The ‘Real’ World Part Four

It’s Free I tell you.

Here we go again.

Let me talk a bit about the TV business before we largely leave it behind. I am sure that it will come up from time to time in future posts.

I was critical of Gibson Productions in my last post (whoops….! THE LAST POST…. surely not yet….)

The bulk of my time at Gibsons was spent working with crew and I want to say, it was a most enjoyable experience. Brilliant really. I havered on about it last time so I wont flog it to death.

It was a very inspirational experience. Some sort of glow seemed to pervade everything. That’s all I can say about it.

But I am still grateful to all those crew people. They were a big part of how it panned out. To have experienced those feelings and satisfactions was a gift.

Thanks to:

Renaud Maire, Bailey Watson, Tony Johnston, Alex Paton, Joe Nolan, Robin Murphy, Annie Collins, Alan Honey, Rex Poitier, Paul Sutorious, Paul Chattington, Helen Mitchell, Charlie the second assist whose name now evades my tiring brain but he was an outstanding assistant director. Very cool and intelligent. He found and auditioned an actor to play a dead man. Perfect choice although he did look a bit like the late Peter Plumley-Walker and that was a bit cheeky. But we got away with it. Marvellous people to work with. I suppose you could call it camaraderie or suchlike but it was something much better, whatever it was.

And I do want to say something more about Dave Gibson whom I had mocked a bit last time out. But this is on a more positive note.

Some years after I had left Shark, Gibsons produced a series called ‘The Insiders Guide To Happines’.

When I first saw that drama on air I was immediately drawn to it.

Great Writing, excellent cast and direction. At the time I voiced an opinion that it was the best NZ drama up to that time.

It was fresh and different and had a lovely air of other worldliness about it.

My, did I want to be directing that.

But it was brilliantly directed by all involved.

So big ups to Mr. Gibson for spotting that one.

Unfortunately a second series titled ‘The Insiders Guide to Love’. was quickly trotted out but as is usual in TV it did not really hack it.

It’s a bit like painting the Mona Lisa and, finding it drew quite a lot of interest, then deciding to do another but this time with blonde hair.

Nothing ever lasts in that biz.

Shallow does not cover it.

I started this post on 20/01/24 and am only getting back to it now. Lots of things intervened like CAT scan, vitamin B12 injections and just plain old lassitude from the fatigue I had been experiencing. And of course lots of self doubt about whether I should bother at all given the tepid response to my writing thus far. But glad to report that I am in the clear and feeling the benefit of B12. Not leaping tall buildings yet but definitely much improved. I can now work in the garden without becoming almost terminally exhausted. So off we go!

It’s the middle of 1993 and I have not worked since October ‘92. Was I depressed?……You bet. Was I skint? Yes. Was I surviving. Yes.

In 1991 I had started swimming at the B & G institute in Tasman Street Wellington.(Now demolished and replaced with flats). I was one of a group of people improving their swimming skills with a proper coach. Our coach was Barbara (forgotten her surname. Sorry Barbara). She was terrific. We learned everything…. Backstroke, butterfly, sidestroke, breaststroke and of course the best of all the Aussie crawl or freestyle. I never became a great swimmer but I was a good one and had developed endurance in the water. One of our goals was to be able to swim a length on one breath. It took some time but eventually we all were successful. I do remember when I did my first one I was just a few strokes from success and my lungs felt like bursting when I suddenly realised that the muffled drumming I could hear was the sound of the rest of class walking along the side of the pool and urging me on….,,,Go Dan…Go Dan…Goooo…….. my finger tips hit the end of the pool and I rose out of the water feeling like Danyon Loader….., Amazing sensation of achievement. I didn’t punch the air. I was too stuffed and gasping for oxygen. But from then on I could do that excercise with relative ease simply because I knew I could finish. A valuable lesson indeed.

Other diversions from despair which I learned in those times were; learning to touch type. That came in handy in later times when I applied for jobs. And best of all…. Renewing my love of Shakespeare and setting a goal of learning all the major famous speeches from all the plays! When I had achieved that I set a long time goal of learning Hamlet. Haven’t finished that one yet but I know large stretches and continue to listen to the CD’s I cut at the film archive in the 2000’s. I recorded the play on cassette from The Concert Programme some time in the 1980’s. It was the Kenneth Brannagh version with a great cast. Brannagh himself in the title role, Derek Jacobi, Judy Dench, Richard Briers, Emma Thompson, Michael Hordern, Michael Williams, Sophie Thompson, John Gieldgud(as the ghost), James Wilby, Gerard Horan, Christopher Ravenscroft (as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

I was at home by myself most days and spent time every day reciting speeches from the plays whilst walking around between rooms. I walked a lot and swam every day. I had resumed the habit of reading which I had largely neglected during my tenure in Drama. My whole life had been totally consumed by producing and directing and I had lost interest in just about everything else. I was only realising now how much I had fucked up.

