Nuclear Submarine trip

Bizarre Adventures Aboard A Royal Navy Polaris/Trident Submarine

 by Richard Dodd

Previously posted on Reelshow Mag

Nuclear Submarine
For mainly security reasons the name of the Submarine, the dates and names of the personnel have been withheld
Many years ago I was privileged to be involved in a crew that would join a Royal Navy Polaris Nuclear Submarine for its shakedown cruise before it went off on a prolonged tour of duty.
The security vetting of the film crew was very thorough and months after the documentary was completed I was told of the occasional salesman, long lost relative etc asking my neighbours about me and my wife’s social, dining, sexual and spending habits..
Like how often did I go to the pub, did we drive new cars, was either of us having an affair, were we in debt etc..all blackmail material I suppose to an interested foreign party.
Any way, the vetted film crew eventually arrived in Helensburgh on the West coast of Scotland and we were given a number of briefings about life on the ship, security and safety procedures, behavioural procedures etc.We also filmed a lot of preliminary activity..
Then came departure day.
In my early career I was a trainee mining engineer in the Coal Industry and would normally work on a very low coal seam, two feet six inches to about three feet high .In mainly total blackness and very dusty. We could never stand up once we had crawled along the face area. The seams were twelve hundred feet underground if I remember correctly, but am OK if anyone actually knows what depth those West Cumbrian seams were at. It was extremely claustrophobic.
I was eternally grateful to leave that Industry and join one that let me be out and about, fresh air, big sky, mountains etc.
Now I was about to enter a steel tube that would be submerged for a number of weeks, in relatively crowded conditions, subject to Navy discipline and absolutely no means of communication to family or friends ashore.
Insanity
The film crew lined up on the Jetty as the sailors were stowing supplies etc and we were introduced to the senior Naval personnel who were detailed to keep an eye on us, answer our questions, make sure we didn’t film anything remotely security sensitive, show us our quarters. And keep us out of the way.
I decided that as soon as I entered the ship I would not return to the dockside. I needed to get my head into the fact that I would be living in a cocoon for weeks. Get used to it. And that is exactly what I did.
During the short spell I was on the ship before the other crew members came on board, one of the crew was deemed to be a security breach and was removed from the crew list. No cruise for him.
The Producer was bollocked by the Captain for bringing a rolled up umbrella on board and was sent ashore to dispose of it, seems brollies are not seen as good luck symbols on a submarine
The Eminent Defence Correspondent from a well known newspaper we had with us who was also the “Expert Presenter” was taken to the Officers mess and immediately given an armed escort .This chap could not go to the bathroom without an armed sailor accompanying him. Not to everyone’s taste. Also most of the Aft section of the ship was out of bounds to him
That’s where the Nuclear reactor was.
A Chief Petty Officer showed us to our Quarters.
What he actually did was point to a rather long, brightly lit corridor and said we could kip there, on the floor, in our sleeping bags of course. The ship worked 24/7 and this was a busy old thoroughfare, but that was the sleeping arrangement. Like it or lump it.
The film crew were based in the Officers mess, quite a small area but with lots to read and some comfy chairs.
For our benefit the duplicate dials showing important attitudes of the vessel were all covered up. No Compass indicator, depth, speed etc. All classified info.
The only drawback to being in the Officers mess was the fact it was dry, and by that I mean ARID.
Absolutely no alcohol whatsoever. It would have been easier to get a drink in Mecca than in that Officers mess, which was probably a good thing considering what those Officers were in charge of.
However, just across the corridor lay a mess of a different order.
The Chiefs Mess.
Because there are more Chief Petty Officers than Commissioned Officers then the Mess room was somewhat bigger, again it had comfortable sofas, some moody lighting, tables and chairs dotted about and at the end of the long room, in splendid isolation, the other Mecca for drinkers. The Bar.
With the Military, any branch, in order to enter a mess then an invitation must be issued by the branch that run the Mess.
The film crews invitation to use the Chiefs Mess for socialising came after three days into the trip, by then the CPO’s had seen us around, worked out we were not TV puffs and decided to let us into their Hallowed Quarters This was probably determined by the fact that our Director was an ex Officer in the SAS.
The Brolly toting Producer got into trouble again, he had a rather fancy hairstyle and he kept it quite long, so long that occasionally he would surreptitiously give it a quick going over with a hair spray.
He only did it once when on board..
The tannoy in the Officers mess suddenly burst into life and the Captains distinctive gravelly voice came on. “Would the person who is now using hair spray desist immediately, It stinks and is fucking up the ventilation system”.
CPO MESS
On arrival at the appointed hour we were led in, introduced to the crowded room and all of us were then given a half pint of amber liquid. Upon enquiry we were told that this was our spirit ration …for day one…. and to get it down because the other two days rations were lined up on the bar.
As you can imagine the rest of the trip passed in something of a blur and I only have brief snatches of memory
I do vividly remember visiting the toilets/shower area sometime during that session to witness the sound assistant sitting on a toilet with the door open, having a severe attack of the runs, he would rapidly rise and then vomit down the pot, then into the shower for a quick clean up and then back to it again, the runs and vomiting I mean..
For a few days he was oblivious to his sleeping conditions .Ironically, today, that person is a hugely successful wine grower in NZ..
During the trip we were to discover that all of the furnishings in the Mess had been modified to hold booze. The table tops were perched on barrels, all of the padded seating would be removed to reveal stacks of bottles and more barrels and some of the wall panels also hid the liquid treasure..
Down at the pointy bit of the vessel lived a sub species of humankind, cruelly but rightly referred to by the rest of the navy crew as the “Scum”. The appropriate Navy title is Able Seaman.
These creatures were rarely seen and never referred to if possible. They were at the extreme end of the Navy food chain They scuttled about the forward portion of the ship in their own netherworld.
It was among this outfit that I would find lodgings.
As we moved around the vessel I would be constantly looking for a more comfortable place to put my sleeping bag. I didn’t mind the brightly lit corridor or being stepped on occasionally but every so often the Missile tubes would be vented, a process that involved a very loud hissing noise and one that I never got used to.
