Them's the Breaks

It's easy when you know WHO...

I’ve seen a post by the Big Issue doing the rounds (rightly so) post-Oscars, saying “It's easier to make films if you went to private school.”

So what’s new? Here’s an article from 2016 saying the same thing.

And I’m certain there have been many reports before and in between those times.

So why has nothing changed?

Because it is in the blood of this country. The world. It’s hardly a secret that those with privileged lives stand to have better opportunities, more contacts, and more chances offered to them, because that’s how the world turns.

I’m working class. That’s my background, my roots, whatever you want to call it. When I secured my first job on a film as a runner (aged 19), I was fortunate enough to have my “Tarantino phone call” story in my arsenal. People’s eyes would light up with interest when they heard that. Would I have been interviewed or given the job without that story? I can’t say for sure, because beyond that I had nothing else to offer except hard work and dedication to the job.

But one thing I did notice working on that film was that whenever there was a need for more runners they were always friends of friends. There were no interviews for them, they would just magically appear. They also rarely, if ever, got their hands dirty or broke out into a sweat. Most of the time it resembled a Coke advert of pretty young things hanging out, having fun.

---

Two stories from that shoot:

Without wishing to sound like a Monty Python-Four Yorkshiremen sketch, it took me three hours to get to Twickenham Studios every morning. I would wake at 4.45am, and be at the tube station for the first train at 5.15ish. I’d get to the studio at 8.30am. Do my day’s work and leave (if things went to plan) around 8pm. Home by 11ish for dinner, bed by midnight.

That summer, there were a lot of rail strikes, which meant an even longer commute for me. I had been working in the production office for three months at St. Katherine’s Docks, and later set up our new base at Twickenham Studios. I did what I could whenever there was a strike, but I recall one journey ended up being five hours long. The Line Producer said he would ask the P.A. if I could stay overnight at her parents’ place in Kingston-Upon-Thames.

Now this bit of the story is shitty, granted: The LP informed me in front of the P.A. that I couldn’t stay with them because she said “He might steal something.” This embarrassed me, being the lowlife scum from Romford that I clearly was, and embarrassed the P.A. into changing her mind: She let me stay overnight at her parents’ huge house in one of their huge spare rooms. (And I managed not to walk off with the silverware ;o)

(The house was amazing. As we drove to work the next day, we passed down a road which had a security guard posted next to a barrier. Needless to say, we were in a very posh area, and I’d never seen anything like it before or since.)

There were an awful lot of rich, privileged people working on this film. The director had close family ties to a very recognisable UK brand and was able to pull in family favours to secure a cameo from a worldwide famous actor. The funding from the film was easily secured (reportedly 1.4 million, but something in my memory says it was actually less than that. But still…).

The entire experience was an eye-opener to how the other half lived. I thought I understood the meaning of that phrase before then, but to see it up close, first-hand, it shook me.

I had spent most of the shoot feeling like Baldrick from Blackadder, and about halfway through the location shoot, I received confirmation of my status. We were filming and living in Oxford, and one of my jobs was to deal with the extras on set. The extras were all locals, all of whom name-dropped at some point that they had worked on Shadowlands the previous year, and kept asking “Is this film going to be like Shadowlands? Or Inspector Morse?” like I had any idea what this film was going to turn out like. (*I had read the script, and had my own thoughts on it…)

I had become pretty chatty with the usual group of extras who would turn up when needed, and I’d look after them the best I could. One young lad (about 15/16 years old?) was very interested in the filmmaking process, and would ask me a lot of questions, so I’d do my best to answer. The lad mentioned he was interested in working in film, and we would talk about films, and were seemingly on the same wavelength…

One day, I saw the lad with a cluster of extras and popped over for a quick chat. Totally out of the blue, he said to me “I’m going to have your job.”

At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. But I could tell by his demeanour that he was being completely serious. He explained that he was going to talk to my boss - the first A.D. - and tell him what a crap job I was doing and that he was going to take over my position. To this day I don’t know why he said this, why his character turned from nice-posh-boy to evil-posh-boy, but he did it anyway. I can only put it down to the lad seeing something he wanted and he was going to take it from a pleb like me.

Taken aback somewhat, I fronted it out. “Go on then,” was the best I could manage - The equivalent of “oooh I’m really scared”. I told him who to speak to, and wished him good luck. I sounded full of bravado, but deep down I was alarmed.

I spent the rest of the day believing I was about to lose my job. This is the stupid thing: Part of me had accepted it.

At the end of the day, the First A.D. came up to me and said “Some posh kid came up to me and asked me to fire you. He said he could do a much better job than you.”

Thankfully at this point in the shoot I had proved my value, and the A.D. gave the posh boy a two-word answer ending in “off”.

The First A.D. asked me why I hadn’t gone to him and told him what had happened. I couldn’t answer, mostly because I couldn’t believe that someone had stood up for me.

Yes, it’s a fact that the posh boys and girls get the breaks, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us should “know our place”. It’s always going to be much harder for us - unless those who go before us defend us. Fight for us. Believe in us.

Only then do we get a seat at the table, because until the class system of our country changes (which it won’t) there will only be more articles to come about the privileged few getting all the breaks.