THE ITALIAN JOBTwo films have been rereleased recently: Yellow Submarine and The Italian Job. As it happens, I worked on both of them. On Yellow Submarine, I was one of the dubbing assistants and on The Italian Job, one of the many second assistant directors. Curiously, I knew that both films would become classics - although it's hard for technicians to judge the film they are working on, I remember distinctly feeling these films were special. There is a saying amongst movie folk that "A Happy Picture is a Crappy Picture". Both these films were far from happy. The trials and tribulations of Yellow Submarine are well documented by Dr Bob Hieronimus's book: It Was All in the Mind, but as far as I know, nobody is writing a book about The Italian Job, and some of my memories may be of interest . There was a TV documentary made about the film's Minis, and some of the people interviewed touched on the making of the film, unfortunately most of their comments were inaccurate. The real story of the making of the film shall never be told, because Peter Collinson, the director has been dead for some time now. I joined the film some way into production. The first First Assistant Director was fired from the picture, and the new First Assistant asked me to join him. I was reluctant to go, as I had just started as a dubbing assistant on Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) at Elstree. It was the first 'good run' I was offered that year and an opportunity to establish myself as a dubbing editor in the business. I had done too much swapping and changing between departments, and it was time for me to settle down in the cutting rooms. (Incidentally, that was never to be.) Anyhow, Scott, the First Assistant persuaded me to fly out to Milan, and join the production crew filming in Turin. I had a dreadful cold, and flying in a Comet 4 almost killed me. We tend to forget how dreadful the Comets were, for anybody who suffers from claustrophobia, it felt like flying in a coffin. I was at a window seat, without a window, and with the luggage | rack two inches above my head, I was completely boxed in. The cabin pressure was going up and down like a yo-yo and my eardrums were on the verge of bursting throughout the flight. I made an effort to read the script during the flight, but soon gave up - survival came first. It was an average Z-Cars type thing, I mean no disrespect to Troy Kennedy Martin - I liked Z-Cars a lot, but there was nothing special about the script. As it was the only time during the entire production that I looked at it, perhaps I shouldn't comment on its merits, but I remember enough to say that the finished film bears little resemblance to the shooting script. The fun sequences with the Minis came from Peter Collinson and Remy Julien, the stunt co-ordinator. God only knows how the ending came about, but I remember that in the script the survivors of the caper met in a cafe somewhere in Switzerland and exchanged brown paper envelopes or something. The ending could not have been decided for some time as I remember seeing an early cut of the film showing a large notice saying something along the lines: 'If anybody has an idea how to secure the gold, please contact Paramount Pictures, Tel: 00123 456 789' Film crews rarely read the script. They are too busy getting on with making the film. First and Second Assistant directors have to read the script, because they are responsible for the daily call sheet. Ray was the first Second Assistant and he did the call sheet. I was the second Second Assistant; I was on the floor with Scot most of the time. The third Second Assistant was French, Claude, and as the stuntmen were also French they became his domain. The fourth Second Assistant, Pino, looked after the Italian extras under the guidance of the Italian First Assistant, Mauro. As well as a complete English crew, we had a shadow Italian crew. It was a big picture. But back to the script, actors should read it, but they only read their own lines and the couple of lines that lead into their part. Continuity read the script and sometimes the location sound recordist. That's about it. On my first couple of pictures, I was shocked by this relative disinterest in the script, but I got used to it. On my first day, I was thrown in the deep end. We were shooting a sequence on the stairs of one of the churches by the River Po. While a wedding takes place, the three minis (red, white, and blue), appear from the sides and cascade down the stairs, chased by a Stradale motorcycle rider. Huge black drapes were attached to the two sides of the church. On my side, there was the red and blue mini; on the other side were the white mini and the motorcycle. Hidden by the drapes, walkie-talkie in hand, standing in front of our respective vehicles with their engines revving, we waited for the cue; me on one side and Claude on the other. Nothing. We waited some more, then: "crackle...static...crackle." Without knowing why, I sent my lot on their way. Perfect take. Without knowing why, I did something right. Later that day I learned that there had been some nasty accidents involving the previous Italian stunt |