On one of my probes around the ship I entered the area of the Scum and found that the Torpedo cradles were a perfect fit. The torpedo area was rarely visited and it was quiet .In I moved and stayed there for the remainder of the trip.
I slowly became a part of Scum life.
Angles and Dangles
That’s what they called it. It was more like a collective slalom with suicide being the ultimate objective.
The major dining hall was amazingly large for a submarine and at one stage early in the trip all of the tables and chairs were moved out and any one with the desire to end it all gathered at one end of the long room with a food tray.
Then the ship dived…almost vertically, the surge of power was massive and everyone not tied down went into a dive, the idea was to actually sit on the tray and have a sleigh ride. It didn’t work out like that.
Dozens of sailors went flying down the hall to land in a heap at the other and, great fun, the ship stopped diving, shuddered a little, and went into a powerful climb up through the ocean. Again all the sailors went flying down the room to end in a heap at the other end.
I am told it was a serious exercise ..It didn’t look it. That was Angles and Dangles
On another occasion a string was tied to the shell of the ship at one side and stretched across to the other side. It was tied tight and taut. When the ship dived the string went very slack. What the pressure was on the outside hull is any bodies guess. Scary.
To cut a long trip down into a few anecdotes ..we settled in to the routine of the ship, ate in the Officers Mess, got drunk in the Chiefs Mess and I slept with the scum in their mess. They had some endearing little habits which are far too disgusting to relate here but this is something I did observe.
For this trip a new AB had joined the crew .He had a reputation that had spread before him and he was anxiously awaited.
He was reputed to have the longest erect penis in the Navy.
The Scum had money riding on this and the ships pride was at stake among the Submariners fleet. If the reputation was indeed well earned then the crews standing among their fellow seamen would be massively enhanced….They needed to know.
Unfortunately the supposed proud owner of this prodigious member was very shy and naturally reluctant to supply evidence. After a few days the patience of the Scum had worn thin and they decided to take matters into their own hands, in a manner of speaking.
They ambushed the unfortunate lad, stripped him and tied him to a chair .Then they placed a stack of the most vile pornography in front of him and told him to look
He did look but not at the mags, ..solution,.. every time he looked away or closed his eyes he was tapped on the head with a small hammer. It seemed to work and within a few minutes detailed measurements were being taken.
This was a very serious business and the Scum all offered him their daily beer ration of three cans each to compensate for the ridge of small lumps now appearing across the top of his head..
Escape
There was real fire alarm during the trip and as I was trained to get to my section as quick as possible. I legged it through the ship to my area among the Torpedoes. As I ran across the last section the steel door in front of me was slammed shut and faces of the Scum were peering out at me through the thick glass panel.
Thanks Lads.. I ran back to another section and managed to get through before the watertight seals were activated
I was soon kitted out with a life jacket and was standing in a queue to get to the escape hatch.
I was told that when it was my turn and I exited the ship that I had to blow all of the air out of my lungs as hard as I could, all the way up to the surface. Seems rather a strange thing to do but at great depths the inside air pressure would be so enormous that it would blow my lungs apart..
It was with great relief that the alarm was called off. I don’t think I was the only one pleased about that, particularly as I am not comfortable underwater without a Scuba outfit and we had no idea how deep we were.
Later in the trip the ship surfaced for us to film the hatch covers on the missiles being opened. I have no clue where we were but it was deathly quiet as this huge warship just sat in the swell and we almost started whispering as the sixteen hatches slowly swung upward. Looking down on a highly polished Polaris missile or its ballast dummy was a scary moment, If that thing was ever fired in anger then the world as we knew it would be gone forever.
We were on the surface for just a reasonably short time but we were not too popular when we re-entered the ship and slid beneath the surface again, apparently most of the crew had begun to feel queasy and some were actually seasick from the rolling of the boat in the swell
Towards the end of the trip we approached the Clyde at dawn, it was a perfect sunrise and we were on the surface, almost silently gliding up the deep inland waterway to the ships base. The Captain invited me and a couple of crew members onto the bridge. Actually we almost begged him to let us up there
It is still one of the abiding and proud memories for me. To stand on the top of the conning tower as we headed to port in one of the deadliest craft in the world, manned by a very professional outfit, in spite of my stories on here.
When we were tied up at the dockside there was a sudden panic on board, Some high ranking Officer, Admiral of the Fleet or equivalent wanted to come on a quick visit.
Film crews in general are not known for being tidy dressers and it was decided by the First Officer that perhaps we might consider staying out of sight during the brief visit, but where. The perfect place, a broom cupboard….even submarines need to be swept occasionally.
So all five of us duly crammed into the cupboard .It was a tight fit.
The visit began and as the entourage made its way around for some ritual inspection the door of our cupboard was opened by the Admiral. He was in full dress uniform and dripping with Gold Braid. The ships Officers behind him looked a little grim.
“Good Morning Gentlemen”
“Good morning Sir” we chorused .
“Have you had a good trip”
“Wonderful Sir”
“Good,” he looked around the cupboard “ Nice quarters”
With that he closed the door and they all moved on.
Two further small anecdotes to finish. After all of my fears of claustrophobia I was the last one of the film crew to leave the vessel. I had become accustomed to it.
During the course of the trip we had never been allowed to buy any of the CPO’s a drink in spite of their massive hospitality, but we did say we would buy them all a drink when we arrived back at base
We left the vessel and moved to a Hotel nearby as we still had a couple of days filming to do and that evening my internal phone rang, it was reception. “Sir, could you come down to reception, there are some visitors for you”
I walked to the large mezzanine landing which looked down onto the reception area and there was the entire Submarine crew with wives and partners all waiting to be bought a drink. Almost three hundred of them. .It was a fun evening.
At the moment there is much Political debate as to the effectiveness and high cost of this Nuclear deterrent. My personal opinion is that it is worth every penny and when one looks at the nuclear proliferation in the world today, notably by some unstable and downright rogue states then I sleep a little easier at night knowing that we have a unbelievably brave and dedicated professional crew out there in a fantastic ship protecting us and definitely deterring them.

