It was a winter’s day in 1947 when I first stepped inside Pinewood Studios and
a day I’ll never forget. The view along the approach road was broken only by
a cluster of tall pine tress, and then as if from nowhere appeared a mock
Tudor double-lodge entrance, and a friendly commissionaire. It was just like
arriving at a stately home.
I was then a rather green lieutenant serving in the Combined Services
Entertainment Unit and being tested for the male lead in The Blue Lagoon.
It marked the beginning of my long association with the studio. At 81 I am
now Pinewood’s second oldest resident, as I moved in in 1970 when I began
work on the TV series The Persuaders, but Peter Rogers, producer of
all 30 Carry On films, at a sprightly 94, has been resident since
1958.
The studio hadn’t long reopened, after being used during the war as a base for
the Army, RAF and Crown Film Units making documentaries. It was also a base
for the Royal Mint — some say that was the first time that Pinewood made
money. I was greeted by Dennis Van Thal, J. Arthur Rank’s top talent scout
(and later my agent). Rank had opened Pinewood in 1936 as his dream rival to
Hollywood — the final syllable of which, plus the abundance of pine trees on
the 100-acre site, gave him the name Pinewood.
Just before my arrival and after the war, great film-makers were at work:
David Lean, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, Ronald Neame, Anthony
Havelock-Allen, Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat. They were part of Rank’s
stable of independent producers. Some of the country’s greatest films were
made during this period, including Great Expectations, The Red
Shoes, Oliver Twist, and Black Narcissus. Even as a young
studio, Pinewood had a reputation for being home to our finest film-makers
and our very finest technicians. I was awestruck to be there.
From the grandeur of Heatherden Hall, which formed the centre of the lot, I
was taken through long clinical corridors across to one of the five stages.
It was a huge, dark, sound-proofed room with a smell of greasepaint, make-up
and burning filters on the huge lamps. Soon it was my turn to step under the
lights and in front of the cameras. Even though I never got the part, I was
thrilled just to be there.
Later, I learnt that I had been recommended as “contract material” for the
studio’s Company of Youth, often referred to as “the Rank Charm School”. Now
unheard of in the modern industry, the studio had established its own stable
of aspiring talent. It produced its own big stars: Christopher Lee, Joan
Collins, Anthony Steel, Diana Dors, Donald Sinden, Eunice Gayson, Kenneth
More, Petula Clarke and Dirk Bogarde were all under contract.
Sadly for me, it was at a time when John Davis, the company MD, was dealing
with a £16 million overdraft. They weren’t interested in a young Roger Moore
being added to it. So while I mixed socially with my aspiring contempories,
I slipped off to earn a crust elsewhere — but always dreamt of returning to
the wonderful film factory in the Buckinghamshire countryside.
Meanwhile studio budgets and salaries were slashed. Yet against this backdrop
Pinewood produced some of its most memorable and important films: the
definitive Titanic movie A Night to Remember; the enchanting Genevieve
and the groundbreaking The One That Got Away.
Over at Shepperton Studios Alexander Korda was building his empire. While
prudence was the watchword at Pinewood, extravagance was the order of the
day at the rival studio, where the charming movie mogul began an impressive
production programme: The Third Man, The Fallen Idol, Anna
Karenina, The Wooden Horse being a few. Korda, unlike Rank, was a
great showman who loved publicity. He was also an astute and talented
film-maker who made his opinions known. Guy Hamilton, a subsequent director
of two of my 007 outings, told me of an incident with Korda: “I was then an
assistant director and summoned on a Saturday morning together with one
editor, one cameraman and one assistant art director to view the rough cut
of Emeric Pressburger’s first and only directorial effort. Obviously retakes
were on the cards. The three Korda brothers (Vincent, Alex and Zoltán)
walked in. The lights went out and we watched in silence until the end. Alex
lit a cigar and addressed us. ‘Boys, I could eat a tin of trims and shit a
better picture’.”
