Making of the Italian Job E-Book

Matthew Field

• Herausgeber: Batsford
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 217

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Thirty years ago one of the most popular British films of all time was released. The Italian Job is remembered by everyone who has seen it, if not for Michael Caine's unforgettable line "You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!" - which led to the trademark impression of him - then for the literal cliff-hanger of an ending. Consistently in the top 100 films of all time and voted fourth best British film of all time, The Italian Job story is covered here from start to finish: how it was made, by the people who made it.

Leseprobe

For Mum, Dad and Andrew

Forever supportive

In memory of Peter Collinson, the man behind the camera.

I would like to thank the following for their cooperation in putting this book together: John Aldred, Louisa Allender (Uden Associates), BECTU, Robin Behling (FERIF), BFI, Brian Bell, Don Black, Alan Brodie Representation Ltd, Clifford Brown, Daryl Burchmore, Al Burgess, Sir Michael Caine, Ajay Chowdhury, Corgi Classics Ltd, John Clive, Hazel Collinson, Michael Deeley, Equity, John Forgeham, Freddie St George, Sarah Golding, Anthony Gould, Gerry Humphries, Steve Hunt (UIP), Derek Kavangh, Antal Kovacs, Rachel Kruger, Frank Jarvis, Disley Jones, Derek Lamden (The Green Room Club), Ronald Maasz, Troy Kennedy Martin, Alessia Miceli, Gary Miller, Helen Miller, Paul Molloy, Lancelot Narayan, Gareth Owen, Laurent Perriot, Neal Purvis, Graham Rye, Mr and Mrs Douglas Slocombe, Mary Spencer, Spotlight, Barbara Spreadbury, Jeremy Theobald, John Trumper, Robert Wade, Derek Ware, Dave Worrall, Philip Wrestler and David Wynn-Jones.

I would like to say an extra big thank you to Michael Deeley, Lancelot Narayan, Ajay Chowdhury and Anthony Gould, without whom this book would never have surfaced.

Thank you to the following individuals and companies for their kind permission to reproduce the quotes in this book:

Channel Four Television Corporation (The Mini Job);

Orion Publishing (The Noël Coward Diaries); and

Antal Kovacs (More Revitals AMPS).

Although every effort has been made to trace all individuals featured in the photographs in this book, apologies are offered in advance for any unintentional omission or mistake or neglect; we will be happy to insert appropriate acknowledgements to companies and individuals in subsequent reprints of the book.

I would also like to say a big thank you to all my friends and family who have supported me throughout the project and in particular: Hannah Borowski, Ben Cannon, Sonia Cole, Kathryn Corbin, Maureen Cowle, William Clark, Chris Deakin, James Head, Joanne Hudson, Tracy Hurst, Mary Keefe, Gavin Knight, Mark Laycock, Robert Lockyer, Norah Mahony, Petra McDonald, Sue Martin, Karen Martin, Alison Martin, Jonathan Mapplebeck, Jason May, Paul Mitchell, my grandmother Josephine Neal, Harry and Marilyn Neal, Simon Paris, Ena and Wally Ribbens, Nigel Sillett, Philippa Sillett, Matthew Smith, Brian Spreadbury, Michael and Kerri Spreadbury, Neil Spreadbury, Lynne Stroud, Melanie Symes, Melissa Vincent, Christopher Warner, Robert Way, Philip Wills, Mark Wilson and Steven Wrench.

Contents

Foreword by Michael Deeley

Introduction

1    The Man in the Driving Seat

2    Genesis of a Curious Antique

3    Pre-production

4    Principal Photography

5    Cut to the Chase

6    Cliffhanger

7    When the Shooting Stops

8    Preparing for a Y2K Audience

9    The Italian Job Cult

10  My Name Is Sir Michael Caine: An exclusive interview

Credits

Index

Foreword

Everyone who makes films longs to have a hit in America. Why? Because it is the cradle of cinema as well as the world’s single biggest market, and if you are foreign (e.g. British) it is even more of a coup.

When The Italian Job had such a success in Britain, we puzzled over why it didn’t work in the same language territory of the USA. Many theories were put forward, the most popular being that the publicity campaign in the States came shortly after the shooting of anti-Vietnam war student protestors at Kent State University and anti-gun sentiment was at a peak. The poster they brought out showed Michael Caine with a massive sub-machine gun in one hand and a cup of tea – to signify trendy London – in the other. There was also a tattooed naked girl kneeling in front of him…Not that there’s anything wrong with naked girls but hardly relevant to the film.

