The Cine Technician (1953-1956)

168 CINE TECHNICIAN November 1955 UNIVERSITY DAYS -AT EALING ABOVE all film studios, Ealing was the school for technicians. It did not go in for star building. It was inclined against the starring vehicle. It would not be right to say that Sir Michael Balcon is against the star system — he is too old a hand in the film business to be that. To Balcon, however, the use of stars has always been a secondary consideration. His interest lies in the actual process of film-making — the story, the construction and development of the script, the dayto-day battle on the floor. His interest is, in fact, an academic one. I have heard him eagerly pass on to us views on cutting expressed by David Lean — fascinated by Lean's latest theory. I have heard him time and again at rushes use the phrase : " That was a most interesting exercise." This is how he sees film-making, and consequently the people he has always been most interested in are the technicians. Today, when the A.C.T. is criticising Balcon for selling Ealing Studios to the B.B.C., we should pause to reflect how many of our more distinguished members were given their training and that first big chance by this man. Solemn Thought It seems to me a solemn thought — looking back at my days at Ealing — that at one period Robert Hamer, Charles Frend, Sid Cole and Charles Crichton were all working together in the cutting rooms. As they were promoted to producing and directing, their places were taken by people like Michael Truman, Leslie Norman and Seth Holt, now themselves producers and directors. Basil Dearden — a pre-Balcon inhabitant of Ealing — was a second assistant director at the Studios when Carol Reed was a first assistant. In Balcon's time, Basil was a production manager before he got his first chance. Sandy Mackendrick arrived at Ealing with a promise that he would be given some script-writing to do — but that was only a sop, because lie was really wanted as a visualiser of set-ups. I was delighted to hear the other day that under his present con tract Sandy can still be called upon to produce visuals. Michael Relph was an art director, before his partnership with Dearden produced the most consistent Ealing producer-director team. Henry Cornelius came from South Africa with a background of editing and a promise to be made an associate producer. The suspense between the promise and the fulfilment was memorable — certainly to me, for I was then in charge of publicity -BY Monja Danischewsky and Corny haunted my office complaining that I wasn't doing anything for him. He would never take my explanation that I could not get anything in the papers about him as he wasn't doing anything. " Invent something," said Corny, with his peculiar logic, "then I'll become well-known — then they'll give me something to do." Well, that's a pretty good list of technicians to have graduated in one studio under one man's regime. It leaves out Hal Mason (from assistant director to production executive with a seat on the board) and it leaves out Harry Watt and Cavalcanti, who arrived at Ealing with ready-made reputations. Harry became Ealing's ambassador-at-large in distant lands — returning at intervals when the thud of his fist on the famous round conference table would reverberate throughout the Studios. As for Cavalcanti, only those who worked with him at Ealing can fully assess what a good influence he was on the younger technicians. So much of his creative talent was selflessly devoted to other people's films. Cav was not only an inspiriting colleague; his volatile Latin temperament made him a source of unending joy to anecdote collectors like myself. I shall never forget the argument which took place between him and the late "Chan" Balcon, Sir Michael's brother and for many years his close colleague. "Chan" was insisting that Cav had not got enough light on the set. Cav insisted that he had. Finally, in an outburst of temperament, Cav rounded on his protagonist with this unforgettable phrase : " For years I have been making films in France in which nobody could see nothing and everybody was delighted." If Sir Michael Balcon can be said to be Provost of Ealing Studios College, Cavalcanti was certainly its most influential Don. We were a closely-knit community at Ealing. Too closelyknit for our good, it has been said. Be that as it may, the companionship will be missed by the technicians who grew up together in that small suburban studio which played such a big part in the renascence of the British film industry. " Sentimental Documentaries " What was it that Ealing had which gave its films a recognisable stamp? It is difficult to define. The films were varied; even the sequence of comedies were not homogenous when you come to think of it — the brittle satirical wit of Kind Hearts and Coronets, the simple "folksy" humour of Whisky Galore, the almost Gallic, Clair-like approach of Passport to Pimlico i Rene Clair adored the film when he saw it), the robust and essentially English humour of Hue and Cry and Tht Lavender Hill Mob — and, again, the questioning unease underlying the irony of The Man In "Hit White Suit. How can these be lumped together — and with The Cruel Sea, The Ort rlaiidi rs, Where No Vultures Fly and Scott of the Antarctic — as "Ealing" films. Yet they are — not through a whim on the part of the Studios' publicity department (the yardstick, we found, could be used against us) but by a common instinctive assessment on the part of the press and the public. Paul Holt infuriated us all by attempting to sum it all up in the phrase "Sentimental Documentaries," but on reflection this was a brave attempt on his part to define the undefin