Both studios continued with indigenous production in the late 1940s, but when
television became a real threat to our film output, the Government, in 1950,
introduced a levy on box-office receipts to reinvest in British films, the
Eady levy. It generated some £3 million a year and helped to attract many
overseas producers, including Walt Disney and my friend Albert R. “Cubby”
Broccoli. Once here, they stayed because, quite frankly, they fell in love
with Pinewood. That love led to millions of pounds being injected into the
UK economy and employment for many, many actors, technicians and creative
personnel.
While happily ticking over with British crowd-pleasers such as the Norman
Wisdom comedies, the Doctor comedies (with Rank’s biggest star Dirk
Bogarde), the St Trinian’s movies and later the Carry Ons, it
was only really in 1961, when Cubby and his new producing partner Harry
Saltzman wanted to set up a series of spy adventures based on Ian Fleming’s
hero James Bond, that Pinewood hit the big time.
I didn’t return to Pinewood until 1970, after hanging up my halo on The
Saint at Elstree, when Bob Baker, Johnny Goodman and I set up The
Persuaders. I starred alongside Tony Curtis, whose wonderful
eccentricities ensured that there was never a dull day. Over our 15-month
schedule we filmed in every nook and cranny of Pinewood and the adjoining
Black Park. I remember for one episode I had to drag-up to play my
character’s great aunt and, looking amazingly like my dear mother, I walked
into the oak-panelled restaurant only to be greeted by a round of applause
from the diners. I took a bow, or rather a curtsy, and set about my bangers
and mash.
Cubby was a regular in the dining room and always made a point of introducing
me to his guests. He sat at a large round table where he entertained
backers, sponsors, royalty and visiting journalists over sumptuous lunches.
It was a magical environment in which to impress visitors and inveigle
finance. Stars such as Bette Davis, James Caan, Peter Ustinov, Katharine
Hepburn, David Niven, Gregory Peck, Stewart Grainger, Richard Burton and
Elizabeth Taylor could all be spotted at the tables. Liz would be showing
off her latest jewel, and they’d talk about who was doing what next and for
how much, or what offers they’d refused, or gossip about who was sleeping
with whom, all often punctuated by the unmistakable laugh of Sid James and
the Carry On gang on neighbouring tables.
“How many set-ups did you get in this morning?” would be the shout across from
Sid, inducing a sort of friendly rivalry to anyone in earshot (he’d no doubt
taken side bets on it). Tony Curtis was once prompted to boast “five”. “Oh
we slipped in eight,” Barbara Windsor chuckled back, much to Tony’s chagrin.
Meanwhile the Carry On producer Peter Rogers locked the stage doors
at lunchtime to prevent any of his artistes or crew claiming overtime.
And who could forget Christopher Reeve walking in for his lunch? He was so
polite and would always stop at the tables he passed to say hello to the
diners, unaware of being in his full Superman regalia. Many a waitress
swooned after him.
One week, we all became aware of a rather curious smell emanating from the
management’s table in the commissary. It grew more pungent by the day. A
rebellious young director named Alan Parker, we discovered, had wedged a big
piece of Camembert cheese under it, such was his disregard for the
“pomposity of management”.
A lot of actors and directors would zip away after a 30-minute lunch to view
rushes, which was the previous day’s film, back from the labs. Would-be
starlets would be reassured by their directors:
“Darling you were wonderful. Come and see me in my trailer later.” One
director, who shall remain nameless, was holding a casting session for young
starlets in his trailer when it was moved along to an adjacent stage in
readiness for the afternoon’s shooting. Wondering why the earth was moving
so violently for him, he opened the door wearing only his Y-fronts to see
the whole crew looking on.
Then there was the director Michael Winner, making his first film at Pinewood.
He used to direct by barking orders through a megaphone. His cameraman
became fed up with this and retreated for a lengthy toilet break between
set-ups. A furious Winner went in search of him, shouting at a closed
cubicle door: “Are you in there?”