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USS Nimitz

This is a short tale, and was previously posted on The Reelshow Mag... but it sticks in my memory so maybe you will also enjoy it….

A day out on the ‘USS NIMITZ’ ..as you will see from the picture this is one Mother of a ship…one of the biggest tonnage vessels in the USA Navy.

I was sent down to Naples in Italy with a crew to do a short documentary on this naval titan as it set off on a patrol around the Gulf of Libya…in those days the Libyan state, controlled by Col Ghaddafi,..Was not considered to be a friend of the Western world and it was constantly monitored by Allied navies.
After an eventful night in Naples..(Another story) we were picked up at the dockside and transferred to the Nimitz which was moored out in the bay.
Once on board we were shown to our quarters and invited to the Officers mess to meet our press liaison Officer. We all enjoyed our welcoming drink of a cola
Yep.. all USA Navy vessels are dry. .no alcohol whatsoever, ever, nada, zilch.. this was a three day trip but it already stretched out ahead of my near alcoholic crew like a lifetimes sentence.
OK, So, parched, alcohol free and already showing anxiety levels akin to those who go cold turkey on any addiction we set off on a filmic tour of this leviathan of the waves.
IT IS BLOODY BIG.
A one point I was able to stand at what can only be described as a crossroad of gangways, one in each direction. they all dwindled off into the distance for what seemed like hundreds of bulkhead doors.
Then there was the storage and engineering deck. This is immediately below the flight deck, its like several football fields joined together and it is stuffed full of aircraft, of all shapes and sizes but mainly fighter attack planes as one would expect, but the thing that really amazed me was the number of engineers who live down there, it seemed like thousands of them, all beavering away on engines and broken bits.
When we talked to some of these men they all said they had never been on the flight deck, they were on board for the two year mission and their aim was to work, pump iron in the vast gymnasium, eat, pass exams, eat some more, pump more iron and SAVE MONEY…these were serious people..and they had a lot to be serious about.
On our mission there had been a dog fight with a couple of Ghaddafi’s Migs out over the Gulf and both of them had been brought down. Time for a modest celebration in the Officers mess, modest it certainly was as we downed copious amounts of Coca Cola, but for these steely eyed Top Gun boys it could have been the best champagne or beer in the world.
The operation of Jets taking off and landing seemed to be a 24/7 task as jet after jet catapulted off the flight deck and the incoming hit the deck with a thump and were then taken down to the maintenance deck for a mechanics rub down.
We met and interviewed the Captain of the vessel, this man was a USA Hero going back to the Vietnam war, it was reputed that he had been shot down on two occasions behind enemy lines and fought his way back with just a small hand gun, a tough cookie indeed, if it were me then one time being shot down would have sufficed.
The interview was arranged to be filmed on the flight control deck, the Captains Bridge, that’s the tall spiky tower in the pic All was set up, the skipper arrived and we began, except we couldn’t..
Every time we started the interview the sound man would shout “Cut”…he had a problem with his recording machine, in those days it was a Nagra, A state of the art recorder and a reel to reel ,very reliable, but this one would only turn round in short bursts of a couple of seconds. It didn’t take long to work out that the signal from the large rotating radar dish, just above our heads was sending out such a strong magnetic field that it actually stopped the recorder from working.
We quickly found another venue for our chat but it did give me food for thought that if the signal was that strong it could stop the recorder …what was it doing to the personnel who spent hours working on that deck every day…just a thought.. They all seemed quite normal..
OK..we did the usual documentary stuff for a few days , nice pics of the aircraft taking off and landing, some little escapades and near accidents but it all went relatively smoothly.
And then came the day of our departure.
The ship can stay at sea for over two years without re-fuelling and personnel rarely got to go on shore leave but for those in an emergency they can be flown off.
Not many volunteered.
At the appointed hour my crew assembled at the detailed departure point on the flight deck.
All equipment boxes securely fastened and stacked neatly, Navy style.. Then I looked around the deck. It was completely stuffed with fighter planes, row upon row of them, dozens of them, it was all you could see..
What I couldn’t see was a flight deck for my plane to trundle along to take off.
And where was our transport plane. .nowhere in sight.