But personally, after 30 years of thought, I have come to the conclusion that the reason why the film did not click in the USA is because it had nothing to do with the USA. Nothing at all. It is a playful look at the differences between the British and its European neighbours. It would have worked equally as well had we shot in Paris instead of Turin because it would have been the same old ‘Us against Them’ love/hate relationship that flourishes to this day between mainland Europe and offshore Britain. The Italian Job is Euro-sceptic, which is why it is fun and why it has had no resonance in America.

Matthew Field has done such a good job delving into a production that was shot one third of a century ago and which is still amusing people today. Well done, Matthew, and the best of luck.

Introduction

‘You’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!’

It was over 30 years ago that Michael Caine uttered this unforgettable line, which would become synonymous with British ’60s cinema and provide impersonators with a thousand punch lines. The Italian Job was a film that was to make heroes out of three Mini Coopers, one red, one white and one blue. It was the Mini that represented the new Britain, which was confident, laddish and not taking itself too seriously. The Italian Job arrived amid the climax of the Swinging Sixties and it was this liberated era, when fashion, music and personalities were more outrageous than ever before, that was the genesis for this high-spirited escapade.

It was my father who sat me down in front of the television set at the tender age of five to watch, opened-mouthed, engulfed in a frenzy of excitement, three Mini Cooper Mk Is sporting the colours of the Union Jack, gracefully race across rooftops, through sewers, down subways, eventually retiring to the back of a bus. It was on this evening that the affection that I hold for the film began, in parallel with a desperation to grow up to drive and to own a Mini Cooper.

The Italian Job is a unique part of British cinema history and its cocktail of stars is particularly unusual. While starring one of the hottest stars of the 1960s, Michael Caine, the film also features Noël Coward in his last film role and also boasts an array of great British comedy performers such as Benny Hill, John Le Mesurier, Irene Handl, Simon Dee and Fred Emney. Not only does the impressive British cast make the film unique, but also the message that it conveys. Although centred around a bullion heist, director Peter Collinson disguises any immoralities by presenting us with a piece of patriotic Rule Britannia flag-waving, proud-to-be-British cinema, told with a jingoistic ’60s swank.

Its initial 1969 release failed to woo American audiences with its Carnaby Street-style fashion and unique British humour. It has only been through constant television showings here in the UK that The Italian Job has started to enjoy the cult following that it undoubtedly deserves. Although dated, its retro image surfaces to appeal to a variety of audiences. In a nationwide survey of movie fans carried out by the Daily Mail, the picture was voted 54th of the best 100 films ever made; the BFI voted it 36th of the top 100 British pictures ever made; Total Film consider the fantastic car chase to be the third favourite of all time. The attention the film is now receiving has sparked a burst of spoofs and pastiches from fashionable alcoholic beverages to pop music videos.

As I grew older I eventually saw the film in its entirety and began to understand and to appreciate this classic comedy caper. The Italian Job will always be remembered for its awe-inspiring car chase, its most memorable of film endings and the Michael Caine one liners. It occurred to me that this wonderful light-hearted film had never received the recognition it deserved and a written tribute had never been compiled. With the film being re-released for its 30th anniversary and a new generation of moviegoers encountering The Italian Job experience, I hope my objective has been fulfilled and that this book will act as the definitive celebration of one of my favourite films.

Matthew Field

Once Peter Collinson got the feel for films he never turned back.

Chapter One

The Man in the Driving Seat

Although The Italian Job holds a prominent place in popular culture, little is known about the life and background of director Peter Collinson, the man responsible for transforming Troy Kennedy Martin’s script into such an enduring motion picture. Here, for the first time, his widow Hazel Collinson talks about the director’s tragic childhood, his place in the film world and his untimely death.

