THE DESPICABLE Saruman the White cuts an imposing figure cloaked in white robes, with a long metallic staff clutched in one claw and a prosthetic nose that boasts its own architecture. An imposing, if not a little daunting, 6ft 4in (1.93m) figure, despite the fact that a team of minions is currently rummaging around in his skirts. Typically, he is in mid-flow, his rumbling basso filling the far corners of the soundstage, and is not about to be interrupted by the repositioning of the odd microphone wire.
The evident practicalities of bringing Lord of the Rings to the screen are very evident here in Stone Street Studios, Wellington, New Zealand. The place is a mess, bits of ornate sets colliding with one another across the ramshackle building that has been the heart of the Rings operation for nearly three years. And in the midst of the clutter, Christopher Lee is currently describing how The Two Towers differs from Peter Jackson’s screen predecessor. As is well known, he is something of a Tolkien expert (he reads the books once a year and once met the professor) and his answers veer toward the intricate.
“This is a much darker and grimmer story,” he says, framed by the obsidian balcony of his giant tower, Orthanc, “but it is of course a logical continuation of the first story. But it is not quite so gentle, The Shire has long gone. The story now storms along.
“You will find the shadow of Saruman hangs over the entire film. He is constantly mentioned in dialogue. He is the only human manifestation of antagonism. Peter’s instructions were simple: never forget that this man is immortal. He is also the very embodiment of evil. He is the antagonist.”
In the second instalment of The Lord of the Rings trilogy (see review, page 12), the Fellowship has split up, with Frodo and Sam heading for Mordor (in the company of the deranged former Ring custodian Gollum) with the ring, while Aragorn leads the other heroes in the fight against the treacherous wizard Saruman. Here in New Zealand Jackson has gathered many of his cast for a series of extra shoots designed to make greater sense of his rough cut. And Saruman is taking a well-earned tea-break from booming at his filthy Orcs.
Much, of course, has been made of Jackson’s achievement, but every bit as grand an accomplishment is Lee’s contribution, a highpoint in his long, twisting career (more than 255 films, even he’s not sure how many). Typecast into villainy, he has endured on the Dark Side, from Hammer’s career-making Dracula (which he is loath to talk about) to the most suave of Bond baddies, Scaramanga (“I played him as Bond gone bad”). “I would perhaps have liked to try other things,” he admits, “but there have been good roles. None better than Saruman.”
Yet it has also been a career mired in some dodgy makeweights (Police Academy 7?) that have overshadowed his obvious talents. For a long while respect had evaded him, and he openly admits many of his films are best left unseen.
At 80 (he began filming Rings at 78), Lee is still a handsome, striking figure. He describes himself as mentally very strong and physically he seems years younger. Quite awe-inspiring really, when you take a snapshot of his life: decorated war hero, British intelligence, opera singer, polyglot (seven languages not including the various Elvish dialects) and aristocratic blood (on his Italian side). “To be honest,” said a Two Towers co-star, Brad Dourif (Gríma Wormtongue), “he knows everything and everybody on the planet and he can do anything.”
The crew used to try to test his arcane knowledge of Tolkien by throwing obscure questions at him when he least expected. “They would try to catch me out,” he says, without a trace of irony, “but they never did.”
Some months later, with The Two Towers now washed in superlatives, Lee is comfortably seated in the Travellers Club in Paris.
The previous night the film had premiered with the full cast on hand to expound the virtues of a return visit to Middle-earth. “The party didn’t start until midnight,” he grumbles. “The older members of the cast retired quite early, but I think the younger ones went to bed very late. Of course, I am far too old for that. I did enough of that in my youth.”
Lee likes to mention his age. He keeps reminding you that he could die any day soon. He’s not convinced that he’ll see the final part of Jackson’s magnificent trilogy, let alone George Lucas’s Star Wars: Episode III which he will shoot next year in Australia, before two years of post-production. It’s not that he’s morbid, just that he prides himself on a frankness that befits his maturity. He speaks with a stern tone, and it is also evident that he is not in the slightest bit interested in having you like him. Lee is also a stickler for confidentiality; he will not drop the slightest hint on the content of the third Star Wars film, in which he continues as the duplicitous former Jedi, Count Dooku. Anyway, he claims he has not yet seen a script.
“George Lucas is a brilliant man, wonderful to work for,” he says in a moment of reverie. “I have been very lucky, privileged, at this stage in my career to have worked with three of the finest directors around: Tim Burton (on Sleepy Hollow), Peter Jackson and George Lucas.”
The scale of Lee’s swansong could dwarf even the mighty vistas of his recent on-screen locations. Add his participation in the world’s largest two film franchises to the hotly denied rumours (“Disgraceful!”) of him taking over from the late Richard Harris in the Harry Potter series (which would severely test both his scheduling and stamina) and the offer of at least four other films, and the flagging middle years seem but a distant memory. Indeed, he is also in Paris to be decorated by the French Government as an Officer of Arts and Letters. In recent months he has picked up several lifetime achievement awards, critics and audiences finally awakening to the significance of his career.
Lee, though, is reluctant to talk about himself, and swings the conversation deftly back to Jackson’s achievement. “As far as I am concerned these films are motion-picture history. Nobody has ever seen the likes of these. It is unique. The second film is superb but I wouldn’t say better, it’s different.”
He talks about how the film’s themes of “untainted heroism” are appropriate for our troubled times. “There are plenty of Orcs in the world today,” he asserts. And don’t get him started on the Oscars: “If they don’t recognise what Peter has achieved then the Academy will mean nothing.”
Mention Tolkien himself and Lee at last smiles. “I think he would be very pleased,” he says, as if this is ultimately what matters. “The spirit of Tolkien’s work, the essence of the books, is still on screen.”