Then a huge hole in the flight deck opened up and like the Phoenix from the ashes our twin prop driven aircraft arose. Its wings were folded up like a broken bird. They were soon flattened out and now it looked as though it was capable of flight…except.. there was no runway.
Then it dawned on me.
These lunatics were actually going to catapult us off the deck
And we were lunatics for agreeing to it…not that we were ever asked.
They were really going to sling us off the very short flight deck on a catapult..
Most people today have flown, the plane taxis to the end of a VERY LONG RUNWAY
They then run up the engines to high revs and start rolling down several hundred yards of concrete runway. .at a certain speed lift is achieved and the aircraft powers serenely into the blue yonder..
As aircraft went, ours was quite small, but it was much larger than any of the fighter planes that we had filmed taking off, these massively powerful war planes had been hooked up to the sling. Run their engines up to max power permitted, held back on their brakes and when ready the deck man would give a signal to both pilot and the catapult man and the combined forces of engine and catapult would throw the plane into the sky, an awesome operation.
Best seen from afar as a spectator.
Like sheep unto the slaughter my crew were herded across the deck and quickly kitted out in flight survival jackets, flight helmets, goggles.
Then we were boarded on the rear of the plane, the seats were all facing the tailgate ..we were told to take a brace position on take off and we did. The gear was stowed. The door was locked and now there was no escape.
The plane was trundled over to the end of the catapult section and attached. Looking out of the very small window I noticed we had attracted quite a crowd of onlookers.
Dozens of Navy folk were standing around peering at us, thumbs up signs etc were in abundance. I had the feeling that I had suddenly been invited to go into a big stone circular ring with some hungry lions licking heir lips at the other end.
I watched through the small window at the deck control man who I had filmed many times over the last few days giving his usual signals to the pilot, it normally consisted of spinning his index finger at ever growing speeds. This digital movement was copied on board the plane by the engines being revved to ear splitting level, the plane was threatening to tear itself apart as the engines reached maximum revs and then came the executioners moment. The deckman stopped his murderous spinning and pointed forward with what I thought was a flamboyant gesture .At that moment I hated that man.
But I had no time to dwell on how I wanted to kill him as I was being propelled into the air at a limb wrenching speed ..and suddenly we were airborne, we soared away from the deck which I could see rapidly dwindling in the small window..
Brilliant…no doubt this was an exhilarating moment.
And then we stopped flying…
Apparently this is normal. .But I didn’t know it.
As we went rapidly down towards the ocean the aircraft made a valiant attempt to reach airspeed, it transpired that the catapult actually throws the plane off the deck at a much higher speed than the plane can fly at and it really just starts to fall into the sea.
The screeching from the engines was now overwhelming and the plane appeared to resemble a million rivets flying in loose formation.
The glistening ocean was fast approaching and I made all of my prayers, in Urdu, Hebrew, Christian , Rastafarian and all of the rest…this was it, the end. The Big End…it was just a few hundred feet away and arriving quickly. Bye Bye life, Sex, Boozing, Watching Footie, and then as we were about to impact we started to lift.. we were actually flying… we seemed to just skim over the top before we began a stately ascent to a safer altitude.
Now it became clear to me why all those big body building, gluttonous, money saving mechanics never left the ship on its two year cruise. This was the only way off. They should all retire as rich men.,
Two short footnotes to this story.
The Cargo master who had flown with us told me they had lost two of these aircraft recently and it always drew a good audience of ghouls on the Nimitz to see if we could make it. He happily confessed that he had a death wish… Thanks fellas.
We were landed at an airbase on an Italian island, Sicily I think, and we were transported to our hotel by a Navy driver who had a big blue bus. On the way into the town, in the local rush hour we were struck a number of times by other vehicles. Our driver seemed completely unfazed, I asked him why. He said “Its always like this, none of these guys have ever learned how to drive, they have been driving like this FOR SEVERAL HUNDRED YEARS and aint got the hang of the motor car yet”
I guess he didn’t graduate with a major in history from his high school..
Still, as usual ..it was a pleasure to have completed another little adventure with the American Forces.

