Lights out.

Te1988 Part 2

Just looked at my carved up scalp in a mirror and thought at first that it looked like a moonscape but then the staples holding the skin grafts in place took on a reflection from the light and the stitches on the other cuts reminded me of Frankenstein’s ‘monster’ in the James Whale film shot way back circa1935. My head too resembled a mash up of bits taken from other sources and sewn together. For a moment I felt some empathy for the poor creature so rough hewn.

Meanwhile back in 1988 I contemplated the year ahead with a mixture of dread and curiousity. What fate awaited us? Things seemed to be playing out like 1987 with almost everyone hanging around wondering what the next production would be. My memory of the timeline of events is not as clear as it was with other years but I think that round about March we were informed that the new work was to be a cop show and it would be titled ‘Shark in the Park’.

Soon scripts appeared a cast was assembled, meetings were held with actors and creators, opening titles were shot (by myself) and we were away.

It was a good cast which included Jeff Thomas as Chief Inspector Finn (Shark/Fin(n). Get it? Russell Smith as Bernie the hard drinking cynical and slightly bent detective. Rima te Wiata as a new detective recently elevated from uniform, Joanna Briant as a rookie uniform, Bill Kircher as the station wag and naughty boy, the wonderful Kevin J Wilson as the ‘grizzled’ sergeant and Nathaniel Lees as the sceptical hard detective who was Bernie’s nemesis, and Robert Pollock portraying an Australian constable who went by the name of Dingo! That name was thought up by Russell Smith during one of the early meetings. Others playing smaller roles in the core cast were John Wraight, David Geary, (from Feilding I believe) who became a noted writer and playwright and Geoffrey Heath playing Roger Blackman, a front of house cop running the desk.

Series 1 was planned to run for 16 episodes (I think) and I directed 3 or 4 episodes.

I can’t say I was particularily impressed or enthusiastic. To tell the truth I was feeling a bit burnt out from all the pressures of the previous year. So the problem was mostly created by myself.

The Producer was Ruth Franks (now deceased) who had recently graduated from a Producers training course run by Brian Bell.

Ruth was a very good administrator and had spent many years working as Production Manager on Close To Home and Country GP. So she knew the mechanics of production better than most. She also made a brave move from production management to the Floor Management area, which was run by Alison Langdon, and trained in a pretty hard environment which was a vast remove from working out of a production office. Her plan was to learn the ropes at the sharp end and get herself on a production course. So when she eventually became a Producer she had more knowledge to add to her admin skills. of course Producers do not have to be good admin people. Production Managers are there for that purpose.

Ruth did struggle I think as she tried to get to grips with the job. She was a good person, well intentioned but I don’t think she ever really understood the relationship which existed between Producer and Director.

If a Producer is wise they will leave their directors to get on with it for the obvious reason that it is the Director’s task to go out and make the drama and lead the crew. The Producer is certainly the boss but should really only intervene if the Director is heading for a right royal screw up or is straying from the intentions of the writer. Ruth had the really naive idea that she should interfere in the composition of shots and the use of lighting etc. That’s ok if you are a Sam Goldwyn or a Darryl F Zanuck or a Jane Campion. with enormous clout and reputation but for a less experienced person it is not recommended. Producers have plenty enought to do without bothering the troops.

But those matters are really a minor annoyance when you are wrapped up in the shoot.

I started to enjoy myself in spite of earlier misgivings and enjoyed meeting again with actors from past productions. Joanna Briant was always great to work with and Emily Perkins who guested in one episode was a friend during Open House. She had yet to emerge as one of our best NZ writers. I was also delighted to work with Rima te Wiata who was a real gem. Also I had the pleasure of being introduced to Georgina Beyer who played a denizen of Vivian Street in one of my episodes. Georgie as she was generally known was somewhat typecast as a transvestite but she was a real trouper and great to work with. I don’t think I did her any favours with my directions to her. She was a generous person and I’m fairly sure she would have forgiven me. We became good friends during that time. Little did we know how prominent she would become in New Zealand life.

Rest in peace Georgie.

So the remainder of the year rolled by. The episodes were made, edited and sound mixed. They went to air and it was quite well received. I think that I was nominated for an award but can’t remember what.

Late in the year the dark clouds came scudding over the Harbour and the Department staff were called to a meeting to hear an important announcement.

We were all there. Producers, directors, script editors, story editors + Brian Bell who was now ‘acting’ head of Deparment. John McCrae had left us earlier in the year He had been appointed as Head of Television Network Two. We were heading for the rocks but the Captain had made it to the shore.

Three grey looking men appeared accompanied by a woman from ‘Personnel’. She was carrying a pile of sealed envelopes and I could see a name written on the top envelope.

Brian Bell was sitting behind a desk in the corner with his head in his hands looking wretched and tortured.

Brian was an unusual and more than eccentric character who was a devotee of an Indian guru who visited NZ occasionally to harangue her acolytes. (And collect offerings?)

I did not mind Brian. He had always been good to me and supported my work. Brian was a vastly experienced Producer/Director who had worked overseas mostly im Australia (in the 1970’s) and in The UK(so called) in the 1950’s/60’s. He slso directed many Operas and and drama theatre productiond here and overseas and was a general aficianado of the arts.

John McCrae and Brian had both grown up in Timaru during the forties and fifties and had both appeared in amdram stage shows from an early age. Brian told me once that John’s mother made all the cossies and he would go round there for fittings.