But I was surviving instead of falling into despair.

Looking for work was a fucking nightmare. I don’t know what the stats were but every job seemed to be pursued by huge numbers of applicants. It was death by a thousand interviews often conducted by people out of the ACT party playbook. My CV was generally not believed by many of those muppets. In any case no one knew what Drama Producers and directors did so you were always pushing the proverbial uphill. A strange sense of disbelief pervaded all of the above.

“WTF”, I often yelled out inwardly. I was going to say ejaculated but that may give the wrong impression.

But……..I was gifted temporary relief by my lovely neighbours Darryl and Leona who had met on a day trip to Lesbos and now lived happily together up in Northland. Leona was Head of The Personnel Dept. at the Open Polytech in Petone. She put my name up for a job in the mailroom and voila! there I was with a three month contract and no shitty interview to endure.

Some time later I was sitting behind a desk in that mailroom holding in one hand my letter opener and of course a letter lay on the desk whick I picked up and just before slicing it open I clearly remember looking at the little dagger then back at the envelope and thinking WTF. I thought WTF on many occasions in those times. But after a while I stopped and just got on with whatever I was doing.

I was the only male in the place. Everyone else was female. It was a binary world or so it appeared on the surface. But that conversation was not on the surface of most peoples consciousness. Working with an all female group held no problems for me. After all I had grown up with four older sisters, my Mother and my maternal Grandmother, plus two brothers. I was the middle one. And of course my Father. I never saw women as different or the ‘weaker sex’. Quite the opposite I can promise you. All the girls held seniority over the boys. But we all accepted each other as individuals and there was no ongoing tensions between us. But my sisters could be pretty scary if you got stroppy. My father would never allow us to cheek our older siblings. This rule was strictly enforced. I don’t remember it ever being a major problem.

The women were nearly all born and raised in the Hutt area and Wainuiomata. Ages ranged from mid twenties to fiftyish.

Morning tea was quite the occasion. Two or three people baked the night before and there was intense discussions on quality and method. Lavish praise was directed at the bakers de jour who modestly brushed off the compliments. And the baking was delicious. Everyone got tucked in. It was bloody great. They were very kind and generous to me.

However there was a very strong vibe of conservatism running through the group. This was very much to the fore because of a criminal investigation underway at the time in Christchurch. It was the infamous Christchurch Civic Creche case and the public naming of the alleged abusers with emphasis being placed on Peter Ellis as the worst offender. Ellis’ homosexuality was used to blame him of vile abuses. Anyone with an objective view could see that the guy was being railroaded towards a conviction. The price of being gay was very high then even when the law had been reformed in order to end the injustices many people had suffered because of their sexuality. I was shocked to see the virulence and hatred directed at Ellis in particular. He was not at the time convicted of any offence but all the women almost without exception were sure of his guilt. One of them was moved to say something like..”give him to us and we will sort him out…” Hanging from a lampost was suggested. And they meant it. Crikey! WTF indeed. I ventured the suggestion that after he was despatched and was subsequently found to be innocent…What then? But he is guilty was the reply. “He is a homosexual”. I pointed out to them that the vast majority of the abuse inflicted on children was known to be committed by family members of the straight variety. But they would not have a bar of it. They knew better than the official stats and that was that. I even offered to go with them to the local police station and have my assertions proven to be the truth. No way, Jose.

Whoops…. time for me to bale I thought. My three month contract was almost finished at the time and I had been offered a permanent job. I had thought about it…. steady work….stay for a while…..something might come up in the TV biz……but no this was it….I could not bring myself to spend any more time with people who held such hateful views. Quite a number of the staff did not express an opinion on the subject of Peter Ellis but they were not interested in putting themselves in the hot seat by going into conflict with there workmates. Fair enough I suppose if your whole existence depends upon you toeing the line.

It was very disturbing to see people living such constricted lives but being absolutely sure how the wider world operated.

I always felt very sorry for Peter Ellis. But his fate was sealed by the bigotry and hatred directed at him.

One of our greatest national tragedies.

Do you think those awful attitudes have arisen again in the present time? So much hatred around. Don’t get mixed up in it. But call it out when you see or hear it.

So, I was back on the unemployment list. A fair trade off when you consider my alternative at the time.

I will end this wee Bulletin here. When I return….shortly I hope… we will have zoomed forward to mid 1984 and I will have missed out the intervening period with all it’s ups and downs…high and lows. I did continue with my keep fit regime of walking and swimming….learned my Shakespeare and read much.

Sanity must be encouraged at all costs.

Ta ta the noo.