“Yes.”
“Then get your arse back on my set now.”
“Michael. Please. I can only deal with one shit at a time.”
One day David Niven came over to me at lunch and said: “Roger this young lady
I’m working with wants to meet you. She is extraordinary and is recommending
to the director and cameraman what angles they should use.” The next thing I
knew Jodie Foster was saying how pleased she was to meet me. She hasn’t
given me a job since though.
You’d also see a few extras dressed as centurions, or large chickens, cutting
through the restaurant to the bar. Nobody flinched. It was after all a place
of work.
The bar was quite a club, too. Often you’d find Peter Finch holding court at
lunchtimes and evenings with tales of the Outback and working in Hollywood.
He and Diane Cilento once naughtily inserted a cigarette into the mouth of a
rather expensive Laughing Cavalier type painting on the wall. Finchie
was very much the practical joker of Pinewood, hiding in cupboards to
surprise passers-by, removing gargoyles from the entrance and taking them
home, and jackarooing around the bar with Diane at lunchtime, rounding up
the crew.
My next visit, in 1973, was as Jimmy Bond. Cubby had any number of offers to
take the series overseas, but no, he said, “Pinewood is my home”. It wasn’t
just sentimentality, it was good business sense as the crews always
delivered the very best and Cubby loved the environment.
I could always rely on the Pinewood crews to make me look good on screen.
Their support was particularly in evidence during any love scenes I filmed.
They'd be up in the gantries shouting: “Go on Rog, give ’er one!
Cubby further made his mark during my third outing as 007, The Spy Who
Loved Me, when we needed a stage big enough to house three nuclear
submarines. After fruitless searches he decided that the only way forward
would be to build a stage. On December 5, 1976, I left my sick bed (I had
shingles) to join the cast, crew and the Prime Minister Harold Wilson, to
open the “007 Stage” — then the largest in the world — on the backlot. It
subsequently secured Pinewood many lucrative film contracts. Although, to my
horror, just before my last Bond adventure A View to a Kill, in 1984, a gas
canister exploded one lunchtime during Tom Cruise’s film Legend,
and fire tore through it. An hour later all that was left was a moulded pile
of metal. Cubby came to survey the scene. Without flinching he asked his
production designer Peter Lamont how long he’d need to rebuild it. “Sixteen
weeks,” was his reply. “Then go ahead and do it,” Cubby said.
In July 2006, during my Sunday lunch, I received a call: “Pinewood is on
fire.” My heart sank. I then heard that it was the 007 Stage. Within hours
it had gone. Cubby was not around any longer, but the studio announced that
it would be rebuilt as soon as possible, and it would remain the Albert R.
Broccoli 007 Stage.
Along with the good fortune and success, I’ve also seen Pinewood at its lowest
ebb. When we went in to shoot Octopussy there was nothing, and I mean
nothing, else in the studio. The whole industry was in the doldrums. Word
had it that had we not returned to Pinewood it would have closed down.
Shepperton fared similarly: changes of ownership and asset strippers brought
the studio to near collapse and closure. Soon afterwards Pinewood was forced
to go “four-walled” — a rental facility, rather than a fully crewed studio.
The studio then diversified into commercials and more TV work. The rescue
package paid off and meant that big films such as Batman, Memphis
Belle, Patriot Games, Alien 3, First Knight, Mission
Impossible, The Saint, Eyes Wide Shut, Bean and The
Mummy Returns all had a home in the British countryside. Its future
seemed secure. But a decade later dark clouds gathered again. News came in
2000 of the Rank Organisation’s plans to pull out of all its film interests,
including Pinewood. The future of our great studio was uncertain. But a new
hero was at hand to continue the Pinewood story. Enter Michael Grade.
I knew Michael of old, his uncle was Lew Grade of ITC, of course, and Michael
was every bit as passionate about film and TV as Lew was, but he’s also a
very astute businessman. He spotted the potential and value of Pinewood and
pulled together a financial consortium to buy the famous studio. He then
made an offer to Ridley and Tony Scott, the owners of Shepperton, to merge
the two studios.