Oooh! Look at you!!!

But Brian was hard to read. Someone once described him as ‘opaque’ and that seemed apt. The descriptor may have been Ginette McDonald who was always ready with a quip or adjective and oft used them with great relish.

When the two boys were of an age they both joined The New Zealand Players (Director Richard Campion) {Jane Campion’s father} and toured NZ. (If only the provinces could talk). Later on they both went to The UK(so called) and joined the BBC as cadet trainees. Both men became successful Producers and directors for some years before moving back to Australia then NZ. You would have to say that their collective experience was vast compared to someone like myself, say, and they were hardened old professionals.

So Brian sat in the corner looking like he had swallowed whole the entire contents of the posion chalice which ‘someone’ had so adroidtly passed his way.

I looked at the three (un)wise men and recognised the one about to speak as Daryl Dorrington an engineer from Engineering Head Office and a top expert in the mysteries of television technology. We knew each other from my tech days. He had been also a close friend of my sadly lamented late friend Bruce Anderson who worked as a technician with Daryl in the aforesaid head office. That was way before Bruce became a gun cameraman on productions. Daryl had been appointed Deputy Director-General by the pom who was now our Director general.

One of the other men was from Sales and Marketing and in those pursey times he would have had a say in most things. I think his name was Michael Dunlop and he was dressed immaculately for the execution about to commence. Would not be surprised if he had been the founder of Linkedin. Like our soon to be new PM he was a closer . Always closing. always closing as David Slack would say. The other guy just looked like a lackey in a suit.

And so Daryl started intoning the familiar hackneyed phrases so beloved of those who would have us declared non-persons. “Thank you for you valuable contributions,” “you will be missed” “consultation and support will be provided” “ good luck” drone drone drone…….

After a few minutes I could not contain myself. I looked around the room and no one else seemed to be about to chime in. They were mostly people who operated in the gig economy looking resigned to the end of the run. But I was a brazen shit in those days and always fit to tackle anyone who behaved foolishly toward others.

I got to my feet and delivered my own rather angry tirade on behalf of the rest. Then I approached the bench where the inquisition had ensconced itself and demanded to be given my envelope with my name on it. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit” I uttered.

I took my envelope and walked out. And the others followed similarily.

The panel was in disarray, particularily Mr. Dunlop who was obviously not used to being addressed in that manner

Hoist by there own fucking petard.

If you prick us, do we not bleed?

And that was it. After twenty or so years I was down the road. Not just me of course but the entire Drama Department in Welly, Auckland, Chch. and Dunedin. The Auckland people fared best in the long run. Within 3 years or so South Pacific Pictures was established as an autonomous entity inside TVNZ with John McCrae as it’s President overseeing production. Nice work John.

It wasn’t just Drama getting the chop however. People in other departments gor axed also. I think about six hundred all up. I am not absolutely sure about my numbers but I reckon it was about that.

It seems that the Drama Dept. cost around 8 million dollars to run for a year. The new(ish) Director- General wanted to purchase a satellite station which would make us independent of the station at Warkworth owned and operated by The NZ Post Office. A new station would cost in the vicinity of 8 million bucks. Solution? Axe the Drama Department.

Richard Prebble was the Minister of Broadcasting.

Callous, uncaring, cruel, insensitive, totalitarian. Pick your adjective.

New Zealand mate! Fair go mate. Greatest little country on the planet. Sorry suckers that’s not the score anymore. On yer bike. You’ll find a job. Whole new world. Get used to it. User pays. Now fuck off and don’t bother us with your sad tales of mortgages and families to feed.

A while later I got a call from The Personnel Dept. asking if I wanted a counselling session and some strategic advice about finding a job. No I did not thank you very much. The woman who rang me said that she witnessed some harrowing scenes where people were crying and sobbing almost begging to be kept on. Well I am not about to do that I said, at least not at this point.

My redundancy pay out was quite good and I also got refunded my payments into The National Provident Fund which I had rejoined about five years previously when an amnesty was introduced for people like myself who had quit the fund years before.

Truth is I felt a strange feeling of release. The events of the previous two years had left a lousy taste and I was sort of sick at heart.

My children were all grown up and living in Australia so it was a blessing that they would not suffer in any way.

Brian Bell rang me at some stage and said that a job was available for me in Auckland if I wanted it. He could not tell me what the job was or in what dept. and what it would entail so I declined, thanked him and took the money and ran. In any case I could not imagine being permanently based in Auckland. Going there for short periods to do a gig had always been enjoyable. But living there? No no no. Wellington was my spiritual home and had been since the first time I set foot on Lambton Quay in 1963. It replaced my former home in Scotland by some process of magic which I remain mystified about to this day.

Wellington I love you and will to my dying day. I embrace you totally as you have held me.

So I paid off my two mortages which were not huge and bought a newish second hand car for cash. My old Triumph 2.5 TC was ready for the knackers after about 14 years of faithful service.

I had a freehold house, money in the bank and a good car. What’s not to like?

The gig was up, the die was cast, the stable door was swinging wide and I was on a high.

Sorrow and regret was not in the picture that would be in the future.

“Come, give us a taste of your quality, Come, a passionate speech…….”

Next time I will recount my involvent with the ‘Kimihia’ training programme which was devised to give young Māori an introduction to Television Production.