonioni out – much as I tried – but the experience alone was memorable.

Antonioni would take great care with all the colours and dressings on his sets – exterior or interior – everything would be dressed to his complete satisfaction through the camera frame before the camera turned over. Filming one particular night scene on location in London, the director suddenly decided to have a section of the road surface painted black – at night – which made little sense to a humble camera assistant who was in no position to ask why this was necessary. Could this be art for art’s sake gone mad? When I saw the film on its release I believe – at least I think – I understood what Antonioni was trying to achieve; it would seem that our director was deliberately trying to confuse his audience – certainly me – before ending with a surprise finale.

Try as hard as one may, it would be impossible to read Antonioni’s mind or even his way of thinking. I doubt anyone who saw the film, even critics, would notice a visual detail such as this, which left me asking myself if his black-painted road helped. A gentle wind blowing on the soundtrack added to the possible murder scene the director created, while at the same time he guided his audiences into a semi-hypnotic state. That’s all I have on this one – heavy stuff this!

Another striking scene was of young people enjoying themselves at a rave-up which would stretch Antonioni’s set dressing to the outrageous. The selected location was a big house at Cheyne Walk on the Chelsea embankment, even though a scene of this nature would have been easier to control in the studio. Then again,
Blow-Up
was no ordinary film; nor was Antonioni an ordinary director, so came the perfect demonstration of the art of realism.

We arrived early to set up for a gathering of beautiful young women with their enthusiastic partners, all happy and willing to take part in the scene. With Carlo’s lighting completed, the scene fully rehearsed and the set dressed to Antonioni’s complete satisfaction, we were ready to start filming. The props department then began to hand out the usual drinks and smokes, creating the right atmosphere. After a short time a horrible smell started to circulate among the relaxed partygoers. It might have been dreadful to me, but at least it helped our carefully selected guests to get into the right frame of mind, to be more relaxed for the scene. Through the haze it was now clear why this scene was not being filmed in a studio. Obviously someone knew someone else, who happened to know a crowd of people who would enjoy a party such as this, who probably knew someone who knew others who would know where to obtain the necessary ‘something’ for a party such as this … Who else but Antonioni would go to such extremes with his set dressings?

Working with Antonioni (with curly hair) on
Blow-Up
in 1966. Camera operator Ray Parslow stands next to him while I was the camera assistant. This was the only picture I ever managed to get, given the tight security about the film, which was especially important for Antonioni, who preferred to film as near to reality as possible – including the drug scenes!

Moving to the Maryon Park sequences, the photographer’s interest falls on a couple in the distance who appear to be arguing. His professional curiosity takes over and he decides to photograph them, at which point the lady sees him. Developing the film in the darkroom later, he sees what might be a possible murder scene which could incriminate Vanessa Redgrave, who would do anything to retrieve the
Blow-Up
print and negative.

The climax to Antonioni’s film ends with David Hemmings watching a tennis match being played by two mime artistes who are playing without a ball. The weird, doped onlookers watch an imaginary ball bouncing from side to side over the net, leaving the audience wondering if there was a ball, or indeed if there was a murder after all.

Antonioni deservedly received acclaim for
Blow
-
Up
, as did Carlo di Palma’s cinematography, which contributed much to the dark atmosphere of the script. A pleasant man, Carlo was in complete harmony with all of the demands placed on him by Antonioni, helped in no short measure by another Brit, Ray Parslow, the camera operator, and of course yours truly, who would try to keep everything sharp through the haze. The stars were David Hemmings, Vanessa Redgrave, Sarah Miles, Jane Birkin and John Castle.

David gave a lively performance as an animated photographer who was tough on the young models while at the same time retaining his interest in collecting antiques. Foraging around a traditional second-hand shop, his eye is caught by a propeller, which he buys. Again it had nothing whatsoever to do with the story – pure Antonioni. If it did have some meaning, then I missed it!

To be honest, I never mastered the art of understanding the silent Antonioni, a director who gave little away, not allowing one to learn from him. Even so, the opportunity to experience and work with this man would make this a worthwhile cause and one forever remembered.

