Tag: Oliver White

Oliver White (Editor) – His Unreliable Memoirs – The Garland

The Garland

I was nervous of working with Horace Ove on ‘The Garland’.  I’d looked at his previous drama and was alarmed.  Like Mozart’s king, who said, ‘Too many notes’, this had ‘Too many shots’!  and he did ‘The Garland’ the same way!  He was a distinctive figure in his leather jacket…..If I’d squeezed in every angle he’d covered, it would certainly have looked too fussy, so I spent a lot of the time saying, ‘Horace, do you really think we need that shot?’  Then one glorious day, about a month into editing, he said ‘Oliver. Just do what you want to do’.  I could then RELAX and use three shots out of four!  He brought us mangoes from Southall, and I still have his Dracula mug.

There was a room of his fine photographs at the National Portrait Gallery about eighteen months ago.

I regard this film as a personal triumph!

Oliver White (Editor) – His Unreliable Memoirs – ‘Gangsters 2’

Gangsters Series 2

I did the film inserts into this studio-based production, and, as the material seemed to dictate, I cut it fairly sharply….. Alastair Reid seemed happy with what I showed him, but he was often very tired after a day’s filming, and I recall he was probably asleep when I said, ‘Is that ok?’!  We had to get it off to the lab.  Come transmission, I was appalled!   Alastair had done the studio bits in long, elaborate Takes lasting MINUTES!  So when you came to a film bit, you were hit over the head by a plethora of five second shots.  By the time your brain had adjusted, you were back to the studio.  But he was a jolly nice chap.

Oliver White (Editor) – His Unreliable Memoirs – TV Studio Skills

Studio Skills

There were wonderful ‘studio skills’.  I remember being at Gosta Green in 1962 and seeing a chap turn a polystyrene column into a satisfactory tree in under 30 seconds, with a soldering iron, and an aerosol.  And how disappointed the public were by the Henry VII costume exhibition.  There was a wide strip of Copydex glue down the front of one dress, with pearls every twelve inches or so.  The costume lady knew the pearls would show up, but not the adhesive… Wide aperture lenses, so the background was the background!  Michael Edwards wonderful set for ‘Great Expectations’ sticks in my memory.

Oliver White (Editor) – His Unreliable Memoirs – ‘The Kiss of Death’

Kiss of Death by Mike Leigh

Far more interesting than ‘Nuts in May’, because it wasn’t a natural winner.  The performances are stunning.  It introduced David Threlfall to the world.  The leading lady, Mike said, left the profession after this.  A great shame, if so.  It has my favourite sequence of any film I’ve ever cut.  This is when our hero goes to the girl’s home after dealing with the dead baby.  She greets him with, ‘ Yer can’t come in, me mam ain’t in’.  So begins a perfect section of sexual tension.  Fantastic!  At one stage of working on it, apparently he DID say ‘yes’ to going upstairs.  Half way up, our heroine cried, ‘I am coming out of character!!’  The dead baby is awful.  David Rose and I tried hard to get him to drop it.  Is it necessary?  Looking at a bit 10 years ago, I thought it looked rather too tightly cut.  I could be wrong.

Almost forgot!  A very clever music score by Carl Davis a la Hindemith Wry – tongue in cheek, splendid!

Oliver White (Editor) – His Unreliable Memoirs – ‘Nuts in May’

Nuts in May by Mike Leigh

Did Mike Leigh know this was going to be a knock-out success umpteen years later??  I didn’t!   ‘The famous CHEWING sequence!  We tried several lengths.  I now think it would be even funnier 4-5 seconds longer.  I’ve always been a great believer in the ‘perfect stranger’.  You grab someone passing the door, show them a one minute section and say, ‘Does it work?’  Yes, a fresh pair of eyes!  The chap who played the quarry man did it for a MONTH, with Mike’s P.A. making notes!  Then Alison and Roger turned up, and it lasted say an hour.  And finally whittled down to what you now see.  The chap loved doing it so much, he gave up acting and became a palaeontologist.

Two or three years later Alison was doing something that required her to walk across a ‘real’ school playground.  ‘It won’t work’, she said, ‘They’ll recognise me’.  ‘Go on’, said the director, ‘Give it a try.’  Well, all the kids rushed at her calling, ‘Candice-Marie, Candice-Marie!!’  (Mike heard the name on a bus).

I believe ‘Nuts in May’ had a remote genesis in a little two-hander upstairs at the Royal Court, called something like ‘Holy Glory’, about veggies.