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Italian Diaries ..Number one.

After much prodding from friends and colleagues I have finall decided to enthrall the world with my daily experiences of Italian life.
These tales will not be consecutive or even form a pattern but will be random recalls from memory...sometimes from very dark recesses of memory.

Ok, here we go..
Buying a house in Italy:

My partner on the Reelshow, Mary Lou Brown and I, decided in circa 2000 to take some time out and visit the place where she had spent some great holidays as a child, Lignano Sabbiadoro. Italy.

This seaside resort is situated on the northernmost part of the Adriatic sea and is just along the coast from Venice.
It is indeed a great place for a summer holiday, great beaches ,bars ,restaurants, clubs, yachts etc.We liked it so much we rented an apartment there for a year...during that time we wrote a number of screenplays  and had a great time.
We  enjoyed ourselves so much we decided to buy a permanent place there so that we could just drop in at any time, as most of our work was sourced from the UK.

The original apartment we had rented for the year belonged to a prominent local family who had several apartment blocks in the area.We decided to take a short term rental with them until we found a place to buy..good idea we thought..and sure enough it turned out quite well..

The Father of the family knocked on our door one day to say he had an apartment for us to look at, it was for sale and was a new build, not on the coast but on the lagoon behind the peninsula .. a very pretty location.

The apartment was short drive away, 3 or four minutes, and our landlord kindly offered to take us to see it in his car...It was terrific, three bedrooms ,massive garden,large covered terraces. two car garage , parking area, secure entry..all of the things one needs....we decided to go ahead.

I will leave out the amazing problems of trying to raise a mortgage in a foreign country,particularly when one is a freelance, but eventually we managd it. The money was there.

We duly arrived at the lawyers office for the signing and handover.
This is a complex arrangement in Italy..one in which the officiating lawyer must leave the room whilst large brown envelopes .stuffed full of bank notes are trasferred from one party to another.

This has all to do with black money, tax money, real money,asking price money and the final sum...which is anybody's guess and may not be entirely legal...hence the missing lawyer.
Anyway the transaction is done..hands are shaken..keys and deeds handed over.

Mary Lou and I  were a little mystified by the presence of our generous landlord who had turned up at the office and who had sat through the entire procedure , and he was the first one to shake our hands, he was there as we had a celebratory glass of prossecco and he was there as we left the building , he was there  as we went to the car park and he followed us all the way home...to his apartment block. He was not quite so gushing  as we arrived as he had been all day and with a very curt nod he left us.
The following morning  we opened the front door to find a large bunch of flowers and a little note, saying our landlord would be visiting shortly to discuss the matter we had avoided yesterday....Mystified again, we waited and he duly arrived...to drop a bombshell.

Apparently he was due a fee...a finders fee...of five thousand Euros  about 4k$ US .