I’ve admired what Michael and his team have done with the studios; improving
facilities, diversifying and embracing digital media with the new TV stages.
The studios are attracting huge productions again, injecting significant
money into the UK economy. We should all be proud of the studios’ history
and be excited for their future expansion.
When I drive through the gates of my home from home, a warm feeling still
flows over me. The place is now much bigger than it was in 1947 with 18
stages as opposed to just five, and more on-site companies and services than
you can shake a stick at, but the atmosphere remains the same. It is, I have
decided, pure magic.
Special places in starry hearts
Alan Parker on lunchtimes at Pinewood:
“It was a marvellous restaurant, and I have wonderful memories of lunching
there with people in powdered wigs and crinolines, and David Lean coming up
and wondering, ‘Alan, why do you keep making films in America?’ He always
articulated the word ‘America’ with such disdain, like someone describing
the emanation of a leaking sewer.”
HRH The Princess Royal:
“Pinewood is a name synonymous not only with British films and film-makers,
but also with some of the biggest and most successful American films ever
made. Many of Hollywood’s highly acclaimed film-makers return time and time
again to the studio, with multi-million dollar productions, and that speaks
volumes in itself.”
Norman Wisdom:
“I’ll never forget dear Marilyn Monroe and how she kissed me in the corridor
when we passed one another, nor my golfing pal Sean Connery when he learnt
that my film A Stitch In Time had knocked his second Bond film off
the top spot. Mind you, he's done quite well since!'
Stanley Kubrick writing tongue-in-cheek to the Boulting Brothers, and
deciding whether to make his first film at Shepperton, Dr Strangelove:
“I have heard nothing but praise about Shepperton, and I would like to work
there, assuming there are no importantly unfavourable comparisons with other
studios on terms, facilities, toilets etc. PS Do you have electricity there?”
Peter Rogers, Carry On Producer:
“We couldn’t be at Pinewood without using the standing facilities here, the
gardens and the vast lot of course, where they have now built the new
stages, but there was this thing known as the ‘Irish village’ which we
turned into all sorts of things. We had it as Cairo in Cleo. That’s where
this myth comes from about us using other people’s sets!”
Nick Moran, actor:
“When I made Puritan at Shepperton in 2005, we were there the same time as Batman
Begins and there was this wonderful crossover – Christian Bale and
Michael Caine came over to have a nose round our set, and I got to play on
the Bat Mobile! Our caterers did slightly better puddings too, so we’d have
people coming over to pinch our cake and ice cream.
The other thing I don’t think people realise is that Shepperton has the best
post-production facilities in the world. When we did Telstar there, they had
a sound mixing desk that looked like something out of Nasa. It was amazingly
cool.”
Ridley Scott:
“From the moment I entered Shepperton I knew the place was special. Anywhere
that had had within its walls Carol Reed directing Orson Welles in The
Third Man (1949), was going to mean a great deal to me.
Shepperton has some of the best artisans and craftsmen in the industry and so
when I came to make Gladiator (1998) some 20 years later, there could
only really be one place from which I sourced all the props. Every piece of
armour and sword, chariot and tent, furniture and Roman column came from
Shepperton.”
Stephen Woolley, director:
“When I made The Company of Wolves at Shepperton the inspiration
for the design came from Black Narcissus. There were lots of
corridors and a very deliberate attempt to make everything look false. I
shot Interview With A Vampire there. But no matter the film, when you
walk down a corridor you end up thinking, ‘I know this’ and that’s because
every corridor or empty room was used in the Carry On films, and so
you’re working on a Carry On set at any given moment.”
— The Orange British Academy Film Awards begin on BBC Two from 8pm,
continuing on BBC One from 9pm on Sunday. A preview show featuring
interviews from the red carpet will be broadcast on BBC Three from 7pm