Early days

Peter Collinson was born in 1936 in Cleethorpes, Humberside. Both his parents were in the showbiz world, his mother an actress, his father head of an orchestra. They met on tour but by the time Peter was two years old, the marriage was over. Immediately Peter became a problem. Both parents were unwilling to sacrifice their careers to bring up Peter, and young Collinson was handed to his grandparents. They were elderly and didn’t have the energy for a six-year-old boy. ‘Gradually things got so difficult,’ remembers Hazel, ‘The dad didn’t want him, because he had remarried, and the mum was just interested in herself.’ At the age of eight, Peter was placed in the Actor’s Orphanage where he spent the remainder of his childhood. He no longer was to have any contact with his parents. Hazel recalls, ‘His dad, I know, did try to see him a couple of times when he was a kid.’ Apparently Peter’s mother refused the right of his father to visit. Peter would watch him arrive from the window but wasn’t allowed to see him. Collinson’s ordeal in the orphanage proved to be very lonely, but it was an encounter with one of its patrons that would be the inspiration for his career. Young Collinson wrote and starred in numerous plays, one of which Noël Coward saw. ‘Noël Coward was head of the orphanage in those days, and he got quite fond of Peter and became his godfather there. Peter was not what I would call a friendly child, I think he was quite resentful over what had happened, quite sad.’ At 14 it was time for Peter to leave and he had to inform the committee of exactly what he wanted to do. He said in an interview during the making of The Italian Job, ‘I was the only kid who wanted to be an actor so Noël auditioned me.’ Coward sent Collinson to Sir Kenneth Barnes, principal of the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. Collinson continued, ‘He said I was bloody awful, but since ‘The Master’ had sent me, he would fit me in next term. I was proud. I said no.’

Noël came to Collinson’s aid once more. Coward organised Peter’s first job, a line boy, at the New Cross Empire in London. ‘These were the kids who used to sit up on the big spots and follow the actors,’ recalls Hazel. ‘I was so determined to do well that after seven months I had a nervous breakdown, I didn’t see him but it was Noël who arranged a two-month rest in North Africa. On my return, he got me a new job at the Arts Theatre in London,’ remembers Peter.

Peter Collinson jokes on set.

National service

In 1954 Peter Collinson served his two years National Service. He was sent to serve in the Malayan Emergency against the communist guerillas who were rising up against British rule. Conditions were dreadful – it was jungle warfare and the communists were vicious. As Hazel remembers: ‘He lost quite a few friends there, in extremely nasty circumstances. One of the things he did do while he was training was to try to take it easy because he thought training as a soldier was pretty heavy. He decided that if he could get into the band, it would be easier, so he pretended he played the drums. Well, he was in the band for a good three weeks before they realised he couldn’t play the drums at all. He was kicked out.’ Peter always appeared damaged. A rough start in life had dug deep wounds that would never heal and would haunt him for the rest of his life. ‘Nowadays you would receive counselling, but in those days you were just thrown into the Army, thrown into the jungle.’

When Peter left the Army, he realised he had no direction in life; he had become accustomed to institutions. Hazel recalls, ‘He was used to being organised in the orphanage, and the Army was rather like that, somebody else took responsibility.’

Surprisingly, Peter reacted differently, instead of returning to the Army, he returned to Noël Coward, as he explains: ‘When I got out, I worked with pop and rock ’n’ roll shows. I was desperate to get into television but I wasn’t having any luck, so I thought of Noël Coward again. I wrote a letter to his secretary explaining my position and within a week, without seeing him, I was in. I was hired by the same man at Associated Rediffusion who had turned me down just a few weeks before!’ Television in the late 1950s was getting big and Peter Collinson was determined to make a name for himself and be a part of it. Before long he was working as a floor manager at BBC South in Southampton.

Showtime!

After a period in Southern England, Collinson left for Ireland in the early 1960s. A new television station had opened in Dublin but they had no staff, so crews were recruited from England to train up the Irish. American directors were also brought in to help with the training programme.

It was on his arrival there that he was to meet and fall in love with his future wife, an actress by the name of Lisa Shane, who would later become Mrs Hazel Collinson. Lisa, or Hazel, as she will be referred to from now on, had been acting from the age of three, and by 1960 was becoming a big name in Dublin. She was working at the television station on a show called Showtime, where a different songwriter was showcased each week and all his or her numbers performed. Although Collinson wasn’t directing, the pair used to meet up and chat in the staff canteen.

Within a year, Peter was asked to direct a new theatre show titled Carry for the theatre festival in Ireland. Hazel was offered the lead and in due course accepted. The couple began to know each other rather well and before long they fell in love. Peter decided it was time to leave Ireland and taking Hazel with him, he moved back to England to direct for ATV, based at what is now Elstree Studios. It was during a television show for ATV that he met Michael Klinger who was to change his career forever.