This fee was just for driving us to see the apartment...nothing else..we of course demurred in very anglo saxon terms  and then he enlighrtened us to what our lives would be like if we did not cough up.

We made enquiries locally and found that the fee musr be paid..it was  'The Way"

We paid up.

So buyers beware of the offer to escort you to look at a property from a kind neighbour in Italy.

More to come...lots more..

Lawyers,scripts and missed chances.

Some years ago Mary Lou, who runs the ReelshowInt sites, and myself submitted a number of script story lines to a well known USA Production company, we went to their very luxurious offices in London and talked with a Producer.
To our wild excitement the company liked three of the stories and wanted to go with one of them immediately…amazing.
We subsequently worked our way through a deal, they would develop the story and we would receive a big fat cheque for that, then they offered a “Back end deal” this meant we would get a percentage payment from the producers should the completed movie go into profit…again, fantastic.
It was all going swimmingly until the contract arrived, not from the office in London or LA, but from the new lawyers representing the company, the lawyers were based in NY.
Beware NY Lawyers
Their revamped offer took out the “back end deal” completely, reduced the cheque size and would ask us to pay for all development work, including producers expenses including 1st class airfares across the Atlantic or elsewhere, if the movie was not made.
Not so fantastic.
We took a good look at the new deal, along with an industry adviser, and pulled out.
The Production company returned the synopsis and promised not to make a movie that was remotely near to our story line, believe that if you will..
The story now sits in a file with a number of other projects and we are considering putting it and others out into the market place again.
Why?..
Good question, the usual answer is…. Money, then Kudos, Prestige, Fame, Champagne, Yachts, Private Jets to Premieres, Oscars….whoops… got carried away for a moment.
The real reason, along side those already mentioned is this..
During our negotiations with the LA Company they asked me a very intriguing question…”Did I want to direct the movie?”
They opined that as a D.O.P I would be interested in moving into the director’s chair.
It happens.
Have you ever had one of those moments when you look back at something you have done in life and just want to kick your own butt for being stupid..
I said..”No thank you..the movie needs the best talent to give it a good chance”
What a fool…This was my butt kicking moment..I should have grabbed the baton and run for the line.
What will I do if I am offered the opportunity again, and I will certainly push for it..I will say YES.
In my career I have worked with literally hundreds of directors, some were OK..some were amazingly bad, some were inept, some I just refused to work with after a couple of days. But one or two were quite good.
What they all had in common was an approach to a script that meant the written word could be conveyed convincingly to the screen using the best skills available to them.
This usually means The Designer and D.O.P, principally, everyone else associated with the production, but mainly the actors…
So many Directors fail because they actually think they can tell an actor how to portray a character, how to use body language, timing, looks, spaces in dialogue…Those Directors always produce a crap movie.
Actors at a certain level are paid a lot of dosh, its because they do exactly what you pay them to do. .Act.
When I am directing I will employ the best talent available and let the actors act..
No more self butt kicking for me, I will make so much money I will pay someone else to do it.
In my arrogance I cannot wait..
Now where shall I build the cabinet to take all of those Oscars..

 

American Lines...the ones you stand in, not sniff.

Ok let me set the scene here. I have been a frequent and long term vistior to the USA since 1970. I have had the enormous pleasure and privelege iof visiting every single State,inc Hawaii, except Alaks, which is on the list.

It's a wonderful country and one in which I could happily settle in, but it does have some amusing and sometimes irritating little peculiarities.

Entering America as a foreigner is not easy, there are some notorious blocking points to entry,most of these are at the major "Gateway" airports.

Here is a small sample of how the average traveller is treated, in this case it was me.

Arriving at LAX international after a 13 hour flight from the UK I joined the inevitable queue for the two hour trudge to the passport control desk my line was designated to. Ah, blessed relief, I thought as at long last I fronted the desk.

The unsmiling passport officer, a lady, who appeared to be a five foot cube with attitude, a uniform that she must have sprayed on and a  massive chest ful of medals that would have driven a North Korean Field Marshall wild with envy (It is a tough posting,checking Passports).

Woithout a word she took my passport, scowled at the paperwork, and kept it.Then she spoke "Business or pleasure?"
"Pardon?"
She repeated he question , two words "Business or pleasure?"
Easy I thought, I beamed as I answered "Both."

Wrong answer.

She repeated the qustion again.
I gave the same answer.
It was still wrong.

She seemed to examine every steel support beam in the cavernous reception hall before she returned to me, she leaned forward..."Is there something you do not understand about my question ...SIR?...Business or pleasure?"