Jogging the memory of this fast-fading chapter now more than forty years past, it was necessary to remind myself of this unusual experience on DVD. With
Blow-Up
now outdated as technology has changed, I imagine today’s critics would slaughter Antonioni’s effort, though at the time I seem to recall
Blow-Up
being referred to as ‘a classic work of art’. How quickly times change.

David Hemmings came under the spell of the ‘Antonioni technique’. It was years later when directing his film
Running Scared
that David tried to follow in his master’s footsteps. Precise with his set dressings and with beautiful visuals, David emulated his hero, this time helped by Ernie Day’s expertise with the photography, and of course yours truly, now established as Ernie’s camera operator. However, like others before him, David would learn that imitation rarely works; things are never quite the same the second time round, even with Antonioni’s influence hovering in the background. Without the master’s label David’s film would be lost on most, but even so the Antonioni flavour would probably be recognised in David’s tribute to the grand master.

The Antonioni story was set around the Swinging Sixties, with
Blow-Up
reflecting that period, but would anyone enjoy the film today? I found myself on the not-totally-convinced side, but again, who am I to judge? No doubt the Chelsea gathering would remember this film, even though it would be necessary to plough on through to the end before making up their minds if there was a murder after all.

I was pleased to meet the director Michelangelo Antonioni.

Generally, we are inclined to judge others from our own observations, which could be wrong – possibly even unfair – leaving me wondering how others considered me. With
Blow-Up
soon to end, Michael Reed called with a new challenge.

‘Alec, would you be interested in operating the camera on
The Saint
?’

Mike had offered me this opportunity before but at the time my courage had failed me, knowing that I was not ready for the challenge. This would not happen again.

Aware of the task ahead of me, my last weeks of filming on
Blow-Up
were spent practising the art of using a geared head – a worthwhile tool that any camera operator would choose. Should anyone pass through the stage at lunchtime they could be sure that the camera would follow them until they were out of sight, a wry smile on their faces would warn of a challenge ahead for me. When filming was over for the day, more time was spent mastering the art of this professional tool so that I was ready for the real test.

To this day, I still remember my first scene operating the camera for the director Roy Ward Baker, a simple task as written in the script: ‘The Saint tied down on a table dressed as a Roman Soldier at a fancy dress party; the camera moves from tied hands to a face with the heavy standing guard over him.’

Take one: ‘Action!’

‘CUT!’ the director shouted. With satisfaction he turned directly towards his camera operator, obviously testing me out.

‘How was that for you?’ Mr Baker’s preference was to address me as ‘you’!

I gave an equally firm reply: ‘It was fine, thank you.’

‘Do you want to go again?’

Already he’s testing me … ‘No, that was fine for me.’

Michael smiled, pleased at my response to an unconvinced director, having warned me earlier to be positive in my decisions, whether good or bad. Nothing gets up a director’s nose more than a camera operator who wavers, unable to make decisions!

What should also be remembered was that in those days reflex cameras were not available; instead, the parallax viewfinder on the left side of the camera blimp would guide the operator’s efforts, which again was partly in the hands of the camera assistant. One would hate to think of the consequences for the poor camera operator should his focus change.

Over the following year Michael would be responsible for sharpening my skills as a camera operator. An unassuming gentleman who used his influence over my limited ability, he was also someone to whom I would forever be in debt. Much would be learned from working on a television series with Michael Reed.

Roger Moore – the Saint – was also generous in his understanding to this new camera operator, whose head was clearly on the chopping block should anything go wrong. In Roger’s foreword to this book he jokingly refers to the fact that I am not tall and stood on a box to reach the camera viewfinder. With his giant 6-foot frame, he reminded me of the famous 1966 class sketch from
The Frost Report
, with John Cleese (tall, upper class), Ronnie Barker (medium height, middle class) and Ronnie Corbett (short, lower class – like me), each looking up to or down at each other depending on their social status. In time, Roger and I would become good friends and colleagues … but, as Ronnie Corbett said: ‘I knew my place!’

Yes, at times Roger would be my ‘pain in the neck’, but we would always remain good friends. In the future we would meet again with another screen legend going by the name James Bond – but at least I was there first!