I wanna be in the movies!

Klinger offered Collinson his first movie, Peter got a feel for films and after the production wrapped, he never looked back. Released in 1967, The Penthouse featured The Italian Job actor Tony Beckley, along with Martine Beswick, Suzy Kendall, Terence Morgan and Norman Rodway. Movies were the way forward for him. ‘I think what he liked about it was once it was done, it was over, you could look for something else to do. He rather liked that, he was very wild and a great risk taker,’ recalls Hazel. The Italian Job’s producer, Michael Deeley, describes Peter as someone with great charm and ‘a wicked smile that he used a lot. He was part of that time, and dressed like it too, like a Mod.’

Peter Collinson and wife Hazel arrive at the Acapulco film festival.

Hazel was reluctant to marry. ‘I wasn’t terribly keen on doing the whole marriage bit again, I had done it once and it hadn’t worked.’ Although Hazel had her reservations, the couple did eventually marry in Las Vegas and as Hazel recalls, ‘We had gone to Las Vegas to see the shows, the wonderful shows, and he woke up one morning and said “Get into a nice dress, we’re going somewhere special.” I said, “Where?” He said, “Never mind, just get into a nice dress.” So I did. We got into a car and he said, “Guess what, we’re getting married!’’ After a small ceremony with only the witnesses present, the newly weds returned to Britain, where Peter was offered his next movie.

Up the Junction, apart from The Italian Job, was probably the best film Peter ever made. It focuses on a young girl from Chelsea, effectively demonstrating the divide between upper and working classes, and the envy of each other. It was with this movie that Peter finally found his feet. Hazel was unable to spend as much time as she would have liked on location. She was heavily pregnant with their first child Tara but Hazel did prove very important in pre-production during the casting, as she explains: ‘I was the one who spotted Dennis Waterman, who was in a play on television.’ Hazel gave Peter the name, they met and Waterman proved ideal for the male lead. Collinson was very comfortable with the cast of his second movie. None of them were movie stars, and virtually the entire cast, including Suzy Kendall, came from the theatre. The parts were full of characterisation, an aspect that shone through in Peter’s work. During that production Peter bought his first Rolls Royce with his salary from The Penthouse. This to him symbolised wealth, he had made it, he was now at the top. The Rolls was to him the epitome of success. Nobody expected Up the Junction to be so good, but it was the movie that would turn the heads of the Paramount executives and get him The Italian Job. Collinson also won his first award that would be presented to him at the Acapulco Film Festival.

Unpredictable

Hazel feels that Peter’s past influenced his style of film-making. ‘There was always a little bit of violence in his movies somewhere. We were watching Fright and there was a moment at the end when Suzy George is running away from Ian Bannen, and she turns and slices his cheek with a piece of glass, and I thought, that was gratuitous, Peter, that wasn’t necessary.’ Hazel’s comment is very true, even in The Italian Job, the style of the movie alters suddenly, for just a few seconds to provide us with a brutal attack on the bullion van. This is the only scene that stands out dramatically in tone of the rest of the picture. ‘He was a person who felt totally let down by his parents and therefore trusted nobody. His belief was that if your mother didn’t love you and didn’t want you, nobody else could.’ Hazel always felt that more went on at the orphanage than Peter cared to say. She continues, ‘He had loads of friends who were gay, loads of them. But he was slightly afraid of them, slightly afraid.’ Hazel never investigated or questioned Peter, and figured it best not to dredge up the past – people create layers to fill the wounds, to deal with life and to enable themselves to forget about past traumas.

Peter was constantly on edge. He was a hard drinker and a hard smoker but at the same time he was a generous individual who cared about his wife, children and friends like nothing else. He would throw around his wealth, and he adopted a complete disrespect for money, chucking it at anything and anyone. ‘He never did anything with his money except spend it, he used to spend it at an enormous rate. I remember some friends of ours were just starting out, we carpeted their house for them!’ says Hazel.

What made Peter Collinson unique, and probably what he’s remembered for most, was his complete unpredictability. One story that perfectly illustrates this trait is that of a return from a film premiere in London. Peter and Hazel were driving back to their home in Chertsey, near Shepperton, and he quipped, ‘You don’t know how lucky you are to be driven to the door by a film director, and you, out of the bogs of Ireland.’ Hazel quickly replied, ‘Well as a matter of fact you don’t drive me to the door do you, you just drive me to the edge of the garden.’ He said, ‘Oh well, we can do something about that.’ As they were pulling into the driveway of their luxury home, he turned the Rolls Royce around and drove the car straight across the lawn, careering into the lounge, smashing through a large Queen Anne window and coming to a halt in the front room. With the front of the house missing, he stepped from the car, saying nothing, and just went up to bed as though it was perfectly normal.