At this point I realised I might soon be heading back to my homeland so I tried to expand my answer "I am here to make a documentary film for a month, you have the paperwork and the visa clearnces, and then I plan to take a vacation for three weeks touring California, both business and pleasure."
Not once did she make eye contact and she looked at the ever growing line of weary passengers which now numbered several hundred, all behind me and from every nation in the world."Do you see that queue SIR.?"

I looked and answered in the affirmative "Yes."

"Would you mind going to the rear of that queue and consider your reply to my question for when you eventually make it back here."

Ok, gloves off, I decided to take on this first line of defence for America, regardless of the personal cost. "No." she went pale 'I would like to see your supervisor though." she went even paler.

For the first time she stared at me, grabbed a phone, mumbled into it and with seconds a man appeared, no medals, just a plain suit and collar and tie.

"What is the problem officer?
This passenger refuses to answer my question." she told him what the question was. He looked at me and I gave him my answer.He snatched the passport from her,stamped it, gave it to me and between gritted teeth he  said 'Welcome to the Land of the Free sir, enjoy your trip."

I quickly made good my escape but got some satisfaction when I looked behingd me to see my cube getting a serious finger wag from her boss, I bet the next passenger got through quicker than I did.

Lines...I know you thought I meant the white powder ones but I did mean the ones you have to stand in...even when there is no-one else there and the people who derive power from making you actuallty stand in them.

A couple or three anecdotes: 

I was in New York..very nice hotel belonging to a famous Hotel chain on Fifth Avenue.To reach the reception are you had to catch an elevator at street level and ride up to the third floor.

 was there for a month intotal, the staff knew me.One afternoon I needed to cash some travellers cheques..remember them...I went to the usual long reception desk.The usual attendants,Concierge,Check In,Check Out,  and there at the very end The Cashier.

The area had the usual velvet rope line that ran on little poles up and down the space in front of the desk. There was only me in the entire foyer area....so I walked in front of the rope and went straight to the Cashier.

She eventually looked up at me."Yes Sir?"

I presented my cheques.She looked at me as if I had just arrived from Mars."Can you go into the line sir and I will call you forward when  your turn comes and I am free."

Another one who got the finger wag from her boss.

Washington Airport, can't remeber which one. My crew and myself were booked on a flifht to San Fran..we arrived with bags and three hundred kilos of bright shiny metal camera cases.

The check in desk for our airline had six check ins, all going to other parts of the USA..But only one line, which was crammed with passengers waiting to check in.
We joined the line and waited...and waited..we were not moving forward..our departure time was roaring round on us..It takes a time to load all of our kit boxes, we were rapidly running out of it.
The problem..  There was a large group of passengers at the head of the line who all wanted to go to one destination.None of the other passengers could get past them and they were getting a little desperate...so was I.
I spotted a man in a suit loitering at the side, he had an airline logo pin in his lapel.I went to him and asked why did they not have a seperate line for each of the destinations...then there would not be a hold up.
His jaw dropped, a flicker of something flashed into his eyes, he shouted something like "Eureka" and dashed off to do just that.
We caught the flight,..just...but this is definitely rocket science fellas..get it right.

Getting it right,  particularly for paying customers is an old fashioned concept, it seems to be quite rare...some brief examples.

When I travel I always try to stay in upper class hotels, for a number of reasons..Nice room,24 hour room service Wi Fi , comms, laundry etc .. and always a good restaurant.

I dont have big breakfasts, this is difficultb for most restaurants to grasp and in one I went  to, in my hotel I just wanted two plain fried eggs on toast...easy yeh?
No..
"We dont do fried eggs on toast sir"
I was in a hurry and accepted defeat immediately.."OK, can I just have some toast?"
"Yes sir"
"Can I have a side order of two fried eggs?"
"Yes sir."
It all arrived, two plates, one with toast and one with the eggs, I slipped the eggs onto the toast.

The waiter nearly died, he dashed off and brought the Head Honcho whom informed me that the restaurant and world renowned chef did not do fried eggs on toast.

In my travels in the States I have filmed in a nmber of state prisons..not nice places.

I could feel the hair rise on the back of my neck..not a good sign..and suddenly realised that what I was about to do would probably commit me to one of these fine penal institutes for anything from 25 years to life.
The prospect of never going  to the shower room for that length of time sobered me up and I meekly slid the eggs off the toast..and then checked out.

America is not alone in this customer prevention scheme...more examples.

In one of my favourite pubs in Chelsea London, a pub that was so popular it was standing room only on most evenings, the management suddenl began to charge 12.5% service charge on a pulled pint of beer..ridiculous..it was empty within a week.
Another popular watering hole in the same area refused to give a glass when a bottle of beer was ordered..they "didn't do glasses"..they almost went bankrupt..I hate drinking from bottles..so do most females

In the  UK Lake district a great pub in a tourist hot spot informed ne that they would not walk to my end of the bar to take my order. no one got served at that end of the bar..it was a tradition..My tradition is to get served when I walk in  at any end otf the bar. The pub across the road got my custm..

