The Cine Technician (1943 - 1945)

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78 THE CINE-TECHNICIAN July— August, 1943 the way, and each time the mules move all pedestrian personnel are obliged to do a half-walk halfrun covering five miles in the hour up and down mountains. Stragglers, I was told, are cut off by the hostiles in such a manner as to make the casting couch a superflous piece of set dressing. Therefore I did not straggle ! As I had to hump my own camera and film, I discarded the case, and hung my eyemo on a shoulder strap with a handkerchief over the lens and mounts for the double purpose of keeping important parts free from dust and for wiping sweat from my brow. It was a grand war for movies — the column packed tightly down the bottom of some dusty nullah whilst scouts and pickets kept to the hill tops. Unfortunately for the movies this marching exhausted me so much that very often when I should have been shooting I was gasping like a fish flaton my back during the all too infrequent halts. Just as I was used to this life, and could both march and shoot, I was recalled and sent off on a " routine tour " during which I went to Madras and many places in Southern India covering manoeuvres, un veilings and so forth. Then I went to Calcutta to shoot Sikhs firing A. A. guns; flew to Assam with General Wavell, during which I was lucky enough to shoot him pushing ox-carts out' of the way of his car one morning before sunup ; unfortunately there was just not enough light and even at f /2 it was under-exposed. During this Assam part of the tour my eyemo packed up, and as I was out of Newman film I had the unpleasant task of winding eyemo spools into Newman mags by hand inside my changing bag. It is not nearly so easy as it sounds, owing to the extreme curlyness of the black leaders, which seemed determined not to go through the Newman magazine traps. After this I visited a jungle warfare school where one is taught how to be unpleasant to Japs. Even Frankenstein and Bela Lugosi would have appeared sissies here! Back in Delhi, I had a script thrust into my hands and was told to go to Ceylon and " make this film." I was goggle-eyed with delight — at last, after two years of newsreeling, I was to do the job for which I had rushed into the Army Film Unit. So I leapt into the first south-bound train and during the week which ensued before arriving in Ceylon I had doped out the script. Being a cameraman, I have never actually done the doping or analysis of a script, and in future I will treat assistant directors with the respect they deserve; I now realise that they must have the perseverance of the devil ! The story, briefly, is of a typical Ceylon family seen, prior to the Jap entry into the war, at their business, pleasures and home life. Then 'the Japs decided to commit hari-kiri, and this family " goes to it " by joining various A.E.P. services. There being no bloodsuckers or casting bureaus in Ceylon, my first thought was to cast from the amateur acting societies, but I soon discovered that they were free only on Sundays, and for the sake of my schedule I ruled them out. Then I decided to do a Bob Flaherty and use people whose jobs were the same as those they had to play on the screen. Therefore I got a coastal gunner, a fireman, a Bed Cross nurse, a telephone girl, and a boy scout, who were all built up around the central character of the Father in the family. Naturally, when playing their normal war-time jobs they were beyond reproach, and when playing pre-war domestic scenes I gave them so much business to do, such as winding wool into balls, eating or sewing, that they could not help being natural, which, aided by" a bit of directorially inspired eye-rolling turned them into a first-rate cast. My camera was a Newman Sinclair, and as many of the scenes were played underground in the A.R.P. headquarters I got much exposure assistance by undercranking. I found that by placing a photoflood lamp on top of the camera I could get a full exposure (at 24 f.p.s. at f/2) at five feet from the subject, and by plentiful use of 28 mm. lens I got some fine long-shots, the distance being lit by odd photoflood bulbs screwed into off-stage lamp sockets. Excepting for a bit of unofficial assistance from Harry Kratz, who was grounded at the time, and the development of hand-tests by Sid Payne (late of Humphries Labs and now helping the B.A.F. in the Photo Department) I did everything myself. My programme was to shoot in the morning and spend the afternoon making arrangements for the following day's work. One unexpected development was " publicity," which I overcame by ringing up the local press whenever anything juicy was about to happen and issuing them with a short precis of the scene, upon which they based their adjectival work. One rather amusing incident occurred during the filming of this opus — the two girls had a scene in which they were playing tabletennis, and as a relief from their normal dress, the sari, I suggested that they wore European tennis frocks. One girl had such an outfit while the other hadn't, so in a broad-minded directorial manner I offered to buy her one. In a flash we were in the loewt. heading for the best ladies' outfitters in Colombo, where I ordered a tennis frock for the young lady, whereupon all the lady customers and shop assistants opened their ears and eyes scenting a scandal. I could hear them saying " What is that officer buying those frocks for? " Apparently what puzzled them was whether the young lady was my mistress or my fiance. But this trouble was nothing to that which I got from the Army Paymaster when I presented my accounts — " What the so-and-so was the Army coming to, buying frocks for girls, etc.. etc." (Concluded on page 8o)