As his career progressed, Peter felt he needed to live in a house that was worthy of a film director. ‘What he was searching for was to somehow make his mother love him, “Look at me now, don’t you love me now?’’ reflects Hazel. Collinson had bought the land from Paramount on which they filmed The Long Day’s Dying. He designed a house that Hazel describes as ugly and uncomfortable. Peter was unable to build on the land because it was under a protection order, as on it stood a derelict but listed building. Peter had other ideas as Hazel explains: ‘He wanted to build there but he couldn’t because of this house. So one night himself and a member of the special effects team went in under cover of darkness and dynamited it. Then he rang up the council and said “Well, it blew up, it’s not there, can I build now?” Before long Hazel and Peter had moved into the newly built ‘Tara House’, named after their first son.

After signing up to do The Italian Job, the producer, Michael Deeley, decided they were to make a small low-budget picture first, in order for Deeley to observe the way Peter worked. The Italian Job was to be big, a scale that Peter wasn’t used to. The Long Day’s Dying was never supposed to be wonderful, it was never going to be Academy Award material, but with a budget of only £250,000, it was to be the movie that would win Collinson the second of two awards that would be presented to him during his career. The film was up for a prize at Cannes but it was 1968 and French students were rioting. Jean-Luc Godard rounded up a group of film-making activists and had the Cannes festival closed down; no awards were presented. Later that year Peter won an award in Spain at the 1968 San Sebastian Film Festival for direction of a large motion picture. The movie was different, it made a statement, it was one of only a small number of anti-war pictures that were made in Britain. The film wasn’t greeted enormously well by the Americans but the Spanish were delighted. Hazel remembers fondly the ceremony that involved Peter trying to thank the audience in Spanish, greeted with a huge roar of laughter.

The big time

Almost as soon as the production had wrapped on The Long Day’s Dying, Deeley moved Collinson straight on to The Italian Job after Peter satisfactorily squashed any of Michael Deeley’s doubts. The Italian Job put Collinson’s name on the map but he never managed to better it. ‘In a way I think it came at the wrong time for him. I think it would have been better if it had come later, because he never topped it, he never got a script like it again,’ says Hazel. ‘If nothing else, The Italian Job was an opportunity to boost Pete’s ego. He was a great egotist. The Italian Job didn’t change his personality, it just made him more difficult to live with. He wouldn’t listen to people after The Italian Job, he wouldn’t take advice.’ The Production Manager on The Italian Job, Derek Kavanagh, agrees with Hazel ‘One of the problems with Collinson was that he wouldn’t listen to the team of experts around him.’ Unfortunately Peter became involved with his secretary. She did nothing but boost his ego to the max, as Hazel explains: ‘She was a girl who kept telling him how wonderful he was and how wasted he was. He listened to her a lot and I felt she had a very, very bad effect on him. He always liked me to look at his rushes at the end of the day. I would say “Pete, I think that’s too gimmicky.” No, according to her it was wonderful and he’s so talented he shouldn’t be stopped.’ Collinson was never to see his own work turn into a cult, passing away just before the film came into its own.

The Italian Job may arguably be responsible for narrowing Peter Collinson’s career. The major studios and Hollywood executives saw him as an action director. The picture that followed, You Can’t Win ’Em All, was a big action adventure on horses, set in Turkey, starring Charles Bronson and Tony Curtis. These were movies at which Peter didn’t shine. He got the best out of actors, not movie stars. Peter was from a theatre background and his best work was with theatrical performers. ‘He was getting the wrong scripts. I think he made his mistake going into movies,’ contemplates Hazel.

Peter couldn’t break free from movies even if he wanted to. There was a restriction: the lifestyle they were now leading. ‘You get to the point where you’ve done so many movies, you have the big house, the Rolls, the children are in private schools, people come to stay, they expect you to fly to Cannes. You get into a role where you need money, you need money!’ With Collinson’s extravagant use of money, the movies were the only source to continue to feed this lifestyle.