And lastly..back in the States, Californisa to be exact..my crew, the youngest must have been 45 years old were refused a drink by a barman because we had noo ID to prove we were iver 21..crazy.

I may return to this theme.

These are my personal musings, you may disagree, please leave any comments in the comment box,

A Film Cameraman’s Bizarre Adventures of a Spooky Kind

May 8, 2011 by Richard Dodd

Mary Lou Brown, the magical person who actually runs Reelshow International tells me she gets lots of requests for me to write more Bizarre Adventures of a Cameraman stories. There have been quite a few and the response has been amazing, very flattering, but I am at a loss as to what to write next.
We have had stories from helicopter crashes, naked filming, canoes sinking in the shark infested Indian ocean, nuclear submarine adventures, being catapulted off the flight deck of the USS Nimitz, in a prop job..There are a few more…try this spooky one.
I was filming in Southern France many years ago and the crew stayed at a very old castle turned hotel, very nice place and handy for all of our locations.
The hotel had retained many of the old features of the ancient castle, massively thick stone walls, broad staircases that would sweep around a tower to open onto another big room.Very spacious, atmospheric and very empty…
Anyway, one day after a very heavy shoot we got back to the hotel, had a quick drink in the bar and decided where we would go for a meal that evening…we settled on the hotel restaurant..we arranged to meet back in the bar at seven pm..prompt..
After a shower , change of clothes, all of the crew, four of us, the sound man was missing , re-grouped, had a drink, waited for the sound man, rang his room, no answer, waited, rang again…eventually we made our way to the restaurant, ate, drank, went back to the bar, drank some more, went to bed about midnight..The usual location scenario,
The next morning we all met up in the lobby and waited for our transport, the sound man was extremely peed off with us and demanded to know why we did not meet as arranged the previous night.
Apparently he had arrived at the hotel bar, there is only one , and we were nowhere in sight, he waited, rang all of our rooms, and eventually went into the dining room…it was deserted..he ate alone. When he finished he went back to the bar and sat there until about midnight , then went to bed. As far as he was concerned the hotel was completely empty, except we were in a very crowded restaurant and a busy bar, all of the visitors were from the local village..the rooms were empty but the main rooms like the bar and restaurant were very busy…yet he never saw anyone else…Spooky
Here was another experience we had in a hotel in Bishop Auckland UK, much the same crew, we were almost unchanged for thirteen years,
The hotel was a very old manor house, oak paneled rooms, suits of armour dotted about, very atmospheric place.
As usual with my team we all met in the very quiet bar for a pre-dinner drink, or two.
There was only the five of us in there. When the front door from the car park/garden slowly opened, then closed…we all saw it…then the door to the toilets opened and closed…we all saw that too..
Then the toilet area door opened and closed..we saw it and now began to get nervous..the front door opened and closed…no one had been seen to enter or exit..we needed another drink..
That night in bed I heard what sounded like children playing in the corridor outside my room..I thought that some late arrivals with kids had turned up.
Along the corridor the Grip was having an altogether different experience…The children’s laughter had turned to screams and as he listened he saw a mist come under his door and lift him out of his bed, he spun around the room about four feet off the floor for what seemed like minutes and then was just dumped back on the bed..the children’s screams stopped instantly.
The next morning we described our stories to the Manager who said the place was really haunted, many people had heard the children screaming and it was put down to the fact that Oliver Cromwell’s soldiers had attacked the hotel which was at that time the home of Royalist sympathisers..The family were all killed and the bodies of the children, three of them, were all found on the corridor where the bedrooms were.. spooky!

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Introduction to Maginty's Quest

Introduction to Maginty’s Quest

by Chelsy Swann

 

    Maginty’s Quest is a story  of magic that will entertain  adventurous and intelligent readers aged  nine to ninety three and a half.

    Originating in the troubled times of the 1700s, when a family of Wizards are burnt out of their home in London, the story makes its way across the Atlantic Ocean to the lair of Pirates. Two sea creatures are given a quest by a mortally wounded pirate, who just happens to be a Wizard.

    One of the sea creatures is an Octopus named Maginty.  His companion  Deacon, the notorious Ace Navigator,  is a turtle.  A calming influence on this pair  is an electric eel called Sissy.

    They wait many years to carry out their quest which takes place in the London suburb of Chelsea.

    Will they succeed against the many villains who stand in their way?